Ivan leaves in a matter of weeks after his finals are deadened. Most of my college friends are dueling with finals too. They sacrifice sleep, post less on Facebook, utilize all methods of the trade to get their last paper in or cram sixty chapters or orgo into their limited and mentally-exhausted minds. I will rekindle with Lee in a day at the Hunter BFA show in the West Lobby. I haven't seen my previous duetress Pam because she's constantly working and now studying for her exam come February. But I did begin a friendship with a student government member Pam. We had dinner tonight and discussed some personal topics related to self-fulfillment. In the meantime I nurse a part time position near Bryant Park. My best friend Linda is experiencing heavy stress from work, but I assured her that everything will be okay once she replenishes her sleep. My friends are scattered because I make friends in scattered ways. I randomly engender relationships with people left and right. That is why I become increasingly scattered when it comes to communicating with my friends. I'm not sure if I can keep up with each one of my friends.
Nights are increasingly colder, darker, longer, and more hazy. Actually, the haziness comes from my own mental distress caused by reflecting on my past relationship. I had a dream about my ex girlfriend last night. Funny how I have dreams about her when I am apart from her but not when I am actually with her. It's funny how unconscious baggage surfaces at unexpected times. This wintry weather is also making it difficult for me to dress fancy and comfortable. Layering is key, but it is extremely uncomfortable having to disrobe once indoors. I also detest hats because my hair gets ruined. I'm not one to obsess over my looks, but I've become vain recently after taking many selfies on multiple occasions. I admit admiring my reflection in store and car windows. I suppose dressing like a dandy gives me a feeling of being a gentleman, whatever is worth being a gentleman these days. The more pertinent question is whether or not others perceive me as more masculine when I dress in a blazer and cardigan. These questions patrol my mind unnecessarily.
My dream led me to believe that I had dormant emotions for my ex girlfriend shortly after our breakup. I believe that I partially denied my own sadness and missing her. I am not sure why my memories with her are clearer now than ever before: I remember all the little comments, remarks, and things she said to me. I even remember distinctly the fragrances of her hand sanitizer that she would use right before every meal we had. I even recall where I picked her up at Penn Station, and I recall the moments in Battery Park. The details are becoming more crystal clear the less I think about it. The act of not thinking is more clear than when I do think long and hard. I actually have intentions of traveling to Stony Brook to encounter memories and revisit them. It would be twice as memorable if I went with my sister and performed for a club there as well. So I asked my friends in Stony if I can perform at any club events. I will be sure to lug my guitar around the LIRR trains and show off my artist self.
This time of year, last year, presented me with new experiences as well as warm memories: I invited Kathy to see the Christmas Tree with me at the Rock. I presented her with a handmade X-Mas card soon after. This year, things are different: I invited Helen to see the tree with me, but she declined. Feeling scornful, doubtful, and upset, I decided to stifle these feelings (Why waste time feeling sad, angry, and hurt?) and see the tree by myself. After all, loneliness doesn't equate being by oneself. If I'm by myself, it doesn't mean that I'm lonely. Learning this difference will extricate me from a self-fulfilling fantasy of being a hopeless romantic, the same fashion a person says he's a hopeless romantic he will become one just by the act of acknowledging it. "I think, therefore I am." This saying by Descartes holds truth here. If you believe that you are this, then you are this. I'm unsure where my feelings of sadness emanate. I don't know why I'm sad that I don't have anyone to see the tree with. Perhaps I have the syndrome of a single woman, as an article stated, who has no one to spend the holidays with. I am the male version of that single woman who cries under the mistletoe and does all the romantic things by herself, including skating and fine dining. This paints a rather overdramatic image of a person who is unwanted, unfulfilled. This doesn't have to be the case. It doesn't have to be this way at all. My friend Donna always dines by herself, and she loves the experience of watching movies, trying out new cuisines by herself because she enjoys it. It doesn't mean that she's anti-social, unwanted, or sad.
The sun sets very early nowadays. Winter nights extend into long, dreary blankets of night. The dark sky seems to lengthen into the early mornings that wake me from my perilous slumber. Yes, this is all very dramatic, but I would also like to point out something more dramatic --- the unnecessary shouting and screaming that my father conducts while speaking to my mother. He always desires the last say. Mom would always retort, "Nee gung hai gong aw gui." It means you always have the last say. You must have the last say so that you feel good about yourself. These kinds of things get passed down to me, I assume. As they say, "like father, like son." This is the greatest fear that I presently have, to grow up to inherit all of my father's vices. Although these vices are part and parcel of who I am, I can change myself because I believe wholly in libertarianism (not the political sense). We are individuals capable of changing whenever, wherever. When plights meet us, we veer away and morph accordingly to self-preserve.
I've been patronizing the Halal Guys almost twice each week for the past month! I think I'm addicted to their seasoning, artificial white sauce, and their logo. Clearly, their marketing has worked on me: I have been conditioned to like their lamb, pita bread, and succulent rice. The yellow shopping bag definitely trains my eye on the lamb gyro stick, and their free schwag (Thanks to Terresa for embedding the word "schwag" in my dictionary!) such as shopping bag and keychain secured my allegiance. Each time I am around Times Square I get this urge to visit Rockefeller Center, but really, I want to visit the Halal Guys and fill up my stomach with oily lamb over rice. The feeling of first eating the platter is almost as good as tasting the cold portions, but after eating five minutes of it, I feel this incredible self-disgust: how could I order such a gastric bypass? There is enough fat and sodium and artificial flavoring in this to kill anyone short of a hipster diet. I've been trying to watch my weight for the past two months, and I've even planned on jogging, but to no avail, my stomach only inflates and my face gets skinnier and skinnier. My Dad makes fun of me by calling me "little man." He holds out hope for me that I will grow another few inches, but I assured him that I have stopped growing. My mom holds the same stubborn hope, but I told her that I stop growing after puberty. She thinks that young adults can grow until they're 26 just because one of our neighbors in the same building mentioned it. I don't mean to sound like my dad when I criticize my mom's naivety, but you can't always believe what you hear, mom. Gullibility runs in my blood as well.
The first snowfall hit a few days ago and I was accosted by heavy winds and frigid snow moustache. I made a journey to meet Charles at the Astor Place Starbucks which was a good thirty something blocks away from home. This marks the tenth journey I have ever made on foot ever since I renounced my monthly Metrocard this month. A looming financial crisis put me in a corner and I knew I had to cut back somehow. I had to stop spending money on food, subway rides, and clothing. However I seem to spend more money on food than ever before, therefore I had to cut down on my subway rides. I would either confine myself to my apartment whenever I could or walk to my destination without any public transportation at all. This was easier thought than actually done, but I managed to keep my word and not bite my tongue after all. After we met we braved the falling snow and entered a house party filled with thirty-something year old guests. It was my first time feeling incredibly young and artsy. The weather has been my increasing concern because I "haw geeng mm haw meng." My mom would say this, meaning literally "you want your neck but not your life." It translates into sacrificing health for fashion. Women are stereotypically known for wearing tiny skirts in frigid weather only to complain that they are getting sick. But men do it too! I do it! I am guilty of wearing less only to preserve a slim, fashionable façade. I want to present myself as a J.Crew model who doesn't need a heavy, bear-like overcoat. I want to show off my gorgeous blazer and cardigan. This feeling of self-importance rears its ugly head again as a preference for limelight. My father hit the nail on the head that I love showing off. "Haw men dew," meaning craving attention.
Of all the sins I have accumulated, I hope I am vindicated come this New Year. But I have a feeling that I will not have a list of resolutions, neither will I resolve to actually pursue real changes. I really do hope that I become a better person, not for others, but mainly for myself.
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