keeping the past alive

on a hot summer day, we decided to check out a park that used to be a vibrant theme park. they still turn on the neon lights at dusk. they still keep the carousel running during the day. they still have the galleries open for display. but all that’s left is the facade and the community that clings to it.

here's the good thing

At first I signed up on dating sites mainly for moral support. A friend wanted me to do it so she can have someone to talk to about her "progress." She also thinks that I also needed to get on the dating sites if I wanted to meet that someone. I wasn't really looking, but I humored her. I can sign up and just let the acvount sit dormant. It seems though that subconsciously part of me wanted to do it since I signed up for them no questions asked. Well, there was one question, "How much time do I have to invest on my dating profile?" Honestly, if it was more than 10 minutes, I was ready to bail. (More on that later.) My friend said, "Not a lot. You shouldn't write too much. Just enough to make yourself interesting." In more or less those words.

I went on multiple meet-ups. (No one really uses the word "date" explicitly anymore. I noticed. Correct me if I'm wrong.) Most of the people I met are genuinely interesting, but there was no attraction. Each one had something unique to offer, whether it be a certain type of humor or a cultural experience. When I talk to them during that first or second meet-up, I wasn't feigning interest. I truly wanted to know what happened during their travels or how many languages they know how to speak. People are fascinating.

But of course not everything turns out great. There are a lot of confusing and frustrating times. I think it's going well? Yeah, only in my mind apparently. My brain goes into full-on overanalyzing mode. Did I do something wrong? Was I not nice to that server and he picked up on it? Did I say or do something offensive? Did I come off as ditsy and flaky? Those and other more personally degrading thoughts such as, "Maybe I'm meant to live the rest of my life alone because no one cares about me the same way I care about them." go through my head. I go to a dark place.

But I get over it (or will eventually). The feelings cycle. I wish I could control what and how others think and feel, but I can't. That's life's one of many ways to keep or existence interesting. There is a delightful side effect that came out during this time. I again became fully invested in my old hobbies. Those things on my profile that make me likable? I actually spend more time doing/being those. I ride my bike more. I am healthier. I know which parts of my physical appearance I need to highlight. I love my job even more. In short, I'm actually becoming my ideal self. Also, since I genuinely am interested in some of the things my dates like, I start to explore them. I discovered new books to read, movies to watch, music to listen, food to eat, activities to try, and places to see. I'm not trying to force a connection by doing these things. I just want to do them, and if it happens that it just doesn't suit me, then I don't continue. If I pretend to love it just to have one more thing to say we got in common, then that's a problem. I do it more out of curiosity, and in a way, I'm enhancing the quality of my life by experiencing it through others' interests.

And that's the one good thing.

french 101

see if you can guess what we're talking about. clue: we're in a cafe.

french-is-not-my-first-language: hey, that looks good.

me: which one?

french-is-not-my-first-language: uhm...that...kwee-SHEE.

me: the what? read it again. it's french.

french-is-not-my-first-language: kwee-SHAY?!

swing and a miss!

here are some awkward stories

I have never been able to play it cool without somehow having it backfire in some absurd way.

STORY #1: walking along the hallway and since I don't have glasses but clearly have poor eyesight, I begin to squint as I see someone who looked really familiar. I was going for clint eastwood on a fistful of dollars.

well, this wasn't the awkward part. for a full three seconds I was cool. glorious. then familiar looking boy started to speak.

boy-I-met-before-or-did-I: hi! you're Ben's friend right?

me: yeah...you're from the gallery opening.

smooth. brain cells are firing brilliantly today.

boy-I-definitely-met-before: that's right.

ok, brain. two for two. you KNOW this guy's name. let's keep going.

me: uhhhmm...Ryan??

boy-I-met-before-who-is-now-walking-away: uh, no.

I should have stopped.

STORY #2: I've spent a LOT of late nights in studio hopped up on caffeine and extra loud music pouring out of my headphones. well, isn't that normal? for an architecture student, you mean? well, yes, but if you add some key ingredients like: a well-placed desk one needs to pass in order to get to the men's room, a boy who is illegally good looking, a heightened sense of awareness, and a metal ruler; something not quite right is going to go down.

he always wore khakis and a button-down shirt rolled-up just right under the elbow. always. in the pajamas and well-worn jeans culture of studio, this is a rare sight. although tonight he wore jeans and a blue polo shirt with brown suede shoes. I was floored. it was like casual wear met the boss. so dreamy.

dear nature, I thank for making the call that day because he answered.

he had to go. and I hashed out a plan.

ok, 2:30am brain, what you got?

brain: why don't we pretend to be frustrated with this plan drawing and throw your hands into the air? closed fists and all. maybe a little cry of despair? he's definitely going to stop and ask if you're ok and hold you in his arms and comfort you until the café downstairs open and you share a cup of coffee as you plan your life together.

me: brain, i'm all for this genius plan. why can't you be like this instead of spazzing out when i'm on a review? 

I see him in the corner of my eye. fifteen feet. ten. five. four. three. two.

me-as-I-raise-my-fists-in-full-theatrics-as-he-walked-behind-me: aaaargh! this plan!!

I told you about the metal ruler, right?

I almost stabbed ridiculously-handsome-guy in the face. in his devastatingly gorgeous face.

that was not part of the plan.