每当我一下课，第一时间就是到图书馆去，今天也不例外。手刚要伸出去拉开图书馆的大门时，一个瘦小的男生突然插到我的前面，二话没说就把门拉开一点，从门缝里钻进去了。 看着他走进图书馆大厅的那一刹那，我心里百般不满地在想那个男生多么没有绅士风度。
顿时，我楞住了。令我意外的不是那个男生的无礼， 而是自己的第一反应。 从小在香港长大，对满街爱理不理的陌生人早就习惯了，永远都不会希望有人给我开门。初次来到犹他州时，每当有男生客气地为我开门时，我都会觉得不好意思。刚开始，我一直逞强，坚持为自己开门、拿东西，并告诉跟我约会的男生，我是一个新时代女性，不需要男人的呵护。但不知不觉中，我却慢慢地适应了大部分犹他州男生的绅士风度。现在，这个男生只不过是没有替我开门，我就潜意识地断定他不够“男人”。这时我才意识到，这两年来自己真的变了。
Tuesday, February 24, 2009
An hour at the bus stop
Riding the bus is a big deal for me.
The first time I took a bus here in Utah, I didn't realize that I was on the wrong bus until, two hours later, the bus driver asked me if it was the first time I had ridden a bus. So when Chad asked me to take the bus up to Sandy to go and hang out with his family, I was nervous. Chelsea and J.C. dropped me off at the bus stop and I stood there for a good long while until I realized that I had already missed the bus. I had another hour to kill until the next bus came around, so I stood, somewhat stranded, and waited. Meanwhile, I sat in the bus stop booth and watched.
I felt protected in my glass booth, leaving me somewhat removed in my human observatory. I watched all the people who passed by me, either on foot or on wheels. There was the happy couple who biked past me, laughing and joking as they passed. I don't know how they had managed to bike this whole time without crashing - they were gazing steadily into each others' eyes and mouthing I-love-yous that made me, who was inconspicuously watching, feel like I was intruding. There was really some Hollywood material right there.
I noticed the joggers, some more red-faced than the others, and wondered how they could find time to do all they had to and still make it to their daily jogs. Then I realized that I was the one who just planned on sitting at a bus stop for an hour, studying people.
Of course, there were the cars whizzing past. I liked looking at the people in the cars. Why is his music so loud? Are those two people dating? She is huge - when is she due? One honked at me and laughed. I felt a little indignant - I wasn't in his way. They all seemed to be in such a hurry.
But my favorite was the homeless man who shuffled past me. He was one of the stereotypical ones who stuffed his trolley with plastic bags full of stuff. I was tempted to start talking to him and ask him what he was carrying around all day long. I watched him for a long time. He peered into the garbage bin and gingerly picked up a disposed drink. He must not have liked the flavor (it was apple beer, I heard the man who threw it away tell his girlfriend) because he chucked it almost as soon as he sipped at the straw. Readjusting his hat, he continued onwards, seemingly oblivious to my obvious fascination in him. As I timed how often he heaved his giant backpack (on average, once every eight seconds!), I wondered where he was going. Did he know what his destination was? Did he even care? With the backdrop of cars whizzing past me, all determined to reach a set destination, I couldn't help but think about him when he disappeared around the corner.
Finally, the bus came. I boarded and picked a seat next to the window. After a couple of minutes, I saw the same trolley and giant backpack, this time abandoned on the side of the road. I craned my neck, concerned. I couldn't help smiling when I caught a quick glance of him sitting in Panda Express, enjoying his Chinese.
I guess he did know where he was going after all.
The first time I took a bus here in Utah, I didn't realize that I was on the wrong bus until, two hours later, the bus driver asked me if it was the first time I had ridden a bus. So when Chad asked me to take the bus up to Sandy to go and hang out with his family, I was nervous. Chelsea and J.C. dropped me off at the bus stop and I stood there for a good long while until I realized that I had already missed the bus. I had another hour to kill until the next bus came around, so I stood, somewhat stranded, and waited. Meanwhile, I sat in the bus stop booth and watched.
I felt protected in my glass booth, leaving me somewhat removed in my human observatory. I watched all the people who passed by me, either on foot or on wheels. There was the happy couple who biked past me, laughing and joking as they passed. I don't know how they had managed to bike this whole time without crashing - they were gazing steadily into each others' eyes and mouthing I-love-yous that made me, who was inconspicuously watching, feel like I was intruding. There was really some Hollywood material right there.
I noticed the joggers, some more red-faced than the others, and wondered how they could find time to do all they had to and still make it to their daily jogs. Then I realized that I was the one who just planned on sitting at a bus stop for an hour, studying people.
Of course, there were the cars whizzing past. I liked looking at the people in the cars. Why is his music so loud? Are those two people dating? She is huge - when is she due? One honked at me and laughed. I felt a little indignant - I wasn't in his way. They all seemed to be in such a hurry.
But my favorite was the homeless man who shuffled past me. He was one of the stereotypical ones who stuffed his trolley with plastic bags full of stuff. I was tempted to start talking to him and ask him what he was carrying around all day long. I watched him for a long time. He peered into the garbage bin and gingerly picked up a disposed drink. He must not have liked the flavor (it was apple beer, I heard the man who threw it away tell his girlfriend) because he chucked it almost as soon as he sipped at the straw. Readjusting his hat, he continued onwards, seemingly oblivious to my obvious fascination in him. As I timed how often he heaved his giant backpack (on average, once every eight seconds!), I wondered where he was going. Did he know what his destination was? Did he even care? With the backdrop of cars whizzing past me, all determined to reach a set destination, I couldn't help but think about him when he disappeared around the corner.
Finally, the bus came. I boarded and picked a seat next to the window. After a couple of minutes, I saw the same trolley and giant backpack, this time abandoned on the side of the road. I craned my neck, concerned. I couldn't help smiling when I caught a quick glance of him sitting in Panda Express, enjoying his Chinese.
I guess he did know where he was going after all.
Monday, February 2, 2009
Second Child Syndrome
I am a second child. It just hit me today that the people I really get along with tend to be the second child of their family. Every boy I've ever dated is a second child. There is a lot of research done investigating the link between birth order and personality traits. So I looked up articles on second child syndrome and see how I compare. According to this article, it seems that I am destined to be a sad, rebellious, and oftentimes ignored little girl. What do you think?
Second or middle children usually bemoan their fate as being ignored by everyone in the family. They may grow resentful or all the attention given to the oldest and youngest of the family. Second born children will often try to be the exact opposite in personality, interests, etc. from the first born child. S/he will often do almost anything for parental attention, even if that means being naughty. Parents tend to be much easier and less demanding on the second and third children. Middle or second children have to compete to be heard or noticed, and therefore crave the spotlight in other ways. They may be the loud, boisterous child in school. They may be the center of all their friends' events.
The middle or second born child often have a feeling of not belonging to the group. Being in the middle can make the second child feel insecure. They may lack the drive and motivation that is so prevalent in the first born. The second child may instead look to the first born for direction. This may also make the second born feel out of place because they aren't over achievers. Instead, the middle child usually just goes with the flow.
Second born children are often loners. They may have trouble latching on to a person in a relationship. They may also have trouble making decisions in school and in a career. Second or middle borns are usually artistic and creative, but don't work well under pressure. They have a history of starting projects and never finishing them. When choosing a career, most middle or second children would be best suited for something where they could freely express themselves, have flexible hours and frequently changing projects.
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