Some Like It Hot

I was naked around more than one person this weekend.

I wasn't in Tijuana, so rule out donkey shows. I'm still alive, so I wasn't a part of the Bodies Exhibit. No, I just did some good ol' fashioned skinny-dipping.

I drove down to San Jose for a friend's surprise birthday party--a long drive but I'd go a million miles JuSs cUz I LuV dOiN' h00drAt ShYt wiT mAh freNdZ. So, after several "long time no see"s and a very successful surprise (this is, like, the fourth time we've surprised her; we're a little concerned whether or not she’s actually aware that people are constantly keeping secrets from her), the party began with a bang.

And by bang I mean tequila.

We took a few shots, drank some beers, played some pong (since we're all adults), took a few more shots, and a few more...

So, fast forward maybe 45 minutes into the party, and Angie is feeling rather toasty.

Facebook Update: Angie Picardo and Jose Cuervo are in a relationship, and it's complicated.

The party was slowing down a little at that point. People were having mellow, drunken conversations, the munchies were making their rounds. So, I stepped into my office (went to the bathroom) so I could collect my thoughts (pee for 6 minutes straight), and I thought to myself, "Hey, you. You're pretty drunk. I don’t think you’re done being drunk yet. Let's go swimming."

Now, I'm not one to toot my own horn, but when I set my mind to something, I make sure it gets done. If I say I'm gonna leave my homework to the last minute, god dammit, that shit's getting done with only seconds to spare.

I'm ambitious.

So, I stepped out of the bathroom and stood next to the pool, fully clothed. In my mind I had imagined an epic Anchor Man-like moment in which the music screeched in time for my grand speech and perfect cannon ball. Instead, I was barely standing, only able to drunkenly grunt, "Hey Taylor! Happy birthday!" I then jumped into the pool, getting high enough to plunge me to the bottom of the pool.

You know those moments in movies where everything goes in slow mo, and a moment that actually lasts 4 seconds somehow leaves time for 5 minutes of thought? If not, you've never watched television and have no connection to the outside world. Go watch a movie and you'll get it, you freaking shut-in. Go find friends, you lonely, sad human being.

:)

Well, when I was under water, a few thoughts crossed my mind:

1. My shoes are on.

2. I think I forgot how to swim

3. I’m really, really obnoxious.

I, personally, think I am a really obnoxious person. I’m loud, drunk (perpetually), inappropriate, and far more “bro” than I’m willing to admit. I’ve actually made a conscious effort to restrain myself and keep quiet in social situations.

I have a little work to do. P.S. What up, left boob?

Most nights after drinking or just being out with people, I usually regret something I said or did just because when I think back, I was just straight up irritating. But today I stumbled upon something on…StumbleUpon.

It was an explanation of the “Gift Theory.” Ken Page, a New York based psychotherapist, starts by describing our “core gifts,” or the qualities we possess that best help us find love. He relates it to romantic love, but I think it fits for all different kinds of love, romantic or platonic.

He says that we may decide that we’re too quiet, too aggressive, too loud, etc., but actually those are the qualities that we should pay most attention to; these are often the qualities that make up our core gifts.

He describes the model for his theory as a target with a bullseye and concentric rings that surround the center. At the center are our core gifts, our most intense and authentic qualities. You’d think that tapping into these qualities as soon as we discover them would make sense, but since these are our most powerful and concentrated qualities, that isn’t such a great idea. I liked the way Page described it:

[Our core gifts] get us in trouble again and again. We become most defensive or most naïve around them. They challenge us and the people we care about. They ask more of us than we want to give. And we can feel devastated when we feel them betrayed or rejected.

Since our core is so intense, we protect ourselves by moving further away from the center, out into the larger rings of the target. The further away we get, the safer we feel, the less trouble we cause for ourselves. But this safety comes at a price. We begin to forget who we are and lose touch with our authentic selves.

Think about it like making s’mores by a campfire. In order to make that glorious, ooey-gooey sandwich of goodness absolutely perfect, the marshmallow needs to be on point. If you shove that bad boy right into the middle of the fire, you’ll have a flaming meteor of carcinogens. Definitely not the business.

If you don’t get close enough, you have a cold marshmallow that won’t melt the chocolate and will make you hate all of mankind when you bite into cold layers of graham cracker, marshmallow and chocolate, not a s’more.

Instead you need to find that happy medium where your marshmallow can get enough heat to gently melt it all the way to the core while maintaining a slightly burnt, tropical-vacation-golden-brown exterior.

Yes, there are times when we are too much, when we push things too far. But a burnt marshmallow doesn’t mean we put out the fire. We adjust and learn from our burns, our wounds, our insecurities.

Our greatest strengths lie both in our joys and in our deepest anxieties. We need to be willing to explore ourselves and find those qualities that make us who we are because once we find them, we can begin to apply them to our daily lives and give our loved ones only the best, most authentic versions of ourselves.

You think you’re too quiet? You’re probably incredibly perceptive. Think you care too much? You’re likely to be one person who cares enough. Think you’re too loud? Maybe you are just the catalyst to get people out of their shells and make life the party it should be.

When I swam up to the surface of that pool, I expected to see everyone still in their seats, frowning at the drunk girl who went too far. Instead, I broke the surface and opened my eyes to a pool full of people splashing around, smiling, laughing…taking off their clothes…

One of my friends swam over (half to talk, half to save me since my booze brain didn’t understand how to swim) and said, “Thanks for jumping in. That’s exactly what we all needed.”

Don’t be so quick to fix yourself; maybe you just don’t realize exactly how to use your gifts. Blame it on my Berkeley brain, but I don’t think you should ever throw away any part of yourself. Just recycle and reuse :)

So, be open to yourself, be open to explore. If you end up naked in a pool, eating a s’more, you’re probably on the right track.

Thanks for reading!

Why I Write Everyday

HAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHA.

Wait. Hold on.

HAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHA.

Ok, I'm almost--

HAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHA.

Okay. I'm composed.

Today, I looked at my old MySpace. All I can say is...

HHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAA.

Honestly, guys. What the HELL was that all about? Remember the days when everyone was a computer programmer all of a sudden and knew how to pimp their page, custom backgrounds and theme music galore? It was saaoooo cool to LyKe ToTaLLy x-PrEsS UrSeLf ThrU Ur PaGe.

Ugh. I can't even read that. I feel like I just had a stroke.

I think seeing my MySpace was particularly hilarious because the last time I did anything to it was when I was a senior in high school. Now, let me tell you, 18 year old Angie was a special kind of Angie.

This is what I looked like:



Pretty much the same. I don't really chew gum anymore.

But MySpace has more to offer than that. I browsed through old comments and they make NO sense.

Example:

"I'm glad you remembered my birthday. Yes, I did come to school today. I also semi enjoyed the note you left on my back window. It made me want to be a real magician."

I just can't make that shit up.

But even beyond the ridiculous teenage conversations about magicians and that epic night when we had, like, a beer, I absolutely LOVED reading my "about me" section. I was immediately sucked back in time--as awkward and "misunderstood" as ever.



Oh, teenage angst. I was such an asshole. Thinking about me as a teenager makes me want to give birth to a 25 year old so I can skip all those years of misdirected anger and...bodily changes.

Gross.

I love what I wrote about myself because you can tell how confused I was when writing it. I was confused but honest.

"About Me:

Id like to say Im simple but Im not. I might be one of the most complicated people you meet but i think thats what makes me so intriguing. i love music but dont like to dance. i think like an athlete but act like a noob. i value friendship and my family above anything except the big man, G-O-D. i learn from my mistakes but months after its happened. i love electronic stuff. im a really big nerd. i read scientific american. i like knowing random facts. i like to think im a bad ass, but im not. i give myself too much time to think. im emotional. i like to talk but i like listening better. i hate talking on the phone. i live to text. my little brother is one of my best friends and im not ashamed to admit it. im always willing to fix a problem. i feel naked without my cell phone. my favorite color is tiffany blue. i like to pick up the check. i want to join the peace corps. i believe that the only reason we die is because otherwise, people wouldnt value life or take it seriously. i want to be like my sister. i crave attention. ive made 'people watching' a professional sport. i love to sit on my deck and listen to jack johnson under the stars. i have parties but i dont drink very often. i tend to judge people but im working on it. im loud when i first meet you, then i mellow out when we become friends. i have a "parent face". im more spiritual than religious. my favorite food is potatoes. i have stress induced insomnia. awkwardness is my worst enemy. i cant live without my friends and i hope everyday, they think the same thing."

Conceited yet insecure. Intimate but superficial. Incorrect punctuation. Punctuation is for conformists.

And so fucking accurate.

I clearly don't understand a thing about myself. I have a pile of puzzle pieces, but I don't know what it's supposed to look like. It was a jumbled mess that my baby brain just couldn't figure out.

This is why I write EVERYDAY.

I recently had a conversation with my roommate about measuring how far we've come in the past couple of years. Pictures and awards can only say so much. Nothing beats reading your own writing.

Yeah, they say a picture is worth a thousand words, but when you have a line like "I'd like to say I'm simple, but I'm not," I'll take quality over quantity any day.

Who I am today, right now, is what I was looking for when I wrote those words. When I try to look back and figure out how far I've come, I try not to think about what I've accomplished or where I've succeeded--I look at how much I've come to understand myself.

Every moment in our lives, success and failure included, helps us to get to know ourselves that much better and bring us that much closer to truly understanding what we have to offer the world. How we react when faced with a challenge speaks more to our character than if we won or lost.

I write everyday to document my fears, my assumptions, my confusion, because the only way I know that I've gotten close to finding myself is by looking at how lost I once was.

I encourage you to write everyday. Doesn't have to be long. Even just a snippet on a napkin. People think journals are for pussies, but I promise you won't regret it. There's more to it than just remembering what you did that day. It's remembering that day through the lens of a younger, sometimes stupider, you.

So, write as often as possible. Share some, keep most for yourself.

Sometimes there are things we can't say. But you can write everything.



Stay classy, luvbugz :)

I need training wheels.

I didn’t think it was possible to fail so many times in a week. Most of the time, we have an off day or two; maybe one thing in particular doesn’t go as planned.

Last week, this was not the case. At the peak of my 7 days of rejection, disappointment, and an inordinate amount of physical pain was the moment I just gave up.

I fell off my bike. I fell off my bike in my driveway before I even started moving.

After waking up to my dad yelling at me on the phone that morning, I got on my bike to ride to school. I figured a nice ride would take my mind off all the negativity of the morning, so I stepped on the right pedal and pushed down for a nice, smooth send off.

Whoops. The chain didn’t catch.

I somehow got pushed between gears and it didn’t catch the chain, sending my foot straight into the ground and toppling my bike (and all of its pointy, metal objects) onto my entire right side.

So, my bike is a little old school and has these thingys called downtube shifters.

You change gears by moving the paddles up and down, but it doesn’t click like most bikes when you change gears. You have to move it gradually and feel when the chain switches into the next gear. Sometimes you skip a gear, sometimes your come up short, and (apparently) you sometimes get stuck in between gears. You simply just don’t know.

So, completely fed up and terrified of getting back on the saddle, I pushed both the gear paddles down all the way just to be in a gear, any gear. I was just afraid of the chain not catching again.

Of course, I send it into the hardest gear, which was GREAT for these Berkeley hills. I figured showing up to class sweating like a prostitute in church was better than getting there covered in my (and probably some helpless victim’s) blood.

I spent the rest of the day laboring on my bike, fighting the toughest gears because I was too chicken to try to change gears again. I just couldn’t take yet another failure, and I just didn’t know if it would catch.

The fear of failure, or simply not knowing what the future holds, is what triggers any obstacle in our lives. Friends, family, work, school, anything. No matter what the conflict, the fear of disappointment turns us against ourselves, making us our own worst enemies.

Since graduation is rapidly approaching, it’s natural for my fellow seniors and I to, you know, FREAK THE FUCK OUT. People keep asking “So, what are your plans?” or “Well, now what?” I’ve even gotten the occasional, “Man, leaving college is gonna suck.”

But, as much as I may try to convince myself that I’ll totally use my beer pong skills in the real world, I need to face the reality that a big step in my life is right around the corner...and I don’t know what the fack I’m doing.

At the end of last year, I tried to reach out and grab anything that looked like it was “good for my future.” I latched onto anything that would give me the stability that I thought I needed to be successful. I looked at internships and volunteer opportunities that I had no connection to but thought would look good on a résumé.

This pathetic attempt at forced clarity was like frantically shoving my bike into gear just to get moving. Just doing whatever I thought was safe or would give me definitive answers just made it so much harder to move forward. My fear of the unknown kept me from building the future I actually wanted for myself.

At the end of that painfully disappointing day, I decided to give up. I sat in my snuggie and watched Mad Men until I fell asleep. I figured I couldn’t fail if I didn’t try to do anything.

Hours later, it wasn’t until the buzz of a text message scared me awake that I managed to peel myself off the couch. It was a text from a friend who wanted to come over and hang out. I met up with her expecting to be a pooper and just talk about my shitty day.

LoLz ^^ Pooper. Shitty. Ha.

But instead, in that very short time, the world was different. We sat in her living room and just laughed. I think we were laughing about frozen fruit or something, but we laughed away all the bullshit that I let rent space in my mind.

Hanging out with a friend, laughing your ass off, doing anything you love is like that perfect shift—when you push the paddle just enough to get that perfect catch where the chain smoothly snaps into place, helping you adjust to the road, and making the ride that much easier. Most of all, it’s times like these that make the ride just plain fun.

Downtube shifters show no mercy. Sometimes the chain slips. Sometimes you get stuck between gears. But sometimes, when you ease into it, when you practice, when you let go of your fear of failing, you get that perfect catch.

We fear our futures for the same reason children (or wussy ass adults) fear the dark. We just don’t know what’s waiting for us.

Cal’s school motto is fiat lux, or “let there be light.” You can spend your time trying to force clarity, doing what you’re told, and doing whatever possible to get out of the dark. But don’t forget that it’s only in the complete darkness that we can fully see the stars.

With that starlight, the universe is ours to traverse, to explore, to discover.

These past couple of weeks, I’ve learned to let go of my fear of failure and the temptation to worry about what I cannot change. At Cal, I’ve had the pleasure of meeting new friends and the privilege of getting closer to old ones. It’s through these relationships that I’ve been able to experience Cal, and life in general, from a number of different perspectives. They’ve helped me realize that there is more than one path to success and no two are alike.

I look forward to navigating this freakin’ abyss that is my future because I know that I have absolutely incredible people who are helping me along the way, and who make every second that much easier. Cal has taught me so much and given me the tools I need to succeed in the real world, but, most of all, Cal has given me some of the greatest people I think I’ll ever know.

These people—the people who make me live for Sunday nights, who make me feel 18 again, who make me want to be better—are my light. They’re the light I need to find my way to happiness.

So, the SparkNotes for my little rant?

1. Don’t sit there and bitch about how things are scary or difficult. You’ll end up on the couch for 6 hours with nothing but a sweaty snuggie and shame.

2. Embrace the unknown because when nothing is defined, anything is possible.

3. Make sure your friends and family know how thankful you are to have them in your life everyday because without them, you’ll end up in your driveway with a bike on top of you.

That last one might not be completely accurate. You know better than to trust SparkNotes.

Academic Alcoholic

Last night, I went 6-0 in beer pong. If you're in college, you can appreciate how legit that is. If you're not in college, you probably think I'm a douche.

So, after copious amounts of obnoxious celebration, this recent win streak got me thinking. I have ONE YEAR left in this magical wonderland called college, and I feel that I have acquired (mastered *ahem*) a number of useless skills.

Unless the fate of the world and humankind depends on me ending a nuclear war by throwing an object similar to a ping-pong ball into a kill switch that is 8 feet away and strategically shaped like a red cup (yes, it has to be red), I'm afraid my beer pong skills are completely useless.

But although bouncing a quarter into a glass or somehow fitting 2 liters of beer in my stomach won't impress future employers, perhaps I've learned more than a couple bar tricks. I gave it some thought and realized that a lot of these seemingly useless college escapades can and will help me when I venture out into the real world.

Don't agree with me? This is how I see it. Some of it makes sense. Some is just to make me feel better about the fact that I take time to practice drinking games (yes, this actually happens). Either way, I had a damn good time doing it. Sorry I'm not sorry.

Flip Cup: strengthens your ability to work with a team. In this game you are a teammate, coach, and cheerleader. Few other activities really emphasize the importance of patience, teamwork, and the power of motivation. You never want to be the weak link, so you give 110% to the team.

King's Cup: teaches one how to adapt to his or her environment. Keeping track of the Thumb Master or following all of the RIDICULOUS rules people make up (like no pointing or freaking cure cancer before opening your beer or something) forces you to be aware of your environment and to pick up on every nuance while in, uh, particularly difficult circumstances.

Also, when someone pulls a "categories" card, there are only so many breakfast cereals or 18th century Gothic architects the average person can name off the top of their head. You'll need to be able to think quickly on your feet and recall all that information hidden in every nook and cranny in your brain. And you thought it was just a card game. Psh.

Beer Pong: humility. There is a very fine line between cockiness and confidence. You can sink 9 cups in a row, but back to back grenades, a bounce and an island could mean a dramatic end to your near perfect game. Think too much, you choke. Too careless, blow the game. Maintaining your composure when you're up or down in the cup count (or in life) is absolutely imperative.

Outside of drinking games...

Buying alcohol: prioritizing. What's more important? Getting fed or getting faded? Do you buy the 30 rack and skip dinner, or do you invest in a nutritious meal but sacrifice the absolutely hilarious and inevitable debauchery that goes hand in hand with inebriation?

Procrastination: yup. It's a good thing. While in school, procrastination is, well, masochistic. But all those nights of cramming, greeting the sun with a can of Red Bull in hand was not for nothing. In the workplace, deadlines happen. They happen so fast that even taking a bathroom break is seen as procrastinating. Good thing you're used to shitting out 47 pages on the Russian Revolution in less than an hour. Anything after that is a cakewalk.

TELEbears: Learning to accept the things you can't control. Now, TELEbears is the UC Berkeley class registration system, but this concept applies to anyone who has ever had to sign up for classes online. Signing up for classes is always an infuriating, dramatic, and often devastating chore, and being obligated to do it twice a year is two times too many.

Any system that takes seven clicks to sign up for a class but only one to pay tuition is bound to not have it's users' best interest at heart. It breaks down and when it does work, you're only allowed to access it from 4:05 - 4:06 AM on the third Wednesday of every other February, on leap year...or something of that nature.

It's a system that you need but it doesn't need you, and that’s something we have to live with. There will be many times that we'll be dependent on something that makes NO sense, but sitting there and complaining about it won't get the job done. Bitching about how TELEbears froze just in time to put you 8374578743983947th on the wait list isn't going to get you the class. Grin and bear it. Sometimes our pride takes a shot for the greater good. It teaches you to roll with the punches and to be ready for anything.

They always say that the most important lessons are learned outside of the classroom. I feel I've done my fair share of field research. Who knew I'd be drinking and procrastinating my way to success?

Just know that there’s a lesson to be learned in everything. What you learn in the books probably won't stick, but the street smarts you've (hopefully) acquired will be added to your Batman Utility Belt for life.

But for the time being...6-0 BABY!!! SAY SOMETHIN'.

College <3

C(ollege).R.E.A.M.

^^ This shirt comes custom made with your resumè on the back. Lolz.


Everyone--

Something has happened. Something that seemed to be less likely than the rapture and just short of pigs flying.

Angeli M. Picardo has a job.

The transition from pong table to desk may not have been anticipated, but it's actually been pretty fantastic. I'm learning a lot of new things while polishing some of the skills I already had. I write for NerdWallet, a credit card comparison web site where you can find a credit card tailored to your specific needs. They also offer some great advice on a number of personal finance topics via their blog.

Plug? What plug?



I spend my day rummaging around personal finance blogs, doing research on anything and everything money related. Switching from funny cats to rewards credit cards makes my Google search history look very, very different. Not better. Just different.

I know several new graduates who are already missing the blissful irresponsibility that is, for one reason or another, totally acceptable in college. I've decided that the only difference people see between being a college student and being an adult is that element of irresponsibility.

I understand that people love the idea of living a life with virtually no consequences, but now that I've somewhat worked my way into the workforce, I don't really understand why people think acting a fool is the shit and two pennies.

Of course, in college, we don't need to really worry about bills, mortgages, yada yada, but just because we need to be responsible from 9-5 doesn't mean we can't be a little reckless from time to time. And the same goes for college--we don't need to act like complete ass-tards to fully "enjoy" the college experience.

I recently got a super sweet message from my friend and old next-door neighbor, Joe, saying that he wrote about us Mancave Girls in one of his essays. His very kind words show that having fun doesn't mean being fucking stupid. Check it out:

" I generally hate parties, but tossing back a few beers with [my neighbors] was more like sipping the nectar of social community than 'getting drunk'- which, save a few incidents, I never succumbed to, and even if I ended up in an unfortunate state, their support was unending and infinitely valuable to me. They never pressured me to change anything about myself, and overall, I cherish every moment I spent with them. Considering that drinking is near inevitable in a college setting, I was incredibly lucky to meet such incredible girls to do so with in a wholly positive manner."

Super nice, right?

"The nectar of social community"

That's the real difference between college and adulthood. Being social gets more difficult and awkward when we leave college not because we're in a new environment, but because we start to replace fun with responsibility. BUT -- it doesn't have to be this way.

In college, making friends is easy because you can walk into a frat house, grab a beer and dive right into the belly of the social beast. But, really, I can't remember the last time I left a frat house with anything but shame and other people's sweat. Just because I'm handed social interaction on a silver platter doesn't mean it's gonna be quality.

It's just about balance. There's no need to lose your shit in college and you don't need to go shopping for a new stick to put up your butt right after graduation.

I bring these things up not because graduation is slowly creeping up on me, but because I feel like drawing a distinct line between being a kid and being an adult makes for really lame people. And I don't want to be surrounded by lame people.

Party not just responsibly, but reasonably in college, and bring some of that "balls-to-the-wall-I-don't-give-a-fuhhh" mentality (that all of us college students seem to have) to the workplace after graduation.


^^jazzed.

Why do companies like young college students so much?

Because we finna get paid.

How do you get paid?

Working hard and going the extra mile.

Ever gotten yourself crazy amped before taking a shot when you know that the last thing you need in the world is another shot? Take that energy and DGAF/Let'sMuhFukkinDoDisShit attitude and apply it to your work.

First you get the money, then you get the bitches.

I think one of my favorite things about college is that I'm surrounded by people who can party hard, but have their shit together. For example:

This girl was DONEZO 11 minutes into being 21 years old, but she currently works at the White House.



The first thing this guy did in 2011 was throw up THE WORLD, but he's working on his master's degree.



This girl is a Pac-10 rowing champion, AND she's a ninja.



These people go hard in anything and everything they do. Only thing that changes is if they got a pen or a shot glass (or ninja stick) in hand.

I feel like my last couple of posts have been a little preachy and me just dishing out common knowledge, but I'm feeling inspired these days. I definitely feel like I've been improving myself and generally becoming better lately, but I don't feel like I'm "turning into an adult."

I must be doing something right.

Getting older doesn't suck. Would you ever want to be 13 again? No, of course not. That was horrible. Just so ugly and horrible.

It'll only get better from here, but only if you want it to. Working toward a degree or a paycheck, surrounding a keg or a watercooler, fun knows no boundaries.

"Nobody grows old merely by living a number of years. We grow old by deserting our ideals. Years may wrinkle the skin, but to give up enthusiasm wrinkles the soul." --S. Ullman

Catch me if you can...

On April 29, 2011, there was one question on everyone's mind:

WHY NOT ME?!?!

Something like 2/3 of the PLANET tuned in to see two rich, beautiful people's lives get even more fantastic. I, on the other hand, was part of the 1/3 that decided 4 am was a little too early to wear a fancy hat and be reminded of the castle and fairy tale wedding I didn't have.

I think we're all in agreement when I say -- God damn you, Kate Middleton.

Top 3 Reasons Why I want to be Kate Middleton:

1. She is absolutely stunning.

2. She gets to hang out with her friends and do royal shit.

3.


Boom.

^^ Lolz. Little girl. Not feelin' it.

I finally watched the wedding three weeks after the fact. I waited because, well, I didn't think I could handle it. I wanted to be her so badly that I didn't think I could handle watching her perfect life.

So, I snuggled up on the couch and scrolled down the Tivo list to ABC's broadcast of The Royal Wedding.

Question: Why is Barbara Walters still allowed on television? Homegirl brought up suicide twice and cut everyone off at least once. Calm down, Barbara. Calm down.



Anyways, the entire ceremony was, of course, extravagant and beautiful. The colors, the hats, the awful teeth. Everything was as it should have been.

But, to my surprise, I wasn't as upset as I thought I'd be. I figured I'd be on the floor sobbing with an empty box of Kleenex in one hand, half bottle of scotch in the other. I was actually perfectly composed. In my snuggie.

I attribute my composure to one moment in the wedding -- William and Kate are riding in the open carriage from Westminster Abbey to Buckingham Palace. The newlyweds are waving, flawless smiles gleaming. Suddenly the sky clears just enough to let down what seems to be God's heavenly light on Kate's angelic face, and all I could think was:

"Man. She looks hungry."

In a moment that seemed to capture everything that is incredible and perfect about Kate Middleton, all I thought was that she looked like she was jonesin' for a sandwich. Hardcore.

She looked absolutely stunning, but what does it take to look that incredible? A diet of ice water and a cherry tomato (only on your splurge day). As impossible as it sounds, being Kate Middleton is not easy. The entire world demands that she be perfect. Now, tell me, how the fuck do you do that?

Yes, she gets to be rich, beautiful and chillax with the Queen on Sundays, but will her life ever really be perfect? Running from paparazzi, forced to look fly 24/7, faced with a never-ending search for her flaws. Not so perfect to me.

- - -

Yesterday, I was having a conversation with my grandma over dinner about my grades. 3.78 GPA. Respectable. I know many an-asian-parent that would immediately ask "Why not 4.0?" My grandma, on the other hand, was glad I had a B+ on my transcript. Why, I ask.

"Because if you're perfect, you're stupid."

My grandma is like the super old/super wise turtle from Kung Fu Panda.



At first, she says stuff and you're like "WTF?" but then later you're like "Oh."

I came to realize that being perfect is stupid because it doesn't exist. My grandma explained that yeah, I could get a 4.0 but that would mean I'm either cheating or I'm working too hard. Not so perfect.

Graduation season got me thinking about "my future" and real life and the horrible mess of other things I should be worrying about.

2011. I was "supposed to" graduate this year. My facebook newsfeed is flooded with statuses about the Class of 2011, caps and gowns galore. My high school buddies land incredible jobs and update their "Work" information, inevitably making me wonder who I'm gonna be. Will I get a good job? Will I make a lot of money? Am I on the path to a perfect life?

All terribly stupid questions.

Get ready for it. Another Fight Club reference. Book this time, not movie.

Tyler Durden enters the novel on the beach, constructing something out of wood. The sun slowly sets and the narrator asks what he's building. Tyler says that at exactly 4:30 pm, the stacked pieces of beachwood cast a perfect shadow of a hand. For one minute, Tyler sat in the palm of perfection for which he alone was responsible. One minute of perfection. He leaves the narrator saying,

"A moment was the most you could ever expect from perfection."

Perfection is an instant.

When we try to be perfect, we only see our flaws. It's not a state of being. If perfect were a destination, we would come to a stop. Being perfect would mean there's nothing else because anything beyond that would simply be a mistake.

Seeing perfection as a moment in time keeps us moving, working toward the next time nothing matters and everything makes sense.

Perfection is the feeling when they finally hand you your order after half an hour in the In-n-Out drive thru. Perfection is seeing your grandparents laugh. Perfection is waking up and realizing it's Saturday so you can sleep in. Perfection is when you can finally exhale and release all the worries you had one second ago, even if it's just for one more second. Two seconds of perfection. It's worth chasing.

I'm not perfect. You're not perfect. Kate Middleton isn't perfect. All we can do is work to find perfection.

Albert Einstein said, "Life is like riding a bicycle. To keep your balance, you must keep moving."

Keep moving. Keep chasing. You will never reach perfect. You'll meet it. When you do, embrace it. Cherish it. Remember it because in an instant, it'll pass, ready for the next round of hide and seek.

It's taken me some time to understand that everything I have done thus far is not a means to an end. Getting my degree, getting a job -- that's not where it ends because there is no end.

As I move through my final year of college, I'll work hard not to reach a perfect state, but to create as many perfect moments as I can, to see more perfection in the world, to continue the chase, and catch it again and again.

36.

Death, uh, I mean, dead week. Some use it to party, some use it to sleep. Most use it to re-learn an entire semester’s worth of information, not because we were procrastinating, but because pressure makes diamonds, right? :)

Yesterday, I finally sat down at my desk and decided that it was time to begin this 7-day study marathon. How did I start? With a ceremonial 4 hour StumbleUpon sesh, of course.

After copious amounts of cute kitten pictures, macaroni and cheese recipes, and your everyday, run of the mill weird shit, I stumbled upon an article entitled “27 Lessons I’ve Learned in 27 Years.” Everything this person said was spot on (in both good and bad ways), but it left me a little puzzled/excited/concerned. I feel like I learned a majority of these things just during this school year. This either shows that I’ve made the most of my experience so far or that my eyes have been shut for the past 22 years.

So, I decided to compile my own list – 36 Lessons I Learned in 36 Weeks.

One or two are taken directly from the article I mentioned because they are both universal and so personalized at the same time. Also, I had a lot of help learning these lessons. Only some of these are personal realizations – most are because I have awesome friends who challenge me, make me better, and are willing to learn right there with me. Hope you guys enjoy. Feel free to post what you guys learned. God knows it’s nothing on that study guide sitting in front of you.

1. Keep a journal. It makes you listen to yourself, and you’re held more accountable for what you say and feel. And it’s almost always hilarious to read later.

2. Don’t let pancake mix dry on your clothes – it NEVER comes off.

3. You train people how to treat you.

4. You can never be too old for something. You can take yourself too seriously. You can’t be too old.

5. Cry.

6. Listen carefully. “Though something may be foolishly spoken, it may be wisely heard.” –Emerson

7. Sometimes you need to be lost to really figure out where you are.

8. Bring a camera with you everywhere.

9. Don’t expect to get everything from one person. That’s why we have more than one friend.

10. If something is easy, it probably isn’t really worth doing.

11. Beer is awesome. And not awesome.

12. If something bothers you, speak up ASAP. Not only will you fix the problem sooner, you’ll feel a lot better.

13. Everything you say or do has an impact in one way or another.

14. Tell your family you love them everyday.

15. What happens in Vegas should really, really stay in Vegas.

16. You’re addicted to Facebook. Just accept it.

17. NEVER assume anyone has it easier than you. Everyone is going through something.

18. Entire (delicious) meals can be made in one electric skillet.

19. Sometimes things go wrong.

20. It’s never too late.

21. Not everyone is going to like you, so stop trying so hard.

22. One of the coolest/scariest/most bizarre feelings is seeing yourself in another person.

23. Sing. Doesn’t matter if you’re good or bad. Just sing.

24. Sometimes people need their space. Sometimes people need to be hugged. Knowing the difference is really difficult, but a mark of a true friend.

25. Eat vegetables.

26. Stay up late. The best shit happens past 1 am.

27. When you “people watch,” there are probably people watching you, too.

28. Keys, wallet, cell phone. Make sure you have at least these three things whenever you leave the house. Seriously.

29. You are beautiful.

30. “Life is in the transitions.”

31. Get a whiteboard. Wiping something off a to-do list feels soooooooo good.

32. When you or one of your friends says something really funny, put it on a post-it and stick it to the wall. When you see a note that says “I’m surprised you still have pants on” everyday, it’ll take you right back to that moment where you felt nothing but happy.

33. Talking about your feelings is never an imposition.

34. Lambs are baby sheep. Why I didn’t know that before, I have no idea.

35. Don’t stick with something until you’re unhappy. If it’s not working, fix it or get out.

36. It’s gonna be okay.

Mental Masturbation. NOTE: Clicking will not give you a computer virus.

I talk a lot of shit about my major. I mean, it's pretty easy because I'm surrounded by people who are studying Political Science and biology to become lawyers and doctors, and, well, I read books. I read books to become...someone who reads books.

It's so easy to second guess my major because there's always the question: How does being an English major help other people?

Usually, when faced with this question, I just mumble something unintelligible under my breath and hope the subject changes.

BUT -- today in class, I have come up with a real answer. Well, more of a question really. I'm used to hearing so much about fighting for MY education and MY right to be a part of this university, so why should I be studying just to help OTHER people?

The real question is: How does being an English major help me?

Of course, it's very important to want to contribute to the world and help others, but I really don't think I can effectively help anyone else before I help myself. So, as they always say, there's a time and a place for everything -- and it's called college.

Why not use my major to help me become the best person I can before I make my debut into the big, scary, real world?

So, I came to this mini-revelation today in my American Literature class. We were discussing Walt Whitman's "Song of Myself" and chose to focus on (what else?) the masturbation section.

Your tax dollars at work, people.

We read through it, and my teacher simply asked, "Well, why the hell do you think this section is in here?"

Several people took a crack at it, but I didn't really buy what they were saying. I took a second look at it and a few lines popped out at me (haha innuendo):

"On all sides prurient provokers stiffening my limbs,
Straining the udder of my heart for its withheld drip,
Behaving licentious toward me, taking no denial,
Depriving me of my best as for a purpose,"

Of course there was the initial "tee hee" at stuff like 'stiffening my limbs' and 'drip' (yuk), but if looked at more carefully, this urge doesn't seem to come from within himself. It's as if Whitman is being pushed into this masturbation.

Sketch.

Now, for those of you who really know me, you understand my unhealthy obsession with the movie "Fight Club." No one can forget the scene in which the GORGEOUS Mr. Tyler Durden says: "Self-improvement is masturbation."



The rest of Whitman's poem is centered on developing the self and an individual's creative process, so I raised my hand and said that in this section, Whitman is drawing a clear distinction between self-improvement and self-discovery.

Who or what are these external forces pushing Whitman into masturbation? Who or what is pushing us to constantly try to improve ourselves?

I believe there is something out there (and it may be different for each person) pressuring us to focus solely on self-improvement and completely disregard self-discovery. It's become more about sacrificing who we are in order to fit into a certain ideal as opposed to building a sense of identity based on our own inherent potential.

So I ask, why set ourselves on improving something we haven't yet fully discovered?

Now I have a new goal. Do all I can to discover me before trying to improve me. Who knows? Maybe a lot of the things I'm trying to fix just ain't broke in the first place.

Being an English major may not help cure cancer or land multi-million dollar accounts, but I'll take a new love for myself over the big bucks any day. You may disagree, but there ain't no pockets in the burial shroud, bro.

So take what you want from my annoying little lecture. Discover yourself before trying to change yourself. Masturbate because you want to. Whatevs. Thanks for reading.


Sermon over, Seacrest out.