Oh, I cut his hair myself one night --
a pair of dull scissors in the yellow light.
And he told me that I'd done alright,
and kissed me 'til the mornin' light. 

- Regina Spektor, Samson 

-+-

"Well, someone once told me..."

Truth.  

...then I took my own advice.  Now if only I'd take my own advice.

-+-

It reminded me of taxonomy.

I sometimes flirt with the far-fetched dream to have a personal genome sequencing lab in my garage.  Just buy all of the equipment and feng shui myself an aseptic work area, and bam, I'm good to go.  Not for any grandeur revelations to acquire riches.   Not for any fantastical breakthroughs to yield Nobel recognition.  Not for any plight for reputation and prestige.

It would be discovery for the sheer love of it.  It would just be the culmination of realizing how much life -- how much beauty -- is teeming on every corner of the earth.  I would collect samples on all my adventures.  I would start small; I would begin with aspirations to identify cell types present in my bathroom, or in the soil in my backyard.

Ultimately, my world travels would not only be described by photographs and passport stamps.  They would be described by the different microorganisms that I come across in water samples in Singapore and New Zealand, from air samples in Britain and Spain.  Of course, it may be slightly hindered by the fact that a cheap Ion Torrent sequencer costs a cool $50,000, but good thing that daydreams are free, right?

This, on the other hand, was far more tangible.  It was discovery for the sheer appreciation of each other.  It was the realization that every cleft and crevice of our parallel universes contain history, and then meeting that challenge accordingly.  It was the delicate dissection of language and gestures.  It was more than transparency -- it was trust.  It was this pure, mutual trust that both of us bestowed upon each other.  That nudity, in all of its verbal forms, was beautiful.  

Every question that unfolded was synonymous with a well in a gel electrophoresis chamber.  Each answer was on point, constantly driving at our ultimate goal to just know everything about each other, to just realize every discovery possible about each other.  Charged by electrodes, we lost ourselves in discussion and in song.  The final image, the final beautiful piece of data, was a meaningful friendship that is bound only for greater heights and possibilities.

Hours eluded me.  I lost all concept of time.  

It seemed like the fastest drive that I've ever had down the 99, yet I felt like I lived and learned a lifetime.

Also: "Damn, girl you're so... symmetrical." Oh, mercy!

How do I get you to feel what I feel for you?
I will hold on to you like a fool 'til my hands go blue;
But you don’t want to dance with me.

- Monarchy, You Don't Want To Dance With Me

-+-

"My life would be Christa-less.  I shudder at the thought."

-+-

That equally awkward moment where he tells me that he want to take me on the dream vacation that I've been chasing for the last six years: Disneyland and Las Vegas.

It's a trip that I've been very literally dreaming about.  I wake up with images of running through the walkways of Disneyland.  I still daydream about walking through The Forum Shops at Caesars Palace in Las Vegas.  Although admittedly, mostly Disneyland.  Pretty obvious reason why.  C'mon, Mickey Mouse?  Mickey Mouse is pure gold!

It was the single facet of The Break that pissed me off the most.  

"If you were planning on breaking up with me this whole time, then WHY did you keep egging me on to make plans for our trip to Disneyland?!!?"
"If I said no, then you'd get mad at me."

Me, for seven consecutive months afterward: "...=__=." 

I don't know what it is.  Most people dream of going to Paris and Rome, to ride a gondola through the waterways of Venice.  I do have miniature aspirations to visit New York, but it's still dwarfed by my yearning to ride Peter Pan's Flight in Fantasyland.  It's really something that's not hard to believe, coming from me.  After all, when my friend was asked about what I like, she replied, "Christa really likes cute, cheesy things.  The cheesier, the better."

I'm infatuated with the very idea of tourism.  It's not the novelty of the location, it's not even the many festivities that the location has to offer, but it's the schemes behind it that draw me in.  I appreciate the way that Disneyland and Las Vegas are so specifically carved with intent to awe the congregations.  They're built specifically to engage the hearts of visitors.  To me, it's a very powerful achievement of man.  It's a purposeful goal to create a dreamland, to create a fairy tale on earth.  It's defiance in the face of the claim that unicorns don't exist; it's, "Well then, I'll just make my own unicorns," and then sharing those fruits with the populace.  I appreciate knowing that the curvature of every building, every artificial landscape and light show, was made with the pure intent to draw me in.  There is almost nothing practical to it.  There is only the culmination of fairy tales.

Then he tells me, "I'm thinking Las Vegas.  I'll fly down to Merced and we'll drive down.  And we can stop by Disneyland on the way.  Lol, yeah.  I still remember."

But, coming from him, my immediate reflexive thought was, 'No. What the shit? No.'

I know he's still trying to win me.  He knows that this is the ultimate gift that a man could give me.  But it's not mine to take, because I don't love him.  I've seen enough red flags, and I've learned my lesson from my last relationship; red flags are heedful warnings that are not to be ignored.

The hardest part for me is breaking the news.

How do you reject someone you've already rejected?  Do you just keep crushing his heart, again and again?  I don't think I can handle that.  I don't think I can do that to a person.  This is so stressful.

But you had to come along, didn't you;
Rev up the crowd, rewrite the rule book?
Where do I go when every "no" turns into "maybe"?
So what do I do with this?

- Vienna Teng, Stray Italian Greyhound

-+-

"Are you really full, Christa?  I mean, soup?  Soup's not a meal.  I would have that soup and go, 'So where's the sandwich?'"

Post-Dublin.

I don't regret any of it.  It was a necessary act of kindness.  But still, I was pretty pissed when my dress smelled like you.

-+-

It rung midnight, and there was a very endearing wave of text exchange between my friends and I: "wooo," "happy new year!! "s and "Have a great holiday!"

At one point, I check my inbox, and see: "I love ya, girl."

... O_O

I am totally okay with telling my friends I love them, and it is absolutely fine with me when my friends tell me that they love me; it actually warms my heart quite significantly and I truly LOVE Love.  

But I wasn't sure how to react when it's coming from the person whose affection I rejected in tears, who told me that, ever since I declined him, it's been impossible to find another girl like me.  So his specific "I love ya" text felt so different from when I got the exact same phrase from my other male friends, those who I have a strictly platonic relationship with... and whose hearts I've never crushed.  ;_;

It's so rough sometimes, because my mindset for everyone is, "I want to make you feel like you are the person that changes the atmosphere of the room when you walk in.  I want you to remember that you are worthwhile, and you are deeply cared for.  I want to spend every moment with you reminding you that you are amazing."  Who knew that'd have consequences, right?  Because... I sure didn't.  But dealing with admirers is something that I've finally begun to adapt to, which is a strange concept for me, especially after months of "wtfbbq wtf wtf wtf who the hell would ever like me besides phuc wtf wtf wtf wtf do i do no one else has ever liked me before wtf wtf wtf i've never had this issue before in my life wtf wtf wtf."  Evidently, also a stressful concept, because I hate holding back on friendship.

It's like when I get those other texts from a different admirer (...yeah, i know ._.), where I can tell that every message has been proofread a million times to make sure that they were just perfect when the "Send" button was struck.

And it's rough, y'know?  I've been in his place before.  Sending a text someone's way, and your heart is just in your throat as you wait for them to text back.  So I always text back, because I know how disappointing it feels when that important person doesn't.  Yet, it gets so heartbreaking to reply with those cheap two-word texts, because we truly have a worthwhile friendship, yet I have to hold back to reduce how attached he is to me.  And I hate it.  But I have to, because it gets so hard whenever he approaches me.  He's always so nervous to talk to me.  It's actually quite endearing.  His arms get tense, and his voice starts cracking.  I'm normally oblivious when it comes to manners of the heart, but even I could tell when he wished so desperately for that hug to last longer.  But I had to be firm and push him away, because my feelings just weren't meant for him.

I hate it so much, because I've been on the other side of this coin.  I know what they're going through, so I always try to do the best I can for them.  But it sucks, because when their hearts are aching, I can't be the one that's there for them, as much as I worry and feel for them.  Yet, I still always try to minimize their regret and know that I'm still always willing to be friends.  But really, I just want to be unhindered and indiscriminate with kindness, love, and joy.

I always try to never compromise when it comes to kindness, until one day, I get that, "Hey, Christa... can I talk to you?  Somewhere privately, just the two of us?"

... T-T

lol good first post of the year. with a rant on hella first world problems.

"Ah, but I thought I'd ask you just the same:
What are you doing New Year's Eve?" 

- Orioles, What Are You Doing New Year's Eve?

-+-

Traditional random list of New Year's Resolutions!  I'm actually REALLY excited to make a list this year!  I didn't make one last year, thinking that I wouldn't make it through this year at all.  All-in-all: suck on that, Past Christa.  Because you're hella bomb diggity now.  DEAL WITH IT

* Become epic homies with Christmas/Catfish/most extraordinary person I've ever met
* Apply to all of the summer internship positions that I'm interested in
* Draw more
* Maintain and strengthen existing friendships, and gain even more friendships!  Prevent and reduce transience as much as possible!  Achieve a reputation as a social butterfly!
* Boss at research, forever and ever and ever
* Get less clumsy T_T
* Straight "A+"s across the board -- might as well aim high!
* Travel somewhere other than my three headquarters of Merced, Sacramento, and San Jose -- preferably with zany sidekicks
* Manage my money better -- I couldn't buy anything that I was trying to save up to get on my birthday because I spent all my savings! >_>
* Keep room less messy and embarrassing -- "Now how... do I move that bra... without being awkward?" IMPOSSIBLE TASK THAT KEEPS OCCURRING
* At least once a week, give someone a "Just Because" present -- ...then decrease to once a month once I realize I'm not meeting my "Manage my money better" resolution, but I always like to aim high! 
* Apply to GRAD SCHOOL THIS FALL!! -- increase my competitiveness as an applicant throughout the year, then apply to some of the top programs in the nation
* Boss the GRE -- boss it HARD
* Strive for all letter of recommendations to just hemorrhage with "best student ever"
* Maintain active learning -- apply my classes to every topic of my life, preferably through lame jokes
* Grow a pair -- NOT literally
* Be extraordinary, and never settle for anything less.

-+-

Today was the last day of the single most life-changing year of my life.  I would describe my year, but the job's already done.  Pages and pages of reflection are all saved on the pages of this blog, months of transparency, months of words unsaid, months of change and improvement, months of love and loss.  At the end of every year, I flip through all my entries of the year to reflect.  And I had a LOT of entries this year.  I cried so much reading my old posts this year.  Is it still empathy if it's for yourself in the past? "YOU POOR GIRL!" >__>

I spent New Year's Eve with all sorts of souldigging.   Moflippin' souldigging.

It started in the corner booth of the café, as I ran my finger along the side of my white coffee mug.  I was experiencing a legendary friendship in the making, and it was a stunning kick-off to the end of my year.  It was an honest blessing to get away from all the life that was happening around me, and just hang onto every word that came out of Christmas/Catfish's mouth.

I had never been so excited for a meal in my life.  I woke up in the middle of my sleep at various moments of the night, each time being absolutely fresh, awake, and eager to get dressed for breakfast, only to realize that it's still only 3 or 4 o'clock in the morning.  Every hour, I would have to weigh out my options, "If I get up now, I would still have... six hours until breakfast…  Hm… " before every decision to go back to sleep.

It was a beautiful morning that exceeded all expectations.  Not too many conversations inspire me to sit down and ramble through text, but it's not too often that someone tells me, "I've always wanted to sit down with you and just talk. … I want to finally get to know you," with the thoughts being reciprocated wholeheartedly.  It's not too often that a conversation makes me do so much... SOULDIGGIN'.

I don't remember the last time that I was so comfortable and open with a person, even in spite of all my normally embarrassing mannerisms.  We learned so much about each other in the span of two hours, and I'm already so excited to learn more and more about this amazing human being.  There's a reason why diving further into this friendship is one of my New Year's Resolutions.  It's going to be damn legendary.

There were two points of the conversation that especially drove me into phenomenal reflection, and justly so.

The first instant worth mentioning, is that I said the word "suicidal" out loud for the first time -- but only in reference to the past, of course! 

During my depression, I was only willing to write it down.  If I needed to discuss it out loud, I spoke in euphemisms.  I was always so afraid of saying it out loud.  Describing myself as "depressed" was already enough to trigger.  Phuc and I needed to invent "cloudy" as a euphemism for "depressed," because I would always get so upset whenever we used the D-word.  So I didn't even want to think about the repercussions of saying the S-word.  Even after the depression, it was just so stigmatic.  I just wanted to distance myself from that as much as possible.

Ultimately, at some point over breakfast, I made the extremely deliberate choice to drop the S-bomb.  I decided to face my fears, 'I don't usually talk about this, and I really trust you.  ..Hm.'

It was such an interesting moment; I mustered so much courage for it, that I overemphasized, and declared it, loud and proud: "...I became suicidal."  The weight of saying that word sank deep into my stomach, as Catfish gave me a, "UHHHH," and a hand gesture to remind me that we were in a quaint, public café.  Then as the word permeated through me, that day flashed before my eyes.  I got lost in images of blood and IV lines, of nurses and darkness.  Then he added, "...But no, I understand," and his voice brought me back to his gaze, to the floral textures on his chair, to the french fries on his plate.

And I… I finally did it.  It was hard, god it was hard, but I did it.  I did it, and I'm still okay.  I'm okay.  I felt like I finally put the final nail in that coffin.  In spite of everything, I've always been afraid of relapse.  Always.  And today, I feel like I gave relapse a huge middle finger.

Suck on that!

Then Catfish goes, "So what is a P-h-u-c?  Because from the way you write, it seems like there's something really bothering you about him." … "Hm.  I thought there was something more to it."

I reply, "…Hm.  I actually agree.  But I'm having trouble thinking of it.  There's just so much to it, that it's all a jumble in my head.  But yeah, I don't know what it is."

That soon metastasized into something else that I kept wondering about, hours after breakfast was over.

I started digging into an excavation site in my head that I didn't know existed.   I realized that another accurate way to describe my winter break is that I have done… a lot of thinking about Phuc in the last week.

I haven't been used to all of these memory triggers -- e.g. today I had lunch with my parents at the restaurant where Phuc took me moments before he broke up with me, and yesterday I went to the coffee shop where Phuc and I went on our five-year-anniversary. 

I was perfectly happy with this week's perpetual thoughts of, 'Dammit.  It's Phuc's fault that I'm jaded.  This is Phuc's fault.'  I've been taking the bitterness at face-value up until today, and that was fine by me.  I was coping by being bitter towards him, by convincing myself that he's the one I need to blame to get over this frustration -- 'Why the hell do I keep thinking about him?  I've already moved on.  This is so frustrating, I shouldn't have to be going through this.'

But now I feel like I've been genuinely culture-shocked by this abrupt wave of memory triggers.  I feel like I've been up in arms against these memories; this huge onset of recall cues is a component of The Break that I've never really had to defeat before -- after all, I moved back to Merced right after he dumped me. 

I was so exasperated by my mental complications that my brain was pacing back and forth, and I eventually re-discovered my tumblr from The Old Life, where I just posted cute conversations with Phuc every now and then.  It's strange knowing that so many of them happened after Phuc already decided that he was going to break up with me.

But seeing again how I used to genuinely love and enjoy him, I realized… that I actually always thought that Phuc and I would be friends again by now.   Not even best friends or anything -- just... on speaking terms.  I'm not in love with him anymore, and I can't visualize myself back with him romantically anymore.  That much, I can say with certainty.  But I thought that by winter break, or over winter break, we'd be friends again.  When he broke up with me, he told me that he still wanted to be friends again someday.  I rejected him in screams; I was still hysterical in heartbreak.  Months later, I let him know that I was open to communication if he was.  He replied, "I don't think I'm ready," then I never heard from him again.

As I read our affectionate old conversations, I understood.  I understood why I'm experiencing the stress of memory cues, and I understood why we're still not talking.  Somehow, I forgot how much we loved each other.  What I'm going through right now is necessary, it's not something that I can make myself just shrug off and ignore.  It's going to have to be something that I recover from, just like I recovered from that day seven months ago.  Because he was a huge part of me, and I forgot that.  I just saw Phuc as a part of my past that I needed to conquer.  But, seeing Phuc as an obstacle is meaningless.  After all, he's not part of my life anymore.

I finally understood that blaming Phuc for all my frustration over the last few days is easy, but blame is stagnant.  This is not an issue of blame, of resentment.  This is an issue of getting better.  This has nothing to do with Phuc -- just me.  Blame is not a motivation.  It is an obstacle. 

I understand if I'm still just scratching the surface, and I realize that this is probably not what Catfish was referring to at all.  That relationship and that break-up were complicated as hell.  But I felt myself let go of all the blame that I've built up in the past week, and I put another nail in that coffin, too.

All in time for New Year's.  Damn, that was a good breakfast.

I've never been more ready to ring in the new year.

Dude, this is like when Ph.D. students collect additional last-minute data the day before the committee meeting.  WHATEVS, STILL WORKS!