All the good ones are always so broken. :P

Februrary will be a work-overdrive month for me, and most of March will be too, but April will make it completely worth it.

Yesterday I was chatting with a friend of mine on IRC.  The topic of focus issues came up in the chat, and my comments led him to private message me.  After an hour or two I came to an interesting conclusion:

I don't overwork myself because of the money, or "just cause". I overwork myself because it's the only place in my life I have control.  I have tailored my behaviors, notetaking, scheduling, follow-up awareness, and general structure to work, and nowhere else.  My friendships are all over the place (mainly because of life priorities shifting for many people, so I guess I can't blame them), my family is 500 miles away, my room is piles and piles of stuff.  While I'm generally a happy panda, I'm happiest when I'm working.  And when I'm working I have control.  When I'm not at work, I just sit and veg out, not really knowing what to make of myself, and having 15 half-started tasks that seem to never get finished.  It seems like too hard of a process to learn how to take care of myself outside of work.  I mean, why should I, when I am so good at taking care of myself in work?

I'm not quite sure what to make of this yet.  But working 70 hours a week to feel as though I'm not spiraling out of control is not really the answer.

It happened like it normally happens, when you're at a family gathering with people you haven't seen in awhile.  The "Where are they now?" comes up.  It's so strange to play the "Where are they now?" game with all the names and faces of people who used to grace this LiveJournal back in its heyday.  A lot of people have abandoned this platform, but are still on the "Friends List", much akin to life.

It's funny because I rarely go home anymore and when I go home there's always some strange Life Achievement Unlocked associated with it.  I don't think I've peaked but following the upper-middle class path to success I've clearly failed in many respects.  But I'm still happy, and chugging along.  Finding out where people in your past fall on this spectrum is the fun part, though.

There are people who made out with the four-year plan and got their house, wife/husband, or car of their dreams.  We'll consider them successful, with an asterisk, as in, could they have transcended that lifestyle?  Could they have been meant for so much more?  There are many who are just straight up deadbeats.  The vast majority of everyone falls under some semblance of successful, and obviously, since we wish the best for everybody, the realization makes us happy.

Unfortunately, the biggest group we find mid-20's Hillsboroughian kids falling into as of late is the "broken" category.  There've been so many of these, just within my life in general, that it's bound that many of my sister and I's friends have become.  It's what happens when life happens, to you.  Kids who never finished college and never found their way, kids who did finish college but never got their dream career with no upward mobility, or kids who invested so much into a relationship started in high school or college only to have the failed product destroy them.

They kids that fall into that last category, you feel for them.  Their lost significant other takes their heart, trust, and precious volatile single years in their early-20's where they can explore and discover and find out what's not right for them.  It's painful to watch, and it's painful because those early-20's kids become mid-20's perpetual bachelors/bachelorettes, not knowing what exactly they want, not being able to know who to trust.  While they're great kids, at one point in time, the best catches out there, someone, somewhere, along the way killed their soul and ruined them for everyone out there trying to share a fighting chance with them.

I hope those kids out there realize that they're great.  Amazing. And that it's okay to let someone who is not as broken in.  Soon, before they lose the chance due to floundering.

I cannot believe I still write in this sometimes.

I have become such a workaholic and have been so afraid to miss out on things in life that would pass me by that I have forgotten how to relax and hang out and be comfortable in my own skin.  After paying all my bills, I am legitimately broke for the first time in months.  I have been spending recklessly as I'm accustomed to have more disposable money to throw around as I please.  I also can cook at home now, which I am doing more often (I haven't bought lunch in two weeks) but I still haven't scaled it back.

Casualties: My room - I have lived in a gorgeous apartment in Brookline for over a month and I have not unpacked.  My wallet - I still do crazy-impulsive things but my bills are higher now so I have to stop.  My sleep schedule - I still do not get enough because I want to hang out and do things after a twelve-hour day at work. My hobbies - I've had an XBox since last September and have not finished a game, I have not used my sewing machine for more than one project, I have not finished knitting a scarf since January.

So it's 4th of July weekend and I made no real plans.  I might go out daydrinking with some of my friends tomorrow, but for the most part, I'm staying at home, alternating between cleaning and talking to my sister on GChat and napping and curling into fetal position on my bed.  I am trying to unpack but I have a lot of stuff and I have been opening boxes to find stuff I need and it's all super disorganized in piles everywhere.

I have to go to New York City for work tomorrow.  I am so burned out from traveling - this will be the fourth time I'll be out of town in the last month.  I want to stay at home.  And chill.  And relax.

Also, in discussions with friends this week, I have realized that I have not over the course of my time here in Boston met one unattractive person from Maine.  Now that one of my good friends who I hang out with weekly is from there, it's become more evident.

Today is the beginning of the end.

"...once you walked into that front door, everything disappeared ...and then I started to think, you know, God, that's an incredibly domestic scene, you know, here we are, Joni Mitchell and Graham Nash, and I'm, you know, put flowers in the vase and light the fire and stuff, and I thought, but you know, I love this woman, and this moment is a very grounded moment... in our relationship, and... I sat down at the piano and, an hour later, 'Our House' was done." - Graham Nash

At twenty-five, the lure of relaxing and pseudo-domesticity looks really damn good.  Sometime recently, I came to terms with the fact I work too much mostly because I'm running away from something, probably some strange combination of loneliness or fear to be comfortable in my own skin, in my own space, in my own home.  The first thing to do when you realize you have a problem is devise a strategy (or multiple strategies) to fix it.  So after a few months, expressing my views, needs, and desires at my jobs, and internally deciding on career plans and timelines for various life changes, I put everything into motion.  I talked to my bosses about moving up and started working full time for the bank, while keeping a part-time status making coffee in the morning.  My days are longer, but I have completely free days off nowadays, and even if it is once per week, I get a good night's rest the night before and do all my chores (and vices) the day of.

Not very often do repressed memories come back to me where I become absolutely infatuated with them. This week's bizarre moment of déjà vu comes from the album Déjà Vu, released by the band Crosby, Stills, Nash & Young in 1970. The song "Our House" used to be in my piano repertoire back in high school and suddenly disappeared.  "Our House" is an interesting track on Déjà Vu in context to the rest of the album. CSNY was strongly associated to the hippie counterculture that promoted the free love movement. Many of the other songs follow suite, but "Our House" sticks out like a sore thumb. This iconic song of glorifying home life just doesn't belong on the album, but I guess that's the point.  Even with all the crazy drug use and rampant promiscuity going on during the era, Graham Nash managed to fall in love.  A comfortable, monogamous love, with none other than the legendary free-spirited Joni Mitchell, impetus of the folk rock movement at the time.  In a time where young people loved to love anyone, Graham loved to love Joni.

I listened to Déjà Vu a lot growing up and sang through a lot of the songs with my guitar-playing mom and aunt strumming through chord books in my childhood. When I became proficient in my own instrument, I played this song a lot, and then out of nowhere, I stopped.  The picturesque, serene, calming scene Graham Nash paints in his song made no sense to me, until recently. Probably because I didn't understand it - I was young and coming from a small house in constant busy-noise and mild chaos. Flowers weren't put in vases because they died, they stayed in the yard where God could water them, as my mother left them in blatant neglect. Lighting the fire was next to near impossible, unless it involved my father setting off the smoke detector when frying fish in the kitchen, or using the completely cosmetic fireplace to simulate logs aflame. Resting your head for five minutes? Absolutely not, because I had piano lessons on Tuesday, debate club on Wednesday, and after-school job on Thursday. This song, as much as I could fudge it, was no more personal to me than a Norman Rockwell painting on a card.

Then somewhere, along the way, I got it.  I want to not be so high-strung.  I want to not be so deliberate.  I want to be tied to something I can invest myself into - a career, some hobbies, something, someone I am truly passionate about.  I don't know exactly what or who it is yet, but as I move through life, make a few wrong turns, backtrack, and revise some strategies, I feel as though I'm getting closer and closer to it.  I want to build a life and a home.  I want to be less of a Joni and more of a Graham.


Happy Valentine's Day.

 People always want what they can't have. In my case, it's a niche. Everyone has a niche, whether it's a hobby they can identify with or some sort of thing they are excellent at. People fit into their stereotype sometimes, or don't stray too far from it.

I know it seems to be something weird to complain about, but I'm well-rounded. I'd even argue... too well-rounded. This in no way should be misconstrued as an arrogant type of bragging, but rather, it's honestly something I think can be a detriment. I know a lot about a lot of things. I listen to "bad" music (my recent, semi-tragic outpouring of affection of the Black Eyed Peas Super Bowl show could be a hint) as well as "good", Pitchfork-lauded music. I like classical. I know titles, artists, and lyrics of doowop artists. I play piano proficiently, and spent time learning other instruments. I had a very obsessive personality growing up and it's definitely manifested itself in another form in my adult life that is more manageable.

The thing is, this kind of all-encompassing desire to know and do a everything spreads itself among everything. I am passionate about everything, and even if I'm not, I'm certainly enthusiastic at knowing a ton. I come off as a know-it-all to some, incredibly intimidating to others. I truly mean well, because I like what I know, but it just gives off an overwhelming impression to people.

And the thing is, I can never be a "master" at anything, mainly because I just like so many things. I just haphazardly learn what I want when I want, with very little regard to structure. I try to do too much with too few resources.

On top of all this, what I actually AM good at and how I conduct myself straddles gender roles and expectations of my peers. Football is a great example in my life - I know a lot about football. Tons. And yeah, many guys say, "Wouldn't it be great if I dated a girl who likes football?" but many guys (or people in general) are caught off guard when an unassuming Asian girl will point out plays in a season and players' statistics to defend a point. I'm not going to play dumb, but honestly nobody likes getting told they're point is invalid, especially by someone they wouldn't expect. Also, while I like football, I identify as a geek and embrace all things tech, which doesn't exactly mesh. What am I more loyal to, when it comes down to it? Nothing really, since I love both equally. And it makes people wary of me. I've been looked at as a poser because I do non-girl things, or non-geek things, or non-normal things, or non-jock things.

Worst of all, I feel as though my well-roundedness makes it hard for people to identify me or value me as something important. A lot of people really want to surround themselves with people "just like them" or with certain characteristics, but with my lack of loyalty to any one niche group, it's hard for someone to value me as someone worthwhile to be with, as though I would be capable of pulling the ultimate bait-and-switch.


Times are hard for dreamers.

I always use the phrase "I'm not jealous".  I don't think it's a lie, but I think there's some sort of backstory to it.  Really, what it entails is, "I feel jealousy the same way as everyone else does, I get just as, if not more jealous instantaneously than the vast majority of people, but I have a fantastic and speedy rationalization process that prevents me from doing dumb, jealous things".  I have very little impulse control in regards to myself but will not be impulsive to do stupid shit involving other people.  In fact, whatever rationalization process I employ does a great job of me getting to sit on it.  Impulse and jealousy is sort of tied together.

Like, when I was in high school, I could see something and blow shit outta proportion super quickly and say things that were downright wrong or messed up.  After a series of snafus I've become a lot better with it.

I don't know why I chose to address this now.  I'm not even jealous of a person or any sort of entity.  I think I'm jealous of decisions made in a decision-making process.

 I honestly think that's the best line ever lyrically written for a doowop song. "I've got nothing to give you, you see. Except: everything, everything, everything, everything."

I love having a keyboard in my room. I just pick it up and start improvising covers.  They're not good improvisations as I'm a sheet music reader, but they're covers.  And I can sing.  And that's good enough for me.