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reminisce > regret

It’s kind of a challenge to think about some moments in my past and not inwardly groan. It is a lot easier for me to wish I did something better or made different decisions than to accept that those mistakes were meant to be made.

Facebook’s new timeline feature reminds me of all those tiny moments of happiness/excitement/betrayal/hurt/exhaustion/stress/persistence/depression that I made through to get to where I am today. I think of them all as learning moments now, reflecting back. But I still feel little leftovers of all those emotions attached to each notch on that timeline.

Until today I didn’t realize how much of my life I put onto the web. I think I knew, but I didn’t see how permanent it was. So many stories of my life, accessible to every single one of my Facebook friends. It’s pathetic, considering “facebook friend” usually means less than acquaintances. So many stories of friendships, broken friendships, naive relationships, unhealthy semesters….

I’m really happy with who I am today, so I can’t complain too much about all those moments that have taught me so much.

 

 

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The day the child realizes that all adults are imperfect, he becomes an adolescent; the day he forgives them, he becomes an adult; the day he forgives himself, he becomes wise— Alden Nowlan

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pop culture

On the bus home from my office, ten young teenage girls came onto the bus. They were all wearing the same brands (TNA, Talula, Wilfred), and were heavily clad with makeup, expensive purses, and smelled of perfume. I guess they were from rich families. They got on, giggling half- drunkenly, and squealed and gossiped like the characters on Gossip Girl. I think if they read this they would think it was a compliment. They were the stereotypical “popular girls” of high school, and seeing them I realize how shallow (worthless, pointless) that label is. But they were nice girls, probably; I shouldn’t judge.

At the mall earlier in the day, I overheard two eight-year-old girls holding poster tubes, begging their daddy, “please, please buy me these Justin Bieber posters,” to which he responded (exasperated), “you girls, driving me crazy with your Fever Bieber fever (SDFDFDSFHGHGHJLKLDRKER, mentally in his head)”. I couldn’t help but laugh, but it wasn’t a happy laugh. or a purely amused laugh. It was a little disconcerting, actually. What’s the deal with celebrity crushes?

I stayed a little later at the Academy tonight, marking my students’ tests. There are two other classes that run at night; one of them was a little boy (5 or 6) who came in for a class every week (newly immigrant parents want to expose their children to English ASAP). My boss asked the little boy, “do you miss your mom, when is she coming back from Taiwan??” to which he said, “I’m okay.” Then, she teases the little boy, “did you miss me???”, which he honestly replied, “not really….”. So she asks, “who do you miss the most right now, at this moment??” “Lady Gaga.”

Another boy (14 or 15) walked by and retorted, “little boy, you’re like 2 years old. Do you think you have a chance at her?”, all the while implying that he did.

 

 

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“Toska – noun /ˈtō-skə/ – Russian word roughly translated as sadness, melancholia, lugubriousness.

“No single word in English renders all the shades of toska. At its deepest and most painful, it is a sensation of great spiritual anguish, often without any specific cause. At less morbid levels it is a dull ache of the soul, a longing with nothing to long for, a sick pining, a vague restlessness, mental throes, yearning. In particular cases it may be the desire for somebody of something specific, nostalgia, love-sickness. At the lowest level it grades into ennui, boredom.”
― Vladimir Nabokov

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