She was elusive.
She was today. She was tomorrow.
She was the faintest scent of a cactus flower,
the flitting shadow of an elf owl.

We did not know what to make of her.
In our minds we tried to pin her to corkboard like a butterfly,
but the pin merely went through
and away she flew.
- Jerry Spinelli

Please view me in Firefox.

ANN ARBOR, Mich., Feb. 25 /PRNewswire/ -- While storks deliver bundles of joy to families, Domino's Pizza delivers the birthday party. In honor of Domino's BRKLYN (Brooklyn-style pizza), Domino's Pizza, the recognized world leader in pizza delivery, will throw a pizza party for every family that names their child born on Feb. 29, 2008, Brooklyn. Additionally, the family of the first child named Brooklyn born in the continental U.S. on Leap Day will receive $1,000 in pizza gift certificates. All forms of the spelling Brooklyn will be accepted.

"Leap Year babies beat the odds by being born on February 29, a day that rolls around only once every four years," said Jenny Fouracre, Domino's Pizza spokesperson. "We think they are very special and deserve a memorable birthday with a good story about how they were named. What a lucky group - they will be 10 when most people born the day before or after them are 40."

On any given day, an average of 11,000 babies are born in the United States. Those born on Feb. 29, 2008, will share birthdays with several celebrities, including actor Antonio Sabato, Jr., rapper JaRule and actress Dinah Shore, among others.

Consumers who name their child Brooklyn (who is born on February 29) should contact Chantele Telegadas at 734-930-3451 or chantele.telegadas@dominos.com. Consumers will be asked to present a copy of their child's birth certificate clearly stating their child's name, time of birth and the birth date as Feb. 29, 2008. The birth certificate that has the earliest time of the birth posted on it will receive $1,000 in pizza gift certificates. Other babies named Brooklyn on Leap Year will receive a Brooklyn-style pizza party.

"We're celebrating everything "Brooklyn" with the introduction of The BRKLYN," said Fouracre. "We created this promotion to honor Leap Year babies and their families whose love of the old neighborhood inspired them to name their children after it."

Which parents would be in the mood for a pizza party right after getting a newborn baby, huh?

And to stick to the stipulations, what are the odds that some parents, who just delivered a baby on February 29, 2008 in the USA, and intuitively named their offspring Brooklyn, and who has never had a child by that same name, and actually heard about this offer, and would rather contact that Chantele person instead of sharing the good news, would be in the mood for a pizza party?
When I'm done with this class, I'm going to throw a celebration banquet.

With torn off pages from the textbook as the tablecloth, dinner mat, and maybe napkins and toilet paper. And then, we'll end the night with a bonfire using the remaining 1000 pages.
If you're not a member of the fair sex, be glad.

Be glad cos your weight doesn't fluctuate along with the waning and waxing of the cycle of your body (which at times seems to have a mind of its own).

Be glad cos, even if it does, would you care? Just boost your diet with some protein shakes, and sweat it out with your fellow gym rats.

Be glad cos, there's no such thing as overexercising & the fear of getting too buff (e.g. calf-muscle-wise).

Be glad cos, your other friends prolly live in the gym, so you'll end up working out anyway.
Alliteration aside, I woke up this morning with a bad back. The upper half of the right half of my back hurts like it's been flying-kicked or something to that effect. It doesn't help that I had to lug my 3-4pounds ish laptop around for note-taking purposes on top of my tote.

I feel like an old lady :(
Maybe I'll see a chiropractor once my schedule clears up.


Coming up:
Math midterm (Wed)
Beta social (Thu)
SADIS ice skating (+ birthdays?) (Fri)
Four-way exchange (Sat)
Family dinner with Khoa (Sun)

And somewhere along, I'd like to bury myself among the shelves in Geisel Library to do my research paper, which I'm looking forward to as a little relaxing pick-me-up. Weird. Oh and I need to meet with a counselor from the International Center by the end of the week. And call greek ave asap. And update Psi Chi website, as well as complete lab reflections.

Then week 9:
Elections (Mon)
Psych of Emotions midterm (Mon)

Week 10 (dead week):
10th week sisterhood dinner (Mon)
dinner with Jackson
Psych of Sound Perception final (Tue)
Lab paper due (Wed)

Week 11:
Math final
Emotions final
complete hours for autism lab
SPRING BREAK!!!

If half of this sound gibberish, I duly apologize... it's more of a self-reminder than anything; you know, the kind that you need to say aloud / chart out to internalize.

Thus far this week, I realize that I barely get the chance to see the daylight, due to my lab commitments and crazy class loads. Not that I don't enjoy this but, I hope that next quarter will be better. Aside from the Psych and Psych lab courses, Imma take Concert Choir (again :D), tap dance, and hip hop. I'll prolly drop either, or both of the latter two.


Back to more calculus fun!
That night, he was such an endearing soul; he called her "my love" in a voice most suave, and carried out his promise of taking care of her.

But intuitively, she knows. She knows. He wanted to win her heart just so that he couldn't. She couldn't figure out what happened between them two, and this helplessness weighed her down like a soaked sack of sand.

That night, she stared blankly in the darkness, his strong arms a protective embrace around her, till she fell asleep with a tiny heave of sigh, and a furrow on her brows.


(it was only by morn did she realize that in the depth of the night, he planted a kiss upon her lips)
Reflecting back on the last (hundred or so?) conversations you've had, how often do you talk to someone for the sake of talking, without any underlying motive of "so that I can get close to the person", or "so that the person will like me better".

Not to say that this question is an index to anything, but yeah... I don't think I do it that often.



Sad little needs-to-be-liked Pauline :(
Sometimes, when people say corny and over dramatic stuff, I'd very much like to believe them... believe that I really am "the best thing that's ever happened" to someone, despite reality... despite the verdicts that point otherwise.

I dunnoe... have I really stooped that low for happiness and self-worth?



I'm tired :(


and when you're done with that,



oyy oyy!
1. When people make creases on papers (esp books and magazines), either by mindlessly flipping through them or intentionally folding them, in front of my eyes... or borrow my books and return it all crumpled. If I were to rank them, magazine creasing would be the worst, cause as you watch the pretty pages being brutalized, you can hear its cries of torture as it bends against its smooth perfection. ARGH!

2. When someone verbally expresses an excuse to defend their self-worth. E.g. earlier this evening, I met this Japanese girl who praised my accent (she was teaching me some Japanese phrases) cause I'm a pretty darn good accent copycat... and a friend of mine remarked that I watched a lot of anime. Fuck that shiet. You can watch anime all your life and still not get the accent, k? First off, she prolly watch a whole horizon more (of dramas and such) than my lifetime's worth of anime. And yet her accent sucks. And yet she won't admit it and has to pass an excuse to avoid admitting that I'm good / she's bad. Psshaw!

This last one is kinda snobbish and inconsiderate but anyways...
3. When people sing off-key. Especially when they're representing your organization's name with their song, and remained tone-deaf despite your corrections... that totally rubs salt and vinegar on the wound. Yum.


Notice how I didn't put "people who ..."? It's the action that bugs me, not the people :) Though we all tend to channel our anger at the person, cause you can't really punish the action.




UPDATE:
One more. When people sit / lie on my bed with outside clothes, esp. jeans. Dude, be considerate enough to get your (literally) dirty ass outta my one true comfort zone, please?
I wanna write something cos I wanna write something.

So there.
I'm never gonna be able to survive in Southeast Asia.

For one, I develop migraines with prolonged sun exposure; sometimes, it takes but 5 minutes to send me reeling with an aura.

Also, I'd imagine that it'd take a while for me to readjust back to my old life. The life where hugs were exchanged as rarely as an honest "I love you"... and even that, the hugs we exchanged were nothing beyond a pair of limbs circled around one's shoulders, a far cry from the affectionate squeeze that I've gotten used to.

:/
This post could well be equally pessimistic as the previous one.
You've been warned.


I've recently been involved with the Sunday School at my current church. It's a very small class, composed of about six kids: 3 boys, 3 girls. They're about the same age, with one girl being a few years younger than everyone else, and another girl being a few years older than her peers.

When you're about to hit puberty in a roomful of kids, you stick out like a sore thumb. Been there, done that.


The latter girl, let's name her ... ah, heck it, let's not name her anything, is a very bright girl. From what I know of twelve-or-so years old, she's very mature for her age. For one, she knows how to mother the younger kids. To top that, she's... intellectually advanced for her age. Now those are desirable qualities that any parents would want in a child... and once you're grown up enough, which has very little correlation with your actual age, would very much like to see in yourself.

Yet... it's hard being the only smart one amidst a bunch of seven years old, who care only about running around, screaming, and playing tag. They won't care about the highly imaginative play (with supporting props too!) with detailed plot that fits the kids' running right in the heart of it. Seriously. It's pretty impressive how she puts reason into all these mad chase.

Would the kids listen though? Pssh. You wish. She'd wish. While she's adapting her narration to direct their play, they call her a monster (cos she's bigger than the rest of them), and would run away as far away as possible, cause well, she's the monster! They'd taunt her and I'd assume, wouldn't be able to hear a word amidst their "nyah nyah nyah".

Maybe that's why she likes having me around... she'd ALWAYS proclaim me the new monster, which is not a nice thing to say, but if all these ramblings is an accurate insight of what's really going on, I can kinda overlook it I guess.



Yeah. I've been there before. Good thing that my brothers, cousins aren't that hyper, and intent on playing catch, and catch alone. No story, singing, or well, anything but catch exist in the playtime of their 4-7 years old lives. Talk about variety.



Oh and I think I was quite an ugly baby / kid... I'd assume this cos as far as my memory goes, all the grown ups at church would approach my two younger brothers, coo, and adore them to bits. Me? I could imagine myself hiding behind my babysitter / a wall somewhere, prolly dejectedly pondering why at seven or so, I was too old to be cute.

Maybe that's why I was so shy. Maybe... I was afraid that if I expressed myself, they'd not like me all the more. Cos from what I know, ittle, little Pauline was afraid of being judged even at a very tender age.
:(


What somber thoughts to fall asleep on.
I don't know when exactly I acquired this... nowadays, I'd like to think that the my pledging days, as well as the shiet that happened around that time line, is very likely to be the onset of, well, everything.


I've learned to give up.
(or at least, I learned that I should learn to give up)

Some people just don't care about you. Sad to say, your love and friendship could well be one-sided. I've learned to believe that some people just don't have the time for you or, given that they do, don't seem to bother remembering that you exist in their life, constantly calling / txting / facebook messaging them, and even reading their friggin blog to find out what goes on in their lives. Yet do they care? Fuck no.

Some people would always be busy no matter when you call them. They'd never call you back, no matter what they said, and as actually happened two - three years ago, they can SNAP at you for asking why they didn't call you back even after they PROMISED to. Oh and... taking the initiative to willingly contact you out of the blue? Don't even dream about it.

Other people only care about stuff that happen to you that's worthy enough a gossip material. They' don't care about you as a friend... as a person.

Whereas others just plainly don't even give a fuck about what goes on in your life. They realize it, and would openly say it to you... though sometimes they could show affections for you at a whim. These people tend to direct the relationship. It advances when they feel like it, and it halts when they say so.

And yes. I do have real life examples to illustrate each of my points, all of them happened to be... girls. This brings the entire "pauline discriminates, even against her own kind" thing up a notch, huh?

Anyways. Take home message: stop trying. Some people just aren't worth your time. You can give them years, decades, and centuries, and they won't budge the slightest(lest their hormones drive them to "feel like it"). So stop begging for them to reciprocate the so called friendship by being a friggin doormat: agreeing to every shiet that comes out of their mouth, doing everything they want you to do, laughing at every joke they make, and even fucking mirroring their body image, just to get them to like you. It's beyond pathetic.

Yes. I'm talking to you, Pauline.


Let's take the illustration of a slots game: you'll keep on pulling that lever, given the slightest positive reinforcement, the slightest hint that there's a warm, caring heart inside them (at least for you, or other people who don't want something from). Also, reward or not (applied into social context, a single smile could be strong enough a reward to strengthen and perpetuate your behavior) you'd still wanna try to befriend them anyway, perhaps all the more cos that person is so difficult to "befriend". Point is, just like gambling, you need to learn to call it quits sometimes. That person's friendship is prolly not worth the heartache... not to mention the humiliation anyways.

S'all. 3AM, and my brain is officially fried.
Did you know that people within the extrovert continuum enjoy not only being surrounded by people but also being busy?

Me neither.

What extroversion is NOT, however, is the love of the lime light. Perhaps, to some people, and perhaps to a certain extent. Yet, what's none but a perhaps, especially a perhaps that's "to a certain extent" cannot be generalized to the rest of the 3:1 extrovert to introvert population.

I'm content with my life. My life, and my little blog; the little archive of reflections, the little rag doll of loose fragments that make me "me". No I don't openly publicize my blog, perhaps for fear of scorn and contempt, yet also, I'm not a big fan of the lime light myself. Sure I do enjoy attention; who doesn't? Yet even at a dining table of friends, I can feel my face growing hot (without blushing, mind you, for my skin is too thick, literally, to allow me to blush) and my voice lowered when I finally say the thing they turned their heads to hear. Maybe it's not even a longing for privacy... maybe it's simply timidity. I don't know. But from what I know, I like remaining invisible, or better still, being completely in control of when people could see me, and which side of me they could see.

Back to the topic of extroversion, and happiness, the latter of which will make up a sizable chunk of my midterm tomorrow.

Being happy has more to do with your genetic constellation (the mix and match of which strands you have or don't have) rather than the environment in which you were brought up. Happiness is relative; if you can think of something that you think will make you happier should it happen, it probably won't. Winning the lottery would be an obvious example. Also, people's self report of happiness has little correlation with higher socio-economic status, education, being married, and numerous other things that we naturally revert to when we ponder upon the notion of happiness.



I changed my signature sometime last week; it no longer consist of the boring old "Pauline Valentine" (cursive, two line, slanted to the right hand corner) or "Pauline Sugiharto" (cursive, one line, straight). Technically, it still says "Pauline Sugiharto", but now, I'm bold enough to use lines that aren't crucial to form the letters that form name. In dance terms, this translates to finally being able to make a better use of my personal sphere. In a more fantastical term, I'm now brave enough to spread my wings, no longer the rigid, rule-observing little girl, afraid even to stretch out an arm for fear of gaining unnecessary attention... and essentially not conforming by the action. I'm a grown woman now, with bolder, statement-making lines, not forgetting to add her own touch and flair to the rules she's observed for so very long. I'm now able to value and follow my impulse, make my own decisions (as opposed to social referencing every little step I make) and ultimately, to stand up for my grown-up self. I've learned that it's OK to make mistakes, for I've learned that I am capable of picking up after my own mistakes. Yes. I'm a grown up now.

Perhaps that's why this blog is so dear to me, and why I could endlessly practice my signature on pages after pages - they're an extension of my identity, which is likely to be the most sought after thing for an ENFP, as opposed to security, sensation, and knowledge (refer to MBTI). Nearing the end of my baccalaureate education in Psychology, I am referring back to the very aspect that attracted me to the field in the first place. Personality, the identity-seeking aspect of self actualization, and realizing that I haven't quite abandoned it all these while. Identity. To realize things such as this. To write down things I've learned. To record one's growth, and smile when upon looking back at it all.

And yes, looking back at it all, this blog holds a record of my college education, starting from the day I was about to take the TOEFL test, to the acceptance letter I received, and who knows what the future holds. Maybe... I'd even outgrow my timidity and make this blog a public affair! Don't bet on it tho... knowing that people are reading this alone still gives me the creeps (I've habituated to it a little though... just *a little*), which is why I try not to think about it :D
Now that I ended up blogging anyway, here's a little recap:


Today marks the end of Week 5, that's more than halfway through the notoriously "over in a blink" quarter system. I expected my schedule to slow down a little by the end of rush week (week 1), which, as the name indicates, is nothing but hectic work-work-work from dawn to midnight.

Perhaps the highlight of week 1 was a phone call I received from a lab/class on campus, that's Dr. Brown's Psychology 107 for you, saying that they do have a spot for me. Without thinking, I jumped into it, thinking that if I didn't like it, I could back out anytime... something uncannily familiar, considering what happened last spring. The reason that kept me in remains the same as well - the people.

Anyways, I stayed, and I thoroughly enjoy it! The lab reminds me that I do have a creative side, which transposes to little craftsy mini-project that I've been doing at home. It was a much more hands on study that allows me to be in contact with high school kids for tasks such as advertising. Technically speaking, I've never experienced high school, and being in contact with them kinda gave me a secondary impression of what an American high school is really like. Also, cause I can't help but mention the obvious, it's a good mix of activities that's above and beyond scoring and data entry alone. Have I learned from it? I believe so, though I'm not by any means content of my current standing.

My other lab is almost on a different angle. Drugs and alcohol studies aside, the focus is strictly on autism. Led by the well-noted Dr. Schreibman, a prominent figure in the field of autism, it's quite a prestigious position that I am but... blessed to have. I don't think I've mentioned this, but it all began one fine afternoon, when I was about to update the Psi Chi website with some new listings of research positions... which was when i noticed that there was an interview for Dr. Schreibman's Autism lab that starts at 4PM - a mere half an hour away. I was at home, unprofessionally dressed, and not in the least bit ready for an interview, with no guarantee that I could make it in time. I have been eyeing this particular lab for quite a number of quarters by then, yet somehow I always missed the interview. There was no way I would miss it this time. I thus called in, and was told that although the interview might start some five minutes past four, it was unlikely that it would be pushed beyond that. On top of that, the first part of the interview is the general briefing of what the lab does and such (the person, whom I would latter on recognize as one of my two supervisors, sounded pessimistic that I would make it in time after I mentioned that I was still back home). Not losing hope, I dashed with all my might to the shuttle stop, all antsy waiting for the shuttle, and after what seemed like the longest time, I reached the lab at exactly 4PM, neither late nor was I the last person to walk in for the interview.

The lab is really selective, and I can't attribute any competency of mine own that could logically have landed me the position. How can I not be grateful to be in such a ground-breaking lab that seeks to answer the question many parents and physicians alike ponder about: what measures would work best for children with autism? It takes endless hours of painstaking codings, yet in such a situation, you'd eventually learn to appreciate the littlest things. Like a perfect imitation of a word, coming out from the mouth of a child hit with a more severe blow of the syndrome. I can't help but salute the caregivers affiliated to these children, as well as the countless hands that strive to help them, directly or otherwise, battle the syndrome.


This week, I pondered, and came to a a realization... an epiphany even.
Even in this post-modern world, we still live in the age of questions and mysteries. Questions that might become a "well obviously *roll eyes*" thing some five, ten, twenty years down the road, yet is no more elusive than Pandora's box to us. What is it exactly that caused autism? Could it really be an adverse vaccine reaction? Do environments even have a hand to begin with? Why does the onset appear somewhere after the first of second year, sometimes with the child regressing back in his path of development... sometimes never picking up the pace even to his death bed.

Has this how it's always been? How did people figure out what caused PKU, with all the technological and information limitations and all? How did Bell invent the telephone, and Edison the light bulb?

That, and the little conversations I had with Prof. Deutsch, gave me a glimpse of the life of a researcher - oftentimes you don't know where you're headed, or if what you investigate to do is even solvable or even existed in the first place.

The brain is a lonely bunch of cells; and I can't help but picture mine, shrinking further into the skull, perhaps curled up in a fetal position, rocking itself back and forth, trying to chase the doubts linked to existence. Existence, what is real, and what Reality-itself is.

It's an hour past midnight, 8 hours away from Ken (the half White, half Japanese husband to the adorable Kinuko... who look like an ideal couple even when compared to Barbie and Ken) picking me up to go to church.

Good night, and fare thee well.
Tomorrow will be a new day.


would this what pauline will be a few decades in the future? doing her utmost for her work in the daytime, and when the night air beckons, ponder about it all, till she she grows weary, and goes to bed, trying to overcome her doubt (should she still remember), by working doubly hard the following morning?
What the heck happened to my font?
ARGH. Considering how packed my schedule is, you guys might have to suffer for a while... lest it snaps back to normal as suddenly as it screwed up.

At this point of time, I'm still passionate about counseling aspect of Clinical Psychology. At the same time, I really enjoy the research bits that fuel and propel the advancement of this field.

At this point of time, I don't mind doing research works for the rest of my life :/



Perhaps what I'm looking for is not an occupation but a... preoccupation. Something to engage and preoccupy me; something to keep my brain well-stimulated and alive... away from the weight of boredom, away from the debilitating decay of dementia.

ok. that's a little far fetched. but anyways,
I ♥ Dr. Deutsch's class.
(tho it's hard)
Perhaps one day I'd be able to spell out why am I so obsessed with the notion of flight. Perhaps.


don't ask me where i got the song from :/
Pssh.
Woke up at 11AM ish... and by 12PM, I've run out of things to do. Maybe I've advanced a step up the workaholic ladder, complain as I might during the weekdays.



Nggh. Oh well, maybe I'll actually work on my scrapbook today.
On February 2nd, 2008, Pauline's idea of a perfect weekend consists of being left alone in her room, free to do her own thing.

Really now, socializing is always such a ball of a time and all, but I really, really, really, wanna be left all by myself, without anyone poking their nose every five seconds, asking what I'm doing for the weekend / break. I don't want to disappear. I don't wanna be invisible. I want to, however, be able to walk along the streets as just another stranger, someone whose existence never really mattered. Maybe that's why I like the streets of England; you're just another face in a land unknown, a passerby who's free to act out of character, free to fake an accent, free to adopt any identity and to act it out just for the heck of it.

Not here though. I recognize know one too many people to truly be invisible... it's funny, really, in a population of 20,000 students, somehow, there's always a face or two that you recognize every single day after being around for even a year. On top of that, you'll never know when the next person is going to pop out, not even on your grubbiest day of sweatpants and sweatshirts, unbrushed hair, monstrous eye bags and flip flops, cause Pauline never wears anything but flip flops, aside from the occasional heels.

I could always take the bus and go downtown, or somewhere far away, I suppose, which is something I would definitely do, given a lax schedule.

On that note, I like shopping by myself, cause only then could I buy things that I truly do fancy (impulses aside), as opposed to things that this version of Pauline, as perceived by my shopping companion(s) would like. I can take as much time as I wanted to try on as many shirts and shoes as I wanted to, or to dash/run/fly from store to store without having to drag anyone along. Oh and I can freely talk to strangers when I'm all by myself. Another score for England.

Back to the world of IFs. I'd prolly spend that privileged weekend doing nothing. An utmost unproductive, unmemorable, yet special weekend where I could live for myself; not my lab supervisor, not for my grades, not for my friends, just me. Maybe I would splurge an hour for a soak, trying on all the different bath crystals, shampoos, soaps and facial washes, and luxuriously lather myself with lotions... and even a spritz of body spray, just because it complements the lotion. Maybe, I'd have some aromatherapy in my room... and roll around in bed all day, with a simple task of taking in, and absorbing everything in the stillness of my room. Maybe, I'd finally get a chance to touch my books, novels and story books I've always wanted to read... and fall asleep to the little February rain drops.

(not to mention, it's always raining in England)

Told you I'm a phlegmatic.


Yet alas. I have far too many outstanding meet ups and such, which I haven't been able to fulfill during the weekdays. Friggin' labs. They're sufficiently engaging and stimulating and all (yeah, I'm such an enthusiastic little workaholic), but they take up WAY too much time.


Weekend! Oh please don't you ever end :(


maybe that's why i somewhat enjoyed it when my phone broke... i was free, with a legit excuse



spidey.bmp done on Microsoft Paint.

Phoebe Pauline Valentine Kribben Sugiharto 朱宝玲, B.S.
110888
Eldest of 3
UCSD Psychology, class of 2008
University of Cambridge, King's College, summer of 2007
TKSS, class of 2004
ICHS, class of 2006, left on 2001
San Diego, California

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Picture courtesy of Eliara.
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