My room, the meat freezer

To fill my new friends on some of my background, I blame my scheming roommate for bringing me to Tulsa (I actually blame him for a lot of things). We roomed together our freshman year, took a semester off, and roomed together the second semester of our sophomore year. We enjoy each other's company so much we're rooming again this year. Heck, we'll probably be roommates next year.

So I've gotten to know this guy quite a bit. But I can talk about that later. I feel a bit whimsical so I want to share the daily battle we have. And that's controlling the temperature of the room. When you have two human beings living together in the same space, the odds of them having the same preferences in regards to temperature is small. In the case of my scheming roommate and I, we are polar opposites.

Part of the reason is just pure physics, i.e. he has significantly more mass than I do.

I want it warm, like a nice autumn day. Better hot than cold, my mom always says. I don't want get sick in my own room.

He wants it cold, like a meat freezer. He claims it helps him sleep. I can always add extra layers if I'm cold, but he can't take much off if it's too hot. But there's something wrong when I'm wearing sweaters to sleep in August.

I'm happy when it's winter, cause that means there's only heat. Oh, but wait, my scheming roommate will just open the window to cool down things. Brrrrr.

When I walk into the room, I seek the make the room warmer. When he walks in, he seeks to make the room colder. I fight a losing battle, however, since he is physically superior to me.

Does anyone else have this sort of battle?

So I got to thinking...

When you’re staring on the window of a minivan on a long road trip to Austin, Texas, you get to thinking. Some people think happy thoughts. Others allow their troubles to occupy their attention.

My fine friends, I am given to severe bouts of melancholy introspection.

Usually, I don’t find anything new. I already know that I’m the best (as Wario would say). Every once in awhile, though, I get that click. That click of insight, where everything arranges itself in my mind so that I understand something new.

So I got to thinking. How can I do all the things that I’ve put on my plate? I seem to recall being able to do a whole lot in high school…

*random flashback sound effect*

Current self: So how do you all the stuff that you do, high school self?
High school self: I think I do things because my parents want me to do. I think I do things for the praise of others.
Current self: Oh, but don’t you think that’s a rather uninspired way to live?
High school self: If you say so, then it must be.
Current self: Aren’t you sure about anything?
High school self: I don’t know, you tell me.
Current self: Sigh…

*fade to present*

Although I’ve realized living for the praise of others is an empty way to live your life, I still haven’t fully mastered the ability to overcome the mental need for it. It’s like I need my parents to support what I want to do, but I don’t always feel that is the case. They say that I can do what I want, but for some reason I can only sense their doubt. I know what I want, yet I often deny what I want.

Because I seek affirmation of my abilities, I am utterly fascinated when someone comments on me as a person. It is as if they are holding a mirror in front of me, reflecting who I am inside. That is not necessarily a bad thing, at least until it becomes an obsession. There are times I wonder what people truly say about me. People can say one thing to my face but say the opposite behind my back.

To avoid unnecessary unpleasantries, I often play a rather distant and polite character. The dilemma of a hedgehog, so I have heard. Others can’t get too close to me because I won’t let others hurt me and I won’t hurt others. I fancy there’s a mean and bitter person inside of me, waiting for each and every opportunity to lash out. I have to act my best to cover the other Daniel inside of me.

Click.

I’ve got to quit worrying about what others think about me so much, especially my parents. Yes, it’s important to reflect ideas off other people, but I have a self-worth that is not determined by others’ opinions. I certainly will not wake up tomorrow and be cured of my self-doubts, for it takes time for these kinds of things to sink in. This type of thing is beyond your typical New Year’s resolution. I trust the good Lord will help me though this.

The day when I realized I had become less naive

The first day of kindergarten, I had a friend named Billy Nguyen. He was like me, a son of a Vietnamese war refugee. There's a picture of us in one of my photo albums back home. Our long shadows indicate the picture was taken early in the morning. We smile the smile of kids unsure of what to think on the first day of school.

My parents knew his parents, and in retrospect they had the bond of their motherland with them. I remember playing Super Mario Brothers (the original) with Billy quite a bit. Nintendo was so leet back then. We so much in common and we would have made great friends.

I say "would have" because one day he didn't come to class anymore. When I asked my parents about it, they said that his mom had left for a better place. I would come to find out later that she had died driving on a particularly bad storm that fateful morning. Billy and his dad would be going out to California now.

Then I have this memory, which I'm not even sure if it's a figment of my imagination or reality. We visited the funeral of Billy's mom. For some reason, Billy's dad was surprised to see us. Moreover, my parents whispered something about Billy's dad already taking up another woman. I was just a kid, I just wanted to talk to Billy. He wasn't very talkative for some reason.

I've kept a paper journal off and on since the ninth grade. And I distinctly remember it hit me one day as I was writing about Billy. His dad had taken up another woman so soon after his wife's death. What had Billy thought of that? I don't know, and I know it's none of my business. But I can't help but wonder what's happened to that guy.

That was also the day I became a little less naive.