The Meter of Attractiveness

The more TV I watch (especially Korean TV), the more I realize that there are a lot of beautiful people in the world, but not all of them are attractive. This is because it's not about looks.

Looks are initially important. Physical attraction is definitely important in a romantic relationship, but it is not about looks when you fall for someone. You've heard it before, but it is not about looks, guys; it's about personality. Your fundamental principles. How you treat other people. Your core. Who you are on the inside.

Korean dramas (other movies too, but lately that's what I've been watching) have made me fall for some guys, but not for others. Why was one handsome dude was more likeable than the other? It's what's on the inside that counts. I've found that it wasn't the staring into pretty eyes, the sight of a man's muscular torso, or romantic situations that made my heart go thump-thump, but certain aspects of a human's personality, such as:

• Thoughtfulness or consideration for others (way underrated)
• Being kind and gentle to children
• The ability to get through an argument or handle stress without resorting to personal attacks or swearing
• Doing the right thing when one's head or other people say to ignore it instead
• Being honest even when it's uncomfortable
• Being competent overall, which includes being skillful, intelligent, or hard to trick 
• Having a good sense of humor (I find love in the giggles and inside jokes)

For me, those are winning traits. After seeing so many pretty faces, that is what I care about. It's funny, because usually the male leads in these Kdramas do not start out with more than two of these qualities, but have to go through a changing process in order to become decent people. Maybe that could be a metaphor about every human and life, but I think it might be kind of lowering our expectations so we'll be satisfied at the end of the show. "Hmm, he's rich and handsome... if only he could be tweaked so he has a good personality too..." (5-10 episodes later) "Ah, there we go!"

Haha, it's not about looks, but they are just about the only place to start. To apply this to real life: What you look like is just what people see to form an initial impression of you. It does matter, but after talking to you for... maybe two hours or so, or better yet, seeing you overcome a challenge or handle a bad situation well, they should actually see you, and hopefully they will think better of you than they did at first.

Dating and finding a mate for life are tough in innumerable ways, but if you are going around thinking that you are just not attractive enough, you don't have to worry that much about your face or body. Sure, having minimal acne and a strong, fit physique do not harm your chances. Flattering clothing and haircuts certainly are good. But lots of people can and will see past any imperfections when they get the chance. Especially if they see that you regularly take time to try and improve yourself. You may even inspire them to work harder on improving themselves.

If you can't find other people that meet your expectations, take someone kind, free, and passably good looking and maybe try to get to know them by using a route other than the awkward small talk and dinner + movie dates. Instead, do things together in a group setting (you can see how this person interacts with other people too--a bonus). Play Ultimate Frisbee, or go clean some old widow's yard or help her paint her house. Go shopping, help someone move, play board or video games together. Whatever you do, do things that make you feel good about yourself, and if you can bring in other people, it gets better and better. And if you don't find a mate in doing these fun and rewarding things, you get friends, which are the next best thing and still a lifelong need.

People who attract me, friends and fictional characters alike, are those whose characters resound with me on some level. Those who make choices I'm proud of, who are kind, who are fighting to overcome their challenges and weaknesses, who care about the fundamentally important things in life, and take care of the people they love--as well as themselves.

It's tough to be an overall great person. What's important is that you try, and give other people room to try as well. Looks will fade, pretty faces will wrinkle, and in the end, what's in our souls is what will shine through our eyes and actions.

Random Social Encounter

So, I had another funny bit of college nostalgia light up the tired recesses of my mind at some point yesterday. Or maybe last night. Perhaps in the wee hours of the morning... in any case, I remembered it in the bathroom and it made me giggle.

For a little background, I remember it was at some sort of International event at BYU-Idaho, a dinner with the various cultural groups performing demonstrations of what they did in their clubs. The Russian Association were dressed in white and gold and did a dance-- I recognized a few members from Russian 101 there. That was a tight class, by the way. It was only due to meeting my friend David in that class that I was there at all. I'd seen him on a Saturday and he had pulled me into the Capoeira group. I was terrible at Capoeira, but it was so much fun, so I'd shown up with the other crazily amazing Capoeiristas, representing Brazil. Since it was a martial art/dance/game, to stay warmed up while we waited to perform, we were bouncing and cartwheeling around the lobby. (Well, we'd do that anyway. No one quite goofs off like a group of Capoeiristas.) Around us were members of the Japanese group with their white and red flag of the sun, and some other countries that have blurred in my memory. While catching my breath, I saw an Asian guy sitting in a chair lining the 2nd floor wall, and, in my bubbly mood, decided to accost him.

I asked him if he spoke Japanese. I'd loved the language ever since my brothers had shown me "Advent Children." He replied that he didn't. Right then, my friend David landed a cartwheel nearby, and I, as if it was some terrible shock, said, "David, this guy doesn't speak Japanese!"

My wonderful, quick-witted friend immediately responded with a mock frown, "I'm offended!" and bounded off again.

"I do speak Chinese," the poor Asian guy said.

"Oh, that's cool," I think I said, and sat down next to him. We had a friendly conversation, where I found out that one of his parents was from China, and he was majoring in Art, as an illustrator. So that was fun. A nice random encounter, and not without a sequel. I met him again some time later in Tomassito's.

Again, some background-- Tomassito's was a splendid little restaurant on the bottom floor of the Manwaring Center, the bottom floor of the same building as before, tucked away in a corner of the food court. I loved it. The dining room was so small that even if you were sitting alone, you were still sitting near other people. And even if you didn't share a table, the walls were mirrored so you could at least watch other people. That might sound creepy, but it was a wonderful place to be social. And the food was cheap. A lot of my lunches were just a little more than a dollar for a mini loaf with honey butter.

Well, I was probably scarfing down one of those mini loaves, when we happened to make eye contact as he sat down at a table really close to mine. We smiled at one another, as most students did back then, and then I was struck with the awkwardness of realizing how odd I must look, smiling with my mouth full. Cheeks bulging, crooked smile. After swallowing, I turned to his table and said, "You know how awkward it is when you see someone while you're eating, and then they smile at you, so you smile back, but your mouth is full, so you know you look weird? I mean, what can you do? I don't want to not smile." He just laughed. He nodded in a friendly fashion as I hurried off to class, but totally thought I was crazy. He had just happened to catch me twice when I had no problem blurting out exactly what was on my mind.

Later on, my roommate's boyfriend AJ told me that he worked with someone who'd met me-- apparently this same Asian guy, whose name I may have learned but don't remember. I don't know how I came up in their conversation, but when AJ told him that I was probably the most normal of all his girlfriend's roommates, this Asian guy looked horrified, and said, "Her?! The most normal???" 

That was the end of our story: myself and the Asian artist who was half Chinese and had interesting hair. I was much less reserved as a freshman in college, perhaps because I was anxious to make those college buddies I'd always wanted, or perhaps because only three people knew me there when I started out, and I had nothing to lose by a little embarrassment. Well, I've done plenty of stupid things. Appalling a random guy with my weirdness is nothing to regret.

The Unreachable Itch

You know that spot in the middle of your back that you just can't quite reach? No matter how you twist or contort your arms, you can touch it but not scratch it? It's the kind you can get with some kind of stick or back scratcher, but then you tend to scratch too hard, and now it just hurts. Oh, and now it itches over there too! And over there. Sound familiar? It occurred to me today in the shower (https://www.reddit.com/r/Showerthoughts/) that there might be a reason for that terribly unreachable spot. I couldn't reach it today. I get the itches just remembering. Ughghgh.

I think it's why we humans need each other. Because no matter how many nice back scratchers we can buy, nothing beats a compassionate human touch. It's frustratingly difficult to try and communicate exactly where it itches to someone else, just as it's irritating to try and follow someone's directions in search of the traveling itch, but when it can be done: bliss. That would be where the phrase "you scratch my back, and I'll scratch yours" comes from. I always found that phrase somewhat uncouth, like it's said by a fat man in a wife-beater who might have fleas. Putting that mental image aside, it's about a mutually beneficial relationship, and hopefully, never involving fleas! Friends helping friends and finding satisfaction when their needs are met. It's one of many reasons that our species forms communities and civilizations. We can't quite reach that one spot in the middle of our backs.

Why are we designed that way? Why, in a world where we have to be tough and independent to survive, do we have to depend on others to be truly satisfied? Who enjoys needing someone else? I like having someone there to do the things I can't do, but the unfulfilled need is quite dreadful. This is probably the very lightest of examples. I am only scratching the surface (hehehe) of the drawbacks of loneliness. I can't do more than mention how much it aches to be lonely, because so many have felt it much deeper and longer than I.

Why do we itch? Because we need a scratch. Why do we feel hunger? Because we need to eat. Why do we feel lonely? Because without that feeling, we would never know that we needed anyone. Without the need, we probably wouldn't take all the time and effort to seek out or maintain relationships that bring us the most happiness and satisfaction. We need each other. Even though I like being alone, I don't think I'm ever as happy as I am when I can be around other people, helping them and being helped. I don't know why we are designed this way, but man, I do enjoy a good back scratching.

I regret writing this. It's the most itchy I've been in a week.

Congratulations on Your Future Suffering

The thought of listing everything that I want to complain about is exhausting. It's such a broad topic. I will try to focus on only one thing: the congratulations I got-- and that everyone gets-- when they are expecting a baby.

Well, what else are you going to say when someone tells you that "happy news?" Of course you congratulate them! You can't very well say "I'm sorry," and "You're going to have a bad time," especially if you don't know them very well. It would be mean to forecast pain and suffering in their future, even if it's true. So congratulations on the creation of a thus-far healthy life are the best way to go. It seems nice to say you're happy for the new parents... until they are crying at 3am, desperate for more than 20 minutes of uneasy sleep at a time. Then they remember that sentiment and wonder why you must secretly hate them, to say such a thing.

Being a mother for two months now has probably been the hardest thing I've ever gone through-- and I thought that most of college was freakishly hard. But at least I had two hands during college. Now I have a daughter that requires at least one hand constantly. Typing with one hand only is agonizing. But wait. I did not come here to list all the complaints I have about parenting and how much it sucks at times. That list would be too long. I don't have long to type.

There, see? I had to stop just now so my baby would stop crying and not fall off my lap.

You and I have not secretly cherished thoughts of a new parent's pain when expressing our gladness for new parents. We are not closet sadists, for the most part. We are being nice and are wishing them well with every congrats. We are happy for them because we get to see this family grow. We get to hold the sweet, warm baby and then give it back. We get to give hard-earned, unsolicited advice. We get to help and serve. We get all the benefit without the struggle.

The call for celebration and congratulation cannot be denied. The only other thing we can do is help. To offer specific kinds of help, such as holding the baby while mom naps or cleans, or shops. Saying she can call you anytime. This can save those parents in danger of becoming psychopathic zombie slaves (like me). It's a sort of mix between congratulations and condolences. I personally cannot express how much I appreciate it. I did try just now, though.

It occurred to me just a few days ago that babies are a gift to everyone else. As a new mother, I don't feel joy as much as I feel responsibility when I see my little one, but when I walk by with her, total strangers smile. Their faces light up and soften involuntarily at the mere sight of her car seat. Elderly people especially. She brings joy to everyone who sees her, just by existing. It's the strangest thing. And I can feel proud, because I've somehow managed to keep her alive since the day she was born. Two months now. I'll accept congratulations for that. Whew!

Learning is FUN!

Don't you hate it when people say that learning is FUN? I really hate it too. But in this case, I randomly learned to write some basic HTML! And it was actually fun. Just look what I did with my learning! I don't know if any of the links will work. I don't really care, because I'm going to go to bed far too late and will certainly not stay up later to find out why if they don't.

This is My First Try

Here is the First List:

• Trying to Learn
• Learning to Type
• Getting a Tiny bit Faster

Historic Events that Happened on August 22nd

1. 1485-- The Battle of Bosworth Field (Click here to read about it)
2. 1941-- The Siege of Leningrad Begins
3. 1956-- Peter Taylor is Born
4. 2016-- Clarissa Moore Writes a Page of HTML after Ron Gives Her a Template

Click here to see an another applicable happy dance.

A Nostalgic College Paper

In my last few semesters, I took a Fiction class. I love reading fiction, so I thought it would be fun. Of course not! I hated it so much! The teacher was disorganized and opinionated, and his tastes (and opinions) were completely different from mine. We clashed quite a bit, but I did my homework, so he had to pass me. That being said, he brought blueberry muffins to class once, and they were divine, so he's not without his good points.

Anyway, I looked through my Google Docs trash folder, and randomly found this old paper that I was forced to write comparing two novels by the same author, Willa Cather. The caustic tone made me laugh, so I thought I'd share it. If you don't feel like reading the whole paper, you can skip to the emboldened summary at the end. And just so you know, it was really, really hard not to edit my grammar and punctuation. =(

ENG 351-01

Feb 28, 2012

Comparisons between My Antonia and O, Pioneers!

Considering the numerous similarities of these two novels by Willa Cather, I will only focus on three: the themes, which are basically the same; the plots, which are almost non-existent, and the characters, half of which are disappointing.

Both of these novels take place in Nebraska, during the early 1900’s, when immigrants and settlers were trying to tame the wild prairies into farmland.  The ongoing theme at times seems to be the grueling monotony of life as a whole. There is the struggle between man and nature in trying to farm the land, between a woman’s strength of character against society, a woman’s potential and ability to succeed as well (or better) than a man. There is the search for meaning or happiness that both Carl and Jim embarked on, only to return and wonder: what might have been. What Jim and Carl could have had, or could have accomplished if they had stayed and struggled with the women.

The plot for My Antonia was mostly exposition. Jim Burden rambles on about this memory, and that memory, and that one time he and Antonia did this and that, but it is a very long story, in which he does maybe two interesting things. Cather uses these memoirs as a foil to thrust Antonia’s stamina and spirit into the reader’s admiration. In O, Pioneers!, Cather focuses more on a present timeline, on how the heroine, Alexandra, finds security and satisfaction in life, loses it, and finds it again at the end.  More pertinent events take place in these specific chunks of Alexandra’s life, but as in the case of My Antonia, nearly two decades are skipped by without anything important happening during them. Life can be so very long, dull, and grueling in Cather’s books...

These two books seem to focus mainly on the women: Antonia and Alexandra. They are both strong, independent women who make it their business to succeed and to take care of their families. Alexandra took charge of her brothers as the eldest, and Antonia worked how and wherever she could. While working hard and sacrificing (Alexandra for her brother Emil, and Antonia for her children), they learn to love the land, and find most of their happiness and satisfaction in farming it. These heroines are tough, yet compassionate, smart, yet blind to those they love, and in spite of death, loss, and hardships, still find a way to continue living with joy and spirit.

The male leads in these two books are very similar; they are rather static side characters. In My Antonia, Jim Burden is merely an observer, relating his memories to the reader. He grows up playing like a child with his peers instead of struggling to get by like Antonia, and then he leaves his hometown and his Antonia for college and a career. By the time he is reunited with Antonia at the end of the story, as readers we know that he travelled around the world and married, but we are unaware that he has actually accomplished anything. He is merely a boring, complacent man.

Carl Linstrum in O, Pioneers! is also a rather static character. He also leaves, and then returns to Alexandra, having accomplished nothing. But unlike Jim Burden, Carl does feel a need to become something, and to find a place that feels like a true home.  Again, whether he accomplishes anything by the end of the book is not revealed, but he does conclude that his home is with Alexandra, and he is satisfied. Unlike the outcome of My Antonia, these two actually do snatch at their chance for happiness together, thus providing a more satisfying ending for the reader or audience.

In conclusion, there is just enough of a story in O, Pioneers!  to differ from My Antonia, but essentially both have the same messages in them: a tribute to land of Nebraska, and the satisfaction of an agricultural and meaningful family life. It loudly demonstrates the potential strength of a woman, and advocates her ability for authority and management.  These novels may be critically acclaimed, and made Willa Cather famous enough to be read by a university Fiction class a century later, but when there are far more interesting and better books to be read, all the effort of  thinking and writing a two-page paper on them was a waste of time. This may seem to be a harsh conclusion, but in the life of a struggling college student, trying to tame the old hourglass itself, time is so very precious.

About Romance

Big no-no! Never complain about your romance to you friends, and definitely not on the Internet where your significant other will definitely see!

While asking for advice and having someone to listen to you are important necessities, I think complaining about your spouse or significant other only makes things worse. Even if everyone is having a satisfying gossip party where they all divulge the metaphorical dirt, it's never okay to betray or belittle your spouse. It's just one of the worst ways to treat your marriage/relationship. That being said, a happy marriage is the envied state of most of the romantically-inclined population, and therefore, the expectations of it are set unrealistically high.

Marriage is disappointing. It's a host of innumerable other nouns as well, but disappointment is probably the one that gets the most attention. This makes a lot of people want to gripe to someone about it, even if the feeling will pass. I'm not immune to it, but I really hate having to listen to someone complain to me about their S.O.

That being said, here's my complaint:

So, I've been married to two and a half years now, and kissing my man for three. Kisses are not romantic anymore. Sometimes he'll lean in for a kiss (just like in movies or books), and then burp (involuntarily) right before. A few nights ago, he started kissing me in a new strange way, and then explained proudly, "Those were Turtle Kisses." (see this link for reference: http://www.gifbay.com/gif/baby_turtle_vs_tomato-18705/ )

This is fairly a common occurrence. I think it's hilarious most of the time. But sometimes he just does it to tick me off, you know? It's like he's thinking, "Here, let me turn you on slightly and then do something I know you hate, just because it's funny." I know I like kissing seriously more than he does. Funny kisses are pretty great and all, but I still want my share of breath-taking moments too. I don't want to feel like all that is behind me just because it's no longer a new thing. But sometimes, it's the harsh truth: romance is dead, and I'm only 24.

I was having these thoughts one night a while ago, and it was much worse than usual because I'd just read a manga with very romantic kisses. As we got into bed that night (that phrase makes you think it's going to turn intimate, right? Wrong!), he asked me to rub his feet, and obligingly lays  his head at the foot of the bed. His feet don't really smell, but they were a little too close for comfort. Yep, romance is dead. I thought.

But just as I was lying there, with his feet in my face, feeling that this is my lot in life, he started rubbing my feet. That's kind of aww-inducing. And then, unexpectedly, he brushed a kiss or two on my foot. That was enough to make any school girl sigh. See? Now you think that you're reading about an intimate scene with too much information, aren't you? Lo, the power of serious kisses!

Kisses are important. They can be the difference between life or death in a romance. Kiss wisely. (hahaha!) Lately, he often says to me "I'd better kiss you, just to be safe." to make sure that our love is alive and happy. He's a smart guy. I can't really complain, can I?

I don't think the balance between life and death of love hangs on a single kiss, but it's made up of many sweet moments of hugs, laughter, and that sense of relief when your trust is confirmed again. And since this is a two-way street, it occurs to me that I'd better try and remember to do little things like that for him too-- just to be safe.