Finding true love online

I know of about two online dating sites: match.com and eharmony.com. For the longest time, I was under the impression that eharmony was a more serious site because they had a detailed questionnaire that you have to fill in before they generate matches based on some complicated algorithm that takes into account the 29 or so aspects of your personality. I have, on several occasions, wondered what that questionnaire was like.

A couple of days ago, a friend told me about this friend of his who was deemed "undatable" by eharmony's quiz. Wow, that sounds pretty serious. I also learnt that one can take the quiz and sign up for a trial subscription (limit of 10 matches) on eharmony -- in other words, I can take that very informative quiz for free if I wanted to. eharmony's advertising campaign (it's scientifically proven online dating!) worked: I found myself spending about an hour, answering 12-15 pages of questions (I almost gave up), and getting several matches. But I jump ahead of myself. For those who have never tried online dating sites, I thought it would be interesting to give a few more details so that you can find out what you're missing out on. My roommate suggests that I try match.com, meet up with a couple of guys and write a comparative article on these dating sites and the results. It sounds like a little more trouble than I'm willing to go through. But I've done the first part of the research, and I present you here with the preliminary findings.

The first thing that struck me was that eharmony only allows you to be a "man seeking a woman" or a "woman seeking a man". No queers. I wonder if you can sue them for discrimination. I was next disappointed by 3 pages of words that may describe me, ranked on a scale of 1 through 7 (1 being not at all, and 7 being very). I should have kept better notes about what followed, but I didn't. There were a couple (or maybe 3) pages on activities that I may find interesting (ranked again from 1 through 7), some short questions on what I'm most passionate about, and who has been a big influence on me, and what I can't live without and am thankful for, what my strengths are and what my friends think of me. Of course, there needs to be a few pages on what I think is important in a partner (again ranked on a scale of 1 through 7), what I am willing to accept for religion, drinking habits, smoking, ethnicity, whether I want children, my height, age and all that mundane things (no, they didn't ask for my weight). And finally, there is the page where I say that I accept their terms and conditions and they give me my personality profile and find me some matches.

First thing about the personality profile -- they don't give you a report in 20 parts. No. Instead, you get a report that describes you on 5 different levels: agreeableness, openness, emotional stability, conscientiousness and extraversion. I basically found out that I am who I thought I was (what a relief!) -- rather moderate in all aspects except for extraversion (I'm reserved in case you didn't know). From those 12 pages of question and answer, I got out about as much information as I would have if I had taken some random online quizzes -- since you are described by 5 criteria, you probably need to take 5 quizzes. Of course, those short questions I had to answer were displayed on my profile page for my matches to read and find out more about me. The next thing to do was to see my matches to see how well the matching algorithm worked.

I came up with 6 matches -- 3 asian and 3 white guys. It seemed to me that the asian guys were very brief with their short answers (about 1-2 lines) while the white guys wrote short paragraphs that were more descriptive. If you're a guy reading my blog and you ever try these dating sites out, my advice to you is that more is better. Write freely, and make sure you write well. While everyone is going to sound like a SNAG (is this term still used these days?), at least you won't get thrown aside immediately based on the fact that there are other guys who seem more open and interesting. Enough said.

In general, my matches were people that I wouldn't mind meeting, although the asian guys weren't as interesting because they wrote very little, and very concisely. Perhaps if you had a different criteria, you would have a different opinion. There was an obvious mismatch, and he must have realized it to because he closed communication with me the next morning. I was not impressed with spelling mistakes (typos are fine, like putting in an extra letter somewhere) -- one guy claimed to have been a playwright, except he spelt "playwrite". I might have considered clicking the "start comunicating" button, except that spelling mistake put me off. I pretty much ended my eharmony session on that note.

This morning, I woke up to find 7 e-mails from eharmony.com: 6 telling me that there was a guy they wanted me to meet, and 1 telling me that a certain Mr T wanted to start communicating with me. I actually used a real e-mail address with eharmony.com because you communicate via server e-mails, and I didn't want to bother with checking a fake e-mail account.

There are 2 options for comunicating on eharmony: guided communication, or open communication. The guided comunication process involves 2 rounds of mutual Q&A's, and sending a list of Must-Haves and Can't-Stands in between, before moving on to open communication. The fast track version is jumping straight to open communication. Mr T chose the guided communication track.

As far as the 1st round of Q&A's go, it seems that he selects 4 closed-ended questions from a list and sends them to me. If none of the above answers work, I can fill in a 4th blank answer. I think that the 2nd round of Q&A's probably involve selecting from a list of open-ended questions. It's quite like a beauty pageant, with different rounds and chances for elimination. So far, I like the guided communication track.

Since I wasn't aware of the option to close communication immediately last night, I now have to deal with my new cyber friend. I started using eharmony.com to see my personality profile (disappointing), and to see how it was possible for a guy to be "undatable" (seriously, ouch). Should I actually communicate with Mr T? There are several more layers of screening to go, and I could eliminate him, or he could eliminate me along the way. But what if we actually make it through the 2nd round of Q&A? I wasn't planning on looking for anyone, and it seems that people who sign up with eharmony.com are looking for more than just dating partners. Maybe I am over thinking this. It would be fun to try it out. I don't know.

So far, the online dating experience has been rather interesting -- I do think that it is a good way to meet a specific group of people with the same goals. In fact, it is efficient. I might actually try online dating someday, maybe someday soon if I decide to carry on communicating with Mr T (I'm using the word "communicate" a lot because it's eharmony jargon). But I've used up my 10 matches limit on the trial subscription, and that's about as far as I want to take it for now. Now what should I do with Mr T?

Addedum: It turns out that I can't start communicating unless I subscribe. I guess that's it with Mr T then. I closed communication, and I would like to tell him the truth, except I can't actually say more than check a box. I checked the box that said "Other" for reasons I'm closing communication since I can't write my own reply.

on completeness

It's funny how you can intuitively know when it's complete. "It" here refers to my room, but I could mean this in a more general way. The last piece falls in place, and you feel that whatever-it-is-we-may-be-talking-about is whole. I finally bought myself a chair yesterday, and my room is complete.

I've been resisting getting a chair for a while because I don't like chairs with wheels, and I don't like the sterile look of those office chairs that people usually get for their desks. So the last time I went shopping, I bought a white footstool to use as a stool. It was a little short, and I hardly sit at my desk as a result. Yesterday, I happened to find myself in Ikea again, and I was thinking of getting a chair but I changed my mind after seeing what was available. I couldn't get anything the first time, and things haven't changed so much in 5 months.

*pause* Well, you know it's untrue. A lot has changed in the past 5 months, and Ikea has changed a little.

Anyway, back to the story. We were getting ready to check out when there and then, I saw this red wooden chair, and I thought to check it out. I decided to get it even though I thought it wasn't quite right. I was going to run back to look for a cushion just in case, but there in the bin of red cushions right beside the aisle was one lone cream-colored cushion. And they all come together.

I finally assembled the chair today, and it strangely completes my room. I never thought of a desk chair as a crucial component of a bedroom, but it does have its role. I am now writing to you in my mostly-white room, sitting on the cream cushion on the red-stained chair, at my completely white and plain desk with a white iBook. I think it makes a lovely picture. I hope this is when other things start coming together for me as well.

One can never plan; things just happen. Does it really mean that we shouldn't bother to plan? It's not quite the koan about worrying -- if there is a solution, why worry? If there is no solution, what good does worrying do?

Water rushes into the heating pipes. Where there is space, it will flow.

Chasing Cars

I don't really like how I keep making references to pop culture in my entries. It makes my writing style so predictable, but that's what I like though, linking all the things around me up so that they look like one huge idea. It's true though, I think we are all one. One. I had my One Theory many years ago, and I haven't thought of it much. But it's not to say that I've forgotten it. It just seems so obvious, that we have a lot in common, all of us people, living things. Somehow, we just focus on the differences. It's for the same reason why we wonder why we are 99.99% similar to most animals on this planet, and we are obsessed with how that 0.01% difference translates into such a huge difference in body structure and brain functions. I agree that it is quite alarming how something so small becomes something so important. But it doesn't change the fact that we are built from a very similar blueprint.

We heard this song in class the other day, about how everything was really the same thing in biology. I think that song was about cell signaling and gene regulation. It went by the name of "Little Phosphatases" or something. How true and how insightful. Yes, I'm a biologist. I mostly catalogue things, and realize that they are all the same. But that minute difference is the punchline of every paper that I will write. Something was slightly different. But of course! If it were all exactly the same, then it's the exact same thing.

I'm not making too much sense. But it's fine. I get into such a mood when I'm reading something by Murakami. We're just killing time until the next big thing happens. I don't know what the next big thing is, but it's really not the best way to live, thinking that this moment is being killed so that I can get to the next. No wonder they say that youth is wasted on the young. Who's they? I don't know. But I think I am one of them now.

Chasing cars, since I shouldn't make obscure references without explaining them, is the title of a song by Snow Patrol. The line I'm thinking of goes something like this "Let's waste time, chasing cars in our head." The rest is self explanatory.

Pardon the recent lack of humor. I blame the sunny skies of the approaching winter.

My Man of the Year

Have the words stopped flowing? Have my ideas all dried up? Not quite, but I am tired. Ocassionally, I feel sad. Sometimes I feel happy. Perhaps it is time for a break. It is all very well to dream of escaping, to say "Anywhere but here", but it is not enough. I feel that it is important to say what you want. Unfortunately, it means that you have to know what you want. What do I want?

I wonder where he is right now, the guy who left his suitcase with me. He said that he'll be sure to pick it up if and when he returns. I haven't heard a peep from him, and I am tempted to call him up. But I am afraid that I am imposing myself on him, like I've done so many times. He said that he may take the time off and travel and work a little in some place other than here. Every so often when I feel lost and want to escape, I think of him and wonder what he is doing, and wonder what if it had been me instead. But he is not me, and he may not even remember who I am. I am still here, and I cannot escape.

For the few seconds he was around, he made a difference. At the end of each year, I like to look back and ask myself who the most important person I met was. It's still a little early, but I think I've named my Man of the Year.

Sleep

What will you make of it if I told you that the best thing that's happened to me recently is that I managed to sleep 8 hours straight? Yes, I'm slightly insomniac these days. There is unfortunately nothing romantic about it. Thankfully I'm not worrying about it.

I wonder if it has anything to do with getting older. An older person explained how he didn't need as much sleep as he aged when we marvelled at how he seemed to always be working. I have a friend who ocassionally suffers from insomnia. She thinks that deep down inside, something is bothering me. While I am bothered by a few things recently, I doubt that they are keeping me up 4 days out of a week. I could of course be totally wrong about this. Perhaps I am truly disturbed by recent events.

It is tragic that I have to think about sleep these days. Clearly, it's not something one should think about. One could appreciate being able to fall asleep and waking up refreshed, but when you can't actually sleep well, good sleep becomes something akin to a gift, a miracle. Something beautiful, surreal, not totally unattainable but rare.

Intrigued by the title (and other things), I watched the Science of Sleep recently. It's a beautiful movie, best watched by the silly romantic who is incapable of living normally. Because I identify with the childish and adorable lead, I thought the movie was touching and poignant. A more pragmatic person thinks that the lead is crazy and needs to be locked up. If only I could solve my problems in my dreams, I would want to be a sleepwalker. The lead didn't manage to solve his problem, but at least he's more proactive than I am. We're both cowards really.

Is it a problem that I identify with people who suffer from the same character weaknesses and that I am drawn to them as a result? Not just anyone with the same weaknesses of course, but someone attractive who shares my weakness. A tragic hero. I love it when things are juxtaposed. Being able to accept a weakness and turn it into something attractive is probably the wrong way to go about it. But we need our flaws to make us more human, more loveable. A perfect person isn't real. And so I will carry on with my misguided ways. Because tonight I am a defensive insomniac.

Northern Lights

An acquaintance from the past has come back into my life, and somehow he is automatically a friend now. It's amazing how things just happen on their own. For all our lack of conversation the 3 years I knew him, I associated things with him. Things that I haven't thought about recently -- like the Milky Way, the Northern Lights, mirror-grinding, telescopes. Things that made me happy once, that I haven't seen recently because they no longer seemed important. But it is important to hold on to happy thoughts.

I just saw a video of an aurora borealis on youtube, and if there is one more thing I need to do besides finally visit Paris, it is to see the Northern Lights. Colors. Bright vivid colors of the fall foliage, of the dark winter nights. Dog sleds.

First things first though -- where can I see the powdery white stars of our galaxy again?

fashion statements

I like watching certain people. In fact, I'll admit to it. I track them. Not in a stalker-like scary manner, no. But when they are around, I can't help but look at them. One of the people I look out for is this French girl who used to stay in my dorm building. At first I liked looking at her because she was French, and she seemed really cute like Amelie Poulain. She had slightly disheveled hair and glasses, and looked every bit the romantic French scholar/artist. And you wonder why I like looking at her.

She always wore black. Street clothes, comfy clothes. Always black. I thought it was a fashion thing, a fashion statement. She was someone I sort of knew, a person who would smile at me and whom I would smile at if we happened to meet. We had a mutual friend, but I never really got to know her. But I've always thought that she was adorable.

I finally saw her again recently, after the summer. I've seen her twice since school started and the first thing that I noticed was that she no longer wore black. No, she had very smart looking clothes, very colorful, very fashionable. Perhaps she finally decided to dress the French way: stylishly. It's not an overbearing stylishness. She still sticks to the simple cuts and fabrics. But it changed everything for me.

I'm sure she's her cute usual self, and nothing traumatic happened this past summer. But why was she in black every single day for a year? Was that the normal thing, or is the colorful clothing the normal thing for her? Was she in a phase? Was she in mourning? Is she in a phase now? I have to admit, I'm currently in a black phase, but I wouldn't wear too much black because I don't want my phases to look too obvious. I mean, what will I do with a ton of black clothes when it's over? And really, there was no trigger, but what if people started asking?

I'm doing to her exactly what I don't want people to do to me if I went into an overt black phase and got out of it -- wonder if there is a deeper reason. As far as I'm concerned, there is no reason for me to go into a black phase. Perhaps this is how it is for her. No rhyme, no reason. Just a passing fascination.

With fashion, we are allowed to be fickle. I must remember to not read too much into anything.

The irony of life

It must be obvious and absurb that when a biologist is studying life, he often kills the organism he's working with. Yet, how much can we learn through pure observing?


On an unrelated topic, the tea bag labels have been very boring and I've pretty much grown sick of them. Ocassionally, I come across a gem and a recent one reads: Love, an ocean of emotions entirely surrounded by expenses. I disagree. But that's just me. It's not about the expenses, but how special it feels to be with someone, looking for new ways to create unique memories, only to want to erase them from your mind forever. I'm haunted by beautiful stories about heartbreak, like the Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind.

I'm looking forward to the Science of Sleep. There is nothing quite like a man on a paper-mache horse with his sweetheart. And I'm sounding rather banal.

The power of braids

I braided my hair yesterday, and boy what a difference that made! It wasn't an experiment on the effects of braiding hair on the general public, but I made some interesting observations that may or may not be valid. I mean, I don't usually braid my hair. I just happened to have had a bad hair day waking up, and I finally decided to braid my hair sometime after lunch. The clothes I was wearing yesterday weren't special -- a black t-shirt and jeans -- so I'm totally assuming that they played no part in eliciting the response that I received from the general public. You can let me know how you feel about my observations.

Incident #1
Time: ~3:15pm; Location: on a street in a residential area just off a main road

What was I doing? I was walking home from a bbq. The weather was lovely, so some people were driving with their windows down. Along came a car with windows rolled down. It stopped at the stop sign, and the friendly driver called out to me, "Hey sexy!" What? Me?

There was no one else on that street, so I think he was talking to me.

Incident #2 & #3
Time: ~4pm; Location: at a housewarming

Upon stepping in, my friend's housemate asked me almost immediately how I braided my hair. The French braid is slightly complicated -looking, so it wasn't an out-of-the-ordinary type of question. I take a tour of the new apartment, and when I came out to join the group of people hanging out in the living room, a classmate said that she liked my hair and asked me how I did it. Another girl replied for me. "It's just a French braid."

Incident #4
Time: ~9:20pm; Location: at home

My roommate, her boyfriend, and 2 other friends were chilling in the living room. My roommate's boyfriend called out as I walked by. "I like your hair. Got a date?" "No, I woke up to a bad hair day." Everyone laughs. My roommate considered growing out her hair and getting braids as well, and her boyfriend said that he would love her despite whatever she might do to her hair.

Incident #5
Time: ~9:30pm; Location: on the street at the corner of the road I live on

There were still some people hanging out after the block party, sitting around in a circle while the children chalked the street. 1 man and about 5 women, all 30 and above. I don't know the neighbors, and I missed the block party. And I was just walking by, so I doubt they know me. I think they called out to me. I might have been mistakened. They called out something again, and I turned my head. "Yeah, we're calling out to you." Oops.

"How old are you?" They shouted at me. "Wanna guess?" "20?" "Close, I'm 23." "Too young for me," said the man. The women laughed. "Yeah, don't even think about it."

Incident #6
Time: ~4am; Location: walking home from a friend's place

It was late, it was dark. The waning moon was a beautiful crescent in the cloudless sky. A couple of cabs are prowling the street. An ocassional car drives by. A quiet night, an approaching car, a wolf-whistle, a departing car. It disrupted the peace of the night for a while. And then fled as the darkness chased it away.


I guess hair is like clothes -- they help attract attention and start conversations. Does it happen to you that often? I wonder what it might have been like if I didn't have braids yesterday. Would I look as friendly and approachable?

Frankly, I thought I looked awful in braids. I'm glad the world isn't as harsh on me.

An ode to French braids: a lengthy blog piece in many words.

Understanding Koreans

I knew that Korean people were serious about their kimchi, but did you know that they are also very serious about their red pepper powder?

I've decided to finally learn how to make Korean food, and one of my favorite dishes is Sundubu Chigae (Tofu stew). The recipe I found online called for 2 tbsp of red pepper powder, and another website warned that the New Mexico chili powder has a different level of spiciness than the Korean version. To be safe, I decided to get the Korean version.

I went to the Korean grocery store, and figured that I'll pick out the red pepper powder. I combed the aisles, and I did not see a single bottle of that powder. There were bottles of various Japanese spices, none of which were right. Plenty of black pepper, onion powder (is that a Korean or a Japanese thing?), hon-dashi. You name it. But no red pepper powder. But it's a Korean grocery store, so I must be missing something.

I went to the kimchi section, and found jars and pots of chili paste. "That could be a substitute I guess." I wondered if the shop assistants speak enough English so that I can ask them. There was a Korean girl, and a latin-looking girl at the counter, and I went straight up to the latin-looking one, thinking she might speak more English. She did understand me, but she didn't understand "red pepper powder". Was I saying it wrong? Comes the Korean girl to the rescue. She doesn't speak great English, but it was enough. She showed me to the aisle where the Japanese spices were, and found an obscure little bottle of something that was obscured by a huge label. "For udon," she said. I was disturbed. This huge Korean place sells one type of tiny bottle of wimpy red pepper powder for udon? "Is it spicy? I want to make tofu soup."

She led me to the next aisle, and pointed to the large packets at the bottom. "These are the Korean ones. We use a lot of red pepper powder, so there are no small packs." No kidding. The smallest was a 1lb pack. Most of the shelf was filled with 2-3lb packs. I saw then why I didn't find what I was looking for -- I was looking for the wrong thing. She left me to decide which brand I wanted. I decided that I wasn't going to eat 1lb of red pepper powder, so the cheapest pack would be good. It was a pack of coarse red powder. What's the difference really?

I took the pack up to the front and got ready to pay. The Korean girl beckoned to me, and she took a look at the pack of red pepper powder and shook her head. "This one is for kimchi." She flipped the pack to the back and sure enough, tons of Korean words, and 3 large pretty pictures of kimchi. I didn't see the back. I wonder if I would have understood the pictures. "You want the smaller bits." She meant to get the fine powder. Sure.

I went back and got something that said "fine" on it. I guess I didn't learn, because I didn't check the pack for instructions. I went up front and gave her the bag. "Not this one." What? I pointed to the word "fine" and she looked lost for a moment and pointed to the ton of Korean words in front. "You don't read Korean, but this one is for making chili paste. " Ah. Well. At least there were no pictures. She decided then that it was a better idea for her to help me find the right pack. So we went back to the aisle and got the right pack of red pepper powder finally.

What did I learn today? 1. There are at least 3 different types of red pepper powder. 2. Korean people eat red pepper powder by the pound. How long will my 1lb pack last me? I don't know, but I sure hope the Sundubu Chigae turns out well because that's a lot of Sundubu Chigae in that bag of red powdery wonder.

fortune cookies

There is something uncanny about the fortune cookies I get at Changsho. The most recent one said "Heroism is endurance for one moment more." I should have kept the last one that I got because that one was right on the money. I've been insomniac the past 2 months or so, and last month, the slip in the cookie said something about fear causing one to toss and turn at night, while faith makes a good pillow.

Oh, and they use chocolate-flavored fortune cookies.


"My “I” is puny, cautious, too sane. Good writers are roaring egotists, even to the point of fatuity. Sane men, critics, correct them — but their sanity is parasitic on the creative fatuity of genius." -- On Self, NY Times Magazine, Sept 10, 2006


I've never been a great performer on stage. That's why I quit dance years ago...that and because I wasn't good enough anyway. I don't know. I feel like it might have been psychological, feeling that I wasn't good enough. Most of the time, arrogance plays no part in distinguishing me from the rest of the crowd because I was more competent anyway (yes, I did say that. I am capable of being politically incorrect you know). Except when it came to dance. Perhaps I would be a better writer if I were a roaring egoist.

*Roar*

A New Beginning....

Or so I thought. For a few days after I got back my computer, I was able to resist the temptation of carrying it around, and spending all night with it. I'm back to the old ways again...almost. I'm trying to read more these days. It's not really happening, but I'll try. I don't know how I used to read non-stop when I was a kid. It was good though.I seemed to have had plenty of time back in those days. These days, I wonder where my time's gone.

This next new book I have seems promising though. I should have opened it weeks ago. The foreword of Brave New World starts like this.

"Chronic remorse, as all the moralists are agreed, is a most undesirable sentiment. If you have behaved badly, repent, make what amends you can and address yourself to the task of behaving better next time. On no account brood over your wrongdoing. Rolling in the muck is not the best way of getting clean."

I have 5 days till the book is due back at the library. I hope that the rest of it is as fun.

she is happy

I haven't seen her in 4 years. The last time we met, we sort of knew that it'll be a long time before we would meet again. Back then, I didn't know that I'll be away from home for so long. She sort of knew that she wasn't going to be home often, if at all. And many things have happened these past 4 years.

I've known her for almost 10 years now. I don't know if I've ever seen her happy. There was always something going on in her life. Happiness, if it at all existed, was something nebulous and transient. I don't know how she held on, but she did. And she prevailed. She seems happy now.

I haven't heard her voice in 3 years. I usually IM her. They say that it's hard to really interact via IM properly. You can't see facial expressions, or hear the tone of the voice. But you can tell when someone's happy, happier than you've ever seen or heard her before. She'll talk about silly mundane, banal stuff that would be incredibly boring ordinarily, but somehow sound incredibly interesting because it's special to her. And because she has infused her words with feelings, you can feel them too. It's contagious.

When I think of her, I hear this song, This Melody by Julien Clerc.

This melody
Is a melody for you
Cette mélodie (this melody)
C'est l'océan entre nous (it's the ocean between us)
Cette mélodie (this melody)
D'eau salée et de mélancolie (of salty water and melancholy)
Dans ton pays (In your country)
Elle te revient parfois (she returns to you sometimes)
Comme ça, voilà, comme ça (just like that, voila, just like that)

Le vent d'ici (the wind of this place)
Fait voler tous nos oiseaux (steals all our birds)
Les champs d'ici (the fields of this place)
Font ce qu'ils peuvent pour les troupeaux (do all they can for our herds)
Les gens d'ici (the people of this place)
Qui ne connaîtront pas d'autre vie (don't know of any other life)
Dans ce pays (in this country)
Dont les fruits sont si beaux (where the fruits are so beautiful)
Qu'on se contente des noyaux (that we are placated by their seeds)
This melody
Is a melody for you
Les gens d'ici ne sont pas plus grands (the people here aren't bigger)
Plus fiers ou plus beaux (prouder or more beautiful)
Seulement, ils sont d'ici, les gens d'ici, (it's just they are from here, the people from here)
Comme cette mélodie (like this melody)

Les gens d'ici ne sont pas plus grands
Plus fiers ou plus beaux
Seulement, ils sont d'ici, les gens d'ici,
Comme cette mélodie

Tu est partie (you're gone)
Mais ton rève reste au chaud (but your dream remains warm)
Ce vieux soleil(this old sun)
Etait trop fort pour ta peau (is too strong for your skin)
Cette mélodie (this melody)
Qui reviendra parfois dans ta vie (that returns sometimes into your life)
Cette mélodie (this melody)
Dans ta ville s'est transformée en pluie, en pluie... (in your town is transformed into rain, into rain)

That's why
This melody is a melody for you

I don't know if the song makes sense to you, but that's this melody for me. Something that returns at times, whose memory in our old paradise remains a warm fuzzy feeling, but is no longer with me. Do I say "au revoir" or "adieu"?

circumstances and free will

I was going to write about how habits can change so easily -- I'm talking about how I have somehow adapted to not having a computer at home this past 3 weeks, and how I'm trying to minimize my use of the computer when I'm home these days. I find that I actually have more time to do things if I didn't try to multitask, like surf while reading. Then I distracted myself for a bit reading the New York Times, and came across this little line about love. "Love is always a combination of need, desire, compatibility and convenience that converge at any given moment." (Dust to Dust: An Affair Post 9/11, Aug 27, 2006, Nikki Stern) I think it's one of the best definitions of love I've ever seen. If you take away the part about compatibility, we could be talking about habits.

It might be a futile exercise, trying to break down my habits and past loves and try to understand them as parts of their more elemental components (I'm not sure if those 4 headings fully capture the most basic elements). But it's important to recognize that there is a part of the equation that takes into account convenience. Yes, I think that is what struck me. The admission that love, great as it is, is also circumstantial. To me, that means that love isn't really as great as it is.

It's what I've always been afraid of -- what if I had a say in picking my parents? Would I choose the same people? Do I truly love my family, or is it all circumstantial? And exactly what is so bad about a love being made up of, at least in part, by circumstances? I hate the idea that free will isn't enough. I can't explain why it is important that choices were made, and not thrust upon us. I like to think that we are free and responsible people. That we are not certainly troubles me. Because we are human, not animals, to paraphrase Dune.

I admire it when a person is able to walk away from temptation. It is then that circumstances don't matter. He can then say that he's above it, that he is one step closer to God.

Who is Dani California?

I stumbled upon a mystery yesterday -- who is Dani California? Yes, I know that you know the answer: she's the girl in the song by the Red Hot Chili Peppers. I only just realized that yesterday. For about a week, I kept hearing the song over the radio, and the only words I really heard were "California rest in peace". I thought it was political. You know, like the great state of California. I had to see the lyrics but typing in "Dani California" into Google, I saw that there was a wikipedia page on it. So I read it.

It seems that Ms. Dani California has a history. She was maybe twice referred to, by name in "By the Way", and possibly an indirect reference in "Californication" as the "teenage bride with the baby inside". According to Wikipedia, the lyricist Kiedis has explained that Dani "embodies all the women from his past relationships". I don't follow the Chili Peppers music too religiously, so I don't know if Dani has existed before 2002, or even 1999. Her sudden appearance is interesting. People don't just appear, if you know what I mean. I don't know if she really was a "teenage bride" -- Kiedis dates high profile women. If he did keep picking "teenage brides", I must say that he has some strange taste.

Ah yes, the things I wonder about when I don't have a computer to keep me company at night.

While we are on the subject of music still, have you ever heard of Intelligent Dance music? I really like the genre, and it's not because it's called Intelligent Dance music. I must say that it's a great-sounding name though. I'm putting in a plug for the latest single from Death Cab for Cutie, "I'll follow you into the dark". You know the song will be a hit when it starts off with "Love of mine, someday you will die..." It's the sweetest song ever. The other group that I really like in this genre is the Postal Service, but let's listen to Death Cab for Cutie for now.

I can't wait to get my computer back so that I can start blogging in the comfort of my own room. You must have seen videos about how the internet is for porn. I think blogging is like porn - best enjoyed privately. How is your week coming along?

all I want from Berkeley

Things haven't exactly been great the past 2 weeks, what's with my hand injury and my hard disk crashing. The one silver lining in the dark dark clouds is that the only radio station I like in the world (for now at least) is finally streaming online. Here's a link to their website: Live105. They are an alternative radio station based in San Francisco and it's slightly nostalgic listening to them. I am reminded of the times I was driving around on lazy weekends back in Berkeley. These days, they seem to mock me -- It's a blazing 76F in San Francisco. Temperatures were hitting triple digits here last week. It's nice to know that there is a cooler place on earth to be in. My consolation is that I am at least keeping current with the latest music after being out of the scene for a year.

If you do listen to Live105, listen out for the ad by the Shane Company. You'll recognize it easily by the signature monotonous male voice, Mr John (I think) Shane. The company is in Cupertino, San Mateo, Novato and Walnut Creek. They don't play that ad often, but if you do hear it, you'll understand why it's such a great ad. So now like me, you too will have a friend in the diamond business.

The one rock station I listen to here in Boston is incredibly rude to their listeners. "I wonder how fat people cope with the heat." Live105 does rude stuff as well, but in a much more refined and constructive way. This weekend, they are giving out tickets to a performance by a Jewish performer. The ad for the give-away recommends that Mel Gibson calls in for his free ticket to get to know Jewish people better. Since Mel Gibson is probably too busy to call in for his ticket, other listeners can call in after 5 minutes to claim the unclaimed ticket. There we go, public service!

I don't remember any other special weekend (even though they have something pretty often) except for the Pride parade of 2004. Live105 was "all gay all day" that weekend, and they played a lot of Madonna. Ah...nothing like a community-based radio station in touch with their listeners. How that Boston radio station survives making fun of every single type of listener beats me. I'm not quite getting the East Coast humor.

Next on the list of things I want from Berkeley -- the Berkeley Bowl.

choices in life

There are promises. There are promises that you will keep, and there are promises that you won't keep. And then there are promises that you don't know how to keep. What do we do with those? It's no longer about remembering. It's about finding a way, and no way am I going to put these unfulfilled promises with the ones that were forgotten. They haunt the mind. Why did you agree? Why did you offer? Because.

Because you want it to happen very badly, and perhaps if you hope hard enough and try, there will be a way. Because you want to give hope, and perhaps the other person will find a way. Don't give up. And we try, and we fail. And then what? I did my best. You did your best. I shouldn't have made that promise, and you shouldn't have held me to it.

Sunday mornings should be reserved for happy cartoons. I made a bad choice this morning, but it's still a beautiful day.

cycles of adaptation

It started off innocently enough. She told me that she would have to start cooking. And I asked how she survived in the past without cooking, wanting to know what made someone who never used to cook, much if at all, want to start. She whispered, "My boyfriend...and Trader Joe's frozen dinners." It wasn't hard trying to figure out which part was missing. We shifted the conversation topic to Trader Joe's frozen dinners.

It has been often said that you don't know what you're missing until you lose it. Maybe it's been said too often. I am afraid of losing everything in case I miss something. I'm thankfully not a packrat. I didn't think of the possibility of losing the function of a thumb for a week, but it's happened to me recently, and life has been very different for better or worse. Hopefully for the better of course. And then we adapt and everything becomes a blur again.

I don't like habits. But I have them. I couldn't survive without them, yet with them I am more vulnerable. We can hope that adapting means changing for the better, since you wouldn't want to change to make things worse. But having a new addiction just means a shift of reliance. Ah yes, life is one huge vicious cycle of shifting reliance. That is what you think I am driving at. Maybe. I don't really have an end in mind.

All I wanted to do is write.

incoherent thoughts

You look like someone who has lunched poorly and who has no expectations of dinner.

That is one of the better lines I've seen over at the Surrealist Compliment Generator. Exactly how is it a compliment? I don't know.

I don't know when I started deliberately trying to be show that I'm different and special. From not liking the fact that I was the odd one out, I've become so used to not fitting in that being part of anything coherent just makes me feel awful. It's one of those nights when I'm just moody I guess. I don't really believe that I'm that special, but I just need to feel that way.

I fell in love with the word "misanthrope" when I first saw it. Should I have been surprised to find out that my thoughts are not unique, that a long time ago someone figured out that such a malaise of the mind existed and gave it a name? I was relieved somewhat to know that I was normal in the grander scheme of life. I am not alone; I am with other tortured minds that have made good.

Growing up, my dad taught me a few things about friends. Always keep a group of people around you that you can trust. And what you see of them in 10 years, it is what you will become. I have failed to generate a good group, although I'm getting there. But there is no way we will be on the same path in 10 years. Promises of the present rarely carry forward to the future. The past shouldn't be the only thing keeping us together. It often fails to anyway.

thoughts while sewing

Sewing cushion covers tonight, I recalled the last few months of junior college, and the general pessimism that prevailed. When will it all be over? I was very worried at that point in time because some of the girls were joking about giving up and marrying someone. It was a pretty bad joke repeated too many times. If those girls I knew were failures, the rest of the world didn't have a chance. Or so I thought.

But it seems that the rest of the world is more resilient. Many awful things have happened, and will continue to happen, and humans go on living.

Did I mention that I was sewing cushion covers? The world continues to amaze me, and I continue to amaze myself, seeing the person I am becoming. I cook, I sew, and I can still be a feminist. We live in fortunate times.