Are you laughing or are you crying?

I once read some advice about boyfriends. To figure out if he's worth keeping, ask yourself if he makes you cry more than he makes you laugh. I've followed this advice and have found it very helpful in my romantic life.

But only recently have I come to realize that this advice should be followed when it comes to analyzing other relationships as well. In a certain big relationship in my life, I feel like I'm on a roller coaster. Overall I can't help but think of the low points and how they negatively affect my well-being, as well as my relationships with others. I would chalk up today as a day that this relationship made me cry. If I keep getting more of these days, I think it's time for me to move on. Of course, that's easier said than done.

UPDATE:
Since I couldn't sleep due to thinking nonstop about today's really bad incident, I created an Excel spreadsheet to help me analyze this relationship rationally.

In column 1 I put dates, e.g., June 23, 2009.

Columns 2-4 are intended to be filled with checkmarks, as appropriate. Column 2 is titled "My __ made me feel good about myself." (For other relationships, I'd label this "My __ made me laugh," but I'm being realistic about this particular relationship. It hardly ever makes me laugh.) Column 3 is titled "My __ made me cry and/or really hate life." Column 4 is titled "I couldn't sleep because of my __."

Column 5 is for comments. Entries for June 2-7 and June 22 included the comment "___ hell," and this comment seems to be very characteristic of this relationship, especially in the past month.

So far most of the checkmarks are in column 3, although I'm just going to keep in mind that the last two months have been particularly difficult.

The sick plan-loving part of me

When I ordered a set of Turbo Jam (TM) workout DVDs (which I highly recommend), it came with a brochure outlining a 10-day plan to "kick start" my metabolism. For each day in the plan, there are recommended meals and snacks (along with recipes) and a recommended workout. The brochure beckoned to me this morning as I was deciding between different Turbo Jam or Yoga Booty Ballet DVDs for my morning workout.

I like plans. And despite my rebellious nature, there's a sick part of me that occasionally enjoys sticking to plans that other people lay out for me and/or being told what to do. This sick part of me is the reason the hundredpushups.com plan appeals to me, even though I can't motivate myself to do more pushups on my own. I need(ed) a plan to outline the schedule, number of sets, and number of pushups each set. This sick, plan-loving part of me also attracted me to martial arts, because in martial arts training, you usually have a master of some sort who tells you how to train.

So, as the plan-loving part of me was getting excited this morning, I thought, "why not try the Turbo Jam 10-day plan?" It isn't so much that I want to lose weight (though I have noticed that I somehow gained 10 pounds in the last year and a half, despite working out more than ever), but that I want to think about my food differently. Overall, I am impulsive with food. I eat according to mood, and go through phases when I eat voraciously (example: an entire pizza for dinner one night). I don't plan my food well. Most of the time my mind blanks entirely as to what I could cook for myself, and most of the time, by the time I realize that I'm hungry, I'm too hungry to eat anything other than already prepared foods.

So a plan for meals and recipes was especially appealing to me. The Turbo Jam 10-day plan mostly involves chicken and turkey, both of which I don't like. So I am substituting chicken and turkey with tofu and veggie substitutes. For lunch today (day 1 of the plan), I made a tuna salad with lettuce, spinach, capers, onions, egg, mustard, olive oil, and lemon. (I added the lemon even though it wasn't part of the recipe.) It was astoundingly delicious, and so much healthier than the food I usually eat.

I realized as I was shopping for ingredients to cook these meals that the Turbo Jam 10-day plan was forcing me to buy more fresh vegetables and berries, both of which tend to be kind of expensive here in Boston.

I also realized, as I was eating according to the plan for day 1, that I was eating more food (in terms of quantity, not likely in terms of calories) than I'm used to eating. It's 8 pm, and even though I got up at 7 am, I've only so far eaten the breakfast, lunch, and two snacks for the day. I don't think I'm hungry enough to eat the dinner today.

I really appreciate that the plan shows me tasty ways to eat my vegetables and make sure I get enough protein.

My Get Out of Jail Card

(**I wrote this over two years ago, when I was writing up my thesis. Somehow it was still sitting in my 'drafts' box.**)

My friend Anne says that the PhD thesis is the longest form you'll ever fill out. It's not as though anyone actually cares what is written in your thesis, so long as they aren't trying to find excuses to tell you you can't graduate.

I read in Nature a "graduate journal" account of someone who was finishing up her PhD. She said that completing a PhD was like running a marathon - and it felt good at the end, and she would never been able to do it without the support of her family and friends.

I think that's a really nice picture, but as much as I dislike running, I think the marathon analogy doesn't describe my experience accurately. Even I start to feel good after I've run the first three miles in any course. Grad school started to suck after the first few years.

I think doing a PhD is akin to being in jail. For some programs, where the length and the requirements to graduate are murky, you don't even know when you'll get out of jail. I feel completely trapped in my PhD program and feel like I'm being punished for a bad decision I made over 8 (gasp!) years ago. That bad decision was deciding to go to grad school. I had been working as a lab technician and wanted to get credit for the work I did for a change. It turns out that, while it's much easier for a grad student than a technician to receive due credit, being a grad student is no protection against intellectual theft and etcetera.

Unlike the author of the "graduate journal" entry in Nature, I don't feel all warm and fuzzy inside about my (not yet obtained) PhD. I'm not proud of my "accomplishments" in grad school, at least not the ones having to do directly with grad school. I do feel like I've grown and changed, but that was in spite of my experiences in the program and certainly not because of the mentorship I received. I'm quite sure that the ways in which I've developed as a person is not valued in my field of research.

So as I've been writing my thesis, and the paper that is also now required of me to graduate, I've been thinking about what Anne said. It really does feel like I am filling out a long, tedious, form. I could not be more bored. But I'm also starting to view the paper and the thesis as my "get out of jail card." Maybe that will motivate me to do what I need to do to get out.

Drowned out

I dreamt that my sister had a child out of wedlock. I was in a car with my parents, my sister, and her new baby boy. The baby boy was sleeping soundly in the back seat and I was looking at it, thinking how adorable it was. I was thinking how it was cool that my parents were happy about the baby and not at all freaking out about the fact that the child was born out of wedlock, and that we didn't know who the father is. (Presumably my sister did but she didn't tell us.)

I was excited about the baby and asked my sister something about the baby. (I probably asked something like "How much did he weigh when he was born?") My sister lashed out angrily at me and yelled at me for asking her any questions or attempting to converse with her at all: "WHY? WHY ARE YOU ASKING ME?") (This is exactly how she responded in real life when I asked her last Christmas how her new job in California was going.) It was as though she were angry at the world, and while everyone else focused on the new and exciting life that joined our family, she could only stew in anger for God-knows-what reason.

Suddenly she and I were in a noisy pub and I told her bluntly what I always felt - that she was just an asshole who had no consideration for other people. I may have used the term "social miscreant." But the noise in the pub drowned me out so that no one could hear me, and it didn't matter anyway, because she was ignoring me.

One day you will realize that you are wrong...

I dreamt that a guy with whom I had been briefly involved and whom I hadn't seen in quite a while suddenly appeared and asked me if I wanted to go for a walk. It was night time and we walked along a lighted brick pathway not far from where I lived. I didn't think he had any agenda, but after a while he made it clear that he had something to tell me.

He brought me to a street vendor who knew what he wanted to tell me. She produced a sheet of paper describing what it was he had wanted to tell me. He didn't say anything to me and gestured for me to read the sheet of paper. I was confused, and only skimmed the piece of paper. From the sheet of paper I found out that he had been out of town a lot, but hadn't been on vacation or business trips like I thought he had been. He had been going to Vietnam and working for the French intelligence, sort of like the equivalent of the CIA. And he had been there around the times there were terrorist attacks on Vietnamese citizens. (This is an anachronism - though the dream took place in the present day, the reference to French presence in Vietnam clearly related to the 40s in Vietnam when the French was trying to maintain Vietnam as a colony.)

Even though it had not been explicitly stated, it was clear that my erstwhile romantic interest had been engaging in terrorist attacks responsible for killing hundreds of Vietnamese. It didn't make any sense because he wasn't even French, but amidst my confusion it was perfectly clear to me I didn't want to see him again, ever.

We didn't say anything to each other as I walked away angrily. He was following me at a distance from the other side of the street as I was walking toward my apartment. I was trembling with anger. I didn't entertain any thoughts as to him changing or wondering why he worked for the French intelligence in Vietnam. I didn't feel any sadness that I wouldn't see him anymore. It was as though I never had any feelings for him; he was just a monster to me.

I wanted to be away from him and have nothing further to do with him. He was still following me, so finally I turned to him and yelled "One day you will realize that you are wrong to kill my people!"

Then I turned my back to him and ran into the subway to lose him.

21

"I saw a beggar leaning on his wooden crutch,
He said to me, you must not ask for so much.
And a pretty woman leaning in her darkened door,
She cried to me, hey, why not ask for more?"
- Leonard Cohen


I was probably not more than 8 when my cousin explained to me the rules of 21, otherwise known as Blackjack. I thought it was the second stupidest card game ever. I thought the stupidest card game was War, in which you shuffle, divide the deck among two players, flip cards, and determine who wins the round by who has the higher card. Blackjack didn't seem much more intellectually involved than War.

"So that's it? You just decide if you want another card or stick with what you've got?"

"Yeah, that's how you play 21."

It seemed too simple to be a card game, let alone a card game that adults played and bet money on. It was binary. Do you want more or is that enough?

But even though the decisions are binary, there's a lot more to 21 than saying "more" or "enough." If you ask for too much, then you lose. If you don't ask for more at the right time, you lose. You have to know when to stop and when to ask for more.

And isn't most of life like a big game of 21? Most of our decisions can be broken down into binary questions like more/enough, more/less, etc. Should I put on another layer of clothes, or am I warm enough? Should I put on a more or less revealing outfit for tonight? Should I add more salt, or have I already added enough? Harder decisions are also often binary. Should I share more of myself, or have I already given too much of myself? Should I tell my friend more of the truth (which might hurt her), or have I already said enough? Should I wear my heart on my sleeve one more time, or has it been paraded in public enough already? Should I stay here any longer, or have I already been here too long?

Sadly, just as when I was 8, I'm still not good at 21.

City Life

"I never liked this apple much
It always seemed too big to touch"

- John Mayer


A few days ago, I read an article in Real Estate section of the New York Times featuring houses that could be bought for about $600,000. I do not have $600,000, but I was curious what sort of houses could be bought for that amount in today's economy. The first house featured in the article was a huge four-bedroom three-bath house on Great Diamond Island near Portland, Maine. The house is spacious and comfortable-looking, and life on Great Diamond Island is a lot different than the life I'm used to. According to the article, Great Diamond Island's general store is open only seasonally; most people take a ferry to Portland to shop for groceries. One thing that seems especially appealing to me was that there are no cars on the island; people ride bikes or golf carts.

As intriguing as life on a carless island seems, it also seems so different and isolated, I couldn't really picture myself living somewhere like Great Diamond Island. I repeated to myself my supposed need to be in a densely populated city. I needed, to be around a lot of people.

But last night, I lay awake thinking about my life in this city. Sure enough, on my way to work, at work, on my way home, at the grocery store, etc., I encounter plenty of people. But how much of that encounter involves really talking? What is the point, I thought, of being around other people if we are all mostly strangers who put on iPods and avoid eye contact whenever possible? What is the point of living in a city close to your neighbors when you don't know who your neighbors are and can't count on them to notice if something's wrong? What is the point of encountering a lot of people every day, if most of the time we all view each other as nuisances who walk too slowly in front of us on the sidewalk or who talk too loudly on our cellphones?

This city lifestyle is really starting to bother me.

"Did you think I was cute when I was a baby?"

When I was at my parents' house recently, I spent quite a bit of time with my six-year-old cousin Izzy. At one point, he asked me out of the blue, "Did you think I was cute when I was a baby?"

His mother was within earshot and explained to me that Izzy is really insecure (despite being absolutely adorable) and would ask those questions a lot. It made me think about insecurities and how we think of and deal with them. We tend to psychoanalyze people we don't like in the context of their insecurities. (For example, "He can't stand people with stellar credentials because he's insecure about his own resume.") But although we ridicule insecurity-ridden people, I know very few people who don't have, at some point or another, an insecurity about something. So I don't think having insecurities is the mark of a bad or deficient person.

In the past, I used to react uncharitably to questions (like Izzy's) that were driven by insecurity and that sought reassurance from me. I'd respond to "Does my stomach look fatter?" with a "Yes" without even looking. I just didn't want to have to deal with that sort of question again, and I figured by providing an unkind answer, I wouldn't be asked again.

But Izzy's question made me think that questions like that aren't so bad after all. Those questions are mostly harmless. I've had enough with adults who deal with their insecurities by manipulating others and/or waging stupid territorial wars. And I've decided that it's much better to be naked about your insecurities and seek reassurances by asking questions like Izzy's than to play mind games.

Oh, NOW you like me!

I dreamt that I was dating a nice guy who was just okay-looking. I wasn't that into him, but he was very nice. He kept making plans to have dinner with me every night, and I was undecided about whether this high-maintenance relationship was what I really wanted. On the one hand, it was nice to be seeing someone nice for a change. On the other, I wasn't used to seeing someone so often and doing everything together.

Shortly after I realized I was in a relationship with the nice okay-looking guy, I realized that several very attractive guys I knew were interested in me. Then I became annoyed that either I didn't realize that other people were interested in me until after I was in a relationship, or the very attractive guys didn't become interested in me until I was dating someone else.

I think this dream might have been related to my recent obsessions/musings about what would have happened if I'd married ex-future husband number one. I wrote about it before in a negative way, but lately have been wondering if it would have been so bad after all.

Vampire Lady

I dreamt that I was staying at a bed and breakfast with some friends somewhere in Boston near Fenway Park. The woman who ran the bed and breakfast was young and attractive, but also a vampire. Vampire Lady got a lot of business out of “father and son” night at Fenway Park, because (according to the dream I was in), fathers and sons would make a night of it and just crash at a nearby place, such as Vampire Lady’s bed and breakfast.

Vampire Lady went on a blood-sucking and killing spree that left several people dead in her courtyard. I knew she was the culprit, but it was as though I were in a B-horror movie, and everyone wasn’t supposed to figure that out until the end of the movie. So I didn’t accuse Vampire Lady to her face, or even run to the authorities. I was really scared of her.

At one point, I was standing in the courtyard of Vampire Lady’s bed and breakfast. Vampire Lady was standing outside the closed glass door of the courtyard, flirting with and seducing two men. I could hear her giggling through the door. Suddenly I saw the two men being slammed against the glass door and then collapsing down to the ground as they died, with their blood leaving huge stains on the glass door. It was exactly the sort of scene you’d see in a B horror flick!

In the next scene in the B horror flick, I was at the Harvard Stadium running up and down the steps to exercise. I was alone, and I suddenly wished I’d convinced some friends to come with me. I was in the middle of running up some steps during my second repetition, when I saw Vampire Lady enter the stadium and start running steps herself. No one else was in the stadium aside from her and me.

My heart started beating very quickly as I thought about the possibility of Vampire Lady coming over and sucking my blood. I finished running up the steps, and then ran down again. I pretended I was done with my workout even though I had only done two reps. I tried to gather my belongings as quickly as possible without appearing panicked or scared. For some reason I’d brought every pair of gloves I owned with me to the stadium and had dumped them along with several of my coats in a pile at the stadium. So it was taking a long time for me to gather my stuff. As I was gathering my belongings, a friend of mine whom I know from Taekwondo called me on my cell phone. I didn’t pick up in time and tried calling her back, but then she didn’t pick up either. She left me a voicemail telling me that she figured out what I already knew – that the woman who owned the bed and breakfast was a vampire. Even though I couldn’t connect on the phone with my friend, I pressed the phone to my ear and pretended to be talking to someone, so that Vampire Lady would guess that I was telling people where I was and who else was there.

The dream ended there.