Clouds

Midterms approach. I study.

Having studied the entire day, I went outside and walked around the yard. But other than briefly chuckling at yet another tourist-infested Saturday, it was quite a forgettable walk.

I sat down in one of those peculiarly neon chairs on the grass. I looked around at the the buildings and the trees, trying to tell myself how beautiful this place was. I even muttered the words to myself out loud, but I didn't process anything I was seeing or saying.

At that point, I saw a squirrel munching a nut a few feet away. I fixed my eyes on it. I tried to derive some significant message or meaning, but of course, I couldn't. There just isn't any meaning in a god damn squirrel that's hungry.

As any directionless person would do, I directed my gaze to the sky. I thought to myself that it was entirely clouded, yet totally bare at the same time. There were clouds, but then again, there was nothing.

I stared intently at the bleak atmosphere for what seemed like an hour. At one point, I convinced myself that I saw a fish, but shortly afterward it occurred to me that every fucking cloud looks like a fish if you want it to.

Then I wondered: what was I doing looking so seriously at the sky, pretending as if I was in the middle of some deep philosophical search? Who was I trying to fool?

I glared around at the swarm of camera-touting beasts. I sure as hell didn't give a shit about what they thought of me. I looked around to see if there was anyone in the yard that I knew. There was. But it's not like they would care about why I was staring at the sky.

I then entertained the possibility that I was trying to impress the prim and proper trees scattered about the yard. They had seen all those freshman walking across the yard, once upon a time. But after that brief moment of feigned insightfulness, I promptly laughed at my idiocy.

I'm the fool.
Stop trying to find meaning where there is none.

I started walking back to my room. My break had lasted long enough. And for some odd reason, the clouds seemed to look a little brighter, almost like shining silver.

But I didn't care. They were still fucking clouds.

Phoenix

No, I can't keep this. Can't keep that either. No. No. Definitely no.

He sighed as he looked around at his room, the floor strewn with torn envelopes and photos: what does it take to forget someone?

A crumpled slip of paper caught his eye. He walked over to pick it up, momentarily disregarding the mess he had made. It was blank, save for three faded words.

She had lied when she said she loved him.
He meant it every time.

And to think I had loved her.

But then, what was he doing now, falling for another?

For in truth, it was none other than she once again; a different face and a different smile, sure, but identical in all the important ways -- the things he had since learned to scrutinize more closely.

So why again?

He wondered as the flames engulfed his frozen heart once more -- does the phoenix possess the knowledge that it will be reborn, or does it relive the agony of dying over and over again?

Application

I think I found a new hobby.

Application for _____

• Tell us about yourself. What makes you unique? What do you think are your strengths and weaknesses?

I am unique in that I don't consider myself unique. My strengths are my arms and calves, while my weaknesses are my abs and hamstrings. Occasionally, I also wish I was taller and had fewer pimples, but I think those are fairly minor flaws.

• Why do you want to explore finance in this economic climate? What does ____ offer to you personally?

I want to make money and connections. Additionally, ___ offers me a nice bullet point on my resume, which is currently empty.

 

Resume

Ryan Chow - Class of 2016

San Jose, CA

Academic

• I managed to turn in my study card 3 minutes and 14 seconds before the deadline. I then went to Finale to buy myself a cranberry pie. It tasted pretty good, but not as good as the ones my mom made back home.
• I have only missed one class so far.
• I hope you're still reading this.
• I shopped Math 55 just like the 200 other tourists who showed up on the first day.

Social/Extracurricular/Other

• I summoned the courage to sit down next to a girl I didn't know in Annenberg during Opening Days. She got up to leave a few seconds afterwards though.
• I hold Thayer's record for most midnight trips to the restroom in a single night.
• I made the 100th purchase on the basement vending machine and got a free pack of Pop Tarts.
• I didn't choose the thug life; the thug life chose me.

Sympathizing 2

I refuse to sympathize for the sake of friendship.

If maintaining good relations with you requires mindlessly agreeing with you and backing you up on your inane fantasies and obsessions, go find someone else to talk to.

You don't need friends to repeat what you already believe. Your own voice is good enough for that.

And in the apocalyptic event that you do ask for advice, there's no guarantee that you'll listen to it. You just want people to share in your private torments so that you feel more important, that you feel like the center of attention and the main player of an unfolding drama -- a manufactured drama.

You ask many questions. But invariably, those questions all revolve around you.

I see no reason to sympathize with you or to help you.
You don't even want to help yourself.

Frozen over

He was of tin and steadfast loyalty; she was of paper and ephemeral beauty. Nobody could touch them. Passion had consumed them; fire had swallowed them whole. But nothing burns forever. In the aftermath, she was gone without a trace, save the jewel she once proudly wore, now left behind. He, on the other hand, had been so malleable, so easily deformed by love that when the last embers were finally cooled, all that could be sifted from the ashes was a cold metal heart.

- L

What is attachment but a sense of dependency? You give and take, you lean and are leaned upon -- you need and are needed.

That's all it is. There isn't much to be afraid of.

I understand that we're incredibly different people in this respect, but I sincerely doubt that desperately gripping every part of your mind and refusing to surrender control to anyone else has done anything to help you conquer your feelings.

The tin soldier may have died with a heart hardened by the painful trysts of love. But at least he had known how it felt to have his heart engulfed by the feelings of another. At least he had faced the fires and valiantly danced in them, if only to be consumed shortly after. At least he had finally broken down his cast-iron box and let in the sun's warmth.

The tin soldier died in agony. But he didn't die alone.
 
And so I ask you:
Is your frozen heart really any different from that tin soldier's metal heart?

Umbrella

I don't know why I have this tendency to patronize people. It's not as if I know any better; I just happen to have a big mouth.

I'm still doing that here, unfortunately. I don't think I categorize people into archetypes as instinctively anymore, but still -- some people just seem to fit into the molds so well. There's the good old down-to-earth guy, there's the crazy asshole, there's the quiet Asian girl, and there's the arrogant douchebag. Appearances and slight mannerisms aside, we all seem to come from a blueprint.

But on second thought, I lied. I know very well why I can be so patronizing.

I'm arrogant.

I've realized that I gravitate towards the archetype that seems lost and needs help, not necessarily because I'm a nice guy who likes helping, but because it's also a way to boost my ego. It's like how some college freshmen love helping seniors with college essays; I'm sure everyone has their own intentions for wanting to help, but there's definitely a certain kind of satisfaction from being a "superior" authority on something (even if its a false sense of authority).

"Help" may be the ends, but various are the means. I could be walking you back with my umbrella because I don't want you to get wet, or because I thought you looked lonely and wanted someone to talk to. Either way, I'm holding an umbrella above you.

That's the thing, though; regardless of what I'm doing and how you choose to interpret it, I'm still putting myself above you, intentionally or not.

Perhaps this is a better way of phrasing it:
Do you volunteer at a charity to help people? Or do you volunteer to feel good about yourself?

Just something to think about, I guess. Maybe I'm being too hard on myself.