My mouth was dripping with drool as I sat apprehensively in the plastic-covered dentist chair. I was staring at the lamp shining directly above me, trying desperately to distract myself from the excruciating pain I was feeling from Dr. T's deadly gum probing. As she drilled her way into the crevices of my teeth and reminded me nicely to "not forget about the back of my mouth when brushing", I started thinking about Emperor penguins and began feeling a bit jealous that in the entire span of their lives, they never have to be subjected to the kind of agony I was experiencing at that moment. Sure, they have to put up with the harshest, crappiest weather (we're talking blizzards), are forced to walk (or should I say waddle) miles and miles for DAYS just to get food, AND must protect themselves (as well as their chicks) from ugly predators like the leopard seal (who could definitely use some dental work) - yet I still feel like they have it somewhat easier than we do. They don't have to worry about cavities nor periodontal disease nor what have you; all that matters to them is the survival of their own colony.
I dreamt I was an Emperor Penguin..while I got my teeth cleaned.
My mind has been fixated on these regal creatures since yesterday afternoon, when I started watching March of the Penguins. I was ultimately astounded by the many things they had to go through just to survive, the love stories that came anew each year as they found their one true mate for the season, and the journey they embarked on together, snowstorm, after snowstorm, after snowstorm. But what impresses me most about them is the simplicity of their lives. Their whole being revolves around survival and the special, innate concern they have for their offspring. Within their colony there is no status quo to uphold - there are no rich penguins that drive range rovers, nor celebrity birds that are stalked daily by paparazzi penguins. There is no cosmetic surgery to alter beaks to the perfect size and shape, and there is no need for diets, trainers nor exercise machines. In their world, alcohol, drugs, and smoking do not exist; there is no need for rehab or AA. There are no thoughts of war nor diplomatic relations; there is not an ounce of imperialism nor a sign of capitalism anywhere in their colony. They never have to doubt their capabilities as penguins - they just do as they have done for the past thousand years. They don't get depressed, and for that matter, don't see shrinks, nor have any need for anti-depressants and caffeine. They are confident in themselves, and believe that even through the harshest winters, they have a chance of survival. Their parenting skills are top-notch that they ought to be the envy of every parent on this planet. They don't have to worry about debts, loans and mortgages; they don't have credit cards nor shopping malls - just ice walls and a vast oceanic playground. They're not lazy, either - they march for days on end without complaining, despite hunger and exhaustion. As I sat on that plastic-covered dental chair, hypnotized by my own imagination, I came to the obvious realization that life as an emperor penguin seemed cooler than life as a human being (no pun intended). But as my mother would say, "be careful what you wish for."
It's not that I want to magically transform into a penguin, nor move to Antarctica any time soon. I was just oddly intrigued by these funny-looking birds in chubby tuxedo suits, waddling about and gliding on their fat bellies. Somehow, they inspired me to appreciate life and all it has to offer - whether it be good or bad. Emperor penguins have a regal way of showing how much they truly value life - putting us humans (who seem to have a knack for inflicting pain on each other) to shame. While we do horrible things to our own kind, there are creatures like the Emperor penguins, who, even at the very bottom of the Earth, are able to teach us how to live beautifully, gracefully, and SIMPLY. My superficial worries fade in comparison to the penguin's annual tribulations. It dawned on me that my life - my human existence, is actually a bit selfish. Previously empowered by thoughts of individual achievement and personal success, I realize that life does not just revolve around me, nor any other human individual alone. The emperor penguins have taught me to think about the earth and its inhabitants as a whole - and that life, just as it should be, is ultimately about caring for the well-being of every single living thing on the planet.
Talk about a profound reflection on a dental chair.
Invisible haircut.
I got a haircut, but my hair doesn't look any different. I've been running everyday for a month, but I still look like marshmallow man's sister. The whole running thing? I get. I get that it takes a while to see any drastic changes especially since I opted for the healthy way (one pound a week). But the haircut had no excuse whatsoever. I paid good money ($30) to get some wild layers, and instead ended up with a really tame head. I wanted to say something to the lady cutter, but before I opened my mouth she had already snipped her way to the end of my haircut. She brought out the mirror and started showing me the back of my head. I stared for a while to see what had changed (or what might possibly appear, like a hidden image, similar to the ones you can find in those 3D paintings) - and I swear I saw nothing. It was like I had gotten an invisible haircut. I started wondering whether it was because I told her specifically NOT to give me a trim. I guess I should've told her to go wild. I may have suppressed her creativity.
See the problem is, I never really learned how to confront hairstylists. Somehow they intimidate me with their hair knowledge and cutting expertise that I feel unworthy to complain. I also feared that if I correct them or reprimand them for doing my hair injustice, they might start attacking me with their sharp instruments and burn me with their flat irons. Besides, I'm not confrontational anyway. So I usually just take my unwanted hairstyle home and complain to my mother instead. I'd rather listen to her yell than risk my life fighting for the haircut I didn't get.
Of course, a lot of this haircut unhappiness might actually be due to the fact that the whole fiasco cost me a measly $30. Was it too much to expect a great cut for that price? Maybe. But I'd like to think otherwise. I guess next time I'll complain...only after making sure the stylist isn't holding on to anything sharp - or hot.
When I grow up, I want to be like... Nora Ephron.
I spent all of yesterday watching Sleepless in Seattle, You've Got Mail, and While You Were Sleeping. I was in a 90s rom-com mood so I watched all three in a row, crying and laughing and falling in love with the movies.
A legitimate excuse for such behavior (if I were to make one) would be that I was doing some research for a major screenplay rewrite. I did need some inspiration, and I'm happy to say that watching those films helped me gain some insight on what makes certain stories work and why. So it's kind of a plus that I watched those films; I got to satisfy my nostalgic cravings AND do some work.
I am so amazed with Nora Ephron (writer and director of Sleepless and You've Got Mail) and her creativity - she really knows how to make audiences fall in love with her films. Her lines are so spot on and so...so unforgettable, that it makes the films even more special. Her films work because she has all these little details that make the whole picture, in a sense, magical. Like in Sleepless in Seattle, there is a scene in which Annie (Meg Ryan), wide awake in the wee hours of the morning, decides to peel a green apple in the kitchen. She takes this kitchen knife and starts peeling the apple in one, long, curly strip. A few scenes later, when Jonah wakes up from a nightmare and Sam (Tom Hanks) rushes upstairs to comfort him, they talk about Maggie (Jonah's deceased mother and Sam's late wife) and how she could peel an apple in one, long, curly strip. It was such a tiny little detail but it immediately connected Sam and Annie - even if they hadn't met each other yet! Ephron's stories are strong and structured - the log line of that film says it all: "What if someone you never met, someone you never saw, someone you never knew, was the only someone for you?" What if, indeed? Annie and Sam were meant for each other, and the whole film is spent figuring out how they both will find that out. I rooted for them and wanted them to get together so bad, that the last scene of the film made me cry like a baby.
I must say, Nora Ephron is a genius.
Goodbye, blisters!
After two years of sucking up the pain from my too-tiny 6.5 nike shox, I finally upgraded to a running shoe so comfortable, it feels like I'm stepping on a fluffy bed of marshmallows.
These fabulous Nike Vomero 3s have cushioned my feet throughout the tough miles I ran this week. Soft, squishy and strong enough to support my ankles and cradle my feet, I couldn't have asked for a better graduation present. Now I don't have to worry about icky (and painful) blisters or sore feet.
Disclaimer: This is so not an ad... more like a random rant from a really satisfied consumer.
I should...but maybe not today.
I should really be studying for the GREs.
Before this summer started, I made a mental list of the things I would do in the summer to keep me occupied, of which included running, practicing my french, reading, WRITING, and studying for the GREs. So far, I've only been consistent with one thing: running. Everything else seems to be a lost cause.
I tried practicing french when Tatie Rose sent us a package from France, and my mom needed a translator to figure out whether Gommage was a facial wash or a feminine wash. The chocolate was easy to figure out, and my two brothers lunged for the ones marked lait. I would've feasted on my favorite noir de noir by Cote d'Or, but that would've canceled out my running. So I stared at the mounds of chocolate and ate the tiny packet of roasted cashews instead.
Reading's a bust since I haven't picked a book to read. And the most writing I've ever done so far was on this blog, so my feature-length screenplay has yet to see the light of day.
That leaves me with studying for the GREs. I tried doing it the other day and was about to do the diagnostic test when I fell asleep. Darn. I was so close! I guess it wasn't such a fantastic idea to try and study after running 8 miles. Oh well.
Despite the disappointing turnout of my summer plans, I did accomplish something I hadn't planned on doing this summer, which is finish all 3 seasons of Arrested Development. That show is beyond amazing. I just wish I took my time and didn't watch it in haste. Now I'm left with crappy television...unless of course I study instead.
Ehhh I think I'll study tomorrow. (Yeah, right.)
Water really does you good.
I finally embarked on my anti-chub journey and started working out again, with my running buddy Jackie. We've both packed on some unwanted pounds over the course of our senior year and have been looking forward to this summer's workouts since school ended for both of us. We started this week with a bang: on Monday we ran 4.5 miles around our local lake. Surprisingly, none of us collapsed or sprained anything, considering we hadn't worked out in so long. Then again it was probably because we were running at an injured snail's pace. But that doesn't matter.
On Tuesday, we challenged ourselves by running AND swimming. We ran around the lake again, and put in our 4.5 miles for the day and then we drove to a local lap pool and swam about 22 laps. Holy cow were we tired! We were on a mission. There was no stopping us --- that is, until we got home and took long naps. We were exhausted.
Nonetheless, we pushed through for Wednesday and ran around the lake yet again. We were running faster than when we first started, so our blistered feet and inexperienced lungs were definitely hating us. It was not quite an easy run. Personally, my legs were just about ready to fall off. I was surprised I finished running the whole thing with all my limbs still intact. My blistered feet, though? Well that's another story.
Thursday... was hell. We decided we were probably pro enough to try this one trail Jackie and her buddies used to do in her running class. The Gate, which was a trail that basically leads to (you guessed it) a gate, may sound simple, but there's a catch. You have to run through a steep hill to get to it. I was a MESS! I was trudging along the hill for what seemed like forever, my lungs were pumping like there was no tomorrow, and my heart --- oh my poor heart was beating itself to death. I concluded that this trail was definitely another form of self-torture...but believe it or not, we finished. Miraculously, we felt fine afterwards, so we thought, why not go for the gold? We then proceeded to do some water aerobics at the local pool.
Now we get to today --- which we started off by running laps around the local track. We were originally planning on running about 16 laps (which is generally about 4 miles), but we got interrupted by a class at the end of our 8th lap so we left and went home. But the day is not over yet --- later today we are going to run about 6 miles at this place by the marina. Hoorah! Here's to hoping I make it through that.
This week was definitely tough, but I have to admit, it feels pretty darn good to get back into working out again! It'll definitely be a challenge trying to lose all those pounds but I'm up for it. Aside from learning that consistency and persistence are both key in living healthy, I learned another thing in terms of effective weight loss: drink tons of water. I've heard many people say it to me before, but none of them ever explained why. Jackie found the answer in her Biochemistry book. According to it, water washes the fat cells away. AH! Now it all makes sense. At least now there is a logical explanation as to why it'd be good to drink gallons of water. Well, cheers to that!
*Photo courtesy of: Miox. My Water. My World. www.miox.com*Biochemistry Book: Campbell
Life lessons from a plumber and a chubby dinosaur.
Persistence. That's what I've learned from playing Super Mario World.
My nifty little bro had gracefully hooked me up with an SNES engine that runs a variety of Super Mario games on my mac. That way, after checking my monster account, editing my resume and CV billions of times, browsing craigslist for random temp job openings, and watching almost every video available on youtube, I have the option of running my SNES engine to revisit my childhood and attempt to put a stop on King Koopa's regime. I get so into it that I don't notice how much time I spend searching for the "blue yoshi" and making Mario "fly". Of course, when the going gets tough, I tend to get discouraged. Like when I start hearing the threatening sound motif for the "dark stages" (babies of the 80s all know what that sounds like), or when I start entering the castle, or the abandoned ship filled with enraged ghost balls. When it comes to these levels I have the nifty little bro deal with it because he usually gets us through to the next stage. But then I've discovered that if I kept trying I could actually figure out a way to beat whatever level I find particularly difficult. I mean, that's essentially what video games are about --- trial and error. But when all I get is ERROR, I have to admit, I get pretty damn erratic. It's funny how a menagerie of awkward-looking villains could actually drive me crazy. Especially those damn plants.
Nonetheless, I play. As frustrated and agitated as I get, I continue to fight the fight with Mario and Yoshi, getting nothing but satisfaction from saving Princess Peach. Or a tiny bespeckled egg. I guess it's a fun way to practice persistence. That, or I'm really just a bored college graduate. I most definitely prefer the latter.
Freckles could teach us a thing or two.
When I wake up hungry I know it's a sign that my chubby battles are far from over. I haven't been feeling all that great lately, and I know it's important that I love myself first and foremost. In my effort to break the bonds of emo-ness, I found myself surfing youtube for some useful insight. I found my answer below:
When negativity bites you in the butt.
Being a recent graduate is quite peculiar. It's like going through puberty all over again; minus the awkward growth spurts. You party and celebrate your liberation from the grips of educational institutions from which you have been constantly subjected to since you were like, three years old. Then you start the job-hunt, or move back home, or both, and all of a sudden, you question why on earth you partied and celebrated like a fool just a couple weeks back when all graduation really meant was the END to a great era called COLLEGE LIFE. In debt, jobless, and surprisingly overcome with boredom, you wonder why you had looked forward to graduation in the first place. You're confused, lost, maybe even slightly depressed and possibly harboring some low self-esteem, and you ask yourself: will I ever land a job? Your dreams of becoming "who-you-want-to-be" are totally erased; and you begin entertaining thoughts of what could happen to you if you don't pay your student loan payments on time. The worst part of it all is that you feel that it is only happening to YOU. There was nothing my mother could say or do to convince me that I wasn't alone in this and that I had what it takes to jump start my career. She kept telling me that all I had to do was to stay positive - and here I was telling her a number of reasons why I just couldn't. Our conversation eventually turned sour; and ended with her hanging up on me. I managed to give her a headache by constantly reminding her that the odds were stacked against me and that there was nothing I could do about it. I was definitely lacking some positive juices today. Darn.
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