Saturday, February 26, 2011
I think Harvard department of music has made its decision. I got an email from them tonight asking for my postal code. I was at Heather Willoughby's house when I got this email and started speculating my rejection and why I got rejected and why it's their loss and why they should reconsider. And then Heather, my voice of reason, reminded me that all they wanted was my postal code, not to give me a rejection letter. Or so we hoped. I probably won't go even if I get accepted but it won't feel good to be rejected by such a smart school. So, everyone, let's cross some serious yoga fingers.
Friday, February 25, 2011
So, I have been praying consistently for dating opportunities after being inspired by the story of my friend (who shall remain nameless because I may embarrass her but it starts with "Mau" and ends with "reen"). For a month or so, nothing happened. Just lollygagging around and going about my life's business until something dawned on me today.
I have been living in Korea for a year now. And the total number of dates I've been on is 1.5. You may be wondering about the 0.5. Let me explain.
I have actually been on three "dates". But I didn't think the first two dates were dates but the guys thought they were (they tried to pay for everything). And I thought I was on a date the last time I went on a "date" but it wasn't a date according to the guy who asked me out (what the heck?). So, since only half of us thought they were dates, I decided to count only half of them. Hence 1.5 dates.
And then today I realized that my prayers were being answered in the most unorthodox way. A couple of weeks ago, I got a random friend request on Facebook and a novel of a message from a dude I have never seen in my life. To protect his identity, I will call him Jakob Reidkopf. He saw my profile and read some posts on my blog and confessed his undying infatuation for my blog persona. And! He created a blog so that his online persona could date my online persona (true words from the horse's mouth). So, our blogs are dating. And since I am the creator of my blog, I will account for 25% of their relationship.
Also, I reconnected with a woman I used to know when I was a kid living in Korea (I think she was my primary teacher) through Facebook. (It seems like Facebook is a recurring theme of the day.) And she wants to introduce me to this old bachelor who is a plastic surgeon. And I think he kind of has a quasi-girlfriend and she said he was ugly but very nice. Regardless, we are all meeting next Tuesday for dinner. I am reluctant to call this a date but since he is interested and I am mildly curious, I will say this is a 0.25 date as well. Which! accounts for 0.5 date I have scored so far after praying nightly. I know this doesn't seem much but it's a 33% increase from my dating history last year. And it's only February.
At this rate, I may get hitched by November.
Thursday, February 17, 2011
Riding the subway everyday gives me the opportunity to watch and observe people. And I have mastered the art of "nonchalance analysis" of various personalities. Not to appear as a psychotic creep, I do a sweeping glance of the people who sit in front of me and quickly take in the visual data scanned by my eyeballs. Then my left brain goes into this analyzing mode that tells the story of each person. "This person looks like she has the worry-bug. She probably nags on her husband all the time. His sex life must suck." Or "She is very pretty but she should have done her makeup more naturally. And what the heck? It's -15 degrees outside and she's wearing a mini-skirt, tights and high-heels! It looks like the price tag of her self-worth is attached somewhere in the depth of her Louis Vuitton purse." etc, etc.
There are also a number peddlers who go around begging for money, selling packets of gum, or little household items. My heart does truly ache for those who have disabilities and can only work selling things to commuters on the subway. One woman especially stands out in my mind.
This woman was severely crippled to a point where she couldn't walk without grabbing onto the built-in pole in the subway car. Her face was grotesquely countenanced and the lines of her face seemed to map out the tragedies of her life. She was selling packets of gum and because of her inability to walk up to each person, (and probably her anger at life) she came across as rude and obnoxious in her silent "marketing" strategy. She just threw a packet of gum onto the lap of each person and went around to collect money. Some people buy them out of pity, but this woman invoked no such sympathy. Then she came up to me and I was able to look at her face more closely. In her miserable face, I saw a faint hint at her desire to be loved. Her eyebrows were drawn in by permanent makeup.
I suppose some would say if she has enough money to get her permanent makeup done, she should have enough money to feed herself. But I think differently. I think our desire to be beautiful stems from our desire to be loved. And I think being loved is essential to our survival as much as food is. She desperately wanted to be accepted. Her behavior and the look on her face ostensibly condemned her life and the numerous people who have made her life a living hell. But I believe that deep down, she wanted a second chance at life and wished the world would look upon her with kinder eyes.
In realizing this, my heart broke but all I could do was hand her a thousand won bill ($1) in exchange of a gum packet.