Describe Yourself in Six Words

Today's mission on MISSion Amy K.R. blog was to come up with a six-word sentence to describe ourselves. I had so many ideas that seem to fit me perfectly, so I came up with ten sentences and had a hard time deciding which one to post. Can you guess which one I chose?

• Reinventing myself over and over again.
• Breaking out of cage of impossibilities.
• Little push turns mediocrity into excellence.
• Normal: an illusion of the mind.
• Refusing norms and exploring the ellipsis…
• Good can always be made better.
• Looking to improve what doesn’t work.
• Forty-something and just getting started.
• Learning to see from other angles.
• There is always a plan B.

Being Interested Can Be the Greatest Gift

We were preparing to move to America. I was 12 years old. My grandmother, who had raised me exclusively from age 1 to 6 and intermittently after that, asked me if I wanted to go take a look at her new apartment where she will reside upon our departure. Without a second thought, I told her no, I had plans to hang out with friends. She did not ask me again. A month later, my parents, my brother, my sister, and I boarded a giant airplane headed for the U.S. I never got to see my grandmother's apartment. Two years later, she passed away.

I often try to imagine in my mind where and how she lived after we left. But I cannot see it. I have no memory of it, because I didn't bother to take an interest in the person that I loved the most and whose love I took for granted. It is one of my biggest regrets.

Today, I asked my kids if they would like to go look at my university campus where I will be spending much of my time for the next two years. Without a second thought, they said, no, they had other important and more interesting things to do.

Now I sit here wondering if my grandmother was as disappointed as I am now... and if my actions indicated to her that I had no interest in knowing any details about her life.




This song keeps playing in my head...

To Follow or Not to Follow Advice (A Melon Story)

I knock on the watermelons for the sound of ripeness before I pick one. Somewhere along the way, I started this habit. When I say "sound of ripeness," I mean any sound that doesn't sound like a dull block of wood.

Yes, you guessed it -- I have no idea how to pick watermelons. A friend once suggested the knocking method, and I've been doing it ever since, for no better reason other than that it makes me look (I'd like to believe) like I know what I'm doing. The worst part of it all is that I never come home with a good watermelon. You would think that I would pick a good one at least some of the time... but no such luck.

Now, picking a cantaloupe is an entirely different story. I look for that nice cantaloupe-like shape with a nice cantaloupe-like color. Then I smell the bellybutton (that's what I call it) of the cantaloupe for that nice cantaloupe-like smell, and I can almost always pick a sweet one. This method has never failed me. However, last week when I was at the farmer's market with my sister, something awful happened.

As I eagerly approached the bin full of cantaloupes fresh off the truck, one of the workers handed me a cantaloupe and said, "Here's a good one!"

"Wow... thank you, " I said, dumbfounded by this trying-to-be-helpful but annoying and unwelcome gesture. I proceeded to bring the fruit up to my nose and inhaled deeply. My head was screaming "put it back!" but what could I do? I felt obligated to nod at the guy and put the less-than-desirable cantaloupe in my cart.

"I actually wanted more than one," I said, hoping to get another chance at the bin.

"Oh? How many? Two? Here are two more. See this green around the stem? That's how you know it's a good one."

Really? I've never heard that before... I was very skeptical, but I wasn't about to argue with this self-proclaimed cantaloupe specialist about how to pick fruit. How would that look? And besides, he could know something that I don't know. After all, he had that confident-farmer look about him, and I felt I should just trust him. I purchased them and brought them home, hoping for the best.

Well, it turns out that his method is crap. I ended up eating mediocre and flavorless (grrrr) cantaloupes. Well, one of them was good, I admit, but I'm certain that was by sheer chance rather than his method. Yep. You should've seen my disappointment when I cut that first one open. *sigh* (You gotta understand... I live for fruit.)

The lesson I learned?

Don't let anyone, not even the "experts," lead me astray. Do my own research, make my own choices, and stick to my guns. Trust my own instincts (like the smell of ripeness), not empty words. And it's okay to occasionally try someone else's idea for the purpose of experimentation (like how to pick a watermelon), but in the end, I am still responsible for the choices I make. :)

Literature, Fruit, and Life

The book ended. Sadly, they always do. I tried so hard to savor it as slowly as I could, forcing myself to read only a few pages at a time, but it ended nevertheless.

I wonder if the stories were allowed to go on and on, we would eventually tire of them? And if so, would we still speak of them as fondly?

This leads me to ponder over other things in life. Everything in life seems to be most pleasurable at the peak of its development. Fruits are a great example. I carefully watch, wait for, and pounce on the moment of the fruit's maximum ripeness. If not, I am left with a bitter, rotten, or irritatingly unsatisfying taste in my mouth.

What about people? When developing a relationship, the heart-pounding excitement does not go on forever. We meet a person of interest, get intrigued by them, learn about them, want to spend more and more time with them, then there's the inevitable plateau, or even a downturn. What if a developing relationship ends at its peak just before reaching that plateau, due to circumstances out of either party's control such as relocation or death? Then that person is remembered forever as the best neighbor, friend, colleague, partner, lover, etc. We are left remembering only the extraordinary, because we are spared the ordinary that certainly would have followed. (Hmm... this also makes me wonder about the fine line/overlap between presence and absence -- but that's another think for another time. lol)

I believe humans are constantly driven to seek this type of peak pleasure in everything, whether it be physical, emotional, intellectual, or even spiritual. Of course, some of us have it worse than others, and we must be aware of our healthy boundaries while keeping a grip on reality. But I think the repeating lure of the next (and the next) bite into the ripeness of life is what gets us out of bed every morning.

Perhaps people's addiction to literature is no exception.

The Beauty of Nothing Special

I spent a lovely day with my two kids. Having nowhere to be other than meeting some friends for lunch, we spent relaxing and laid-back 9 hours together. I am still in awe of just how much we truly enjoyed this lazy and stress-free day filled with mundane and ordinary togetherness. My kids probably didn't even realize it, but I saw us. We were blissfully happy with no agenda. We get far too few of these times...

The Onging State of Idleness and Uncertainty

I started this blog, which is actually my third do-over blog/thought journal, to share my fascination with life in general, and the MBTI (Myers-Briggs Type Indicator) in particualr, after having attended a week-long MBTI training session and becoming a certified MBTI nut (haha). My first post was two years ago in June of 2008.

So much has happened/changed since then. I find it interesting that both my life and this blog seem to have turned into a mixed soup with absolutely no clarity or direction. I keep stirring and stirring, hoping that it will turn into something wonderful, but all I keep tasting are mostly doubts and insecurities and only occasional hints of a potential something... something that I cannot quite fully grasp and snap a mental picture of.

Everything seems to be up in the air, in limbo, in a state of confusion, idling and waiting for a push or a pull toward something definitive... something worthy. I thought education would teach me all I need to know about where to go and how to get there. I've been going to college non-stop since January of 2009 (and will be for at least another two years), and I know less now than when I started. How does that happen?

And... I don't know what to do with this blog. I'm fighting the urge to delete and start over again. hmm...

A New Look!!

I have not posted anything for a while... and in lieu of writing a post, I thought I'd change the look of the blog. Whaddaya think??? :)

And... just to give you something to ponder over, check this out:



I just LOVE him!!

Back to the original plan

My art exploration semester is almost over, and I'm getting ready to dive into the books again. boo...

I would love to continue foo-farting around with my quasi-talent that may or may not improve with time. There's still so much I have not tried, such as painting, watercolor, ceramics, and sculpting. If I had discovered that making art is my passion, I could justify wasting more time to explore. But that's not at all the case. Perhaps I could come back to it when I'm in need of a hobby. But for now, I need to move on...get back on track.

The workaholic in me is anxious to get this show on the road toward something more practical. So... I signed up for a full load in the summer and again in the fall. I'm hoping to finish my BA by the end of 2011.

Oh... and remember when I said I would only post original images from now on? I take that back. I change my mind. I've decided I don't need to put myself under strict guidelines. The rest of the world gives me enough of that already. Sometimes I'm better at finding what fits instead of coming up with original stuff. Hey, we all have to know our limitations, right? There's nothing wrong with taking short-cuts when I need to. Whew! That's a load off my mind!

I was torn about the art thing up until just now, but now I feel so much better!

Onward!

Yay! :-)

UPDATE: Umm... yes, you guessed it. I'm rethinking my plans again. Gosh, this just seems like my last chance to get it right, and at the end of this journey, I don't wanna be "should-ing" all over myself (to steal someone else's clever phrase).

I know I'm putting myself in danger of looking very flaky when I share so much of my indecisive pacing back and forth in my head, but this is MY space. I will have no shame in showing my uber-flaky, fruit-cake-y, scatter-brainy, wishy-washy, and cringe-worthy side!

To make long story short, I am reconsidering the art thing, along with the psychology thing, which will perhaps turn into an Art Therapy thing... Then I will have the best of both worlds AND also be able to somehow make a difference in other people's lives, which, contrary to what I thought, is more important to me than anything else. Funny...as I write those very words in this moment, they became more true than ever before.

Entre Vous...

I took this shot at the park the other day. Doesn't this look like an entry way into a fairy tale?

Illustration Project

Old nursery rhyme revisited:

Illustrator + Photoshop + InDesign.

I added the second verse. What do you think? :)

It's all about me me me!

Class project. Collage about self. Photoshop + Illustrator.

Tenacity

This is my hero: A cherry tree in our front yard with that bag gash in its trunk.

Sprezzatura

It is becoming increasingly difficult to keep up with the blog. I have considered deleting the account many times, but I just can't bring myself to do it for whatever reason. I think it's because there's so much of me contained herein... because I try to be more honest here than anywhere else. I need not follow any rules here - grammatical, social, or otherwise (unless I want to). ;)

Here's the latest drawing I did of a painting by Raphael. I used pencil, compressed charcoal, and some pastels. It's a portrait of Baldassare Castiglione. Castiglione wrote The Book of the Courtier, in which he coined the Italian word "sprezzatura," meaning "effortless grace." It is the ability to perform difficult actions with the appearance of ease and nonchalance. The opposite of sprezzatura is affectation.

This word has been on my mind for the last few weeks. Sprezzatura requires years of practice so that the act becomes almost a second nature. I find it ironic that it also seems to require many years of soul searching and loads of courage, even lots of practice, to know and display what is our true nature - who we really are underneath all the accumulated muck and lies. hmm...

BTW, it took me what seemed like forever to finish the drawing for our final project. I don't think I would be drawing another portrait anytime soon...

Can I choose NOT to be merry?

November and December are my least favorite months of the year. I start getting into my grumpy mood about the second week in November and don't come out of it until after January.

Perhaps it has something to do with the cold weather. But it's more likely that I become too overwhelmed with the pressures and obligations surrounding the holidays. There are just too many parties, gatherings, collections for the needy, family obligations, hours spent in traffic, and shopping for useless gifts.

I know I get this way every year... and it's getting worse.

You must give, you must love, you must socialize, you must be cheerful, and you MUST ENJOY EVERY MINUTE OF IT... or else! Or else? Yes... or else you are seen as a Scrooge and frowned upon. Or else you are a social misfit. Or else you will live a miserable life then shrivel up and die alone. Oh, really?

When? When did this unwritten social law go into effect?

And that's why I rebel against it. Not because I don't want to give, love, or socialize... but because I don't like anyone else telling me how, when, and whom to love. I don't feel like I have a choice in the matter during the holidays. What happened to our freedom to choose?

Maybe I'll start decorating a cherry tree in April and giving random gifts in August just to throw people off. Hmm...

It's a bad attitude, I know. Shame on me for not enjoying such a joyous time of the year. Is it just me? ;-)

Outcast by Choice

I often find myself in a group or a place where I feel like an outcast. I somehow end up being the odd person out whenever I'm sitting in the classroom, among friends, in church, neighborhood functions, other social gatherings, etc.... Throughout my life, I had assumed this is because either I was flawed or the group was flawed. Or simply blame it on my minority status, which is the easiest way to get out of thinking too hard... and a cop-out.

What I have recently discovered was that I often seem to choose to be the outcast. A part of me does not want to belong to a larger group. I rather enjoy being an enigma most of the time. I don't like being influenced by other's views and I like to see things for myself and make up my own mind about everything. That's why I end up doing things that people warn me against and also refuse to do the things they say I must do. ...unless I have coincidentally decided on my own that I will or will not do those things. If there is one view, I come up with an opposing view. If there are two opposing views, I come up with a third view. If a third view is already presented, then I try to think of a whole new perspective... and so on. It can be very annoying, I know. ;-) However, I'm not afraid to admit I'm wrong when it's pointed out to me or change my mind in the middle of an argument.

But back to the point of being an outcast... When I start to feel like I'm being too immersed in a group, I start to feel uncomfortable. I think it's the discomfort of blending with others that I dislike more so than the awkwardness of being the oddball. I end up seeking out other groups, views, and ideas. Hmm... perhaps this is a commitment issue? I don't think so, but worth exploring at another time (mental note).

Yes, I do take freethinking to the extreme sometimes and end up with my face in the dirt. But hey, I'd rather have a dirty face than a face made on the assembly line.

Is it bad? Is it just me? ;-)

I have no time for incompetence

If you've landed here via psychology.alltop.com, I apologize. This blog should not be listed there. I just want it said that I've asked for it to be removed from the list (but why is it still there?). I have no qualifications to talk about psychology other than the fact that I am a student of psychology and love to observe and contemplate human behavior in myself and others. Honestly, I was put there by mistake. I'm not an expert on the subject nor do I pretend to be, which brings me to my next point...

Please don't get me wrong. I'm not trying to be judgmental in what I'm about to say. I make a huge effort not to judge people (this is very important to me), but I cannot help but judge their performance. I'm just trying to be honest.

Those who know me understand that it's one of my pet peeves -- people pretending to be something they are not. Incompetent people should not pretend to be competent. Unqualified people should not pretend to be qualified. There should be a direct correlation between effort and reward. If recognition is given, it should be deserved. And if it is deserved, it should be given.

Service providers who charge high-quality prices with mediocre or inferior service? That annoys me to no end. Customers who are too stupid to notice or too "nice" to speak up, allowing them to continue in the same way? That annoys me even more. Pacifists who frown upon others for their honest critique? That downright infuriates me.

That's why I've always felt uncomfortable when people describe me as "nice." That's another thing that close friends know about me. I'm not that nice. Sometimes I can even be cold and uncaring in trying to tell the truth. I'll lend you my shoulders (to a point) for your sob stories...sure. But don't let those sob stories interfere with your work or use them as an excuse for poor performance. If you can't keep up, remove yourself from the job and let someone else more competent take your spot. No hard feelings.

I'll only put up with it for one reason and one reason only -- if you have creative talent that surpasses your pain-in-the-ass-ness.

Is that bad? Is it just me?

(UPDATE: Yep... I was in one of my moods when I wrote this... oh well.)

Image: http://www.theodoresworld.net/archives/2009/07/judges_dont_belong_on_the_batt.html

What is higher education?

Okay... the image is an inside joke, representing Professor Teeth. Don't ask. Anyway, on with the rant.

During class, I often have so many questions and so many thoughts about what is being presented. I always want to explore other perspectives... other points of view. Even if I agree... and especially if I agree strongly. Two weeks ago, I posed a question to my history professor via email about a passionate lecture he gave... but it was not well received. Obviously, he knows much more about the subject being taught than myself. My only goal is to learn to think better. I was not looking to challenge him. I was looking for some bouncing back and forth of thoughts. But a professor who doesn't want to discuss another possible point of view with a student? Hmm...

The psychology class is another doozy. There is just so much material to be covered, and the information gets presented from the text book as if that is the way it is. The professor is willing to listen to questions, but there is a tight agenda for each class and, as a matter of fact, for the whole semester, and serious discussion is not possible.

Then there are the classes where we spend hours upon hours to write a paper, and it sits in the professor's inbox for weeks on end or we get it back with a letter grade and very little feedback. What meaning does a 4.0 GPA have when there is no satisfaction of having grown and matured in my thinking?

In each class, we are told that we should think critically. Yet there is not enough allowance (in time or attitude) for discussion or any serious questions to explore another view. I started college for the opportunity to think with other thinkers. But instead, I'm just getting more high school at an accelerated speed. Perhaps this will change when I get to the university? when I get into upper level classes...?

Is it just me?

Free at Last!!

Yay! I deleted my twitter account, and now I can think freely on here (sort of).

Let's try... Hmm... yeah.

Hmmmmm...... oooh yeah.

HMMMMMMMM..... Ahhh~

Ciao for now!

Image: http://us.sanyo.com/Think-GAIA

Oh, twitter... you annoy me so.

Ok... that's it. Somewhere in the internet world, there is an RSS fairy who keeps sending the feed from this blog to my twitter account. I have no idea how to get the darn application to stop sending them. Twitterfeed doesn't even have it on the feed list. Argh.... I no longer want to advertise every rant I write by having it show up as a tweet. Whatever happened to the old days when people just accidentally stumbled upon my site? I find self-promotion extremely uncomfortable, especially when I don't have much to say that's worthy of attention. That's what twitter was starting to feel like, thus my absence. Oh, twitter. What do I do with you? Delete or not to delete the account?

And this. What do I do with this blog? It served me well as a place to vent my thoughts for a while, but...

but... yeah. Exactly... hmm...

As I publish this second blog post of the day, it [blogging] just seems to have lost the appeal. I tried very hard to find some remaining spark, but I'm coming up with nothing.

Perhaps I'll be back someday.

You can't say that I didn't give it my best...

Working through the heaviness

I woke up with something heavy in the pit of my stomach. It wanted some attention, so I ventured.

I guess it must come from suddenly feeling disconnected from the world as I knew it. I wondered when was the last time I got together with my girlfriends just to laugh? When was the last time I called my sister or my mom just to talk? When was the last time I saw my church family? When was the last time I went shopping for something other than food? When was the last time I cooked a meal from scratch? When was the last time I went to the theater? When was the last time I saw the ocean?

Two semesters ago, I have jumped in head first into this college endeavor of mine, and I have not looked back. With a maximum course load, together with my annoying need to overachieve in everything, I go to bed thinking about my assignments and wake up thinking about my assignments. Do I even have the capability of half-assing anything? I don't even know what that means.

I often jolt to a waking state in a panic, thinking that I have overslept and missed a class... only to find that I still have plenty of time.

I am struggling to keep my priorities in order, that being that I am a mother first, wife second, and a student third. The third seems to repeatedly come up as first; and although my family understands and fully supports me, I'm left wondering if I'm being unfair to them. But, miraculously, we are still managing through it as one unit.

That leads me to the rest of the people and things that are being neglected. I do have an obsessive-compulsive streak in the way I jump into things, and I'm known to get tunnel vision when I am focused on a project/mission. But this has to be, by far, the most I have become detached from life outside of my immediate world.

I know that keeping a balance is probably the key to coming out at the other end of this journey emotionally intact, but that's easier said than done.

I still get butterflies as I arrive on campus each morning, or as I sit in a classroom waiting for the professor to arrive. I still can't believe I am actually finally going after what I've always wanted. How can I not give it my 200 percent? So, I find myself on the ride of my life while gripping tightly onto the love and support of my husband and my kids. There's no more room for anything else.

And once in a while, I feel the disconnect from all those other people and things I love... and wonder if I'm doing the right thing. There will be no more do-overs. This is it. What if ten years from now, I look back and realize I had traveled on the wrong train?

I let it hang in all of its heaviness for a moment...take a deep breath...then ask myself, "Am I still having fun?" And the answer is, "Oh, yes!" I went into this promising myself to keep having fun, and I must maintain that perspective if I want any chance at crossing the finish line. At the same time, I know that if the answer should ever change, I have the choice to get off the ride. I have to allow myself that loophole in order to continue breathing.

Also, I have this... the online outlet for expressing and releasing my thoughts so they don't just fester inside my mind. It is a much appreciated friend. :-)

Having worked through the heaviness this morning... for the time being, the weight lifts and the confusion subsides. Onward, student!

[Image credit: Don Hong-Oai]