Evaluation: Ascertaining the Value of Something

I feel like most of my energy's been zapped out by the summer heat. Not that I'm complaining (much). I've been spending most of my days inside an air-conditioned office building. Today was actually the one day I wore a summer dress and forgot to stuff a sweater into my bag for later use. So you can just imagine me getting goosebumps and shivering while trying to keep track of the name of the last participant whose attendance information I've entered into the database.

With my internship well under way, I'd say that this summer's been really productive so far. My days thus far consist of entering data into the organization's database, creating statistical reports and tables, and assisting my supervisor in training the coordinators and youth advisors on how to use the database and create reports. My supervisor is really nice and incredibly helpful, and it turns out that she also studied psychology in college. I never even knew that there was such a thing as evaluation research until I started this internship. It's a LOT of work.

Working with a database sounds exciting at first... until you actually sit down and force yourself to be patient with your eyes straining to follow the rows on the Excel spreadsheets while clicking back and forth among multiple windows. You really need to have the patience for it. Sometimes it can feel like mind-numbing work, but it's well worth it. Evaluating the efficacy of a social service program is vital to understanding how that program can better serve and meet the needs of their often under-served target populations (such as at-risk youth). Evaluation research is tricky, though, as there is no specific standard against which you can compare your program's outcomes. Sure, you can use SAT scores, TABE scores, GED attainment, and high school graduation rates as various measures of participant progress and success, but you still need to compare these scores to a set of standard values. You as a stakeholder/program director/evaluator have to determine what that standard should be. Sometimes, you just have to work with what you have and decide what's best for the program and the people you're serving in that program. It's gotten me more interested in actually pursuing a master's degree in educational psychology, which would allow me to learn more about program evaluation and how to apply statistics in improving how these programs deliver their services.

I never thought I'd be involved in doing such work, since I've always struggled with math. To this day, I still depend on my calculator as the arithmetical extension of my brain's central executive functioning. So what the fudge am I doing working with numbers in statistics?

To tell you quite truthfully: I don't know. Working with that uncertainty, though, hasn't deterred me from wetting my feet into trying something I never thought I'd be doing because of my slight numbers anxiety. But I'm ready and willing to learn.

Just recently I attended a leadership training seminar with the girls from my local IORG assembly. One of the guest lecturers who shared his knowledge on public speaking said something striking:

"Happiness is not in liking what you already like to do, but in learning to like what you have to do."

It took me a while to let the words sink in my head. I was sitting there going like, "HUH?!" in my frazzled state of mind. Liking what you have to do? But after thinking about it for a bit longer, I found it to be true. You just have to breathe. No matter what you end up doing, don't ever forget to breathe. Then take one step at a time, no matter how tiny the distance to your next footstep. Every victory counts -- yes, even the tiny ones you thought were measly attempts. They count, too. You can't conquer a challenge if you don't first divide it.

Anyway, enough with the metaphors. Sometimes you just have to try something in order to get the hang of it, much like analyzing data through statistical means. I didn't like doing it in my stats class and in my experimental social psychology class, but I stuck with it. Surprisingly, I got an A- in stats and an A in that experimental psych class. I wouldn't trade those months of sleepless nights and stressful freak-outs over deadlines for anything in the world. Not even if you bribed me with lifetime supplies of mouth-watering cheese puffs and addicting veggie straws. Not even if you had the magical powers to make Henry Cavill fall madly in love with geeky ol' me. I still wouldn't trade any of it.

Right now, I'm still exploring the possibilities. My possibilities. I know for sure that I want to pursue a master's degree in psychology. Which particular area of psychology I should specialize in is the million dollar question that I've been struggling to figure out lately. Clinical psych? Developmental psych? Educational psych? Forensic psychology? They all seem so fascinating. Choosing just 1 area to study strikes me as a daunting task. I'll be a college senior in the upcoming semester. If I want to get a clear picture of what my future looks like, I'd better get moving. For now, I think I'm going to apply to a couple of masters programs in educational psychology and maybe to a program in mental health counseling or social work as my back-ups. I'm going to have to set up another appointment with the career development services offices at my college and with one of the graduate school advisors. So much to do in so little time...

And so few breaths to do all of it. Lately I've been suffering from a sore throat, slight dizziness, and fits of coughing that keep me up at night. It's annoying and it hurts. Word to the wise: don't drink icy water during a summer heat wave. Your throat may seize up with soreness and plague you with a week-long unpretty coughing fit.

I didn't go to my good friend Liliana's 21st birthday bash last night because I couldn't breathe and my mother accompanied me to the ER. I didn't even go with my sisters and the other members of my youth organization to do our scheduled fundraising event today because I felt so weak when I woke up this morning. Though the scratchy soreness in my throat is gone, I still feel something heavy blocking my windpipe. It builds up to the point that I'm coughing vigorously, so much so that sometimes I feel like throwing up. Just a couple of days ago, I threw up my breakfast because I was coughing so much. The ER physician assistant at the local hospital said that I had an upper respiratory viral infection and that I would just have to treat the symptoms of a sore throat with cough drops and my dizziness with acetaminophen. He might as well have just told me to simply deal with it, because I've already been eating so many cough drops, drinking hot herbal tea, and taking Tylenol whenever I feel dizzy with a headache. I need to get better soon... I can't deal with the painful coughing fits in the middle of the night. I can't deal with this ridiculous pain, PERIOD.

Plus, it would totally seem flaky if I cancelled on a certain person. On the other hand, if I show up and I'm still feeling like my trachea's closing up, then that would be bad. I don't want him to get sick on account of me. He doesn't deserve that.

Yeah, you guessed it -- I finally asked him if he wanted to hang out sometime. Of course, that was before I developed this stupid upper respiratory problem (God, if you're out there, please let me be 100% cured by Monday!).

Not that we have a set day of when we're hanging out. I don't even know if he's still into the idea because he seems so busy. I didn't even think he'd agree to it in the first place. He seems eager to meet up and told me he'd let me know when he'd be free, but I don't know... I guess we'll just have to see what happens. If everything works out, then great!  "There may be something there that wasn't there before," as Mrs. Potts from Beauty & the Beast would say.

But if by chance things don't work out... then whatever, I guess. I wouldn't know how to evaluate whether taking a chance on him would really be worth it in the end. The way I see it, you can't lose what you were never sure you had in the first place. I'd like to think he's worth the brain power and the effort, but in the end... that's up to him.

Anyway, I still have to grad school to worry about and a book to finish writing. Regardless of what happens, this girl's braving the next day as if it was her last. (Still crossing my fingers, though!)

Poor flowers.

More updates soon. By the way, did I mention that I read some really cool books lately (just finished I Was Told There'd Be Cake and am now reading The Hunger Games)? Or that I'll be going with my family on a five-day vacation in DisneyWorld in August? No? Then I shall cover these topics in my next posts!

Until next time, stay healthy and keep your chin up, dear friends. You might find a wisp happiness where you least expect it...

Like in a bowl of yummy, hot, comforting chicken noodle soup and soothing honey herbal tea. :)

A Picnic, Promenade, and Parade

Last Friday, after a week of running around doing errands, I was finally able to relax and have some fun. Some of my high school friends and I met up at the Brooklyn Botanic Garden. They were a little late because for some odd reason, my friend's key got stuck in the door of her house and they couldn't leave until the locksmith came to fix it. As I was waiting for them, I just sat in the nearby park and tried to enjoy the nice weather. The birds there were kind of funny to watch. There were a few little sparrows and two robins looking for food. One robin was lucky enough to find a worm, and the others were chasing after it. The early bird gets the worm, after all.
Not long after, I saw Liliana walking through the park while I sat there on the bench waiting. It was great to finally see her again after what must have been a year. Together we went inside the Brooklyn Museum of Art while waiting for the others to arrive. There was a graduation ceremony going on on the third floor, so we didn't get to see the European paintings. On the other hand, we saw this really elaborate and fascinating installation artwork called "The Dinner Party" by Judith Chicago, an iconic piece in feminist art.

The banquet table and the heritage panels in the adjacent hall pay tribute to over 1,000 historical women figures, from the ancient goddesses of old religions and myths, right down to twentieth-century contemporary feminists and their works. Every aspect of "The Dinner Party," right down to the hand-painted decorative plates and the shape of the dinner hall, alludes to the power of the feminine mystique. It was amazing and awe-inspiring to be in such a place, and somehow I felt connected to all the women in the past who have paved the way for the rest of us to become empowered and active members of our society. It felt sacred. The conversation that Lily and I had regarding our plans for our futures while standing in that space made the experience that much more powerful to me.

Judy Chicago (American, b. 1939).  
The Dinner Party (Mary Wollstonecraft and Sojourner Truth place settings), 1974–79.

Our other friends finally came about an hour later, and so we made our way to the Botanic Garden. We had a blast that afternoon in the garden, just enjoying the beautiful scenery and the fresh summer air. One of the security guards tried flirting and hitting on one of my friends. He singled us out for having blanket out on the grass (even though there was a mother with her kids with a bigger blanket laid out) and then asked us if we'd like to take a tour of the rose garden ("That must be why you lovely ladies came to the Botanic Garden, right? To see the roses?" he asked). We exchanged amused smiles as Renee panicked and kept shaking her head, looking too freaked out to tell the guard that she wasn't interested. So Liliana took the lead and refused for her while the rest of us tried to hold back our laughter until the guard finally left us alone. The whole thing was pretty hilarious, since we weren't even interested in going to the rose garden, let alone on a tour of one. I mean, what's there to take a tour of? It's a garden, full of ROSES. Go figure. Though, I have to give the guy a little credit. As cheesy as his lines were, at least he tried.

Actually, the real reason we went to the Botanic Garden had absolutely nothing to do with seeing the pretty roses in full bloom. In fact, we went there just to sneak in contraband BBQ chicken drumsticks, rice rolls, and sandwiches, to play the word game Taboo, and to take random pictures of each other. The day grew more interesting as we all got into Pris's car and tried to decide where we would eat for dinner. Generally, we're a pretty indecisive, go-with-the-flow kind of bunch, so it took us about twenty minutes to finally make a decision.

We ended up going to an Indian restaurant in Brooklyn Heights called "Amin." The prices were affordable, the staff was welcoming, and the food was overall pretty good. Our waiter even offered us complementary chips, chutney, and a couple of other yummy sauces whose names escape me, ahaha. I just remember that one of the sauces tasted somewhat like sweet, fruity barbeque sauce and the other tasted like a cool and somewhat minty-sweet complement to the chutney's spiciness. I was so full from the banana fritters and samosas that I almost didn't have enough room for the mushroom shag I ordered as the entre. I would have ordered dessert, but we were all so full from the meal! If you're ever around Montague Street in Brooklyn Heights and are craving something different, definitely check out the affordable Indian cuisine at Amin restaurant. At least try their yummy, crispy samosas.

Later, we strolled down the Promenade and took pictures with the beautiful sunset-lit New York City skyline in the backdrop. We shared more inside jokes and talked about our views on relationships and life in general. As the day slowly wound down into night, I felt thankful. I got to spend a beautiful summer day with some of my closest friends and we all got to reconnect with each other again.

This is going to sound a little hokey, but I felt like I was at a crossroads in my life, what with that internship I have this summer, the prospect of becoming a college senior, and the somewhat-confusing-yet-exciting possibility of what could be either a good friendship or a blossoming romance with that certain someone (I hate thinking that maybe things will fizzle out over time).

Hanging out and laughing with my friends, though, helped me stop worrying so damn much about my own uncertainty about the future. In each of our own ways, we were all confused about life. Though we may have an idea of what we want to do in the future, we don't know if any of it will work out. The one faith that we all share is that things will work out eventually. No matter where we end up somewhere down this twisting and winding path that we call life -- even if we all end up cat ladies! -- at least we'll still have each other.

Sunday, June 5th was pretty interesting, to say the least. My mother, my sisters, and I marched in the Philippine Independence Day Parade, like we usually do every year, with Regal Court No.1 of the Order of the Amaranth (a masonic organization). I wasn't expecting the parade to be so crowded, since last year there didn't seem to be that many people, but man, was I wrong about that. I learned on that very same day that Jericho Rosales, a famous and talented (and incredibly good-looking!) actor from the Philippines was there at the parade and would be giving a live performance at the cultural festival. My sisters and I saw him in "Pangako Sa 'Yo" and the more recent drama "Green Rose" on TFC, so of course we had to try and see him. Together with our fellow Rainbow girl Camille, we linked arms and made our way through the super-congested crowds toward the stage and tried to get as close to the front as possible.

It was totally worth it, because we were less than twenty-five feet away from the stage and we got a close view of the performances and of Jericho's handsome, smiling face as he came on stage and sang. My sister and I kept screaming like a couple of excited fan-girls. I never I had it in me, but damn was I excited to see Echo perform! My sis and I even made jokes with each other, playfully arguing with each other that Jericho only had eyes for one of us, since he kept lingering in the corner of the stage which we were facing. Though it's foolish to even entertain the thought, I still maintain that Jericho was looking at me, ahaha.

Anyway, below is one of videos that I had my sister record on my iPod (she's an inch taller than me, haha) of one of the songs Jericho performed, "Change the World," originally by Eric Clapton. Jericho has pretty good vocals:




He even took a picture of the crowd on his phone and posted it on his Twitter. Try to spot my sister in there if you can -- she's the one wearing a pink long-sleeved sweater standing somewhere near his head on the far right of the picture, hehe.

I was standing right next to her, but you can't see me because the picture cuts off already. Oh well. It's enough that I got to see one of my favorite Filipino actors. I'm looking forward to next year's parade. I wish Jericho will be the special celebrity guest again, but that's probably unlikely, haha. We'll just have to see what happens.

As a Filipino and as an American, it's pretty confusing trying to figure out what the heck I'm supposed to be. Who am I? What is my identity? I'm actually of a mixed background -- my great grandfather on my mom's side (my Lola's father, to be exact) immigrated to the Philippines from China, and I have a great-grandmother on my dad's side who was half-Spanish and half-Filipino. So I look a little chinky-eyed and lighter-skinned for a Pinay. Yet I don't identify myself as being Chinese or Spanish. Ethnically, I'm a Filipina who happens to be mestiza. Culturally, I consider myself to be a New Yorker and then an American. I was born in Brooklyn, I live in Queens, and I go to school in Manhattan, so I identify most with being a New Yorker. I'm a New Yorker who happens to be of Filipino heritage.

It's only now that I'm trying to branch out and take a deeper look at my roots. I started out asking my parents what their lives were like growing up in Kalaoocan (my mom's hometown) and in Malabon (my dad's hometown), which are towns located near Manila. They'd tell me stories about their childhood -- my dad's would be more anecdotal, whereas my mom would use these stories as an opportunity to teach us something about Filipino values. Then I started watching Filipino soap operas, and it became easier to keep up with the shows once my mom finally decided to get the On-Demand package from TFC. I still find some of the shows a little too melodramatic for my own personal taste, but I guess the melodrama speaks volumes about the cultural mindset of Filipinos. Through the Asian literature classes I took at my college, especially the course "Philippine-American Literature," I learned how and why the Filipino culture and values are as complicated and as multi-layered as they are today. Then after watching a re-run episode of "Anthony Bourdain: No Reservations" on the Travel Channel, something inside me just kind of... sighed.

The Philippines somehow always gets passed over by Western writers and historians. I believe that I've already mentioned this in a previous post regarding how the Philippine-American War (or Philippine War of Independence, or the Philippine Insurrection, depending on who wrote the particular history book) is often skipped over in history classes. With such a deep, diverse mix of Chinese, Spanish, Malay, and American influences in the Philippines and in Philippine cuisine, you would think that the Philippines would surely be one of the countries featured in a food and travel show. The truth is that the Philippines is almost always skipped over, as some sort of anomalous funky mixture that few want to stick their hands into because it's so complicated and difficult to explain. With all the Southeast Asian countries that Anthony Bourdain has visited in previous episodes, it was about time that the multi-faceted, multi-cultural and dynamic flavors of the Philippines was represented in his food travels.

I felt some kind of connection toward the avid fan who persuaded Bourdain to finally continue his food travels in the Philippines. The fan was also a Filipino who was born and raised in New York (Long Island, actually), and he wanted to create a connection with his cultural roots. He's also had something of an identity crisis, just like me. It's not actually a crisis, really -- more like an intense longing, or a yearning than a crisis. We both yearned to learn more about our ethnic heritage and culture. We feel as though we're not fully Filipino and yet not fully American. Sure, we get the best of both worlds, but it's still weird to be standing in the middle. Filipinos, in my honest opinion, are like sponges -- super absorbent of other cultures and flavors, very malleable and adaptable, and above all, tough and resilient. It's a somewhat odd analogy, I know, but that's how I've come to think of my parents' homeland and its people. I like to think that it's a good thing; it means that we are able to adapt quickly to change as time moves its feet forward and the world shifts.

Anyway, whatever it is that you happen to be -- Asian, European, Native American, Hispanic, Black, Blue, Polka-dot or Zebra-striped -- I hope you also branch out and learn a thing or two. If you happen to be looking for your roots, I hope that you find rich, soulful soil somewhere.

Here's to happy summer adventures and personal discoveries, everyone! See you in the next post.

I'll leave you with a track from Anna Nalick's newly released "Broken Doll & Odds & Ends," a lovely song called "These Old Wings."

Oddities and Curiosity-filled 2011 Summer Plans

Ever since my last day of the Spring 2011 semester, I've had so many things running through my mind lately. The summer heat over Memorial Day weekend hasn't helped my brain functioning all that much, I'm afraid. Although I've been trying to catch up on sleep, I haven't had much luck. Not that anything's wrong. In fact, things seem to be going just fine...

I just hope I can keep up!

Anyway, I've been reading some of my older posts -- the ones from the past three years -- and I have to say that I sound a little different. Does this mean I'm growing as a writer, a blogger, and a critical thinker? Haha, I can't be sure.

Granted, I'm still that slightly awkward, glasses-and-braces-wearing girl with a twisted imagination and a weird sense of humor. I'll always be that nerdy bookworm who reads random titles on philosophy, history, science, sci-fi, fantasy, poetry, classic literature, and of course, the occasional YA novel. I cannot live without books -- this is one girl who says, "Give me a good book over diamonds any day!" Right now, for instance (though I haven't read any Nietzche beforehand and am only somewhat familiar with existentialism), I'm reading Kundera's The Unbearable Lightness of Being.

What has changed over the years? For one thing, I find that I'm a lot more confident than I was when I started blogging.

When I started college, I had no idea what the hell I was doing majoring in psychology, a subject that I only decided to take up because my parents told me that I needed a practical, respectable, well-paying day job to support myself and build a career. I did it for selfish reasons; I majored in psychology to help give me some insight into the absurdities that take root in our private minds and manifest themselves in everyday human social interaction. Doing so made sense at the time. Now, though, I find that I really want to become a clinical psychologist. I want to provide counseling and services to those who really need it, to those who need a little help in the same everyday activities and routines that we so often take for granted.

So I decided to step up, be a woman, and go after that internship. I'm now in the process of finalizing everything. All that's left for me to do is fill out the form, send it out to the on-site intern adviser, and then ask my psychology undergraduate adviser if she would please become my faculty mentor, especially since she was my professor for abnormal psychology. I'm crossing my fingers here, hoping that all goes well.

As far as my writing projects go, I feel comfortable with how I've been shaping my characters and building their world from my research on body-snatching, women in medical history, and historical periods such as Elizabethan and Victorian London. I have finished rewriting and editing ten chapters, and I hope to continue with the eleventh sometime this week. I just hope that with this upcoming internship, I can still have enough time to work on my writing and fine-tune my techniques.

I also love taking inspiration from a variety of television shows. I've recently kept up with this kooky and quirky show on the Science Channel called "Oddities," which centers around the strange and hilariously outrageous encounters that the shopowners of Obscura Antiques & Oddities experience on a day-to-day basis.

In one episode, I couldn't stop laughing. Priscilla texted me on Saturday night about it, saying that she caught a marathon of it after I'd mentioned it to her. So I turned on the TV, tuned into the On-Demand Nature & Knowledge Channel, scrolled down to the Science Channel, and played the latest episode of "Oddities."

A man walks into the shop, accompanied by his assistant, who's carrying a box full of small cases. Sean Miller, an artist and the curator of JEMA (John Erikson Museum of Art), starts collecting  Obscura's -- I kid you not -- dust samples. He tells the shopowners, Mike and Evan, that he collects dust samples from art museums, photographs them, and even creates buttons and coasters for sale. Miller hopes that his sales pitch, along with a tour of his dusty (haha) art museum, will persuade Mike and Evan to buy their own dust back!

Below is a clip from "Oddities," and if you're actually interested (or think that I'm kidding) then you can also find out more information about the dust exhibit from JEMA's website: http://www.jema.us/pages/dust_pages/state.html



I was pretty surprised to see the photographs that Miller and his fellow artists took from the magnified images of the dust samples. The concept of the artworks sounds completely bizarre and incredibly weird, to the point of utter hilarity, but the photographs and images themselves are actually pretty cool to look at, almost like paintings. No two dust samples are alike! Kind of like post-modern abstract art, if you're really into that. I know I'm not so much into modern art (though I do occasionally go to the MoMA to open up my mind to new and highly-stylized artforms), but I do have an appreciate for art in general. With his unique take on viewing dust, I actually commend Miller and his colleagues on their work and their guts to show off their photography endeavors in a dusty art exhibit. (FYI: Pun totally intended.)

A detail of Art Museum Dust Montage by Connie Hwang

If you're feeling so inclined, I dare you to go google the keywords "magnified dust samples" or "microscopic dust." You'll either be fascinated or creeped out by the surprisingly colorful and intricate dust patterns. For me, it's a little bit of both, as well as freaking out over the fact that I'm actually genuinely fascinated by something as weird as this. Not that it's groundbreaking or anything, though breaking the ground will probably kick up some more interesting dust samples for the people at JEMA (haha).

I'm not sure if I'll ever visit that dust museum (it turns out they also have a location in Genoa, Italy), but I'm definitely thinking about visiting Obscura Antiques & Oddities one day. It's located in the East Village, right in New York City, so maybe I'll take a train there one day with my younger sister and just take a look around. It'll probably be more fun and interesting than walking into any of those old antique or thrift shops that we've visited in the past. Though we probably won't buy anything (we're broke as a joke college girls, after all), the experience of going there will be worth the visit. Maybe they sell some cheap crafts items that my sis and I can afford as souvenirs. 

I should also bring some of my friends, too. They'd probably love exploring the odds and ends in there, too. One day, when we're not too busy with school... maybe one day this summer. I should bring it up when I see them on Friday for our girls' day picnic at the Brooklyn Botanical Garden.

With all this talk of "oddities," my parents think that my younger sister and I are a little weird. I can't say I blame them. It's just the way we are. I like to think that our geeky tendencies and propensity towards the oddness, absurdities, and grotesqueness of life are part of what make us unique individuals. ;)

It's seeing the beauty in the ugly that truly makes life, and indeed art, worthwhile subjects to examine and experience. (I hope I don't scare people off with my weirdness, haha.)

Speaking of weird and endearing things, I've recently added Anna Nalick's new blog site called Odds & Ends to my blogroll. Not only does she have song-writing talent and amazing vocals (she's one of my favorite artists!), but she also writes narrative poems and funny stories that have a charm all their own. I recommend checking out her blog if you have the time and are up for some entertaining, quirky, lyrical and poetic material to read. I'm getting her latest album ("Broken Dolls and Odds and Ends") as soon as it comes out, same with Michelle Branch's new song and upcoming album.

Little things like Anna's songs "Paper Bag" and "Shine" get me through each day. No matter how confused I get, I just turn my iPod on and play one of these songs. Sometimes I'd listen to some Vanessa Carlton, Michelle Branch, or Sara Bareilles. These artists bare so much vulnerability and yet so much courage and optimism in their lyrics and music that their works seem to have their own essence -- their own soul. I know that this probably sounds a little flaky, but they inspire me to continue with unraveling the confusions that I come across in both my life and my writing. They truly do.

At the bottom of this post is a list of some of their songs, which I sort of made into a themed playlist. I feel like I've been living in a daze these past few days, ever since the last day of the semester. If you go through the music below, you'll probably get an idea why.

I don't want to spend another blog post dwelling on it, since its salience already weighs in my mind. Things seemed like they were going pretty well between us... He took me by complete surprise the day before the final, asking me if I'd like to get together with him and cram study. Oh, would I? Of course! We shared some laughs about the final and learned some new things about each other. Overall, I'd say things went pretty well and we left things on a good note.

Maybe I'll call him this summer. Maybe I won't. Maybe he'll be the one to call (or text, since he seems pretty shy in general). I don't know.

I'm a girl stuck in a rut because of some stupid dating rules. I could easily call him later on during the summer and ask him if he'd like to see that sci-fi movie he mentioned. But I don't know if I should, considering I'm the girl and I'm supposed to play that stupid "play-hard-to-get" game. Such needless ridiculousness. It's like watching some stupid mating dance among bird species on the Discovery Channel. Is this what romance in the twenty-first century has been reduced to?! GOSH.

Don't you just hate that twisted knot feeling in your gut, preventing you from breathing properly and thinking straight because you're left wondering about a certain someone? Why can't life just be simple? If a guy and a gal like each other so much, why can't they just be forthright with each other and hang out like old friends getting to know each other, talking about the things that they're most passionate about in life?

Oy vey, that's what I say. And I ain't even Jewish!

Oh, to hell with it. Let's just see how this thing goes, shall we? Part of not knowing is torturous, sure, but it's also half the fun. And if things turn out differently, then oh well. It could have been the start of something beautiful, but we'll never know. On to the next song in that infinite playlist! ;)

If he doesn't call, then there's no harm in asking him if he wants to hang out during the summer to see either a movie or grab some coffee or frozen yogurt (even if it's just as friends), right? I mean, if I flop on my face, then I flop on my face. If he laughs, but then he helps me up after that, then maybe we have something going on here...

There's only one way to find out. ;)

Anyway, here's that playlist I've been talking about (thanks to youtube).

• Fools Like Me -- Vanessa Carlton
• Only Fooling Myself -- Kate Voegele
• In My Head -- Anna Nalick
• Words -- Anna Nalick
• The Lullaby Singer -- Anna Nalick
• All You Wanted -- Michelle Branch
• Sooner Or Later -- Michelle Branch
• Sweet Misery -- Michelle Branch
• Breathe -- Michelle Branch
• Come Undone -- Vanessa Carlton
• Walk Away -- Anna Nalick
• Where Are You Now? -- Michelle Branch
• Breathless -- Corinne Bailey Rae
• Uncharted -- Sara Bareilles
• Let the Rain -- Sara Bareilles
• Red -- Sara Bareilles

I'll close with a quote from "Red," the last song on the playlist. It has that feel-good optimistic summer vibe that I hope inspires you, too.

"Baby girl, it may take a while, but take the good from the bad
And never minds are never sure, 
So never leave them wanting more
 What are you waiting for?
How you love is who you are

I dive in and I sink in
And I find new colors to think in..."

Paradoxical Idioms

Have you ever wondered any of these things?

- When something is "hot" and when something is "cool."
Generally, these terms are used interchangably in reference to something which an individual has a positive attitude towards. Yet, how can they have the same connotation when their denotations are polar opposites?

- A "wise man" as opposed to a "wise guy."
The comparison between these two phrases never crossed my mind until I heard it mentioned in a commercial on the radio (I forget for which product). A "wise man" is usually respected, whereas a "wise guy" is looked down upon and often derided.

- To "have a temper" and to "lose one's temper."
Let's face it: both mean you're agitated, angry, pissed off. So why would both the presence and the absence of a temper mean the same thing?

Can you think of any more paradoxical idioms? ;)

Central Park: A Natural Haven for the Harried College Student and Aspiring Writer

After more than a week of cold, depressing rainfall, the sun finally peeked through yesterday afternoon. I think that's part of the reason my previous post was a little gloomy and pessimistic in its tone. I guess you can say that I was sunshine-deprived and was in withdrawal last week. Now that the weather's changed, so has my mood. Funny how nature can affect you in these kinds of ways.

I handed in my philosophy final yesterday. As soon as I did, I felt a huge wave of relief wash over me. I couldn't help but feel light and happy. That probably says a lot about how I've been feeling this entire semester. I haven't had much time to really relax. There were too many deadlines (I hate that word) to worry about and too many little things that kept nagging me, especially the little things that came to planning the next steps towards my future. Forgive my bluntness in saying this, but seriously. Thinking about what's going to happen after I graduate next year -- that's some scary shit right there! I didn't want to think about my college and post-graduate future anymore. I was badly in need of a break.

Since it wasn't raining and the weather felt nice, I decided to take my time in heading home. I took a leisurely stroll through the neighborhood around my college campus, relishing the cool summer breeze and city sights as I walked towards 5th Avenue and entered Central Park. There were a lot of people milling about -- nannies with curious little children, mothers with their babies, teenagers skateboarding down the paths, businesspeople punching messages through their Droid phones and Blackberrys, tourists huddled in groups and snapping pictures of the scenery. It felt weird that in the middle of all the honking and rumbling of vehicle engines, there sat this little slice of quietude and solace. Ducks quacked and waddled around The Pond as citydwellers sat in the soft grass and basked in the long-missed sunshine.

The beautiful, sunny, serene view of The Pond that faced me yesterday as I sat on a bench in Central Park yesterday.

It felt nice to sit down on one of the benches facing The Pond and just be. It felt like I no longer had anything to worry about. I mean, sure I still have that Spanish final to take on Friday, but the thought of it didn't seem as daunting as it used to seem. I chatted for a few minutes with my sister on the phone, feeling somewhat sorry that she was missing out on the beautiful weather (she'd been stuck in the dreary student lounge at her college, waiting for her number to be called in order to sort out her financial aid dependency status). Then I sat reading my book for about a half hour.

Stiff: The Curious Lives of Human Cadavers by Mary Roach takes on a lighthearted and informative approach to exploring what happens to the body after death, as well as recounting some of the major contributions that human cadavers have made in scientific medical research, forensics, and automobile crash-testing. It's an amusing, thoughtful, and enlightening read. My sister, whose interests include forensic science, recommended the book to me when she found out that I was researching the history of body-snatching for the backstory of one of my characters. Though I thoroughly enjoy reading Roach's anecdotal accounts of the cadavers she's encountered throughout her research in writing this book, I eventually had to lay my bookmark between its pages and close the book. Thinking about dead bodies and the process of decay during a sunny, warm, beautuful day in Central Park made me that much more grateful to be alive.

So I put the book down and just sat there on the bench, gazing out into the water, watching the ducks glide on its surface and the sunlight touch its own reflection in the gentle rippling motions of the water.

I spent the next hour and a half just listening to some relaxing tunes on my iPod as I thought about the setting for my novel, a fictional town in upstate New York that's near a mountain forest situated near the Hudson River. I don't visit upstate as often as I used to, so I can't always take in the lovely views of the state's natural landscapes during the long drives to Utica for the annual St. John's Day Masonic parade and festival. For the moment, this pond in Central Park served as some kind of haven, a place where one can get away from the crazy city life and just sit and meditate for a while.

I felt like a character from one of Jane Austen's or Oscar Wilde's works, like someone who came from a family that owned breathtaking natural landscapes around their estate and picnicked beside the serene pond that their mansion or country cottage overlooked. I felt special because the place felt special. Its ephemerality made it that much more precious to me.

West Canada Creek by the KOA campgrounds in Herkimer, NY

That spot by The Pond in Central Park became one of my favorite "happy places." My other happy places include the small creek by the Herkimer campgrounds where my family and I used to visit every year. Some people would go swimming in it and even go tubing downstream into the Mohawk River. My sisters and I never did any of those things, but we would walk along the bank, balancing on the wet soil and smooth boulders that graced the creek's edges. We'd squat down and dip our hands into the squishy mineral-rich creekbed to collect shiny, smooth, and interestingly shaped stones. I'd watch the little tadpoles and tiny fish swim away from us as we placed the heavier rocks back into the water. Sometimes there'd even be dragonflies flitting around us, searching for buzzing mosquitoes and water bugs to eat for its midday lunch.

My other happy place is also located in Central Park. While Turtle Pond isn't as pretty and as awe-inspiring as The Pond in Central Park South, the castle structure overlooking Turtle Pond sure is.

Belvedere Castle, named "beautiful view" in Italian, certainly lives up to its name as the site where many couples have exchanged their vows underneath its pretty gazebo (I've always wanted to get married there, too!). The castle is close to the Ramble and the Great Lawn, and it sits right next to the open-air Delacorte Theatre, where the performances for Shakespeare in the Park would take place every summer. Since the castle sits atop of Vista Rock, said to be the highest point in Central Park, Belvedere also serves as the Henry Luce Nature Observatory. You can go inside the castle and find some interesting natural history artifacts (skeletons and birds) on display. From the balcony spaces atop the towers, you can even bring out your binoculars and go birdwatching if you're into orinthology. I'm a bit of a pseudo-orinthologist myself, having done a little research on pigeons to get more background information for my protagonist (spoiler alert: she's supposed to morph into one at some point). It's harder to spot cardinals flying above among the tree branches, but with a little patience, you might catch sight of one nearby. Ducks and finches are also funny little creatures to observe, especially when they're watching you watch them. Call me a quack if you wish (haha), but I find birds as freaky as they are fascinating. They're highly intelligent and very social creatures, and they need our help in preserving their ways of life.

You might also catch sight of the smaller bird species amid the pretty benches and fragrant, colorful flowers in the Shakespeare Garden, which also sits beside Belvedere Castle. Famous quotes from many of the revered bard's works contribute to the charm and beauty of the garden's inspirational floral atmosphere. Belvedere Castle and the Shakespeare Garden always evoke a sense of serenity and wonder within my inner muse.

If you're in New York City and you need a break from the craziness of the city and the monotony of going to work or school, take some time out of your day and take a stroll through the scenic landscapes of Central Park. Take the time to sit down in the middle of one of these places -- whether it's at the Bethesda Fountain, at a table in the Boathouse, on a bench overlooking The Pond, or on the grass on the Great Lawn -- and just let your mind wander. Feel the sunshine's warmth cascade on your skin as you watch the rays caress the treetops and shrubs with its brightness. Feel the cool breeze gently kiss you with the scent of flowers and leaves beneath its invisible wings. Listen to the birds in the trees chirp cheerily. Watch the ducks and the geese glide gracefully along the water, creating ripples atop its surface. Close your eyes. Breathe in. Feel the fresh air enrich your lungs and soothe you as you breathe out. Repeat.

And above all, friends, don't forget to smile.

Until next time, this is yours truly,
J. Day

Laundry Lists: Washing Out the Stains in the Spin Cycle

Well, hello everyone.

My family and I survived the end of the world. Apparently group of fundamental Christians thought that the world would end on May 21st, 2011 at approximately 6pm because of some numerological "proofs" found in the Bible. These "proofs" don't really hold much bearing on the natural phenomena of the world. I mean, come on. A massive, apocalyptic earthquake in New York City? How abso-freaking-lutely absurd.

In other miscellaneous news... my sister had her birthday party today. She just turned eighteen. That makes me feel incredibly old, even though I'm a pretty young and fresh twenty-one right now. Time just moves a little too quickly for my liking sometimes.

I also just finished typing out the answers to four questions out of the required six on my take-home philosophy final. I'm a little annoyed that my teacher's making us go to campus just to hand him a hard-copy in addition to emailing the darn thing to him, especially since on the last day of class he said that we only needed to email the document to him. I could be studying for a Cognitive Psychology final (I'm trying to shoot for an A-) rather than wasting two hours of commuting on the subway. Whatever.

I'm sick of the rain, I'm sick of worrying about whether my financial aid will still push through for the next academic year, I'm sick of doing all the administrative legwork for my sister's college (she should be the one doing it now, for cryin' out loud), I'm sick of feeling ugly because of the crookedness of my braces, I'm sick of the fact that I can't fit into my old blouses and jeans in the same way that I used to in high school, and I'm sick of studying for finals. I'm also sick of this writer's block I've been having -- the kind of mental roadblock in which I know what to write, but not really how to write it. In other words, it's the problem of articulating my ideas and making them make sense on paper (or in this case, word processor). With everything else that's been going on lately, however, I haven't been able to get much done.

I just want to relax and get this summer started already. I'd rather work on my internship and my writing projects. I'd rather go out and have some fun with my friends. I'd rather go exploring. I'd rather travel to some new city and explore its culture and history. I want to do something and make something of myself this summer.

I apologize in advance if this entry sounds a lot like a laundry list of things that are currently annoying the bejeezus out of me. I just needed to let out some steam before I jump back into the boiling buildup of pressure that just keeps spinning around and around in my head. I need to get rid of some of the thoughts staining my brain and putting a damper on my mood. Maybe I just need some sleep, I don't know. I'm always saying that, and though I really do mean it, I just can never seem to follow through.

Maybe some of the pressures I've been feeling these past few days have been due to my negative affectivity. In the famous words of Oscar Wilde, "We are each our own devil, and we make this world our hell."

Going along a similar vein, here's a song by Company of Thieves that's been helping me deal with everything, based on Wilde's wise words. This band's actually pretty awesome -- listening to their music is funky and somewhat soothing all at the same time...

Their newly-released album, "Running From a Gamble," is one of the few things I actually look forward to during the week. I'm hoping I can score a free copy of it from FYE, thanks to a "free album coupon" that the band posted on their Facebook page. I'm crossing my fingers that I'll be able to get my very own free copy. We'll see how it goes.

P.S. I'll try to sound a tad chipper in my next post. I think I just need some time to recollect myself and find some kind of inner peace. You're probably thinking, "Inner peace? What? Is she turning into some sort of hippie now?" By inner peace, I mean is some kind of serenity with myself, some kind of quietude within my mind, however flaky that more than likely sounds at the moment. I hope you're faring better than I am with whatever's going on in your lives.

Writer's Digest, Please Stop Making Me Laugh

I love that this particular Writer's Digest article already has a typographical and grammatical error within the title:

"Should Your Write a Novel or Short Story?" 

Do you see what I see? ;)

*NOTE - Sunday, May 22, 2011, 12:25 PM*
Writer's Digest has now corrected the title. I wonder why...

Haha, oh well. Happy writing everyone! I shall update later.

One Whirlwind of a Week: School, Writing, and Coming to Terms with Realizations

Well, today has been pretty interesting so far. In fact, I've had one whirlwind of a week. Where to start... hmm...

I haven't had a proper eight-hour sleep cycle this entire week.

I had an eight-page analysis due for my Philippine-American Literature class, and it was crucial because as the final paper, most of my grade for the course depended on it. I've been getting pretty decent grades for that class, I guess mostly due to pushing myself to be more vocal in class during our discussions of the text. The books that I've read in my Asian literature classes are well-worth reading. I think I've grown a soft spot for Hisaye Yamamoto, Jhumpa Lahiri, Quan Barry, Maxine Hong-Kingston, Jessica Hagedorn, Carlos Bulosan, and Alfrredo Navarro Salanga. I guess maybe as an Asian-American writer myself, I can sympathize with the issues and the emotions evoked in their works. They inspire me to find my own voice and my own flair in my writing. I can't guarantee it (because I'll most likely forget about it), but I'll maybe post some of my papers in future updates.

As for my Psychology of Women class, things were wrapped up pretty nicely. We all did our final papers on something that related with women and gender issues that we didn't necessarily get to discuss in class. The topics, each interesting and worth thoughtful consideration, varied from media representations of lesbian relationships to purity balls to social and political issues affecting women in the Middle East. I chose to write about Twilight and how it dangerously portrays to its primarily young female audience the "ideal" male as a psychologically and physically abusive partner in heterosexual teen dating and relationships (aka all about how Edward Cullen is a stalker, a misogynist, and a wife-beating sparklepire and therefore should not be held on a pedestal as some kind of romantic hero). Quite frankly, Edward is a butt-head toward his beloved Bella, and Bella is a stand-in for the young, naive and inexperienced female reader who buys into the fantasy rather than the glaring reality.

Originally, I wanted to write about how the women in the Twilight books were portrayed, but if I did that, I'd probably end up mapping out the arguments for a literary critique of character development and going well past the minimum 3-5 pages. I couldn't do all of that in one night, plus I had to squeeze in time to study for my Cognitive Psych test (that class can take a huge toll on you). So instead, I narrowed my focus to the psychological and physical abuse that Edward exhibits towards Bella throughout the series and used statistics provided by the U.S. Department of Justice regarding the rates of stalking victimization, psychological abuse, and physical abuse. I thought that these statistics would be serve as a wake-up call in emphasizing the crucial importance of informing the younger members of the Twilight audience (seeing as their prefrontal cortex, the area of the brain responsible for judgment and decision-making, does not fully develop until they reach their twenties) to be wary of the dangers of abusive relationships and to take precautions against ending up in such situations.

I wish that I had written more and had had more time to thoroughly analyze all the details in order to support my argument, but I did the best that I could. When you've already done your best in such a short span of time, what more can you really do? I just hope I pass the class with an A. I'm trying to graduate with a Suma Cum Laude, so every little point counts towards increasing that GPA. I'm just trying to make my parents proud, and maybe it'll increase (hopefully) my chances of getting accepted into a graduate program in clincial psych. I have a whole lot of figuring-stuff-out to do.

OH, AND BY THE WAY...
While still kind of on the topic of Twilight... check out this newspaper's website. That's right. I only found out about it this month, but I was excited nonetheless: my blog post, "Precisely Why Any Writer Should Do Their Research," was featured in the "Culture Briefs" section of a February issue of the Washington Times. I'm still amazed that an excerpt of that post was quoted in a newspaper. :)

Anyway, where was I? Oh, yes. On the matter of finding time amid the past crazy week...

Even in my sleep-deprived stupor, though, I was also able to work on that poem I posted previously and also edit another chapter in that novel I'm still working on. I haven't written it down yet, but I also have some rough character sketches for the other major characters. It started out as back story material, but I can see now that, given the research I've done on female medical practitioners during the middle ages as well as on body-snatching and the theft of organs for transplants, I can totally write entire book for some of the key characters that would serve as a prequel for the story I'm working on right now. It's probably going to take me another couple of years to work everything out, but in the end I think it'll be worth it. I don't want to be another Stephenie Meyer, publishing works that have so many factual, commonsense and grammatical errors. I'd rather be J.K. Rowling, publishing works that she took years to craft with engaging conflicts, engaging characters who develop backbones and stand up for what they believe is morally and ethically right, and a unique flair of writing that keeps the reader turning the pages and wanting more. I just have to make the time between classes and my other real-life responsibilities in order to really make it work. More updates on this later.

As for other miscellaneous updates --

Remember in a previous post, "Only Fooling Myself... Or Am I?", that I was supposed to meet up with a certain someone? Well, I did. And it went all right. Not quite what I had in mind, but it went all right nonetheless. To be honest, I feel a little relieved. I got so worried over something so trivial this weekend that I'm actually laughing about it now. I realize now how silly I've been. And you know what? I'm okay with that; I truly am.

Sometimes you learn that it really isn't you. Sometimes you learn that it's other things, that the guy just has a lot of things on his mind and a lot of things to figure out (job, school... life in general it seems), especially if he just started to work towards a goal. I can't blame him. I could tell from the worried, tired look on his face that he needs to get some rest and take each day as it comes. He deserves a little break from all the stress of studying and the added responsibilities that his job's been giving him. I just hope that maybe we can still keep in touch once the semester's over and stay friends. Sometimes you just have to let things unfold on their own and see what happens.

For now, I'll focus on my writing projects, getting that internship, planning for grad school, and enjoying whatever time I have with my friends and family. I find that as long as you stay grounded, surround yourself with the people who care about you, and keep in mind the important things in life, then you'll walk away feeling uplifted and confident with a strong sense of self.

I'll close with a Sara Bareilles song that brims with all the uplifting good stuff. Life, dear friends, is uncharted.

Here's to the summer, everyone. :)

Something to Alight -- My Personal Semantic

I know I've mentioned time and again that I would post something I've written, and yet have failed to do so on a number of occasions. So instead of merely mentioning it, I've decided to post a poem that I've been working on since I was sixteen. I wrote it about four years ago for a self-portrait project in my English class when I was still a junior in high school. I'm currently using it as a device in the novel that I'm working on, so it's undergone some major changes from the original version.

It probably still needs some reworking and improvement, so I'd love to hear any comments about it if you have any. I don't really have an official title for it now, but in the meantime I've been calling it "Something to Alight -- My Personal Semantic."

Here goes nothing...

Something to Alight -- My Personal Semantic

I am a bottle with a secret message inside
Floating and drifting away, hoping someone finds me
in the tumult of the tides.

I am a thorny flower beginning to bloom,
Fazed by the beauty of the rest of the garden,
Struggling to stand up straight and
Not wilt too soon.

I am an open book, my pages a chronicle in the making.
But most fail to read between the lines for
The invisible ink fools those who
Think they've read the whole story.

Try to define its words like the sages.
I dare you to confine me within these pages,
To capture the essence, the nonsense verse of my personal semantic,
My abstraction.

Go on, I dare you. Rip me apart. Break me open.
Burn the script and bury its spine in sand.
All you’ll get are blisters in your hands.

All you’ll ever find are the fractions
Of the savage boom-boom within this
Cage that’s rusted over with the
Brown-red residue of shadow and shame.

I blunt my words until they hurt
More than the sharpest sword
Severing skin and searing sinew,
Shattering my walls as I linger,
Waiting, withering, wanting

Something to alight.

As I scream aloud to breathe anew,
My heart and mind ablaze
Flickering bright white and blue.

I am fed with oxygen
My life renewed.

I'm Only Fooling Myself... Or Am I?

It's been months since I last updated, and all because of this long, crazy semester that's about to come to an end. Although I have looked forward to summer ever since February, I'm also feeling kind of wistful that the craziness is winding down. I've learned a lot lately -- about my family, about my friends, about my career goals, and about myself. I'm applying for those internships, and I'm going to put myself out there as a confident young woman who knows what she wants and strives to work toward her goals.

Some of you have probably wondered about the weird sense of hopelessness in that previous entry that I wrote way back in February -- please disregard that. I got over it (thank goodness!). It was a stupid and trivial little thing, something that shouldn't have even crossed my mind in the first place because of obvious circumstances (he had a girlfriend, and oh yeah, he was teaching one of my classes. I know, I had a bit of a lapse in judgment, haha). Now that that's done and over with, I've gotten on with completing the requirements for my major (6 more credits, and I'm done! I still have 24 credits to complete in order to graduate, though) and moved on with other interests.

With that said, prepare yourself for another silly thing that will probably make me sound like I'm in high school all over again...

In between the worrying about upcoming tests in cognitive theories, folk psychology, Power-point presentations on media portrayals of women, and tackling literary critique essays for my classes, I think that I stumbled and fell upon something wonderful.

So there's this guy... (Haha, that sounds so stupid already.) and I have a theory that he likes me.

It's been years since I was actually interested in a
guy, let alone someone whom I could envision myself having a really strong connection with. I still haven't dated anyone, but I'm not in any rush. I'd rather take things as they come, one step at a time.

There didn't seem to be any harm in talking to him, especially since we seemed confused over the same topics in class and he seemed like a really nice person. We'd look at each other and say "hi" from time to time. One time we made eye contact after taking a test, and he made a huge effort to smile and wave to me. It came out as kind of awkward and yet so adorable at the same time. He seemed like a genuinely sweet guy. So I worked up the courage to sit next to him and ask him questions about the homework that our professor would assign.

I was nervous as hell, but I tried to be nonchalant and helpful whenever we partnered up for group work and discussed the questions in the given exercises. We even kind of joked around with each other, and he actually laughed at some of the things I'd say even though I didn't think my comments were that funny to begin with. He'd get fidgety around me, start blushing when I talk to him, glance my way every so often, and even smile at me. When I casually asked about how his weekend was, he blushed, looked me in the eyes, and gave me a huge grin, like he was surprised and pleased that I actually asked him that question. I pretty much melted right then and there. I couldn't help but smile back at him.

It seemed like it would be alright to try to get to know him better as a friend, and since we were both confused over the same topics that would be covered in the final exam, I asked him if he wanted to study with me sometime, just to see how he'd respond. Mind you, that's the first I ever actually asked a guy if he wanted to spend some time together with me.

It shouldn't even be that big of a deal. I'd decided that if I truly was a feminist who believed in equality, then why the hell not ask him if he wanted to study together? Screw the mind games and just straight out ask him. Nothing ventured, nothing gained.

So I mustered up whatever courage I could, thinking that it's now or never, and then walked up to him after class and said, "Hey, I was just thinking... since we're both confused and having trouble with the same chapter, do you want to study together for the final?"

I didn't even think he would say yes, especially since he seemed distracted with so many other things going on with his other classes, and because he seemed busy in arranging the books in his bag when I asked him. He was even turning red, and I thought he'd pass on the suggestion. But as soon as I said it, he looked me straight in the eyes and said, "I'd love to."

I couldn't breathe. I was floored. I felt like I was having one of those dreams that seemed too good to be true. He didn't just say, "Sure" or "Yeah, that would be helpful." He said, "I'd love to." I'd love to.

And then he took out his phone and asked me for my  number. I didn't think he'd even do that, since we would see each other again the next week for class, but in any case, it happened. We exchanged phone numbers, and he penciled me into his planner!

Maybe I invested too much hope in this one little phrase, but I couldn't help but get excited. I couldn't stop smiling to myself. Even my friends were overjoyed when I told them what just happened. They pretty much scared me when I saw them jumping up and down and squealing in excitement. It turns out that I'd done what neither of them had the guts to do: ask a guy I'm interested in to spend some time with me.

I suppose I was pretty brave. I still couldn't believe that I asked him and that he actually agreed to meet with geeky, glasses-wearing, braces-wearing, somewhat-shy-and-slightly-socially-awkward me. I was so happy and so full of hope that I couldn't think about anything else during that entire weekend.

But then yesterday, he didn't really talk to me much. When we were confirming our plans to study, he got a little... weird on me. He still laughed at some of the things I'd said and we still exchanged smiles with each other, but when it came to planning the where and when of our study session, he looked a little... overwhelmed. Freaked out. Maybe I scared him. I don't know. But he seemed incredibly nervous and even told me, "Well, you have my number in case you change your mind." And then he kind of... well, ran away. It was so awkward. And I felt mortified with confusion.

Was he no longer interested in hanging out? Did the thought of spending time with me studying for the final freak him out? Did he think I was being too forward in saying that I actually didn't have class that day?

OH GOD. I probably shouldn't have told him that. I think it made him nervous.

I feel like I'm Gigi from He's Just Not That Into You. I wanted to kick myself so badly.

My friends told me it's not a big deal and to stop listening to songs that tell me I'm a fool ("Fools Like Me" by Vanessa Carlton or "Only Fooling Myself" by Kate Voegele, anyone?). I shouldn't dwell on it too much. I should just treat the situation as though I'm just meeting up with a classmate to hang out and study for a final exam that we have together. And they're right. I shouldn't be too emotionally invested in something as casual as a study date (of course, the use of the term "date" is kind of ambiguous here). It's the rush of these darn emotions and the nagging voice in the back of my mind telling me to tread carefully that keeps tripping me up.

For all I know, he's probably just as shy and nervous about it as I am (he generally is pretty nervous and shy around me). My friends helped put things into perspective: maybe he does want to study with me, but he doesn't want to make me come to campus to study when I don't really have to. Maybe that embarrassed him. Or maybe it's just a part of who he is as a really polite gentleman (he's held open doors for me before).

I honestly don't know and there's really no way to find out what he's really thinking. But I'm definitely not going to cancel on him. I really want to help him do well on the final. If I can study and help him at the same time, then maybe there's still hope for us yet in passing the exam! If anything, we might hit it off and hang out again over the summer, even if it's just as friends. That's got to count for something.

As Vanessa Carlton says in her song "Fools Like Me":

"Fools like me / Oh, we love blindly
And the cracks don't count
It's gotta break in front of me...

Fools like me / Oh, we never see
And the cracks don't count
It's gotta break for me to see...

At least I can say / I was not afraid / I loved you all the way / I'd pick the fool any day"

Still holding out hope and willing to take foolish risks --

This is yours truly,
J. Day