The Flesh is Weak.

In the rotation of crops there was a recognised season
for wild oats; but they were not to be sown more than once.
~ Edith Wharton, The Age of Innocence

Americans have this saying about "sowing wild oats." It's supposed to be that time in your life where you're allowed to do whatever the hell you want, and not be held responsible for it. My ass. So deceptive these little sayings are.

Yet again, I find myself in the position of making an important decision. Again, part of me says yes, the other part says no. I've already done the deed in my heart a thousand times, so does it matter if I actually physically do it? There again is the deceptive reasoning. I have never in my life wanted to do something so wrong so badly. Situations in my life have been similar, but there was always a justifiable, or 'understandable' reason to acquit me of some of the blame. This is completely different. There's nothing to blame it on, nothing good enough anyway.

I think I just hate being an adult. Making your own decisions, and shaping your own character is too difficult. Like, when you're a child...all your decisions get made for you. Ironically, this is when your most important decisions will have no real bearing whatsoever. Whether or not you should eat the applesauce is not going to determine the rest of your life or who you become. Outside of being a possible apple lover.

But I guess, as they say, that's life. Wish me luck.

tired as fcuk.

Nothing like coming home to a room flooded with toilet water. Yes, my idiot suitemate didn't know how to prevent water from overflowing from a toilet bowl. You turn the water guage off, that's it...yes..clockwise. My God. Now my room is dank and musty with the remnants of whatever it is she had for lunch. Yum. Then she has the AUDACITY to keep the air dryer plugged into the BATHROOM outlet (so no one can use the bathroom) and drying her room. She then proceeds to give it to me at 12am, saying, it's kind of late...but i'm sure it's not that noisy. WTF? Like I give a shit whether I keep you awake, when the floor of my room is covered in your waste? Did you not just finish dry out your own room? Why can't I dry mine?

I've been cleaning and washing for four hours now, and I'm still not done. I'm obsessive-compulsive about being around ickyness. And I have two finals tomorrow. Yay for me.

I swear to you, tomorrow's Hilltop Headline is going to read "Residents of Suite 103E VIOLENTLY MURDERED by enraged suitemate. Don't say I didn't tell you.

Exes.

"The most exciting, challenging and significant relationship of all is the one you have with yourself. And if you can find someone to love the you you love, well, that's just fabulous."
~ Sex and the City

Phone rings. You pick up. It's your ex. You smile, you say hi and then try not to vomit because of all the crap coming out of your mouth. Like "How are you?", "I'm good, everything is good". Please. Hypocrisy is never more acceptable than when you're speaking to an ex-boyfriend or girlfriend. Especially when the break up wasn't that great. It's only after it happens a few times, and you both get over yourselves and your need to appear okay, that any real conversations happen. Then when they do, more crap comes out and the ensuing conversations are as unproductive as the fake ones. If you're lucky this doesn't happen. If you're like me, these conversations turn into a vicious cycle that appears to be never ending: One day the conversation is good, the next time it's great, the third time there's an argument, the fourth time there's a bigger argument...and then we start from step one all over again.

It's not that I particlarly enjoy repeating the same shit over and over again, it's just that I haven't had the courage, or the clarity of thought to move past it. That's changing though. Like, for real. Every time we speak something feels different...and I think it's me. I mean, don't get me wrong...sometimes I feel nostalgic, and stuff. There's nothing like the familiarity of an old relationship. And when it was good, it was great. But that's all over now. The sooner the both of us realise that, the sooner we can move on.

Not that I want another relationship in my life or anything. I think that's the last thing I need. But I do think that I need to move on. I know who I want to be, and it's not the person that I was then. It's far from the person I am now also. Hopefully when I get there, I'll be ready for a real relationship. Till then, my relationship with myself is my one and only.

Lessons Learned.

"A mistake is to commit a misunderstanding."
~ Bob Dylan

Sometimes things happen to you that you never dreamed would. And I don't mean in a good way. In an instant, honkey-dorey-ness can turn into a steaming pile of shit. The following is a list of things I learned from an unfortunate situation that just happened to take place between 2 and 4am this morning, just prior to and after a crazy joyride to Georgetown...and also when I had some serious Finance homework to do:

1. Don't talk about people. Ever.
2. Don't make jokes around stupid people.
3. Certain jokes are only okay within certain circles.
4. Don't assume a circle exists where it doesn't.
5. A woman scorned is a sad thing.
6. Panic incites stupid behaviour.
7. Don't blame other people for something you technically caused.

That's about it. And I thank the understanding victim of all this who was mature enough to understand what went down. Question though, what do you do when the woman scorned is your friend? Do you hate her because she unnecessarily dragged you into the pile of shit? Or do you pity her? Right about now I'm feeling both those sentiments. Good thing I don't believe in hell.

Which way?

One day Alice came to a fork in the road and saw a Cheshire cat in a tree. "Which road do I take?" she asked. "Where do you want to go?" was his response. "I don't know," Alice answered. "Then," said the cat, "it doesn't matter."
~ Lewis Carroll

My father has a way of getting through to me that no one else does. On our way to the airport, going back to DC after Winter Break, he started one of his usual talks. They're normally the kind of conversations where he asks a lot of questions, and I give a lot of vague answers, and "I don't know"s. That might sound a bit familiar to the people who know me well enough. Somewhere along the way, he asked me if I remembered the above passage from Alice in Wonderland. I said no, wondering how come I'd never read that book, though I know the story. After he told it to me I was kind of silent for a while. "Do you get it?" was the next question. I said yes. I did get it, and it got to me. That was one damned smart cat. Then he said something else that got to me even more: that the opposite is also true. Leave it up to Daddy to fry my brain at 4am on the Churchill-Roosevelt Highway. I love my daddy.

It was like our own little indian version of The Wonder Years. Heh. Seriously though, I remembered this conversation of ours recently while having another interesting conversation about life with a friend of mine, and somehow it hasn't faded away since. I also started reading Alice in Wonderland.

In my case, the prevailing tines in my fork tend to be right and wrong. My conclusion is that if I don't know which way I want to go, then it doesn't matter how I live. Additionally, if I'm not living rightly...then it doesn't really matter which way I want to go. Brings a whole new meaning to the road to hell being paved with good intentions, doesn't it? Not that I believe in hell. But that's not the point.

What's the moral of my story? Go read Alice in Wonderland.

What they don't tell you when you're a kid is that you are Alice...and Wonderland is your life.

Thank You

I expect to pass through life but once.
If therefore, there be any kindness I can show,
or any good thing I can do to any fellow being,
let me do it now, and not defer or neglect it,
as I shall not pass this way again.
~William Penn

There are nice people, and then there are nice people. Some peope are just nice because they have to be, or because they are expected to be, or because that's what mom and dad pounded into their brains when they were younger. Then there are those rare people who just have kindness in their character...the kind of people who'd do something nice and never tell a soul.

Recently, someone was nice to me when I wasn't even looking. And that gesture made me feel, for the lack of a better word...nice. It wasn't because it resulted in my getting something that I wanted, but because of the thought. Someone thought of me for however fleeting a moment and did something sweet that they didn't have to. And that person doesn't even know me. It feels strange to explain why what they did mattered, because somehow it doesn't do it justice...but I had to try.

I guess this is just my way of saying thanks, Nick...for what you gave me, and for what you've shown me. I do wish I'd gotten the chance to get to know you, and I hope everything works out for you, for real.

I admire your courage and your strength in places where I could never have it.

Thank You.

Nothing to do but frown.

"Rainy days and mondays always get me down"
~ The Carpenters

Today it rained. It's Monday too. Hallelujah.

We went to Starbucks, I studied Finance a little...drank an overpriced cafe latte, then went to Safeway. The only good part was when I got to return to Meridian Hill Hall for a couple minutes, and by pleasant surprise I ran into Raymond, who still runs the store. Sigh. That was the best dorm ever. Such good times.

Now I have Productions & Operations Management homework to do again. Somehow I always blog before that class. Coincidence? I think not.

All in all it's been a pretty shitty day. I keep promising myself that I'll stop saying that word. Never works out. But seriously, the general mood was just...shitty. And I'm not even sure why. I blame the rain. And the fact that it's Monday.

Male PMS

"Women love men for their defects;
if men have enough of them women will
forgive them everything,
even their gigantic intellects."
~ Oscar Wilde

I don't know about you gals, but I get a little disturbed when men have more PMS than I do. And we're supposed to be the sex that's impossible to understand. Sigh.

You know, if men wouldn't keep insisting that they don't have feelings, they wouldn't have to come out in the form of moods. And while I can't say that I always (or ever for that matter) make my feelings plainly known...I don't change moods like my mother changes the colour of our living room. Which, by the way, is very often.

Anyway, I'm a patient kind of girl, but sometimes I can be gotten the better of. So, my new strategy is 'hands-off'. Talk to me when the oestrogen subsides.

Ahh men. I love them.

Men are only as loyal as their options.

Show me a woman who doesn't feel guilty and I'll
show you a man.
~Erica Jong

So I'll admit I was a little tempted. But I'll start from the beginning.

Almost a year ago I had an encounter with a sexy dreadlocked guy at this one party that I shouldn't have gone to for several reasons in addition to the one that follows. I hadn't been drinking, despite you skeptics who may believe otherwise. He was well dressed, and he stood head and shoulders above almost every other guy there. Yes, sadly, I have a bit of a weakness for dreads. He was obviously American. No, I don't have a weakness for Americans, but I could judge his nationality from his reaction to a little Caribbean dancing. Anyway, somehow numbers got exchanged and a couple phone conversations were had. We decided to meet at Tryst for drinks one afternoon. I was a little nervous, but I went anyway. He looked like a stepped out of a GQ magazine, but he still had a little of his own personal edge. His tongue was pierced. Unexpected, but oddly attractive. We talked a bit, and I was informed that from then on "the ball was in my court and bouncing..." All I had to do was make the move. We parted ways, he graduated, went to grad school in New York, and we didn't see each other again. Luckily I was intelligent (and scared) enough to let the ball keep bouncing. It bounced for nearly a year.

Last week, trudging up the hill from Starbucks and on my way to the dreaded Physical Science Lab, I spotted him breaking the corner at the Engineering building. In one of those moments, when you know that your next decision could be crucial, I whipped out my phone and sent him a text. It was him, he was on campus...and did I want to hook up? Being a little deprived, I was tempted to say yes...but I didn't. I didn't say no either. Didn't say yes or no for about four days now. Last night, I went on the Facebook, and saw that he added me to his friends. I checked out his profile, and he clearly has a girlfriend. Immediately, all temptaion was gone. Now I know we weren't planning to elope, or to do anything of any particularly upstanding behaviour...but still. He has a girlfriend! Two unattached people can have some fun if they want, right?

What is it that makes men have no loyalty to their women? What's worse is that he's extremely intelligent, comes from a great family and is very cultured. Yet he would still do shit like that. I guess it just makes me wonder. Granted that this isn't what I was looking for, is there any hope out there for women to find committed men? I'm sure his girlfiend has no clue about this adulterous side of his. My cell phone's now turned off to avoid any further conversation that he seems rather persistent in continuing.

Sigh. I could have, I would have, but I also shouldn't have. Glad I didn't.

Pinch Me

Where there is no vision, the people perish.
- Proverbs 29:18

It's 1:27 am. I'm supposed to be reading Chapter 7 of Productions & Operations Management. It's on 'Process Strategy', and I have to tell you...it's very compelling stuff. The first sentence was riveting, so riveting that I was inspired enough to write a blog about it.

NOT.

It's incredible, the sad state of affairs that my life has come to. What's worse is that noone believes me, and now I'm like the proverbial boy who really did see the wolf that one time. I am failing out of school...but because it's me, and everything always works out, noone believes me. I guess it's better that way, so noone would ask me shit like "What's your GPA?". Like that could solve my problems.

I do believe that my lack of motivation to go to class, do homework, go to work and pretty much participate in my own life comes from somewhere much deeper than "I just don't feel like it". Problem is, I decide not to think about it, because thinking about it means I have to do something about it. Since I am obviously not prepared to do that, I just continue on existing...floating about by every wind that catches me. When the wind stops, in moments like these, I realise just how unhappy I really am. I resolve to think about it, and talk about, and hopefully do something about it, so that eventually it will all change. I will have some purpose, some vision...something that gives me a reason to LIVE. Then I go to bed, wake up and forget that yesterday happened. Somehow reality has ceased to exist in my life, and every day is like a 24-hr dream that I'm sleepwalking through. Hopefully soon, someone will pinch me, and I'll wake up. Till then I'll continue to exist in my own prison.

I suppose I should finish that chapter. Maybe I'll just go to bed.

Tip #1: Don't accuse selfish people of being selfish.

SELFISH, adj. Devoid of consideration for the selfishness of others.
- Ambrose Bierce


I asked a friend of mine today if he thought I was selfish. He said "Everyone is selfish." Everyone? I wasn't sure if to believe him, or if I should be a psycho (like p) and analyse the phrase until it didn't exist. I came to the conclusion that I agree, and disagree with him in equal portions. Logically speaking, we're all individuals and would naturally act in favour of ourselves, and naturally seek what pleases us. If we don't, then who else would? On the other hand, acting solely for that purpose, without an iota of concern for anyone else is what I think the word-makers had in mind when they created it.

Somehow accusing someone of selfishness doesn't always pan out well. I don't recommend it...even if you do it indirectly, and especially if that person doesn't take criticism well (but thinks they do). Chances are you'll have a harsh criticism of the same thing slapping you right back in the face. From there you have two options: 1) Shut up, or 2) Get pissed off. Being the calm person that I am, I chose option two.

All I can say is that I'm sorry for thinking I could depend on a friend. Wanting to, and thinking you should be able to is not being selfish. It's being human. Getting pissed off because you expected not to be able to is also normal. I consider myself to be a dependable friend, even when I'm not asked. But apparently that's my ego speaking. For the sake of not arguing further with that friend, which would be the equivalent of individually plucking out my eyelashes, I am now choosing option three: Not giving a shit. Think what you will of me (even though most of those thoughts have no real basis). I know who I am, and what my actions have been. I have nothing to defend.

In that sense, I am selfish. According to Ambrose anyway.

Does This Make Me One of the Guys?

Beer + Pizza + Cursing + Belching + Playing Video Games = Male Fun

Tonight I spent three hours of my life trying to learn how to operate a XBox joystick thingy, while two of my male friends had their eyes fixated on the screen, and their hands moving furiously on their own joysticks. (Okay, so I don't mean that how it sounds.) I think men are born with a gene that allows them to intuitively make an electronic control an extension of their own bodies. Call me crazy, but I cannot possibly control a CGI's movement and direction while trying to navigate mazes, pick up flags, drive cars, throw grenades, shoot guns, and not kill your own people all at the same time. There I was thinking I had good hand-eye coordination all my life.

It was fun though. Breaking the Friday-night routine, or any routine for that matter, is quite refreshing. You remember that other people do exist, and that you can possibly hang out with people outside of the regular clip. It was very fun and diverting, to say the least. Especially when the visit was mingled with the ramblings (and expletives, both Jamaican, Trinidadian and Standard) of their hilariously cute and funny drunken roommate.

I have to say that the 'gamer' is not really my type, per se, but they are cool people (for the most part). So although I may not marry one, I'd hang out with one any day.

Now that I'm one of the guys...how's about letting me in on some of the guy talk?

Blast from the Past...

When someone from your past comes back into your life suddenly and inexplicably, almost as suddenly time travels backward and, for an instant, you become the person you were then. In my case, the disillusioned, heartbroken girl who, for the first time in a long time, got to breathe a breath of fresh air. That fresh air was on Store Bay in Tobago, and it was 6'2" tall with dreadlocks. It was there that he gave me, unasked, the thing I wanted most in the world: a hair-tie.

There are some people with whom you just click. Talking is easy, liming is easy...being is easy. We just clicked. After that ensued arguably three of the most enjoyable consecutive months of my life.

Needless to say, I'm not the person I was then...as good or bad as that may be. Neither is he. What's amazing however, is that after three years we still click. We can still talk and 'be' just as easily. Cool people are hard to find. I dedicate this entry to you, my fresh air of three years ago.

They say every woman ought to have a juicy past. Thanks for three months of juice.

Rock Me To Sleep...

BACKWARD, turn backward, O Time, in your flight,
Make me a child again just for to-night!

- Elizabeth (Akers) Allen. 1832–1911

Babies know what they want. They are driven by the basest of things. If they're hungry, they cry, then they eat. If they're wet, or uncomfortable, they cry, and eventually get relief. When they want to sleep, they pass out...be it in their own comfortable cribs, or in the middle of a circus.

As we get older, what we want isn't necessarily so clear. Oh, that it would be! Things get progressively more complicated. Should they? That's what everyone says. But I think we had the right idea when we were babies. Then again, when we cried, someone was there to feed us. When we were wet someone was there to change us. When we needed to rest, all we had to do was close our eyes. Now, if we're hungry, we have to find food. This most times means having money, which means getting a job that allows you to buy food, which means getting an education so you can be employed, which means studying hard in school, which means finding the motivation to study - which was, oh yeah...food? Doing those things generally means sacrificing our sleep and comfort.

All very confusing stuff.

Maybe we will figure it all out when we're old, and in diapers again. Then we can ring a bell when we're hungry, push a button when we want to be more comfortable, and close our eyes when we want to sleep.

Right now, I want to be a child again. Just for tonight.

The Best Laid Plans...

Yea, I'd say pretty much the entire summer went awry (or aw-rie, as a certain one of my male counterparts would say). It's amazing how frighteningly incapable one can be of accomplishing a simple task. And yea, I know, many things in life are easier said than done, but are they really? Or is that an excuse we use to make our inaction seem okay?

Rationalisation, I'd say, is one of the great downfalls of the human mind.

How hard could it be to spend a summer alone in Hartford, CT, have a great internship and change my life all at the same time? Okay, so it doesn't sound that simple. But why not?

So the end of the internship draws nigh, and I have succeeded in confirming that I am lazy, I lack even the slightest amount of self-discipline, and that my work ethic leaves much to be desired. Mind you, I have been aware of these stellar qualities of mine for some time now, so all in all it was a less-than-fruitful summer. Somehow the word pointless comes to mind as well.

What's even more worrying is that while confirming these things to myself, I managed yet again, to be the near-perfect intern. If nothing else, this proves that people in general seem to be happy with self-delusion...happy that things at least appear to be going well, or excellently, as the case may be. I guess once I smile and pretend to be busy, it's all good. Apparently I don't mind exploiting that fact. Don't get me wrong, I did what I was told to do - somewhere in between making several long-distance calls to Trinidad and being absent-without-leave (or running away, as I fondly call it) for at least a couple hours a day. Should I feel guilty about my perfect time sheets? I guess I'm just too good at keeping up appearances, or lying...whichever you'd prefer to call it.

Is it too much to ask that someone would see right through me and pound me for it? I'm being punished in the worst way possible. I'm terrible and no one sees it. No matter how desperately I want them to. I have come to the conclusion that that's the only way I might change my two-faced ways. But then again, that's probably another rationalisation.

So at the end of it all, I come out the ambitious business student who sacrificed a summer, beefed-up her resumé and catapulted her career to new heights. Yay for me.

Those who know the truth tell me I'm lucky not to be found out.

One man's luck is another girl's prison.