grave pristine absolutes walked in my mind

On the Concept of a Perfect Match

My heart is a huge troll. You’d think that it’d become more wary with age, but the older I get, the easier it is to fall in love with people. In high school, it took me at least a semester before I could acknowledge that I’d developed feelings for somebody. In college, it took me about a month and a half to form an attachment to my first love. A year later, I began feeling things for a friend after one hangout and a couple of long Gchat conversations. In a span of eight years, the process of love (or something like it) has hastened from four months to about 0.2 seconds — the time it takes for someone to flash me a smile as we pass each other on a sidewalk.

Maybe it’s biology. I’m 24 and the clock’s ticking. I suspect I’ve been reading too many novels. Or maybe I’m bending to social pressures, as half of my friends are either dating, married, or in serious relationships. All I know is that sometime during the last 8 years, I gave up maintaining a tolerance for attraction. Back then, I at least tried to not like people, especially when they were out of my league. Now I just run with it because really, what else are you supposed to do when you meet somebody whose company you would enjoy even if you were stuck together in a broken elevator for 12 hours?

Now I know what has ruined me — Genesis 2. You know, “Bone of my bones, and flesh of my flesh”. Can you imagine waking from a deep slumber to find your perfect match? As much as a I rail against the concept of soulmates, I’ve conducted my life as if I actually believe in them. I rationalize all of my failed relationships and pursuits with the idea that they’re steering me toward the person I’ll eventually end up with. Sometimes I wonder if we’ve already met and I just don’t recognize him for who he is. I don’t anticipate a beacon of light, the songs of angels, or even an epiphany, but rather, the delicious assurance that this person was prepared especially for me.

Reposted from my personal blog, which you can visit to read more entries like this one.

NEW BLOG FOR LONG-FORM ENTRIES

Hey guys, I understand that a lot of you prefer reading real blog entries than just seeing the stupid stuff I reblog showing up on your Readers, so I’ve consolidated all of the personal/real life/emo ones into one blog: http://denisengo.com. Pretty easy to remember, right? So please had over there and subscribe if you’d like to read more about my real life and thoughts, and less about Disney princesses and Andrew Garfield gifs. I’ve put up a couple of new entries on there, but there are also a few old ones as well. Thanks!

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Contents of My Kindle

Saw a couple of people doing this so I thought I’d jump on the bandwagon

Finished:
The Name of the Wind, by Patrick Rothfuss
An Abundance of Katherines, by John Green
The Boyfriend List, by E. Lockhart
The Boy Book, by E. Lockhart
Real Live Boyfriends, by E. Lockhart
The Treasure Map of Boys, by E. Lockhart
Dash & Lily’s Book of Dares, by Rachel Cohn and David Levithan
*I like YA books, okay

In progress:
A Game of Thrones, by George R.R. Martin <—what I’m usually reading
Drown, by Junot Diaz
Physics of the Impossible, by Michio Kaku
13 Little Blue Envelopes, by Maureen Johnson

On hiatus:
I Capture the Castle, by Dodie Smith
Looking for Alaska, by John Green
Beauty Queens, by Libba Bray
American Gods, by Neil Gaiman
The Complete Polysyllabic Spree, by Nick Hornby

In queue:
A Clash of Kings, by George R.R. Martin
A Storm of Swords, by George R.R. Martin
A Feast for Crows, by George R.R. Martin

Samples:
Miss Peregrine’s Home for Peculiar Children, by Ransom Riggs
White Teeth, by Zadie Smith
Pattern Recognition, by William Gibson
A Visit from the Goon Squad, by Jennifer Egan
The Financial Lives of Poets, by Jess Walter
The Remains of the Day, by Kazuo Ishiguro
White Cat, by Holly Black
Matched, by Allie Condie

10 Things That Surprised Me About America After I First Moved There

In between writing for other people, sleeping way too late, and just dealing with my life, I’ve found it hard to blog coherently lately. Hence all the list posts. I know they’re a bit lazy, but I’m hoping that they’ll help ease me back into what’s needed to blog for myself. So without further ado, the 10 most surprising things about America.

A little bit of background: I moved to NY in 2005. It was my first time living the US, but not my first time visiting. Now that I’m back home, I’ve been thinking a lot about the difference between life here and life there, starting with the following:

1. Strangers make conversation with you. To this day, it throws me off when someone starts randomly talking with me in the elevator or in line at the grocery store.

2. McDonald’s drinks only come in one size, and are refillable

3. Shelves are REALLY tall

4. People take forever in the dressing room

5. The subway station has no air conditioning, reception, or internet access

6. People know how to stand in line

7. Americans have so many choices — the first time I went to Target and CVS, I was blown away by how many different types of peanut butter, paper towels, soaps, etc. you could buy.

8. When you pay for something, you can always tell what type of day the cashier is having, unlike in East Asia, where it’s customary to be super polite and hide your emotions.

9. People are pretty straightforward. They will say yes or no right away. They won’t say no 3 - 5 times out of politeness, and then say yes. If you offer them something, and they want to accept, they will do so immediately and graciously.

10. Children talk back to their parents in public.

Most Annoying Slang Words

I hate it when I let one of these slip out

1. Sauce (weaksauce, strongsauce, etc)

2. Money (“that dunk was MONEY!”)

3. Booty (“this bar is BOOTY!”)

4. Totes

5. Literally (okay, it’s not really a slang word, but it’s used like one so I will let it count) 

6. Heck/darn/drat/freak/wtfreak. If you’re going to swear, you might as well use the real word because the diluted one puts it in the listener’s mind anyway.

7. Hella

8. 24/7

9. Word

10. Majorly (IS IT 1999?)

Best Foods

1. Bagels (especially from NJ — thanks Sherry!)

2. Crispy bacon

3. Waffles with maple syrup

4. Shoyu and shio ramen

5. Budae jjigae

6. Cheesy omelets

7. Mantou (that white Chinese steamed bun)

8. Spicy tuna sushi with crunchy ingredients

9. Candied yams

10. Bok choy

Foods I Dislike

1. Boiled carrots

2. Taro (unless it’s taro flavor)

3. Papaya

4. Any time of legume — peas, beans, lentils — except for peanuts

5. Durian

6. Squashes, gourds, pumpkins

7. Watermelon, unless dipped in a little salt

8. Potatoes, unless mashed

9. Licorice

10. Mayonnaise

10 Things I Can Do Pretty Well

1. Figure out acronyms

2. Make crazy tongue shapes

3. Raise one eyebrow really high

4. Remember events accurately

5. Tell stories

6. Snap my fingers

7. Discern pitch

8. Recite random facts

9. Cry on command

10. Bake cupcakes

10 Things I Cannot Do (At Least Not Very Well)

1. Whistle

2. Cartwheel

3. Drive

4. Long division

5. Fall asleep on moving vehicles

6. Run up the stairs two at a time

7. Remember movie dialogue and punchlines of jokes

8. Use scissors

9. Chop fruit and vegetables prettily

10. Hold my alcohol

The Intersection of Love and Work

Sometimes it’s hard not to feel like a watering hole. People come by, take a drink and then leave. Several years ago, I met somebody who indulged in my hopefulness and affection, only to reject them when it stopped being convenient for him. I’m sure it had less to do with what I had to offer, and more to do with the fact that I was there. Even now, that story continues to permeate all my negative experiences. Every rejection, be it from a friend, an employer, or guy pivots on the moment I realized that  I was merely a resource — not a pursuit, not an investment, and certainly not a possession.

Is this just how it’s meant to be? Always the companion, never the girlfriend? Always the freelancer, never the employee?

Indeed, few narratives intersect as frequently as love and work. As a freelancer, I’m constantly wrestling with how clients take advantage of hard-working independents. Richard Morgan said it best: “Freelancing is basically just courtship, but the freelancer-editor relationship is nothing more than friends with benefits.” There’s a relationship there, but it’s not exactly committal. You’re denied health benefits, paid vacations, and the respect that comes with a formal title. You provide a service, they pay a fee, and you part ways. Sound familiar?

“Friends with benefits” works for some people, but generally, I favor commitment. You like me, I like you, let’s make it happen. You like my work, I like your cause, let’s make it happen. But in real life, people will often take what you have to offer without giving you what you really want. That, or they’ll procrastinate until they have no other choice but to commit. In the same way you don’t want to date someone for years and years, only for them to propose marriage to appease social expectations, you don’t want to permalance with someone for years and years in hope that they’ll make you a formal offer once you’ve paid your dues. Think of it in terms of love. You shouldn’t have to pay your dues to be somebody’s wife/girlfriend. If they really desire you, they’ll make a commitment before someone else can scoop you up. The same goes for jobs. Obviously, everybody has to start somewhere, but after some time has passed, you’ve got to know whether they consider you a family member or as hired help.

Maybe it’s my own fault for continuing to believe that somebody will come through. The disappointment is enough to make me question the value of living. At the very least, I begin doubting the value of forming connections, which are what bind me to life itself. Am I a bargain product? Get as much out of it while paying the minimum? Being an accidental freelancer or someone’s unofficial companion is like being a subletted  apartment. You tide the inhabitants over while they scout for the house of their dreams, all the while hoping that someone stick around. But it’s never going to happen as long as you’re a temporary residence by definition.

I know this isn’t the brightest path to wander, but nothing pulls me back like considering that for every one person who rejects me, there are at least five who’ve reached out to include me. Why does heartbreak matter so much when others love you in spite of it? Every time I think of the people I lost, I think of the friends who pray for me, laugh at my jokes, and who listen to my long and rambling stories. And since no one from the past has access to this part of me, that’s where I find my solace.

In the grand scheme of things, lost loves and opportunities don’t amount to much when you weren’t destined for them in the first place. If I were to disappear, they’d hardly notice my absence, let alone miss me. But I’m pretty sure I owe more to the people inhabiting that safe place in myself. I write this for them, and in doing so, hope to remember how to write for myself.

Letter to my 16 year-old self

Saw this meme going around and thought I’d hop on the bandwagon, especially since Lisa has been bugging to write more real blog entries.

Dear 16 year-old self:

It’s your sophomore year in high school, and you’re just as lonely as you were in junior high. Despite having a lot of friends, you still feel like the group outsider because you’re not Taiwanese — you don’t speak the language very well, so you miss out on the jokes and feel as if it’s hard to relate with your peers on a fundamental level. The other non-Taiwanese girls in your class think you’re kind of a nerd, and don’t really talk to you, but you don’t bother with them, and for good reason — you’ll never talk to them in high school, and you’ll never talk to them afterward. It feels rough at time, but pursue deeper relationships with your current group of friends. You’ll get past the cultural barrier, it will totally pay off, and they will be your support system when things get rough during college (yeah sorry, spoiler alert, high school kind of sucks right now but college sucks even more FYL). 

You’ve figured out by now that there’s only one thing you excel in: writing. You were invited to be a part of the high school yearbook, making you the youngest student invited to write for them in years. Your parents, friends, and teachers tell you that you’re destined for greatness. Around this time, you discover Livejournal.com and begin blogging on a daily basis. Your parents generously award you with your own laptop. You begin learning HTML and Paint Shop Pro/Photoshop — by the way, keep pursuing that. It will come in handy 7 - 8 years from now when you start working. Spending time online and reading blogs opens you up to worlds outside of your tiny Christian high school. Not once do you feel like a loser by being so delighted by what you find online, and I’m proud of you for that — being comfortable with yourself, having an open mind, and running with your curiosity will help you excel in the workplace a few years down the road.

Speaking of writing, working, and spoilers, you’d better read as much books and write as much stories as you can now, because a few years down the road you’re going to experience a dramatic dip in passion and creativity. Sounds a little depressing, I know, but it’s hard to be romantic about something when you do it full-time. Did you hear that? You’ll be a full-time writer. I know it sounds delightful now, but it’s not that glamorous….you’ll begin reevaluating whether you really like it or are any good. Eventually you’ll come to the conclusion that you’re good at writing for yourself but a little bit challenged at writing for other people. I won’t spoil too much for you though, just rest assured that at least during the first couple years of college, you won’t settle for something lame just for security. You’ll give your dream an honest shot, but you’ll struggle with the idea that you’re not really living up to your full potential….because you’re lazy, scared, unmotivated, or just not talented enough. 

Makes your high school problems sound kind of dumb, right?

Speaking of high school problems, you do not have a boyfriend, but it’s okay because none of your other friends do either. You like this one guy who is shy and weird, but you get over him pretty fast and he ends up dating your friend for several years. Don’t worry, it’s not like you pine over him forever, because after they break up you guys become even better friends than you ever were before anybody become romantically involved. Also, note: do not write about him in your LIvejournal because that could potentially turn super embarrassing. 

You’ll definitely angst over guys and relationships in high school, mostly because you’re incapable of getting into one. But you’ll get used to it, since not much changes between then and now FYL. You’ll date some douchebags in college, and it’ll suck a thousand times more than any rejection you experience in high school, but you’ll get over that too and will realize that you’re far more fierce as a singleton than as half of a couple. Workkkkkkkkkk.

During the summer, you’ll sign up for an SAT class. It costs $1000+ and your score increases by only 100. I’m going to warn you, you will be disappointed by the outcome of your college apps. You’ll end up attending a school that is not your #1 choice, firstly because you didn’t get into the program of your #1 choice and secondly because your parents are super pressuring you to go to that school. Please, for the love of all things good, TRANSFER to NYU after your shitty sophomore year of college. Or for that matter, try harder to get into NYU in the first place, and choose NYU instead of the college your parents want you to attend.

At the same time, enrolling in Fordham will teach you a lot about what people are like outside of your tight-knit Christian community. You won’t have a single Christian friend at school for the first three years. You’ll become more comfortable with things you previously shunned. Your opinions on politics, sexuality, morality, the the truth of the Bible will change. 16 year-old self, you would probably not approve of how you are as a 24 year-old, but in retrospect I appreciate those 4 years at Fordham because if I’d just gone straight to NYU like I’d dreamed, I would have joined an Asian-American Christian fellowship and stayed EXACTLY the same as I was in high school: a bit sheltered, close-minded, conservative and safe. Granted, as an adult, most of your friends WILL be Asian-American Christians, but that will be by choice, and not because you simply don’t know how to associate with any other type of people. 

You think you want to be a journalist. Here’s a tip: be open-minded. Don’t hate yourself too much if you realize that journalism isn’t for you. Look into the internet. Start reading the digital editions of your favorite magazines.

Speaking of magazines, pick up a copy of Popular Science, learn about gears and guyish subjects like that, and pay more attention in physics class because you will need that knowledge later.

Don’t be so hard on yourself for being a failure at attracting guys, or dating, or anything like that. Spoiler, one day you’ll freelance for a website dedicated to love and relationships. You, a relationship blogger? It’ll happen! And not just because you’re great at spinning bullshit, but because you can turn your experiences into something practical.

Finally, stop comparing yourself to your prettier friends. You look at the pictures they put on Xanga, and then at yours, and feel bad that they’re so much cuter than you. You resent the fact that guys give them attention — just because they’re cute — and totally ignore you even though you think your personality is at least as interesting as theirs. A few years down the road, you’ll lose some weight, discover makeup, and experience this awesome body reconfiguring that results in a waist (YES it will happen), longer-looking legs, and a skinnier face. Unfortunately, your boobs will remain at an A cup. FYL.

Looks are just a bonus though; your personality will become more well-rounded, liberal, and confident. You’ll still struggle with the debilitating shyness and introversion that make it so hard for you to attend parties or talk to strangers, but you’ll get past it (on most days), and you won’t be forever alone until age 24, when A Scary Thing happens….I won’t spoil you on that, because I don’t know what happens at the end yet either, and I don’t want to end this by scaring both of us.

That’s all I have to say for now. Enjoy the fact that you can drink bubble milk tea every day without getting fat….or minding the fact that you get fat…..and enjoy not having any hangups about intimacy or how closely you should invite people into your life. Enjoy your high school friends, despite not understanding them half the time. Give them a chance, be patient with your parents, and be patient with yourself.

- Signed, 24 year-old self

“You should get married for a Green Card”

It’s usually the first thing people say when I tell them about my predicament. To be honest, I’ve entertained the idea. Not in the sense that I’ll actively seek out men who’d lovingly escort me to the Land of the Free, but that I wouldn’t immediately reject that option if it presented itself. I’ve waited so long, followed so many false leads, and spent so much time alone that I’m almost (ALMOST) inclined to believe that it’d be easier to find a willing man than a willing employer. 

Let’s pretend that next month, I meet an eligible bachelor who’s conveniently an American in want of a wife. Even better, he’s from New York. Best of all, he’s a not elderly, good guy who’s super in love with me, so much that he’s willing to get married within the next year and to do all that paperwork. Would I go through with it? What if he were a perfectly good guy, and not a total weirdo, aside from the fact that he’s offering me a green card marriage? Would I do it? Would I forgo my youth, casual dating, the normal course of relationships, the excitement of actually falling in love with someone of my choice, to marry a guy for a green card so I can return to my beloved New York?

If only I were better at handling disappointment. I can just imagine the looks on people’s faces. “Wow, you sold out.” “Marriage is sacred!” “You should have left it in God’s hands.”

I know exactly what I’d say if people criticized my decision to get married out of convenience instead of love: For thousands of years, marriage was a business deal. You got married to preserve the family line, to honor your parents, to solidify a political contract, or (if you were a woman) to avoid being a social pariah and a burden to others. It was only in the Victorian Era that marriage-for-love started becoming the mainstream ideal. So basically, I’d be doing what people did for eons up until the past 130 years or so. Plus, who says I can’t fall in love with someone over time? It’s not like there were any serious contenders beforehand….

I can deflect other people’s opinions on romance, but I’m daunted by the prospect of diffusing my own disappointment. To marry someone for a piece of paper seems so desperate. I’d have officially admitted that my own talents and patience aren’t good enough on their own. For the rest of my life, I’d think about all those other guys I could have dated or married, the ones who were potentially a better match, or with whom I share real chemistry. I can’t. I CAN’T. I’d rather just not ever go back, and to seek/find my fortune elsewhere, than to put it in the hands of some guy with the right citizenship.

So the short answer is no, I wouldn’t marry someone for a green card. Well, maybe if he were a  Joseph Gordon-Levitt/Andrew Garfield hybrid, or perhaps a clone of either one. GET ON IT, SCIENCE.