I’m not posting a new article today because I am wasting my life away playing settlers online. If you have no idea what I’m talking about, read on.

5/4/2

The trouble with Crystal is that she never learns from her mistakes.

Well, I can think of plenty of examples, ranging from the more serious (life/death) to the mundane (losing my keys). Tonight though, I’m plagued by my stubborn denial of the hole you’ve left in my life.

We’ve had a pretty rocky relationship throughout my life. I first met you in the fourth grade field trip to La Madeleine for French class. The teachers were wary and suspicious of allowing us to meet; I was too young, they said. Yet, after a first encounter I could never forget the experience. It was love at first sight.

I could immerse myself in you, fill myself up with you. When we were together, I was a better person. More focused, more energized. How many late nights did we stay up together? Whether chatting or studying, you were always there for me.

Then a few months ago, something changed. I couldn’t stand you anymore. Even the smallest bit would aggravate me. And no matter how much I told myself that this was just temporary, the problem wouldn’t go away. I tried to deny it. I gave into my temptation and came to  you – just for a little bit, I told myself. Sometimes, I came to you knowing that I couldn’t have you, yet I had somehow deluded myself into thinking that this time would be different. It never was. It stayed this way – everytime. Why can’t I ever learn from my mistakes?

When I can’t be with you, I feel incomplete, suboptimal, a wimp. When I do have you, I can’t think. My heart beats so fast it’s like it’s raced up to my throat. You keep me up all night, even from just one bite of chocolate. Why do you continue to plague my life. Why can’t we just be together, happy and perfect together, like it always was?

Oh Caffeine, why must you torment me so?

4:44 Am Sunday morning. Final Exam week. Happy Pi Day!

Random Fact: I can recite 22 digits of pi, but only in Chinese.

Suffocated by dark grey walls. (Are they dark grey, or just grey and dark because of the lighting.) Even though it’s winter, the air is so thick that I can smell the dampness, or maybe it’s the silence.

Only it’s not silent. A small TV in the corner of the ceiling emits the white noise from some news program. The volume is just enough to discern audible phonemes, but not quite for comprehension. That’s ok, no one is watching anyway. The xerox machine rhythmically hums its bland soundtrack.

Outside the late afternoon sun backdrops the beginning of rush hour traffic. The kind of sun right at that angle where you can’t quite block it out of your driving view with the, who knows what those things called anyway.  Dark orange penetrates the blinds of the sole window, and leaves its footprints in neat parallels on the mauve carpet.

Fourty-four black cushioned chairs lined side-by-side, back to back. Always those black cushioned chairs! On them, twenty pairs of eyes, but none of them directed at me. Some young, some old, but most belong to young to middle-aged adults. An old man in a navy baseball cap and black faux leather jacket is the only other Asian – everyone else is Hispanic. Most of them are overweight. No one looks at each other. The children’s occasional hysterics are our only respite.

On the other side of the wall are the nurses. Through the windows peeking into the work room, the fluorescent light reflecting off their bright purple scrubs are the only source of color in this microcosm. They don’t look at us either, only occasionally call a name. Another one of us disappears to the other side.

Description of my experiences at Planned Parenthood clinic

This Thanksgiving, I would like to give a shout-out to those things that make my life complete. Thank you for being such an integral part of my happiness!

Gchat: Thank you for being my main vehicle of communication with friends. Thank you for  importing my aim contacts so that I don’t have to open two chat clients, or rather, even launch one at all.. Oh, and thank you for adding people automatically, like my professors and TAs, so I can always know when they are ignoring my emails.

Good Chinese food. Thank you! It’s so hard to find a good place to eat these days. I usually hate going to other Chinese restaurants, but that’s because there are so few good ones out there. That’s why I am thankful that places like the Hong Kong seafood bistro on Castro Street we ate at tonight exist; thank you for not drowning every item in soy sauce, for not having a signature dish of hot and sour soup or General Tsao’s Chicken, and for serving peanuts with MSG (much to the distaste of health conscious Americans). Usually you can be indentified by the predominantly Chinese makeup of your customers, and to the few patrons of other ethnicities, you have my props.

Gummi coke candy. Have you ever tasted such a perfect fusion of taste and texture? Miniature shaped cola bottles that fade from dark brown to clear. Perfect to leave in your mouth and melt, suck along the length of the bottle, or chew impatiently and immediately pop another. Caution: 1 pack may not last as long as you would like, but multiple packs may result in binge popping. Thanks!

Roommates: Thank you for putting up with me while I had swine flu, for protecting yourself from my virus hacking coughs, for always letting me in when I forget my key (like today), and for being faithful company to weekly senior pub nights. Thank you for letting my boyfriend crash on our couch when he’s too drunk to drive home, and letting your own drunk friends crash in our room.

Verde Milk Tea: Thank you for being probably the only other perfect combination of food and texture; for the perfect amount of frothiness with the perfect flavor. Thank you for the free wifi, unlike starbucks, so that I can bring my homework and thus not feel guilty about driving 40 minutes just to have you. And thank you for always running out of my favorite flavor, rose, and for always closing right when I have my late night milk tea urges. Also, thanks for keeping my wallet empty.

My Levi’s Skinny Jeans: Thanks for being the perfect companion to a night on the town. Whenever I’m in the mood for a little booze, you’re always there. Along with some pumps, you make all the guys stare and buy my drinks. Thanks for keeping my wallet a little fat.

and YOU! I know this is cheesy, but its true. Thanks for reading my pointless ramblings and thoughts about my life. Thanks for caring. And thanks for being the amazing people who have touched my life.

I posed this question to both my roommate and my boyfriend.

“If you’ve been dating for one year, because then you’ve been through all the seasons. All the ups and downs.”

“Nine months. Sounds like a good round number. What do you think?”

“Three months,” I responded. They burst out laughing.

“That’s only because you can’t keep a boyfriend for any longer than that.”

Ok, so maybe I haven’t had a long-term relationship for a while. I just haven’t met someone who I absolutely meshed with, someone for whom the opportunity cost of being with them didn’t outweigh the benefits.

A new relationship is exciting. You’re getting to know a new person. Exploring new territory. Engaging in unfamiliar interactions, even if the two separate people are familiar. Ultimately, you’re learning more about yourself and gaining skills for the future. It’s a setting to mold yourself, without much investment and commitment. Isn’t that the attraction of playdough? That we can create any shape we want, adding indentations or chopping off arms, and know that in the end it doesn’t matter because it’s all just going to get smushed back into the playdough container anyway, and the next time we start afresh with a new playdough ball?

What distinguishes a long-term relationship? Greater commitment? A sense of purpose and direction? More emotional support and stability? And how long does it take to achieve that? How do I know when I want to throw in the towel and admit to myself and him that it’s not going to work out? Do I wait and expect that something will happen that makes me fall madly in love with him?

I suppose I should provide some context for my rambling. These questions have been running through my head recently, and if I’ve at all had contact with you in the last week then you probably know.

In the past, I always fell pretty hard and early for the guys that I’ve been attracted to. I meet them and know that I am attracted to them. Something about our interaction, it’s like they just seem to know me. Some physical attraction too, I won’t lie. I keep making excuses to see them, and I work hard until I get what I want. And I usually do get what I want.

I like my boyfriend. A lot. But the story goes a bit differently with him. We met two years ago living in the same dorm, and were decent friends since. Sometimes we hung out in the dorm, but we obviously had different interests and different friends. We never called eachother just to hang out, and I never really made it a point to see him. Just a couple of times, hanging out playing video games or singing karaoke. Oh and once, we went to a Mae concert.

Through various happenstances of chance, we ended up renting a room together for two weeks. I never had any romantic inclinations towards him, never made any advances toward him, and I didn’t even know if he was heterosexual. But I did know that our friendship became a lot stronger as we learned more about eachother, and started to find our differences rather amazing. So that’s why when on move out day, when he jumped under my covers to keep me warm, I just smiled.

I don’t know what I’m doing. Everything is so different. I’ve never dated a friend before – only people to whom I was attracted since the beginning. I’ve always chased after what I want, yet this came to me as if it were natural and effortless. That’s why I don’t feel that strong passion, as I usually do. But maybe it’s just the nature of this relationship. Maybe relationships that aren’t so intense don’t burn out so fast.

But what I’m wondering is: How long should I wait before I know if this relationship is something that I want to pursue and invest myself in? Should I end it before it gets too complicated, while we can still end on good terms and maintain our friendship; before anyone gets hurt? I have the impression that he likes me more than I like him; am I just cheating him, taking advantage of him?

I need some insights.

Just finished my shift at the Sexual Health Center. We were asked to write a pick-up line at the bottom of our shift entries. Here’s mine: I’m a backward machine. Turn me on first and then I’ll plug it in.

I’m sorry sir, we cannot accept your blood.

You can exit at the other end of the mobile. Thank you and have a great day.

——————————

My mom was helping me move into my freshman dorm room. A blue Toyota Sienna parked behind us. He timidly pulled aside the sliding door and took his first steps on campus.

How will people accept me?

All the new faces gathered in the dorm lounge. We hadn’t even met, but we were told that by the end of the year we would be a family. The staff were talking about something like no alcohol in public places, and being considerate to our roommates. We were to vote for dorm president, any nominations?

The dreamy-eyed blonde with the athletic build.

The overly tanned chick in a spaghetti strap and short shorts.

“This guy”, I offer. He swings his head to follow the line of my finger.

Who is she pointing at?

His body takes a sudden jump back when he realizes that everyone is looking at him. I don’t even know his name.

“And the reason for your nomination?”

“He seems like a sincere guy.”

—

Chem section let out late. Great, I’m late for house meeting. Breathing quickly, I rush into the lounge. He is sitting on top of the back of the couch, commanding the room.

“Hello Crystal”, he smiles. “Glad you could join us. Continuing with business…”

—

I was waiting to take my senior portrait in the student center. Flipping through the brochures trying to sell me various overpriced portrait packages, I felt a warm, familiar presence behind me.

“Hello Crystal, long time no see.”

He looked the same, but more mature. Dressed in a jacket and tie instead of the usual sweater and slacks, matched with baggy jeans and flip-flops. Yet, he was the same goofy freshman who had the unlimited capacity to surprise me.

“Nice outfit,” I offer.

“Thanks, they can’t see my pants anyway, right? Saw a blood donation mobile center on the way here, want to donate blood with me?”

“I’ve never done it before,” I reply, apprehensively.

“Don’t worry.”

And somehow, because he said it, I didn’t.

Lying on adjacent makeshift beds, the nurses took our blood pressure and searched for a usable vein. He flashed a reassuring smile at me, like we were in this together. His “First Time Donor” sticker proudly adorned his chest.

I’m sorry sir, we cannot accept your blood.

Your blood.

You have had sexual contact with another male.

We don’t want your blood. Gay blood.

You can exit at the other end of the mobile, have a great day.

Lots of debate jargon – but any debaters out there will know what I’m talking about.

To the tune of Taylor Swift’s Love Story

We were both frosh, when i first hit you,
I read my case, and the timer starts
Im standing there,
On the podium with time to spare…

read inherency,
read the harms, the plan text,
read the solvency, and then whats next
I say hello, I now stand ready for cross-ex

you were my opponent you were throwing questions,
And your partner read disads about nuke war,
and i was sitting on the side lines preping my 1AR,
And I said:
Cross-apply number one , the status quo is out of whack,
the disads non-unique, without an impact
We outweigh cuz the plan solves mass death
It’s a debate round, judge just vote aff

one year later, i once again hit you,
you hide your case cause you’re dead if we knew,
you close your file,
Stop us prepping for a little while,

You ran counterplans, I had no good answers.
And my coach said stay away from theory args,
But you ran me in a corner,
So I pulled out AT: dispo, and I said

Disregard the counterplan on dispositionality,
Perm: do both, theyre not exclusive mutually.
We outweigh cuz the plan solves mass d.
It’s a debate round, judge just vote for me.

I got tired of losin’, wondering if I were ever going to win.
My speaker points were amusing,
When the judge wrote up his ballot and said…

Reason for decision , the status quo is out of whack,
the disads non-unique, without an impact
The plan outweighs cuz it solves mass death
It’s a debate round, and I vote aff

It’s one thing to sweat: sweating is quite natural, and certain people tend to sweat more than others. I sweat like a candle melts – so I’m extremely sympathetic to anyone who is a sweater. I don’t really sweat in the usual places, like under the armpits. In fact, I never use deodorant – not there anyway. However, just a tiny bit a physical activity will cause me to sweat profusely on my face – extremely embarrassing (especially when wearing makeup) for dancing {and sex}.

It’s another thing to subject others to your sweat problem.  I once entered a ballroom dance competition. My dance partner was great, sweet, smart, nice, but there was just one problem: He  sweat a lot. Not only was this an ordeal for my nose, but he would use his hands to wipe the sweat off while we were dancing, then offer me his hand. I never wanted to say anything, so I bit the bullet and continued dancing with him, counting the seconds until practice was over. When I got back to my dorm, I washed my hands until I sang happy birthday fully at least five times.

Everyone was confused as to why I didn’t like my dance partner – and with good reason. Like I said, he was great in every aspect. But I couldn’t tell them the real reason.

Not controlling your sweating is extremely inconsiderate. Here are some ways to do so:

• Deodorant is not just for your underarms. I’ve found that applying deodorant around my hairline helps immensely with my problem. You can apply it to your thighs, face, shoulders, anywhere that sweats.
• If it’s your hands, wear gloves when dancing – or any other activity that requires you to hold others’ hands.
• Don’t feel ashamed to admit to others that you sweat a lot. Doing so will only show how considerate you are for taking measures (such as gloves), and at the very worst won’t make people think you are gross (hey, you warned them).

a black hole is a region of space in which the gravitational field is so powerful that nothing, including light, can escape its pull.

-wikipedia

I love the night.  I just want to hide in it forever. I feel so safe, so peaceful. The darkness wraps around me like a blanket, protecting me from reality.  If only darkness were my lover then I wouldn’t need anyone else.

The first signs of dawn shine through the window, but I don’t want to face the day. Let me pull the covers over my head to extend my pretend world just a bit longer.

What is the reason to wake up? So I can go through this cycle again? I’ve already lost track of days. How many days have gone by? When was the last time I was awake when the sun was up?

I feel like I’m sinking and it’s getting harder and harder to break out.

—————-

I haven’t written a new post in about two weeks, since I left Oxford and arrived home. I once wrote that if I ever stopped blogging, then it meant that things in my life were going so well that I didn’t need to blog to vent my feelings. I realize now that the opposite is also true, that a long hiatus could indicate a relapse of depression. It’s amazing how strong a force your mood can play, how it can spill over into all areas of your life. How you start to make excuses for yourself, let things slide, until eventually, you lose all inertia to start anything anymore.

It started with needing a break from school, and then being so busy from my camp counselor job, then needing a break after than, until before I know it, it’s already the middle of summer and I still haven’t studied for the MCATS which are at the beginning of August. Today I woke up only because my brother needed a ride to the mall. That must’ve been a blessing in disguise, because I decided to pack my backpack and camp out at the mall bookstore to study.

Thank you to all my readers who have kept up with my blog, and especially to those who posted comments. I opened my inbox today to find occasional comments posted here and there. I could see the comments coming to life and asking me when was the next time I was going to post? It’s nice to know that there are people who care – even strangers.

I was trying to finish my essay (still am, 12 pages and 6 hours to go, and its 1am), when the funniest sex noises I have ever heard came from the room downstairs. I posted this question on my twitter: What do you usually do if you are trying to work and your neighbors are distracting you with their loud lovemaking?

These are the responses I got – pretty funny:

AnnasBones ask if you can join?

Dr_Idgie If playing music dsn’t work, u may try focusing on the sound for a minute. That can help the brain “expect” it & tune it out

austinbires@troubledcrystal Distract their lovemaking with even louder lovemaking…

DarkeSharpfang@troubledcrystal hit record, then call and play it to them on the phone

DarkeSharpfang@troubledcrystal or just call and aak if they can keep it down or hurry up. I’d just put my headphones on, though

DarkeSharpfang@troubledcrystal ooo, call the cops and say you heard screams from the apt downstairs

motionblur@troubledcrystal When they’re done, laugh really loud and say, “Is that all you’ve got?”