"These days, thanks to social networking sites like Facebook and MySpace, listing your favorite books and authors is a crucial, if risky, part of self-branding. When it comes to online dating, even casual references can turn into deal breakers."
I think it's sort of frightening how this kind of self-branding exists in the internet age. I mean, self-image has always existed--in the way a person dresses or carries themselves, but an internet profile is a step further: it's the supplementary material to an individual. If you were a logo, your profile would be the the slogan--the pitch you hope will catch readers' attention and possibly lure them into wanting to be friends with you.
Maybe not everyone thinks of it that way on a conscious level. One could argue that profiles are "just for fun," but then why -do- we list our favorite things? I, for one, have never had anyone message me saying, "Omg, you liked Scarlet Letter? Me too!!!"
Case in point, "favorites" are more or less a quick and easy way for people to make a snap judgement of you based on your tastes, rather than your character, personality, or moral fiber. It's kind of creepy when you think of it that way, yes?
The only exception that I've found occurs when I list that I like comics. Then people come out of the internet woodworks to talk to me, ask me what I read and share what they read, and that's terrific. I like getting recommendations from total strangers. I haven't had the same experience with books, movies, or music. I guess it's a special bond between "nerds" seeking kindred spirits, or the fact that it's a much more narrow field of interest. EVERYONE likes music, MOST people like movies, and I'm HOPING that a lot of people like books, but far less people read comics, despite there being a wide range of genres within the medium.
It's a bit difficult to get somebody who doesn't read graphic novels to start for some reason--really a shame, since they're a valid form of literature. I think there's sort of a stigma attached to them; the image of a comic book lover is strongly connected to Simpson's slovenly Comic Book Guy. That archetype still exists, of course--that's why they sell deodorant at comic conventions-- but I think that graphic novels have come a long way since the superhero era that popularized them.
So true. I hate to admit it, but I am guilty of making these judgments from cursory evaluations of what someone watches, listens to, or reads. I was asked out on a date by this guy whom I had just met at a frat party, and before responding to his calls, I immediately (but subconsciously) checked his Facebook to see what we had in common. "Oh, your favorite television show is Battlestar Galactica and you enjoy going to raves? Why, yes, I will have dinner with you." That is essentially how it is. But sometimes it is, "Oh, you haven't read Eugene Onegin and you are in a 'I love The Hills' Facebook group? Er, sorry..." This probably also happens vice versa. I am sure guys have been weirded out by my interests in video gaming and anime without regard to my personality. I think everyone does this to a certain extent. But is it really personality, common interests, or shared experiences that really matters in a relationship, whether it be platonic or romantic?
Anyway, My apartment is either haunted or a reincarnation of the Bermuda Triangle; everything that falls onto the floor disappears. My jewelry stand fell off my desk and now it's gone. Which is absurd, because my carpet is clean and the only things on it are furniture. Copious amounts of jewelry are nowhere to be found. Seriously... What the fuck?
This video is almost funnier than My Mom Is A Fob, which makes me laugh more effectively than anything else in this world.
It's been a long time since I've actually blogged about my life. I suppose completing one and a half years of college merits some sort of update. Since my last real post, I graduated high school, discovered a world only known to architecture majors, and GOT INVITED TO PARTIES (lulz ftw).
Ya, srsly. I am getting invited to parties now. I never got invited to parties in high school. Although, no one really drank alcohol and/or did drugs then. All we really did was watch anime during lunch break in the Japanese classroom. What? Just kidding.
I've decided to major in architecture. Or rather, I let my college acceptance letters decide that fate for me. I put down a different major for every school I applied to (engineering, business, bio-chem), and enrolled myself in the school with the best program. I initially resented attending my back-up school (USC), but grew to accept it and eventually like it. According to DesignIntelligence's list of top undergrad architecture programs, USC is ranked at #12. Not bad.
That being said, my transition into college was tough. Architecture is completely different from anything I've ever studied. As a general rule, however many hours you think you'll require to complete a task, double that amount (4 hours turns into 8). I habitually refuse to believe it, and it never fails to fuck me in the ass.
Oh, and I think my sleeping patterns have totally wacked up my circadian rhythm. According to my architecture professor, the sleep and energy he gets is from his 30 second power naps while riding the elevator. During finals, I pulled 5 consecutive all nighters, and slept for a good 22 hours after turning in my final project. Then I wandered around my dorm halls wondering what the meaning of life was.
College, however, has taught me much more than just architorture, various methods of staying awake, and what the most potent energy drinks are. Here's a short list:
The road to hell is paved with good intentions (as quoted from professor who sleeps during elevator rides).
I'm mildly OCD when it comes to hygiene (washing my hands every hour, brushing my teeth 7 times a day) and orderliness (organizing tools according to modular grids).
Although #2 is beginning to loosen up. During final charrette in studio, my studio-mate commented that he hadn't brushed his teeth in 48 hours. "Ew!" I reply. "Who are you to say that?" he responds, "you've been in studio with me this whole time!"
Consuming 2 Rockstars (totaling 320mg of caffeine) within 4 hours of each other will cause your hands to shake.
Even as organized and responsible as I am (I had literally never lost anything before), shit gets lost when drunk. Especially when blacking-out. Bye-bye, earrings, favorite panther ring, faithful camera, and nice leather cell phone case. Ugh.
Enough about school, though. Over the summer in Taiwan, I participated in Loveboat (a month long summer event aimed at bringing together people of Taiwanese descent from around the globe), resulting in one of the craziest vacations I've ever had. Unfortunately, Loveboat is underlined with KMT (Chinese nationalist party) propaganda targeting Taiwanese who don't know much about Taiwan's history. But more on that, and the new Ma administration, in my next post.
Interesting things always happen to me in Taiwan. While I was working on my laptop in a motel lobby, I was interrupted by a mother who saw that I was a young college student and wanted to introduce me to her daughter. For reasons still unknown to me, she asked if she could snap a photo of me and her daughter. "Okay," I thought, "whatever." Suddenly, the father joins us, and the mother tells him to jump in the picture. The daughter's siblings then pop out of nowhere and we take more pictures. More people arrive until it escalates into her whole, extended family. They thank me and leave me back to my work. Huh?
Clubbing in Taiwan is also full of surprises. I was dancing with my female friend, when a guy asked me if I wanted to dance. Yeah, he was attractive, but it was a just a girls night out sort of thing, so I politely told him maybe later. He replied with, "what time should I come back?" I had never received this kind of response before, so I stopped dancing for 5 seconds before awkwardly shimmying away without saying a word (EPIC FAIL).. But who says this to a girl, ever?
Even creepier, while I was waiting at a bus stop (dressed like how any other girl would during a tropical summer), an approaching motorcyclist came to a stop, took out his camera, and directed it towards me. He was either taking pictures of me or the trash can besides me. At first I didn't stop him because I was shocked. I mean, who does this stuff conspicuously? After I came to my senses, I went behind the bus stop stand and he accelerated off. What. The. Fuck.
The previous paragraphs weren't meant to make me sound so vain (ensuing links in this paragraph are NSFW). Anyway, as you can see from the post below, I fractured my scaphoid on Loveboat (I learned my lesson; no more intense partying for me). It didn't hurt at all, and because I hadn't detected the fracture until 3 months later, it failed to heal properly. Immobilizing my non-union injury is futile, so I have to get surgery. Then I have to wear a full arm cast, which extends from my shoulders to fingertips. The only dancing I'll be doing then is the robot. But at least I'll become really, really good at it.
Okay, fine. So I scheduled my surgery for December 19th. One that day, I went to the hospital, only to find out that the irresponsible surgery scheduler had neglected to book the OR (which sucked ass, because surgery preparation was a major bitch). They kept me in the hospital for a really long time, trying to fix their mistake. In the end, they found another hospital with an available OR, but I declined. I thought it potentially dangerous because the nurses would not be expecting me on such short notice. Now surgery has been postponed until summer while I search for a new hospital. Fuck you, Norma Sifuentes, I hope you get fired for this.
I'll stop here. To the enduring reader who's made it this far, thanks. Have a happy new year!
I will admit that I am a horrible driver. I wish there was a "I'm sorry" button in my car for every douche-baggy maneuver that I make. That, or a LED screen on my window so I can hurl insults at other inpatient douche-bags. I'm slow because I worry about my safety. I like to call it defensive driving.
Anyhow, my orientation session for USC was this Thursday and Friday. I spent the night in one of the residential buildings, and it doesn't seem like such a bad place. There are a great many die-hard USC proponents there, but maybe I'm somehow lacking in school spirit. Our academic advisor gave all of us architecture majors a packet titled "What to do when you are getting depressed." When, and not if. Um, looks like I'll be getting depressed somewhere down the line. Also, architecture is a 5 year program, so I joined the wrong "class of (year)" facebook group. All in all, I'm pretty excited to start school.
As you may or may not know, I'm a big Microsoft Windows fan, but recently ordered a MacBook Pro. While I was at orientation, I noticed an animosity Mac fans have towards Windows users. It makes me think Apple is a cult, and I kind of want to return my MBP now. Okay, so Macs have an advantage in terms of graphics and aesthetics, but my Windows doesn't crash, and I'm an avid computer user. Plus, I like to choose every piece of hardware, rather than a pre-packaged machine from Apple. I guess we'll just see how the MBP goes when it arrives.
I'm going to Taiwan this summer (flying off this monday), as I always do. This time, though, I'm staying in Taipei for the majority of my trip because of an internship at Nokia. My friend sent me a great website (click here), that introduces various different cuisines and restaurants in the Taipei area. Since I'm staying alone, I'm probably going to have a lot of down time, so I'll be catching up on a lot of reading, video gaming, and art projects. I bought tickets to the Rock The Bells concert (August 11) for after my vacation. Wu-tang, Mos Def, Talib Kweli, Immortal Technique, Jedi Mind Tricks, among others will be performing, so it should be a good one!
One more thing: I hate hickeys. If you wish to pursue me, please know that I hate hickeys, especially during the summer, for god's sake! And when I say "stop," I really mean it. Bursting blood vessels is in no way sexy; it's sexual harassment. Try it again and I'll roast your dog in my oven.
