Opportunity

One of my life goals is to become ambidextrous. I am right-handed, and doing practically anything with my left hand feels awkward and unwieldy. But, I know that I wasn't always able to do everything that I can now do with my right hand. Things like writing, brushing my teeth, pouring milk, etc all came with many years of practice. The body's ability to learn through repetition is absolutely amazing.

There are many things that I can do with my left hand equally or nearly equally as well as I can with my right, including typing on a keyboard, washing mirrors, and playing piano. And for sure, I know that my right hand can't finger notes on a violin worth anything, while my left hand has all the facility in the world. So, I know it's possible for my left hand to learn to do tasks just as complex as the tasks that my right hand does every day. All it needs is the opportunity to try!

As I was thinking about that, I realized that there are so many things that I wish that I were good at that I've just accepted as impossible for me to do. Among those, I wish I were a warmer person. I wish I could get up in the morning. I wish I ate more healthily. I wish I could run for more than a mile. I wish I were good at remembering people's faces. I wish I kept up with what is going on in the world. I wish I were more deeply in touch with my religion. Those are just a few, but the list really goes on and on.

All of those are things that I'd recently given up on ever being able to do. Why? Because I thought, this is just the way I am and maybe I'm just not good at doing those things. One person is born with a certain set of talents, and another is born with another set of talents.

But the more I come to think about it, I think that while sometimes that line of thinking helps keep one's perspective in not comparing oneself to others, I think that I also sometimes use it as a cop-out. I figure, I'll let someone else be good at caring. I'll let someone else be good at understanding the world, helping people to be happy, or whatever else it is that I think I can't do. And so, I don't try as hard. In fact, I don't even give myself the opportunity to try.

Now I realize, I don't have to think that way at all. All I have to do in order to become better at the things that have not naturally come to me is to go to them. And I don't have to be amazing at them. I don't have to set records with just how up I am with religion, fitness, health, whatever. You don't take one leap from the beginning to the end of the race. Just a little at a time goes a long way. And a lot of that starts with creating opportunities for yourself. Placing yourself in situations where you can exercise or practice those abilities.

If I want to be a warmer person, I can place myself around people whom I admire for that. If I want to get up in the morning, I can give myself enough time to sleep at night. If I want to eat more healthily, I can be more prudent at the grocery store and only have things in my cabinet or fridge that I think will be good for my body. If I want to run for more than a mile, I can get myself out there and start with a few steps. It goes on and on.

And with running as an example, I find that it gets easier as you go. The hardest part is starting, and getting yourself over the hurdle of thinking that whatever it is that you're doing is too hard for you to do. Get past that, and just let your amazing, natural ability to learn do all the work for you. Put yourself in those situations, those opportunities, and then let the momentum do it for you.

It's like a swing; the biggest effort is to kick off and get it going, and then it only takes a little bit of follow-through to keep it going.

But you'll never get swinging if you never go find the swing in the first place.

I'm about to brush my teeth. Maybe I'll try that left-handed.

Heather the 12-year-old poet (no. 6)

This was the most interesting poem for me to read. Made me kind of introspective again, actually.

MIRROR POEM: Secrets

When I look into the mirror,
I see another person.
A person I can relate to,
who can share all my secrets.
Looking into her dark eyes,
I can see something there:
A sense of achievement;
a strong self-motivation.
This, I feel,
is a dependable person,
who won't let me down,
unless it is beyond her control.
I can tell she has seen many successes,
yet I see also many failures.
I see how they bother her,
gnawing away at the back of her mind,
like little, pesky rodents.
Things that could have gone better,
had she put in the effort.
Opportunities that could have been opened,
had she only let them be.
But worst of all,
I see the failures that most torture her.
When those she cared most about,
had to endure pain and sorrow.
Those times are the most awful,
to her sensitive conscience.
Even if she could have changed nothing,
still the thought nags at her,
that she should have done something!
These things reveal themselves to me,
as I continue to look into her eyes.
However, I am quite sure,
that she will never burden another,
with the wild, troublesome thoughts,
that fly through her mind at every second.
Never will they know what lies beneath.
The cheerful smile,
the good-natured laugh,
it is all a concealment
of the problems she seeks to resolve.
She does not want others to worry,
or feel sorry for her,
or to know when they have hurt her,
so she simply keeps it a secret,
a caged animal threatening to emerge.
As I watch her,
I wish to tell her,
not to be so protective,
of the people around her,
but to be mindful to herself.
I want to tell her,
to enjoy herself in life,
and all the gifts it brings.
I feel that she should know
she can take a break sometimes.
And I will be there for her,
just as she is there for others.

Yeah. Speaks for itself, really.

Heather the 12-year-old poet (no. 3)

I really rather like this poem. It made me happy just to read it.

FREE VERSE POEM: Moods of the Days

When it drizzles,
ever so slightly,
like a mist of freshness,
cool to the touch,
that always feels wonderful,
especially on summer days.
When the sun shines,
even through the clouds,
yet still it rains,
a thrilling sight.
Those are the times,
I feel a glowing contentment,
spread throughout me,
as I skip through the streets.
All my worries float away,
on the magical blanket,
that only mist can form.

When it pours,
and it's muddy and cold,
the earthworms wriggling,
glistening and pink.
When the twigs,
so tiny,
are pressed until they snap,
by the relentless rain,
coming down furiously.
Those are the days,
I feel gloomy,
tired and without stamina,
ready to collapse,
short-tempered.

When it snows,
all fluffy whiteness,
like soft feathers,
resting gently on the ground.
And the sparkling specks,
follow careening paths,
twirling and flipping,
as they try to reach the ground.
That's the season,
when I am always wide-awake,
alert and watchful,
the light reflecting from the snow,
dazzling in my eyes.

When the wind chills,
a knife slashing across the skin,
stripping the leaves from the branches,
whisking away the garbage cans.
That's the time,
when I shiver,
and wish I could go to sleep,
but the wind does not permit it.

My favorite kind of day,
is when it's the beginning of spring,
where everything is green,
when newborn animals,
come out to begin their life in the world.
The sun shines,
a gentle, warm glow,
not stifling,
not humid in the least.
The wind blows,
a gentle, soft breeze,
that blows my hair back,
and lets the leaves fly,
swirling up their small tornadoes.
The air is fresh,
with a smell saying, "NEW!"
neither cold nor hot,
but warm and cool.
This kind of day,
the best of them all,
is the time when I am happiest,
light as a feather,
as if nothing in the world,
no matter how heavy,
could ever weigh down my high spirits.
I can't help but be cheerful,
in my mysterious way,
and when I am frustrated,
all that is needed,
is a look at the lively world outside.

Putting aside for the moment the abundance of unnecessary commas everywhere, I didn't know I was capable of being this descriptive. Whoo, I actually shivered imagining all that.

Heather the 12-year-old poet (no. 1)

While going through my high school stuff, I came across a rare gem -- my K-8 English portfolio. The single most intriguing piece in the entire folder was a poetry project from 7th grade, appropriately entitled "Heather Chan's Stupendous Poetry Project from the: [insert hand-drawn image of shining lightbulb] Imagination". I think I must have been having a wacky day that day.

Now, I've never enjoyed poetry all that much, nor do I consider myself to have any talent at it. I was thus amazed to find that I sort of enjoyed reading some of my poems rather than simply cringing and throwing them out at once. More fascinating than my childish grasp of the literary element was simply being able to hear how I thought as a 12-year-old.

I thought I'd post a couple of the poems just to have them around after I stick this project in my "to be saved" crate, and also just in case anyone else finds them as amusing as I do. Here comes the first poem in the packet...

PERSONAL POEM: "Me"-Self

My name is Heather, meaning "earth child," my teacher says.
I can't think why that could possibly be!
I think of myself as more of a person in flight than on earth.
Not stabilized, like the flower "heather," I love to try new things,
often enjoying them, but sometimes not.
Though I hate it, kids seem to look up to me, hearing my name.
Especially Tom Swart, who keeps insisting,
that what "Heather" really means is "the smartest."

I couldn't really imagine having another name.
"Heather Chan" is so well suited to me!
In fact, the two words are inseparable, since always, it seems,
and they will always be in times to come.
That's the name by which everyone knows me,
and in fact, I don't often answer to "Heather!"
It needs the "Chan" for the special ring,
to which I always answer.

Inside me, there lives a monkey, wild as the wind.
Very clever in most situations, but panicky in some.
I can be SO dense at the stupidest times,
it's a wonder that kids still have respect for me.
One of my friends once joked to everyone,
"The thing that Heather Chan lacks is common sense!"
I can honestly see why anyone might think so.
I really can overlook the obvious at times!

There are thousands of elastic bands within my heart.
With my friends and family, or new people that I meet,
when someone is sad or lonely, the elastic stretches out to them,
and I try my hardest to make them happy and forget their problems.
But when someone betrays my trust, their elastic band can snap in an instant!
It will take a long time to replace theirs with another one.
Once it has happened once, I can't be sure when it will happen again,
and so, I am much more cautious when stretching out if they need it.

On my forehead, there is a word printed in bold, black letters: Contradiction.
This is because I am a MASS of contradictions as far as my personality goes.
I will be unbelievably thoughtful and farseeing one moment,
and the next, I'll be off in another world, oblivious to my surroundings.
I will surprise my friends from time to time by going out of my way to make them happy,
but then I will become angry and mean one way or another.
Sometimes I'll help people openly when they need it but don't ask,
but other times, I will help them without their ever knowing it.

I love the sound of outside, the leaves rustling, the animals playing.
I love to hear the calls of the birds as they fly overhead in the trees.
I like to lay down on the grass, all stretched out,
and listen to the world on sunny, breezy days.
What I hate to hear is thunder, as the crack of lightning illuminates the sky.
I hate it because I know that with each flash and boom, lightning strikes somewhere,
and somewhere in the world, destruction is taking place,
whether it's in the middle of a forest, or right near someone's home.

My favorite time of day is in the afternoon, after school.
I am free from the pressures of school and learning.
Free to play, and to enjoy myself, I run about in the outside.
I could call up a friend, and go hang out, swim, or maybe go for a bike ride.
There are also trees to climb, piles of leaves to jump in,
and in winter, there's always the snow to wallow in.
The afternoon is always fun for me and my friends,
when it's a nice day outside, perfect for playing.

If they could speak, my hands would say how they wanted a break.
A break from playing instruments, from writing, from typing this poem,
and from just holding things, and playing with them.
My hands never do seem to rest, busy as they are all day long.
I wonder if they could take a break for a day,
and maybe have my feet do things instead.
My hands are very special, and they help me to do many things.
I think they really do deserve a break!

I remember walking through the woods by my neighborhood,
a couple of years ago, with some of my friends.
We pushed our way through the brush, laughing the whole time,
until we burst into a clearing, and saw a little creek running by.
It was only perhaps 3 feet wide, and so we decided to leap across.
After we had done so, we glanced around us, and saw something very odd.
There was a log cabin on the bank, half of its ceiling collapsed,
and a chair lay on the ground by it, marred by many dents and scratches.

Something my brother says each and every time to me,
whenever I have done something extremely well,
always makes me feel good inside, and hopeful,
that I can be even better the next time.
This phrase that he uses to express his approval,
is sometimes echoed by my family and friends,
and he uses the same exact words every time:
"Heather, you never cease to amaze me, you know that?"

And there it is. My immediate thoughts after/while reading this:

1. Hmm. I wonder if the punctuation is actually supposed to go outside of the quotation marks.

2. I should see if Tom Swart is on Facebook.

3. Wow, even back then I was "Heather Chan". What am I going to do when I get married?

4. There's a monkey living inside me?!

5. I still lack common sense.

6. I had more fun after school as a kid.

7. The log cabin anecdote is kind of random. Maybe we were supposed to mention an adventure or something.

8. My brother is awesome.

[EDIT: Ooh, sorry about the spillover from the longer lines. Too lazy to figure out how to make it not do that.]

Paying a visit to my past self

Today's agenda includes going through all of my old things and throwing out anything that I don't particularly desire to keep or otherwise preserve. The point of this exercise is to help my mom cut down on clutter and prevent the onslaught of packrattedness.

The problem with going through all of my old things is that I always, ALWAYS find myself getting entirely too absorbed in everything I've ever thought and done. There's so much to be found in letters I've gotten, pictures I've been in, essays I've written, events I've attended...

As a high school student, I was extremely dedicated. I was articulate, thorough, detail-oriented, exacting, precise. I had a never-ending drive to succeed, and I had self confidence to the max. There was never a question in my mind of whether I was capable of achieving the highest quality possible -- only of whether I had enough time and patience to do it. I poured inexhaustible enthusiasm into the subjects that I loved (math, science, foreign language). I thrived on complexity and eagerly embraced learning as a source of life and meaning.

I had so much motivation and momentum...

And then I went to college. Gone were the days of required attendance. Of close student-teacher relationships. Of hanging out with classmates during lunch hour. Everyone had things to do, places to go, worries to take care of. I grew more and more detached from school with each passing day.

Not to convey a poor image of my school, but from the very beginning I had a hard time feeling intellectually stimulated both by classmates and by professors. People just didn't seem to get anything, I thought. But I reasoned that I was probably just experiencing the shock of taking mainstream courses again after having spent my high school years in honors and advanced placement classes. I decided that things would eventually look up.

But it all started going downhill when I discovered that I could skip class from time to time and still do just fine on the tests and homework. As an ardent supporter of efficiency, I did just that. I soon became identified by some of my professors as one of the class non-goers. Some even asked my classmates to encourage me to attend, and I started to feel somewhat self-conscious whenever I did show up to class. Eventually I stopped going at all unless I felt I really needed the day's lecture to understand the material. Class became a chore that I tolerated, rather than an opportunity to share the love and pursuit of knowledge with classmates and teachers. I never did have the chance to see if the intellectual atmosphere of my classes would ever shape up.

Once people think they've gotten you figured out, they help you impose that identity upon yourself. And I was a certified class-skipper. There were some classes that I did not attend more than 10 times throughout the entire semester, and while my grades did not suffer for it, I was seen as indifferent, unmotivated, and lazy. Uninterested. And I began to step into that role and identify with it, even telling people that "Yes, that is how I am."

"Perhaps it's impossible to wear an identity without becoming what you pretend to be." (Orson Scott Card's Ender's Game, page 163, Valentine speaking.) Indifferent, unmotivated, and lazy. Uninterested. By the end of junior year, that's what I had become. What's more, I had not been intellectually challenged for a long time, and I had thus become complacent and unimaginative.

In high school, I was a "100% is not enough!!" kind of person. I didn't want to simply score high, I wanted to dominate the material. I wanted to know how it applied and how it was useful. Partial mastery and achievement was as if nothing to me.

Somewhere along the way, I became content to fall just somewhere in the range of successful. An A was an A to me, whether 100% or only 92.5%, and to heck with whether I could apply the material or not. Too often I became inclined to say "I guess this is the best I can do" and move on.

Looking back on my old self, I wonder: Can I go back to the enthusiastic, motivated, incredibly self-confident and self-achieving individual that I once was? What is it that I had then that I have now lost, and can it be regained?

How to deal with an INTJ (namely, me)

(Edited excerpt taken from http://fuzzy.snakeden.org/intj/)

1. Be willing to back up your statements with facts - or at least some pretty sound reasoning.

2. Don't expect them to respect you or your viewpoints just because you say so. INTJ respect must be earned.

3. Be willing to concede when you are wrong. The average INTJ respects the truth over being "right". Withdraw your erroneous comment and admit your mistake and they will see you as a very reasonable person. Stick to erroneous comments and they will think you are an irrational idiot and treat everything you say as being questionable.

4. Try not to be repetitive. It annoys them.

5. Do not feed them a line of bull.

6. Expect debate. INTJs like to tear ideas apart and prove their worthiness. They will even argue a point they don't actually support for the sake of argument.

7. Do not mistake the strength of your conviction with the strength of your argument. It will take more than fervor to sway them.

8. Do not be surprised at sarcasm.

9. Remember that INTJs believe in workable solutions. They are extremely open-minded to possibilities, but they will quickly discard any idea that is unfeasible. INTJ open-mindedness means that they are willing to have a go at an idea by trying to pull it apart. This horrifies people who expect oohs and ahhs and reverence. The ultimate INTJ insult to an idea is to ignore it, because that means it's not even interesting enough to deconstruct.

This also means that they will not just accept any viewpoint that is presented to them. The bottom line is "Does it work?" - end discussion.

10. Do not expect INTJs to actually care about how you view them. They already know that they are arrogant with a morbid sense of humor. Telling them the obvious accomplishes nothing.

I am an INTJ personality

The Scientist (or Mastermind)

(Edited excerpt taken from http://www.personalitypage.com/INTJ.html)

INTJs value intelligence, knowledge, and competence, and have high standards in these regards, which they continuously strive to fulfill. To a somewhat lesser extent, they have similar expectations of others.

INTJs focus their energy on observing the world, and generating ideas and possibilities. Their minds constantly gather information and make associations about it. They are tremendously insightful and are very quick to understand new ideas. However, their primary interest is not understanding a concept, but rather applying that concept in a useful way.

INTJs' tremendous value and need for systems and organization, combined with their natural insightfulness, makes them excellent scientists. The internal form of an INTJ's thoughts and concepts is highly individualized, and is not readily translatable into a form that others will understand. However, the INTJ is driven to translate their ideas into a plan or system that is readily explainable, rather than to do a direct translation of their thoughts. Their extreme respect of knowledge and intelligence will motivate them to explain themselves to another person who they feel is deserving of the effort.

INTJs are natural leaders, although they usually choose to remain in the background until they see a real need to take over the lead. When they are in leadership roles, they are quite effective, because they are able to objectively see the reality of a situation, and are adaptable enough to change things which aren't working well. They are the supreme strategists - always scanning available ideas and concepts and weighing them against their current strategy, to plan for every conceivable contingency.

INTJs spend a lot of time inside their own minds, and may have little interest in other people's thoughts or feelings.

The INTJ's interest in dealing with the world is to make decisions, express judgments, and put everything that they encounter into an understandable and rational system. Consequently, they are quick to express judgments. They are often convinced that they are right about things.

INTJs are ambitious, self-confident, deliberate, long-range thinkers. They dislike messiness and inefficiency, and anything that is muddled or unclear. They value clarity and efficiency, and will put enormous amounts of energy and time into consolidating their insights into structured patterns.

Other people may have a difficult time understanding an INTJ. They may see them as aloof and reserved. Indeed, the INTJ is not overly demonstrative of their affections, and is likely to not give as much praise or positive support as others may need or desire. That doesn't mean that they don't truly have affection or regard for others, they simply do not typically feel the need to express it. Others may falsely perceive the INTJ as being rigid and set in their ways. Nothing could be further from the truth, because the INTJ is committed to always finding the objective best strategy to implement my ideas. The INTJ is usually quite open to hearing an alternative way of doing something.

When under a great deal of stress, the INTJ may become obsessed with mindless repetitive activities. They may also tend to become absorbed with minutia and details that they would not normally consider important to their overall goal.

INTJs need to remember to express themselves sufficiently, so as to avoid difficulties with people misunderstandings. In the absence of properly developing their communication abilities, they may become abrupt and short with people, and isolationists.

INTJs have a tremendous amount of ability to accomplish great things. They have great insight into the Big Picture, and are driven to synthesize their concepts into solid plans of action. INTJs are most always highly competent people, and will not have a problem meeting their career or education goals. They have the capability to make great strides in these arenas. On a personal level, the INTJ who practices tolerances and puts effort into effectively communicating their insights to others has everything in their power to live a rich and rewarding life.

My biggest fear is failing to be a worthwhile person

A friend asked me the other day what my biggest fear is, and I didn't know. But looking back on my thought patterns for the last two years of my life, I think I've figured it out (see title of this post).

Yes... I have failing-to-be-a-worthwhile-person-phobia. I think a lot of people have it to varying degrees. Most of them probably don't even know they have it.

I think it could also be called fear of being a boring person. Not only a boring person to other people, but a boring person to oneself. Currently, I am intensely suffering the latter.

I feel like my brain activity is slowly diminishing. There was a time when I thought about everything, all the time. Not in the sense of worrying or stressing about various things. Just pure curiosity about the world. About people, about society, religion, philosophy, the sciences, the arts... you name it. I was always asking questions--how does that work? why does this happen? how did people ever figure this out? what if society suddenly became like this? why couldn't the world have been this way?

Nowadays? If I get a spare moment to think, I'm perfectly happy to waste it staring at the wall. Stark contrast.

One of my theories is that a lot of my questioning used to be sparked by books that I read. Back when I actually had and/or made time to read, my mind was always alive with new ideas and perspectives about life and mankind. I also think that what I read made up a large part of the subjects I liked to talk about. Lately, I feel like I don't talk about much except for the same old things all the time. I really am turning into a boring person...

I went to the library the other day and just reveled in all of the knowledge contained there. I checked out some books that I want to read, but I haven't had time yet to crack open even one cover. Even so, having a stack of books on my chair has put me somewhat at ease. Maybe it's not too late yet to rediscover my love of learning.

The real me is an introvert

A good friend of mine looked at the URL for this blog and joked that maybe he's been deceived by "thefakeheatherchan.blogspot.com". Clever. But maybe somewhat true in a (figurative) way...

Although I'm a reasonably sociable and friendly person when I try to be, I consider myself to be an introvert. I find it difficult and even unrewarding to talk about my feelings to other people, and I detest being anywhere near the center of attention. I feel incredibly vulnerable when people know or can see how I feel about things, and I especially hate being observed. I prefer to avoid conflict and any other situations that might draw attention to me and my inner feelings. Debates are not my forte. Public speaking chills my spine. Even as a musician specializing in performance, I hate performing!

I generally don't like people to see or grasp who I really am and how I work. If you don't look closely, I'll probably try to fool you into thinking that I'm really open about what I think, really comfortable with people, and really good at handling stress and worry. And I'll probably be completely content with letting you believe it, too.

So, perhaps "therealheatherchan.blogspot.com" signifies that I'm trying my best to battle my introversion and let my true self emerge here. This is the me that you don't see in everyday life.