I also had my psychological exam today, conducted in Spanish by an outside psychologist, with a little bit of assistance from a Projects Abroad staff (Mariel) when I needed help.
I was asked to draw three pictures of three people, and asked for their names and ages. One man, one woman, and one person standing in the rain. I was asked questions about the man and the woman, making up a profile about them.
I felt incredibly nervous/awkward... like when the psychologist asked me to put down a name and age, and I thought she wanted mine so she could file the pictures away, but on the woman's picture, I wrote mine again, and the employee told the psychologist that I was writing my name down. Oops.
I could only think of Hispanic names, so I struggled to think of names that would perhaps not make me seem so racist. haha.
I felt really dumb drawing them (the questions running through my head: do I draw clothes? If I just draw a body without markings for clothes, will I be flagged as some strange person? Should I try to draw shoes, or are blobs ok? Do I need more defining characteristics to make this drawing obviously a woman? How do I draw boobs? [I gave up on that, and made the girl be 15 years old to compensate. except i guess I should've chosen like 12 or something, but then I didn't want to seem like a pedophile by thinking about young girls all the time]) and I really wished I could draw better. I wanted to ask if drawing stick-figures were ok, but I decided to just not. Mostly because I did not know how to express that in Spanish.
I also had little idea what to say when I was asked what the man and woman's best and worst part of their bodies were (I wanted to say hands for the worst part because I can't freaking draw hands and they looked so ugly, but I decided that my drawing capabilities were not the point here).
I also felt like an idiot when I said the man's least favorite part was his arms, but I said "armas," and in my head thought, "I'm pretty sure that means 'guns,' and not 'arms.'"
My fears were confirmed when the psychologist looked at Mariel, the employee, and gave a most confused expression. I couldn't remember the word "brazos" for the life of me, but fortunately Mariel provided it. I then nervously laughed and was like, "Ooh, armas means more like pistols or something, huh? I'm sorry." in Spanish, and the psychologist smiled.
I wondered about what these pictures signified... do these pictures represent the masculine and feminine side of me or something?
Some of the other questions and some of my other answers just made me confused and wondering about what I should and shouldn't say. In the end, I stayed with the safe answers, because I wanted to actually pass the exam.
I hope I'm deemed fit to work with the children. >_<
Anyway, the thing that hits me the most about Cochabamba is how similar it is to China. Maybe that's because China's like the only other vastly culturally-different reference I have. But the broken sidewalks, roads, shape of the cars and buildings... all quite similar to walking down some streets in Shanghai. I've enjoyed it all so far, but that may be because it's all so new and different.
I've had four adults (my host mom and three Projects Abroad employees) tell me that I speak Spanish "muy bien," which of course makes me happy. Although then when I was asked by one of the adults (Mariel) what level my Spanish was, Freddy, my supervisor, offered "intermedio" when I was trying to say that I wasn't too sure. He told me my Spanish was muy bien! I was going to say Advanced-low, so I was kinda offended, haha. Then again, I don't know if "avanzado-bajo" would even make sense, so maybe it was better that I didn't say that.
But then, Mariel, after listening to my psych examination, told me that my Spanish was muy bien, so I'm guessing it was better than her expectations (some of my [as far as I know] grammatically-correct long responses impressed me too when I was answering some of the questions). Apparently, according to Freddy after I asked him, most of the volunteers don't speak much Spanish. Some don't know any.
I can't really imagine what that would be like, going to a new country where you know basically nothing of the language, considering how fearful I've been about failing in Spanish. That would just be so limiting... I already feel limited by only being able to understand like half of what my host sister and her friends were saying last night. I hoped it was majorly because of the 28 hours of travelling/airports that I had before, but I feel in large part it's because I'm not quite up to snuff. Yet.
Writing another post about the orientation of my placement, which I have yet to see. I want to designate a whole post to it because it's at once unnerving and frightening, but also intriguing and challenging. I'll have my work cut out for me.
Tuesday, May 15, 2012
Public Transportation in Cochabamba
Took Cochabamba's crazy--yet super efficient--public transportation today. Both times it was to and from my house to the office (well, the second time coming back was from a cell phone store where I purchased a SIM card for a phone my host family is lending me, with the help of Mariel, an employee at Projects Abroad). First it was accompanied by Freddy, the supervisor of my area of work in Projects Abroad (Care), and then I decided to go by myself.
There are no bus stops. There are no stops anywhere. There are no schedules. I don't really know how one who is not a local would know about the routes, since there are none written down. (I looked online and found this website, but this only gives a small chunk--the center--of Cochabamba and doesn't even reach to where I live).
You put out your hand. The vehicle stops immediately. You get on. The driver resumes driving. You yell, "Esquina (Corner)" or "Voy a bajar (I'm going to get off)" or if those don't work, "¡Pare! (Stop!)" when you want to get off.
According to the packet about public transport that Projects Abroad gave us, "There are no easily accessed public sources of information about the public transportation system here. Most of the knowledge--about routes, rates, and rules--is unofficial, unwritten. Changes to the system are passed along by word of mouth--any other written material you might find is most likely out of date or out of whack with the way things really work."
So you have three types of vehicles: Micros, Trufis, and Taxi-Trufis. I've only been on a taxi-trufi so far. There are also radio-taxis, which is private and safe with no overcrowding (the public transportation is safe too, but it stops running after 9 p.m. until like 6:30 a.m.).
Micros I believe are short for micro-buses, which are nothing to write home about. Imagine your usual overpacked bus. Think about buses filled to the breaking point in a place like China, if you've ever been (well, perhaps less full on average than China).
Trufis--I was unsure about the difference between micros and trufis (i knew it's middle-sized between micros and taxi-trufis) since it's only my second day here, but I found this wonderful and hilarious article about transportation in Cochabamba here. And she has pictures, which I'm too lazy to reproduce here! (Actually, her experience here really made me laugh, although it's unrelated to transportation and just makes me feel better about my Spanish, haha).
Taxi-trufis--normal cars. Minus working seatbelts (they don't work on radio-taxis either), so think China again. Except with a maximum of three adults (plus children on the lap if they have any), and then two more up front, squished a little with the driver, if one is in a compact car.
Driving, roads, and crossroads are like China, so weaving in and out along with bicyclists (w/o helmets), honking is fairly plentiful, and there is a dearth of stop signs/lights which makes me wonder how the drivers know when to go. I guess sometimes they just have to inch their way in.
The public transportation costs only 1.7 bolivianos, which is about 24 cents, and is the same no matter how far you're travelling, as per usual for public transportation. Unfortunately, the packedness of the car means I can never pull out my map to see where I'm actually going, and I have to rely on the landmarks that my supervisor pointed out to me. This makes me particularly antsy to not end up completely lost.
I think I was just impressed and mindblown by the fact that I can basically just put out my hand and get on some random car and get off at any place on the street that the car is driving on. The routes that I actually want to take have cars that pass by probably every couple of minutes or less. After 110+ rides on the Metro system in Houston, it's pretty different, especially compared to the times where I've waited 20+ min. after the scheduled time for a bus to come, or had a bus come 10 min early and watch it pass by me as I was walking to the bus stop, or the multitude of times I've run after a bus, trying to catch it.
As the packet from Projects Abroad says,
"The only guarantee you have is to arrive at your desired destination for a fraction of the cost of most any public transportation in the modern world, and to be picked up most likely within 10 minutes. The freedom to stop or board anywhere along the set route, and to tote along your favorite pet, a medium-sized ladder, or your live chicken dinner can be most exhilarating, especially for the first time user."
"And, whatever the system's failings, we believe it works better than any other "Metro" system in the world."
There are no bus stops. There are no stops anywhere. There are no schedules. I don't really know how one who is not a local would know about the routes, since there are none written down. (I looked online and found this website, but this only gives a small chunk--the center--of Cochabamba and doesn't even reach to where I live).
You put out your hand. The vehicle stops immediately. You get on. The driver resumes driving. You yell, "Esquina (Corner)" or "Voy a bajar (I'm going to get off)" or if those don't work, "¡Pare! (Stop!)" when you want to get off.
According to the packet about public transport that Projects Abroad gave us, "There are no easily accessed public sources of information about the public transportation system here. Most of the knowledge--about routes, rates, and rules--is unofficial, unwritten. Changes to the system are passed along by word of mouth--any other written material you might find is most likely out of date or out of whack with the way things really work."
So you have three types of vehicles: Micros, Trufis, and Taxi-Trufis. I've only been on a taxi-trufi so far. There are also radio-taxis, which is private and safe with no overcrowding (the public transportation is safe too, but it stops running after 9 p.m. until like 6:30 a.m.).
Micros I believe are short for micro-buses, which are nothing to write home about. Imagine your usual overpacked bus. Think about buses filled to the breaking point in a place like China, if you've ever been (well, perhaps less full on average than China).
Trufis--I was unsure about the difference between micros and trufis (i knew it's middle-sized between micros and taxi-trufis) since it's only my second day here, but I found this wonderful and hilarious article about transportation in Cochabamba here. And she has pictures, which I'm too lazy to reproduce here! (Actually, her experience here really made me laugh, although it's unrelated to transportation and just makes me feel better about my Spanish, haha).
Taxi-trufis--normal cars. Minus working seatbelts (they don't work on radio-taxis either), so think China again. Except with a maximum of three adults (plus children on the lap if they have any), and then two more up front, squished a little with the driver, if one is in a compact car.
Driving, roads, and crossroads are like China, so weaving in and out along with bicyclists (w/o helmets), honking is fairly plentiful, and there is a dearth of stop signs/lights which makes me wonder how the drivers know when to go. I guess sometimes they just have to inch their way in.
The public transportation costs only 1.7 bolivianos, which is about 24 cents, and is the same no matter how far you're travelling, as per usual for public transportation. Unfortunately, the packedness of the car means I can never pull out my map to see where I'm actually going, and I have to rely on the landmarks that my supervisor pointed out to me. This makes me particularly antsy to not end up completely lost.
I think I was just impressed and mindblown by the fact that I can basically just put out my hand and get on some random car and get off at any place on the street that the car is driving on. The routes that I actually want to take have cars that pass by probably every couple of minutes or less. After 110+ rides on the Metro system in Houston, it's pretty different, especially compared to the times where I've waited 20+ min. after the scheduled time for a bus to come, or had a bus come 10 min early and watch it pass by me as I was walking to the bus stop, or the multitude of times I've run after a bus, trying to catch it.
As the packet from Projects Abroad says,
"The only guarantee you have is to arrive at your desired destination for a fraction of the cost of most any public transportation in the modern world, and to be picked up most likely within 10 minutes. The freedom to stop or board anywhere along the set route, and to tote along your favorite pet, a medium-sized ladder, or your live chicken dinner can be most exhilarating, especially for the first time user."
"And, whatever the system's failings, we believe it works better than any other "Metro" system in the world."
Friday, May 11, 2012
My ASB Journal Entry
Here's what I wrote in the group journal for Alternative Spring Break. I rushed to type it down from the actual journal before the CIC closed and Loretta picked me up for UH's graduation. I still have that long overdue post where I talk about the nitty-grittiness of ASB and what I really learned and took away, but I'll get to that... soon. Ugh, maybe when I'm at the airport on Sunday or something, waiting for the hours of layover that I have to pass by.
Wednesday
7 March 2012
I am unfashionably late to the journal-writing party, as it's been 4 days since we stepped off our plane, bringing us back into IAH. But that doesn't mean I'm anywhere close to being done processing this experience--let's hope this entry helps facilitate my reflections.
As per usual, many people have asked me how my spring break/ASB went. I generally reflexively respond with, "Good," and then we both stand there, waiting for me to elaborate. The second word that always comes to mind that I say is "difficult." Our service didn't end when we had all piled into our Blue and Red Machines and were driving back to First Pres. As someone remarked during one Rice Reflections, our trip was triple-layered, which I'll explain below. So if this ASB trip were a three-layered cake (red velvet or carrot maybe? =) ), here's how I'd describe things:
The First (Base) Layer: KIPP: Impact
Oh, the KIPPsters! They were so adorable, and the teachers were so caring, and the atmosphere was so focused. My head still rings of "That's a demerit for posture," of "college hands" and of stomps, claps, snaps, and glow worms. Being only 5th and 6th graders, they weren't always elated to be in such a strict environment (heck, I'd certainly have trouble handling it even now), but they could tell their teachers cared about them ("They cared a bit too much," some said) and it was a constant inspiration to see how on top of things all the teachers were. And even when the students hated KIPP, I would ask about their parents' view of KIPP and all their parents unanimously loved KIPP... so they realized that transferring schools wasn't a likely possibility for them after all.
That's not to say that all the students wanted to transfer out of course! Some were really invested in their education and were incredibly self-motivated. My students that I tutored in math, J and N, would make remarkable bounds every day, and I was amazed at how much they understood by the end of the week. I know it wasn't all because of my tutoring, or really even partly due to my tutoring... they easily could have forgotten and given up any day they wanted to. And I would have been helpless to teach them much. So KIPP's model of realizing that it's not just that every child can learn, but that every child will learn certainly holds true. On the last day, J ended up getting a 20%, and N got an 80% on their quizzes. I awkwardly had to both congratulate N and comfort J as they sat next to each other and J put his hood up, buried his face in his arms, and silently cried. J and I worked through the problems afterwards, however, and his grit in wanting to learn and his determination to not give up was truly admirable. I can't say I bounce back from failures so easily--I usually don't like to look at what I did wrong on something until weeks later, or until I have to.
Having all three components work together--the teachers, the parents, and the students--that is something KIPP does well and it shows how much good can arise when those three are in tandem. To be able to be a source of encouragement, a brief help, or a temporary role model to them... man, what a privilege. They've definitely shown me how effective and necessary discipline and being strict is, and I hope I can lay down the law with love more in the future.
The Second Layer: Wheatley High School
I do hope they had a great experience and took a lot from the trip. The lack of sleep was obviously killer, and I know my expectations were just a little too unrealistic. They were mentees just as they were mentors, and I didn't appreciate that fact nor realize how much mentoring they needed. I learned some appropriate phrases like "finna" just in time for the KIPP students and was grateful for that. But I think learning to handle such eclectic experiences and expectations about the trip was what I primarily encountered. Handling frustration, disappointment, and annoyance--it was all there, and it all contributed to why "difficult"is the second word that comes to mind when I think back to this trip. Once again, however, what's more important is what they got from the trip, rather than what I got from them. I'm glad we took that tour to Jacksonville University, because even though it was long, it was an intriguing and pretty campus, a nice break, and I think Wheatley really enjoyed it. Besides, I wouldn't be surprised if they had disappointments about me or frustrations about how the trip was going. That's life. Without a doubt, thought, the trip wouldn't have been the same at all without them.
The Third Layer: Rice University
What a great group. You guys were awesome and there were so many times that I was extremely grateful for each one of you being on this trip. Thanks for sticking with everything even when Albert and I were at the end of our ropes. Thank you for the encouragement and the belief that things would be fine, because I know the stress was probably evident many times on my face and through my body language. I hope we can continue our friendships as we are here back at Rice, and that w'll be able to still spur each other on. =) Our Rice Reflections were much-welcomed and much-needed. Thank you for being willing and eager to do them, at the cost of sleep.
The Icing: Site Leading with Albert
(Someone during Rice Reflections remarked that if this was a triple-layered experience, Albert and I were kinda like the icing, which I thought was cute and ingenious. xD)
This boy... he is so awesome and the main reason I wanted to site lead rather than just be a participant. His passion and his enthusiasm were such an encouragement and his fast-thinking and previous leadership experience were crucial, essential pieces to making this trip run well. I learned so much about our different personalities and styles, perhaps made most evident in how he is an extrovert whereas I am an introvert. Our site leader reflections would find ourselves reflecting two different mindsets and approaches to an issue, but ultimately reaching the same conclusion. I definitely ill cherish the advice and role modelness that Albert has provided me.
I described what each layer of our triple-layered carrot cake (that seems more nutritious tan red velvet, haha) of ASB was like, but to put to word s how it felt to eat this deliciousness of a cake is beyond what I can write here (ask me for my blog if you want more, haha.) But I know it was worth the calories of time, money, and effort to ingest and I'm so thankful to be blessed to have this experience. Learning and growing were tow major things I did--learning about my insecurities, foibles, and strengths was illuminating. Growing, or at least trying to grow, from what I learned is a process I'm still undergoing, even days after (and probably it'll be for much longer after) this trip. Thank you to everyone for bearing with me.
Much love,
David Wang
Wednesday
7 March 2012
I am unfashionably late to the journal-writing party, as it's been 4 days since we stepped off our plane, bringing us back into IAH. But that doesn't mean I'm anywhere close to being done processing this experience--let's hope this entry helps facilitate my reflections.
As per usual, many people have asked me how my spring break/ASB went. I generally reflexively respond with, "Good," and then we both stand there, waiting for me to elaborate. The second word that always comes to mind that I say is "difficult." Our service didn't end when we had all piled into our Blue and Red Machines and were driving back to First Pres. As someone remarked during one Rice Reflections, our trip was triple-layered, which I'll explain below. So if this ASB trip were a three-layered cake (red velvet or carrot maybe? =) ), here's how I'd describe things:
The First (Base) Layer: KIPP: Impact
Oh, the KIPPsters! They were so adorable, and the teachers were so caring, and the atmosphere was so focused. My head still rings of "That's a demerit for posture," of "college hands" and of stomps, claps, snaps, and glow worms. Being only 5th and 6th graders, they weren't always elated to be in such a strict environment (heck, I'd certainly have trouble handling it even now), but they could tell their teachers cared about them ("They cared a bit too much," some said) and it was a constant inspiration to see how on top of things all the teachers were. And even when the students hated KIPP, I would ask about their parents' view of KIPP and all their parents unanimously loved KIPP... so they realized that transferring schools wasn't a likely possibility for them after all.
That's not to say that all the students wanted to transfer out of course! Some were really invested in their education and were incredibly self-motivated. My students that I tutored in math, J and N, would make remarkable bounds every day, and I was amazed at how much they understood by the end of the week. I know it wasn't all because of my tutoring, or really even partly due to my tutoring... they easily could have forgotten and given up any day they wanted to. And I would have been helpless to teach them much. So KIPP's model of realizing that it's not just that every child can learn, but that every child will learn certainly holds true. On the last day, J ended up getting a 20%, and N got an 80% on their quizzes. I awkwardly had to both congratulate N and comfort J as they sat next to each other and J put his hood up, buried his face in his arms, and silently cried. J and I worked through the problems afterwards, however, and his grit in wanting to learn and his determination to not give up was truly admirable. I can't say I bounce back from failures so easily--I usually don't like to look at what I did wrong on something until weeks later, or until I have to.
Having all three components work together--the teachers, the parents, and the students--that is something KIPP does well and it shows how much good can arise when those three are in tandem. To be able to be a source of encouragement, a brief help, or a temporary role model to them... man, what a privilege. They've definitely shown me how effective and necessary discipline and being strict is, and I hope I can lay down the law with love more in the future.
The Second Layer: Wheatley High School
I do hope they had a great experience and took a lot from the trip. The lack of sleep was obviously killer, and I know my expectations were just a little too unrealistic. They were mentees just as they were mentors, and I didn't appreciate that fact nor realize how much mentoring they needed. I learned some appropriate phrases like "finna" just in time for the KIPP students and was grateful for that. But I think learning to handle such eclectic experiences and expectations about the trip was what I primarily encountered. Handling frustration, disappointment, and annoyance--it was all there, and it all contributed to why "difficult"is the second word that comes to mind when I think back to this trip. Once again, however, what's more important is what they got from the trip, rather than what I got from them. I'm glad we took that tour to Jacksonville University, because even though it was long, it was an intriguing and pretty campus, a nice break, and I think Wheatley really enjoyed it. Besides, I wouldn't be surprised if they had disappointments about me or frustrations about how the trip was going. That's life. Without a doubt, thought, the trip wouldn't have been the same at all without them.
The Third Layer: Rice University
What a great group. You guys were awesome and there were so many times that I was extremely grateful for each one of you being on this trip. Thanks for sticking with everything even when Albert and I were at the end of our ropes. Thank you for the encouragement and the belief that things would be fine, because I know the stress was probably evident many times on my face and through my body language. I hope we can continue our friendships as we are here back at Rice, and that w'll be able to still spur each other on. =) Our Rice Reflections were much-welcomed and much-needed. Thank you for being willing and eager to do them, at the cost of sleep.
The Icing: Site Leading with Albert
(Someone during Rice Reflections remarked that if this was a triple-layered experience, Albert and I were kinda like the icing, which I thought was cute and ingenious. xD)
This boy... he is so awesome and the main reason I wanted to site lead rather than just be a participant. His passion and his enthusiasm were such an encouragement and his fast-thinking and previous leadership experience were crucial, essential pieces to making this trip run well. I learned so much about our different personalities and styles, perhaps made most evident in how he is an extrovert whereas I am an introvert. Our site leader reflections would find ourselves reflecting two different mindsets and approaches to an issue, but ultimately reaching the same conclusion. I definitely ill cherish the advice and role modelness that Albert has provided me.
I described what each layer of our triple-layered carrot cake (that seems more nutritious tan red velvet, haha) of ASB was like, but to put to word s how it felt to eat this deliciousness of a cake is beyond what I can write here (ask me for my blog if you want more, haha.) But I know it was worth the calories of time, money, and effort to ingest and I'm so thankful to be blessed to have this experience. Learning and growing were tow major things I did--learning about my insecurities, foibles, and strengths was illuminating. Growing, or at least trying to grow, from what I learned is a process I'm still undergoing, even days after (and probably it'll be for much longer after) this trip. Thank you to everyone for bearing with me.
Much love,
David Wang
Thursday, May 10, 2012
¡Gracias!
I finished reading When Invisible Children Sing, and came across this book, ¡Gracias! on Amazon, which purportedly was by Henri Nouwen and his travels in Peru and Bolivia.
I was thrown off by the cartoonish front cover and was wondering if this was actually the same Henri Nouwen that I knew about. uhhh, surely this was someone else who happened to have the same name.
But nope. It is. My first encounter with his writing (as far as I was aware that I was reading his work) was an article on community that Jeff gave to me to read that I immensely enjoyed. Next was Bill Henson talking at HCC and providing some quotes from him. And finally it was in Washed and Waiting, where Wesley Hill found that Henri Nouwen also had same-sex attractions but wasn't open about them except to a few very close friends. Being a Catholic priest and having taken a vow of celibacy, he was also celibate. But he struggled intensely with loneliness and companionship nonetheless, and Wesley noted that reading his writing in light of his struggles with his attractions just gave an even deeper level to them.
So to see that he also wrote a book on his travels to Peru and Bolivia, where he was trying to discern if this was where God wanted him to live in the future, was like God was just further placing role models in my lap. Not to mention that in the end, although he didn't stay in Latin America, he did go to be the pastor of the L'Arche Daybreak Community in Toronto, Canada, working with and living with the adults with intellectual disabilities there.
oh hey. Similar much?
And interestingly, this book was published in 1983. The same year as the birth of my sister, my mentor, my staff member on my ASB this year, and one of my close gay friend's boyfriend. Hm.
Anyway, Nouwen lives in Cochabamba, Bolivia (oh hey, that's where I'm going...) for three months, taking language courses. Then he goes to Lima, Peru (oh hey, that's where Caleb's going for his Loewenstern, and hey, Jeff is going to Peru too [although not Lima] this summer) for three months to work at the Maryknoll Society there, which is committed to working with and helping the poor.
oh hey. There could hardly be a more perfect book for me after having read Dr. Huang's When Invisible Children Sing, with him being the Harvard med student raised in Texas having gone to A&M, and also Houston for his sister's cancer, working at two orphanages during the day (I realized recently that I'll be volunteering at two orphanages for a 7 - 8 hour weekday, one with children with special needs and one with children without special needs) and Bolivian street children at night.
I just find it kinda amazing that these things are falling into place more than I could have ever expected. I wonder what conclusions and thoughts Nouwen will encounter as he tries to see if this is where God wants him in the future. After all, I have the same questions of whether or not Bolivia/some Latin American country will be my home for a decade or two (or more) in the future.
Man, just blown away by God's provision.
A couple of things I've gleaned so far from the book to come.
"I ignored God’s whispers to come to find rest in His arms and fled instead to anything that would lessen the dull aching sense that life was too much: TV, sleep, friends, food.
This morning my self-medication had its full effect. I woke up with a hardened heart: dull and unfeeling; unresponsive even to His Word. I had wanted to stop the pain, and I succeeded in numbing my heart. A hollow victory indeed."
From Fabs.
Wednesday, May 9, 2012
Against perhaps my better judgment, I went to see him today. Yet I knew that if I didn't go, I'd just spend my hours wondering what could have happened had I gone to see him.
And after a while, I was just bored. Sure, he's nice to look at. When is he not nice to look at? But we'd already covered our similarities, I felt, and I somewhat scrambled to find topics to talk about. Or maybe I was tired of the small talk and ready to delve into meatier topics, but I just didn't know what I wanted to talk about. How would I know he would respond to deeper, probing questions anyway? He's kinda closed-off that way.
Maybe it was always less about him, and more about what he represented. And what does he represent? The attractive, charming guys of my world?
Maybe it was about my mindset in things. I sought to figure him out, to peel away his layers and see what core lay underneath. But you can't just expect or demand that everyone (or rather, the people you want to get to know) opens up to you.
Maybe it was further disappointment that I was pretty sure he wasn't like me. And if he were? Did I just want support, or did I want a boyfriend?
I can never have him. I can never have a guy like him. These thoughts pounded into my head Saturday as I sat on the concrete circle in the middle of the fields by the Rec center.
and somehow that's supposed to be ok. Well, of course. God has given me everything in the person of Jesus. I harden my heart and I don't let myself believe that.
I need to tell myself that God has someone better out there for me. Or whether or not there's someone, at least He always has Someone here for me.
I find this absolutely ridiculous. 6.5 weeks and nothing has changed too much with my feelings. I told him I came to see him again, and he laughed, and was like, "Oh, thanks." as if I were joking. I didn't tell him I was serious.
Maybe that's why it is more about what he represents. I feel as if normal people don't sustain infatuations over a period of a month and a half on the basis of seeing the person about 5 times in those 6 weeks and having a conversation or even just saying "hi" to them three out of those five times. There must be some deeper psychological nonacceptance of my situation that causes me to pine after him and lament about him to my friends.
Maybe it's just trying to not let go of something I know I can't have, but I still want anyway. Or rather, I don't actually know I can't have this, and by that I mean I don't internalize it and understand it--instead, I simply seek and want what in the back of my head I know is not good for me, but I don't want to believe what's in the back of my head.
I watched Hieu Tran's short films, A Hundred and Eleven and Scripts, and they had that WongFu Asian-American, youtube video feel. The difference was that they had adorable characters in same-sex relationships and I enjoyed watching them in this sort of guilty pleasure, sort of true respect way. Maybe it's been those videos and the few dozens of times I've played that Jason Chen cover of "It Girl" that have gotten to me.
All I have in this post is a bunch of maybes. I think to an extent, it's everything I've written out. I've said maybe because I can't know for sure.
I have nothing to wrap this post up with, except tiredness. So bundle up, post.
Actually, strangely, hope rises in my heart again... now when I least expect it. Perhaps this is the meaning of having an outlet for one's emotions... being able to analyze them or at least see them in a way that is separate from oneself but still a part of one's being. I can externally see that they aren't everything that I am, and so I can deal with them as being just a part of who I am right now, knowing how quickly things may change. Just getting things out there sometimes is enough to let me retreat and go back to living my life normally.
And after a while, I was just bored. Sure, he's nice to look at. When is he not nice to look at? But we'd already covered our similarities, I felt, and I somewhat scrambled to find topics to talk about. Or maybe I was tired of the small talk and ready to delve into meatier topics, but I just didn't know what I wanted to talk about. How would I know he would respond to deeper, probing questions anyway? He's kinda closed-off that way.
Maybe it was always less about him, and more about what he represented. And what does he represent? The attractive, charming guys of my world?
Maybe it was about my mindset in things. I sought to figure him out, to peel away his layers and see what core lay underneath. But you can't just expect or demand that everyone (or rather, the people you want to get to know) opens up to you.
Maybe it was further disappointment that I was pretty sure he wasn't like me. And if he were? Did I just want support, or did I want a boyfriend?
I can never have him. I can never have a guy like him. These thoughts pounded into my head Saturday as I sat on the concrete circle in the middle of the fields by the Rec center.
and somehow that's supposed to be ok. Well, of course. God has given me everything in the person of Jesus. I harden my heart and I don't let myself believe that.
I need to tell myself that God has someone better out there for me. Or whether or not there's someone, at least He always has Someone here for me.
I find this absolutely ridiculous. 6.5 weeks and nothing has changed too much with my feelings. I told him I came to see him again, and he laughed, and was like, "Oh, thanks." as if I were joking. I didn't tell him I was serious.
Maybe that's why it is more about what he represents. I feel as if normal people don't sustain infatuations over a period of a month and a half on the basis of seeing the person about 5 times in those 6 weeks and having a conversation or even just saying "hi" to them three out of those five times. There must be some deeper psychological nonacceptance of my situation that causes me to pine after him and lament about him to my friends.
Maybe it's just trying to not let go of something I know I can't have, but I still want anyway. Or rather, I don't actually know I can't have this, and by that I mean I don't internalize it and understand it--instead, I simply seek and want what in the back of my head I know is not good for me, but I don't want to believe what's in the back of my head.
I watched Hieu Tran's short films, A Hundred and Eleven and Scripts, and they had that WongFu Asian-American, youtube video feel. The difference was that they had adorable characters in same-sex relationships and I enjoyed watching them in this sort of guilty pleasure, sort of true respect way. Maybe it's been those videos and the few dozens of times I've played that Jason Chen cover of "It Girl" that have gotten to me.
All I have in this post is a bunch of maybes. I think to an extent, it's everything I've written out. I've said maybe because I can't know for sure.
I have nothing to wrap this post up with, except tiredness. So bundle up, post.
Actually, strangely, hope rises in my heart again... now when I least expect it. Perhaps this is the meaning of having an outlet for one's emotions... being able to analyze them or at least see them in a way that is separate from oneself but still a part of one's being. I can externally see that they aren't everything that I am, and so I can deal with them as being just a part of who I am right now, knowing how quickly things may change. Just getting things out there sometimes is enough to let me retreat and go back to living my life normally.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)