Abuliac

On the years that have passed...

2008-09-09T06:37:00.001-05:00

I tried opening my eyes, squinting from the bright light. This world -- so changed. How long had I been asleep?

My gaze shifted to a mirror, where the reflection of auburn locks stared back from where a wheat-haired girl had in the past. New photographs on my walls... new walls. Fresh candles replaced the generations I'd burned through while writing, talking, laughing. New tastes, new heights, new dreams to be had upon a new bed... shared with someone so different from any prior. But I also found new worries chewing on the depths of my stomach. And, unexpectedly, a new role... of sister to someone I've never seen.

So much has changed. Or am I still sleeping?

Rusalka*

2006-05-06T14:33:00.000-05:00

I was caressing the ripples of the marsh, following the dragonflies as they weaved through the tall grass, when I saw a young boy’s face peering from the cattails. I smiled at his familiar dumbfounded gaze, and laughed as he tripped from the shore to the soggy bank as so many had done before. I nodded toward him, blinking my blazing green eyes. This one is different.

Eyes shining, lips pursed, he watched my wet shape. He must have seen my loneliness, dripping from my unruly damp hair, which only love could tame. The boy stepped into the murky water, and the ripples of his splash traveled to my bare feet, tickling my toes. This one is true. I hoped he’d be the friend, the playmate, to lift this forest’s curse.

Diving in, I lingered in the deep and watched his arms scoop the water—-reaching toward me. We were so close, but now, he floats lifeless on the surface, and I—-still alone-—caress the ripples around him.

*A female folk figure in traditional East Slavic lore whose hair is permanently loose and uncontrolled. She is described as a pale, lithe, often beautiful female spirit who lives in the water, waiting to entice unsuspecting male passers-by. The rusalka was believed by peasants to be the spirit of a young, unmarried woman, who either drowned herself or met an untimely death.

Windshield

2006-05-01T02:47:00.000-05:00

Every morning
you sit across from me
as I examine your freckles
and study the speckles of your eyes,

while I wonder why
you never see me
in your reflection
unless some imperfection
blemishes your view...

But you stare so intently that I
feel transparent
as you
look through me...

I go on every adventure with you,
crisscrossing highway maps
and weave along glossing roads
wet from morning dew...

Yet you only touch me
to wipe away the fog
when I can no longer stand the heat
of your presence...

But rub some Rain-X on me,
and the tears
will come rolling right
off.

(Something I wrote while driving... Yes, while behind the wheel. But when inspiration hits you, you can't tell it to take a rain check.)

a nearing end...

2006-04-27T15:52:00.000-05:00

My thesis has been turned in. My last dance has transpired upon a theater stage. My last presentation in a seminar has been completed. Now there is a lull... no deadlines, no rushed assignments, no immediate responsibilities. Just a hush before the graduation comes.

Granted, I still have to defend my thesis and my diploma and write one last final paper, but those are things that I'll get past, as I have everything else.

There is an emptiness, a strange space inside, as I walk across the campus these days. The gothic architecture, the blooming trees, and the general ease in the atmosphere are all wonderful, but a nostalgia is seeping in, telling me that I soon won't belong here, that this is no longer my home.

Strange -- when I first came here, I marveled at the length of 4 years, now I'm dreading their end. So many memories, stresses, laughs, bruises, triumphs...

...but I'm leaving with no regrets.

how they find me...

2006-03-02T17:33:00.000-05:00

Here are three of the recent searches that have landed people on my little corner of cyberspace:

"making words out of random letters"
"breakdance battle etiquette"
"advice to handle pain in finger pricking"

And indeed, these access the very essence of my being... languages, dancing, and pain (usually brought on by dancing)...

My advice to those who hope to find such things:

Get some alphabet soup.
Watch some videos... (in general, the most important rules are no touching and giving people enough space... I hate it when the other crew crowds the circle. Those are pretty much the only ones that can get you eliminated.)
If your finger pricks, stub your toe (or punch a wall), and you'll forget all about the pricking.

That is all.

on friends and enemies...

2006-02-28T02:55:00.000-05:00

I had a strange moment of realization... Most of my best friendships (and I don't mean to use "best friend" in the cliche sense, but in the superlative sense, where these friends were the ones I have been closest to and most connected with) started out as oppositional relationships, in a way. I don't mean the apathetic kind of feeling, when you don't know a person well enough to hold an opinion. No, these feelings (toward me, at least) tended to be very negative.

With one, we were competitors throughout middle and high school. In all the honors and AP classes together, competing for the top marks. I thrive on competition - I work better under pressure (it seems). But for him, I seemed a cold, calculating, driven competitor that cared for nothing but grades. Sure, I did care about doing well (I had the pressure of having to put myself through college based on my achievements), but I never gave him the chance (nor did he attempt) to get to know me past that facade of ambition. Then, I met his boyfriend and, by chance, we became good friends. And--partly because I was privy to something secret about him, and partly because he realized that beneath the valedictorian lived a human--we became inseparable for a long time.... until college separated us all.

Another was smitten with a boy who had adored me for many years. Youthful jealousy turned her against me, without really knowing me. I can't even remember how things changed... one day, we barely spoke, another we were painting fences together, and another we were sharing things we didn't think I'd ever share. We're still as close...

Do I have a sign on my forehead that says "Hate me before you can love me?" Or, perhaps, you have to respect someone to really hate them. And that respect is more easily turned to love. I'm grateful for the good friends I've had. I just wish it weren't so hard to get to know me. I'm working on it.

Snow Tears

2006-02-11T22:40:00.000-05:00

Walking home from dinner, the snow started to fall a little harder... and snowflakes landed only my eyelashes. It's a strange feeling, looking at the world through bright white glint. I was almost sad when they finally melted and flowed down my cheeks like tears.

on hot showers...

2006-01-26T03:58:00.000-05:00

I always take hot showers (if possible). Not just the warm type of hot, but scalding hot... the hot that tickles your pain receptors... the hot that colors your skin red... the hot that steams up the bathroom mirrors until you can't even see your reflection...

If a shower isn't that hot, it doesn't make me feel clean... no matter how much soap and shampoo I may use. Maybe it's a psychological cleansing, as well... one that often requires a small dose of pain. But the real pain is in cold showers -- pure torture, which I can't handle. When forced to (for lack of heat) I made miraculous leaps into and out of the shower every 5 seconds.

Some have told me that my habit is unhealthy -- damaging and drying to the skin... not to mention the fact that my gas bill will be through the roof! Still, there is nothing more cleansing or refreshing than stepping out of the shower a slight shade of pink and wrapping myself in a robe to keep in the heat as long as possible.

on getting tested...

2006-01-22T01:28:00.000-05:00

All day, I've been stuffing my brain with neuroscientific facts. Somewhere between the Raphe nuclei and Ruffini Endings, I began to wonder whether this exam might really be my last. Next semester (my last) looks like a final paper-heavy semester... and if I never do end up going to graduate school... this will be it. This could be the last time I'm ever tested for my knowledge in a timed fashion.

Of course, the counter-argument is that we're all being tested at every point in our lives. Sometimes, those tests are less obvious than other times. Still, those tests are usually not the ones you spend hours on end preparing for, cramming information for. Those aren't the tests that trivialize your ability to think into an exam of rote memorization.

Am I sad? I dreamed of this day in high school. I recall (so how many synonyms for memory can I use in this post?) talking with my best friend at the time about how we were tired of being quizzed on useless information that we'd never use again. I don't know if I'll ever need to know what an NMDA receptor is again, but I must say, I'm proud to know.

If this is my last test, let me go out with a bang.

Moving things around...

2006-01-08T13:17:00.000-05:00

There are times when your surroundings make life so heavy that it's difficult to breathe, to exist, in them. That is how I felt when I finally walked into my room after a 6 hour drive and unloading all my things. My room, though small already, this time felt the size of a cardboard box with lots of clutter in it.

As long as I can remember, whenever I've gotten frustrated with my life or myself, I've started cleaning, organizing, and moving things around, as if changing my physical surroundings would change my inner state of being.

I spent the next 4 or 5 hours rearranging and reorganizing everything in my room. I even changed the height of my bed (which wasn't easy to do!). I slept better last night than I have in a long time. That alone made the effort worth it.

I sit now on my bed, breathing easier. I didn't follow the Feng Shui rules of decorating, aside from being able to see the door from my bed. Still, there is a lighter atmosphere here. Perhaps, it's just the feeling of new-ness, as if I've just moved in and now can start all over.

Welcoming the New Year

2005-12-31T14:08:00.000-05:00

Since this year is the Year of the Dog (by the Chinese calendar), there are apparently special traditions to go along with welcoming it. Of course, I realize that Chinese New Year isn't till the end of January. However, I can't really argue with hundreds of years of Slavic tradition to greet Chinese animals accordingly (as mixed up as culture is already).

So tonight, before the midnight toast, take a red apple and make a while holding it. Cut it in half and save two seeds from the center, which you must then eat at the stroke of midnight.

If there is any meat at your celebration that is on bone (chicken, buffalo wings, ribs, etc), eat some meat off the bone. Save the bone when you are done and keep it all year for luck. If you ever have difficult times, you must find the bone again, hold it, and concentrate on things going well.

And of course... since it's a fire dog, wear something red and/or fiery... at least at the moment you meet the New Year.

Now, I'm not saying I believe all this will work. I just find comfort in certain crazy little traditions that make an event extra-special... that add a tiny bit of magic to it all.

I send out wishes for a wonderful New Year's eve, filled with merriment and a smidgen of magic.

Fitness: Success!

2005-12-26T18:09:00.000-05:00

While the red and green hues of Christmas season are usually a signal for expanding bellies, I've used this break as a whipping-myself-into-shape season.

I was entered (notice passive tense) into a 6K on Thanksgiving day and was disappointed with myself when 10 year-olds and 70 year-olds were passing me.

Fast forward to today: I just ran 4 miles without stopping. For most "fit" runners, that might not sound like a lot, but I'm more of a short-distance runner. (You know, the kind that only runs away from creepy sounds in a forest at night.) I'm still a slow runner (~9:40 mi/min) but at least I'm getting some stamina!

Some cool fitness calculators:
Pace Calculator --> how slowly did I run?
Target Heart Rate
Body Fat Percentage Calculator --> make sure you have inches/cm set correctly for your tape measurements or you'll get 47% body fat setting like I did...
Ideal Weight Calculator --> what others think you should weigh... huh?
Ideal Body Weight --> a less biased, range-producing calculator
BMI & Calories Burned Calculator --> interesting tool that tells you how much you're burning per day doing nothing, working out, and what your nutritional intake should be

decisions...decisions...

2005-12-23T12:06:00.000-05:00

If you ever need help making a decision, now you can turn to a Yahoo Widget: DecisionSupport. It's more of a Magic 8-Ball, but when you need an unbiased opinion on whether those jeans make you look fat, now you've got it!

I've been trying to set up my mom's computer to be most functional for her (she's a newbie to the internet world). She often checks for the weather and her horoscope, so I figured I'd make her desktop more useful with some widgets...

...and found some less-than useful widgets... For example, if you're a fan of Lost, you'll recognize the numbers "4 8 15 16 23 42". Well, now you can have your very own lost widget that will force you to enter those numbers every 108 minutes... or else. A waste of time by its very function.

Desktop Curiosity

2005-12-22T19:16:00.000-05:00

Have you ever wondered what other people stare at on their desktops?

The thought popped up when my boyfriend told me that he'd made my photograph of clouds over water the backgroud on his work computer. "It's very calming," he said. I was flattered, but that also reminded me of an incident when my ex found out that his father had pictures of me on his desktop, which cycled through every day or so. Understandably, I that made me uncomfortable... and since (like many) I try to mask awkwardness with humor, I made some jokes, which aforementioned ex did not appreciate... and consequently became an ex.

So today, I came across a collection of desktops at LifeHack's Desktop Show and Tell. Because people can explain the various gadgets on their computer, I've gotten lots of ideas about functions to install on my laptop when I get back to school. It's interesting to see the various ways people organize their lives, from the simplistic to the gadget-ridden, the mundane to the beautiful, the organized to the oddly functional, from the relaxing to the dizzying.

Feeling voyeuristic?

Running Resource

2005-12-22T17:34:00.000-05:00

I've started running again... but again is relative, because I've always been a sprinter and now I'm running longer distances. Even at the height of my track & field obsession, I got winded after any more than a mile. This week I started out running 2 miles a day... and today, I nearly hit 3 miles without stopping and could have gone further! Maybe I should have done this training before the 6K in Florida.

MapMyRun is a useful tool to see just how far and how fast you ran, along with other interesting tools.

A fun tip: You can make a cool bookmark by cutting the corner off an envelope!

a present for a masochist...

2005-12-21T03:11:00.000-05:00

My mother has used an epilator for a long time... and had been trying to convert me from shaving for a while, but my stubbornness made her give up.

Epilation is the process of removing unwanted hairs completely, including the root (e.g. waxing, electrolysis, etc) in contrast to depilation, which removes hair only above the skin (e.g. shaving, creams like Nair, etc).

When I came home a few days ago, I saw her epilator (a small machine, with spinning disks designed to grab onto hair and rip it out) and felt an urge to try it. Perhaps it was a desire to emulate my mother... or it may have just been boredom. I sat down on the floor, rolled up my pant-leg, and turned on this funky-looking machine. The spinning disks look much like spinning blades, so I was afraid to bring it close to my leg at first... but I thought about the thousands of times I'd watched my mother epilating (that sounds dirty, but isn't) and decided to be brave.

It stung at first... as much as a bee sting! But then there was another... and another.... and eventually, the stings dulled to pinches... and the pinches became little pricks... and after a few minutes, I barely felt the pain. You have to go over the same spot many times to get all the hairs (since the disks only catch a few hairs at a time)...

So why would anyone want to rip out their hair, you ask? Because it doesn't grow back for weeks! But for me, I tried solely out of curiosity... and am actually slightly disappointed that it will take a while for me to be able to do it again...

Even after I finished both legs (it took almost an hour!) I found myself hunting for hairs... I wanted to find more... I decided to be daring and epilated my whole foot, toes and all! It was much more painful there, because the skin is thinner, but I enjoyed the power my new little machine gave me.

When my mom got home and I relayed my triumph over pain and hesitation, she went over to her closet to reveal a brand new epilator, just for me! (She'd apparently been saving one for me, in case this day ever came).

I'm intrigued and excited... and my next conquest will be the underarms... (the directions condone it and I'm up for the challenge).

Weekend Photograph: clouds at sunset....

2005-12-19T18:17:00.000-05:00

On my drive home, I happened to be going over a long bridge at sunset... and there happened to be a scenic look-out spot... and I happened to have my camera with me... and there happened to be one of the most beautiful cloud formations over the water...

I couldn't help but appreciate the coincidences...

design difficulties...

2005-12-19T02:12:00.000-05:00

I just realized that my blog design doesn't really work with Internet Explorer (I'm a Firefox user, so I was oblivious). I'll work on it... later..

2 minutes later: Now it works. I'm confused.

If you use Internet Explorer... or any other non-Firefoxy browser, let me know if you see the column on the side... or if the design looks o.k. in general.

A Love Sonnet (XVII) by Pablo Neruda

2005-12-15T17:29:00.000-05:00

I don't love you as if you were the salt-rose, topaz,
or arrow of carnations that propagate fire:
I love you as certain dark things are loved,
secretly, between the shadow and the soul.

I love you as the plant that never blooms
yet carries within itself the light of hidden flowers,
and thanks to your love, darkly in my body
lives the dense fragrance that rises from the earth.

I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where,
I love you simply, without complexities or pride:
I love you in this way because I don't know any other way of loving

than this, in which there is no I, nor you,
so close that your hand upon my chest is my hand,
so close that when I fall asleep it is your eyes that close.

on pain reception...

2005-12-14T19:22:00.000-05:00

Pain reception and perception by microscopic neurons that create the slightest and worst of our hurts...

What is the point of the pain receptors that deliver the sensation of itch?

I understand the need for other types of pain receptors. Heat can damage tissue. Injured tissue should report to the brain of its soreness. But itch is counterintuitive. You're told NOT to scratch an itch. Wikipedia claims that there is a protective measure to itchiness in telling animals to remove parasites from their body. I admit that there is an evolutionary advantage there, but there are other ways to report such information without possibly causing the creature to damage itself. When a mosquito bites you, you want to scrape at it to make the unpleasant feeling go away and end up making it worse, even infecting the bite.

Itchiness causes tissue damage... so why would your body tell you to damage yourself? There has to be a more effective way...

On digital money and photography...

2005-12-12T13:34:00.000-05:00

We are moving closer and closer to an immaterial, abstract world with nothing physical to show for our memories, experiences, or even hard work.

Example 1: Money
In the beginning, we (as a race) bartered with actual products, e.g. chickens, chopped wood, milk. When we needed rice, we would exchange something else for it or provide a service. Then came a more generalized form of payment that could be traded for anything (It was too hard to find exactly what someone else wanted, so we needed something standard).

So came the exchange for gold. Gold was precious and had (and has) meaning in most cultures. Then the gold became to heavy to lug around. We created slips of paper that promised the gold being delivered at a later time... which later turned into just paper that stood for the gold (which "money" was for a long time).

Now... the paper money is just that: paper money. It has a vague sense of standing for some value, which changes over time (inflation) so there isn't even a standing worth to it. Not only that, but we have these abstract notions of banking and credit cards, where money disappears (no longer tangible) but you still "have" it and can "use" it. I won't even go into the whole idea of investing in stocks to multiply these imaginary, abstract dollars.

The point is that millionaires will probably never in their lives SEE the money they "own". It will be "wrapped up" in the market, or "held" by some bank (which really loans it out to other people and pays them interest in return). The only people now who pay cash for houses are probably criminals (who may also be the only ones to store their paper money in their homes).

We function as a society on this abstract concept of money, rarely actually seeing it anymore. Credit cards (and even the new PayPass) are taking over the need to carry around any physical representation of wealth.

Example 2: Photography
As technology becomes more advanced, we get further and further away from the art of capturing and recording light as it fell on a certain place at a certain time. Instead, we have become obsessed with "capturing memories" for the sake of being able to see ourselves, perhaps, as others see us. We take pictures to be able to say, "I did that. I was there. I was alive at that moment."

With digital photography, we don't even get physical proof in our hands of our memories; we get images upon a screen -- pixels of light. We cycle through the photos -- laughing, smiling, or cringing -- and perhaps share them electronically with some friends, who may also laugh, smile, or cringe. We now choose what to print, or whether to print the photos, if in the past, everything you "shot" became material, now we choose to throw away memories that we don't like, or ones in which we didn't look as young, or thing, or attractive enough as we'd like to have looked.

On the other hand, the general practice of sharing online photo albums with everyone has created the new problem of not knowing who or when or why will look through your photographs. Recently browsing through scandalous photos of fellow coeds, I wondered how many of these Ivy-leaguers will go on to have political or legislative careers, where some of these photos could easily be used as blackmail. And now, there is no restriction as to who can see these digital pictures, reproducing them onto their own computers.

In the past, we shared those scandalous pictures with a few close friends, reminiscing, giggling, and then hiding them back into inside jacket pockets. Now, our most embarrassing moments may be recorded by anyone with a photo-capable phone or digital camera and quickly shared with all of cyberspace.

Talk about the power of the digital!

Weekend Photography

2005-11-07T13:10:00.000-05:00

My beautiful, youthful 14-year-old cat.

in the rain...

2005-11-07T01:15:00.000-05:00

As I walked home from the parking lot, rain slowly began to fall. It started with a few drops and soon a steady stream was dripping from my hair. Surprising for November, this rain was a pleasure... the kind of refreshing wetness usually reserved for summer rain.

A driver-by asked if I needed a ride, pitying me in the weather. He must have thought I was crazy in refusing, but he couldn't have understood.

After an awful week, every fiber in my body wanted to cry, but no tears were necessary when my cheeks were already wet. There is a comfort in being surrounded by a force that is at the same time indifferent and infinitely sympathetic, embracing me in her damp arms.

Under One Small Star

2005-10-11T03:14:00.000-05:00

My apologies to chance for calling it necessity.
My apologies to necessity if I'm mistaken, after all.
Please, don't be angry happiness, that I take you as my due.
May my dead be patient with the way my memories fade.
My apologies to time for all the world I overlook each second.
My apologies to past loves for thinking that the latest is the first.
Forgive me, distant wars, for bringing flowers home.
Forgive me, open wounds, for pricking my finger.
I apologize for my record of minuets to those who cry from the depths.
I apologize to those who wait in railway stations for being asleep today at five a.m.
Pardon me, hounded hope, for laughing from time to time.
Pardon me, deserts, that I don't rush to you bearing a spoonful of water.
And you, falcon, unchanging year after year, always in the same cage,
Your gaze always fixed on the same point in space,
Forgive me, even if it turns out you were stuffed.
My apologies to the felled tree for the table's four legs.
My apologies to great questions for small answers.
Truth, please don't pay me much attention.
Dignity, don't be magnanimous.
Bear with me, O mystery of existence, as I plush the occasional threat from your train.
Soul, don't take offense that I've only got you now and then.
My apologies to everything that I can't be everywhere at once.
My apologies to everyone that I can't be each woman and each man.
I know I won't be justified as long as I live,
Since I myself stand in my own way.
Don't bear me ill will, speech, that I borrow weighty words,
Then labor heavily so that they may seem light.

~ Wislawa Szymborska

Puzzled

2005-10-05T23:19:00.000-05:00

I keep trying to solve my life... not like a problem, but more like a puzzle.

I'm sticking pieces in empty holes to see if they fit. I started with the edges, like we've all be taught by experience. But now the edges are laid out all around me and I feel trapped, surrounded by fragments of things I barely recognize. Is that a piece of sky floating by?

Everything is just an illusion here... just cut-outs of dreams I can't remember. I'm fooling myself to think that there is a meaning, a greater picture in this mess. My life will always be just a collection of those lost jigsaw pieces missing from other people's almost perfect puzzles.