Isabella Rosselini has a new perfume. As I watched the program where she was talking about the process of making this perfume a reality, she said that her logo for the perfume was that it should be a scent representing not this mystical thing that we strive to be but who we really are.

Which, of course, made me think.

There is an entire set of products whose job is to make us look and feel better. Perfume and makeup are easy to recognize members of such a club. Most of their function is in distorting reality. In hiding the blemishes and highlighting the strengths.

Not that there's anything wrong with that.

For all intensive purposes, striving to be better is wonderful. It gives you drive, motivation and direction. Nothing wrong with a healthy dose of self-competition.

Healthy being the operative word.

I think these industries have gone so overboard that we feel ugly without make-up. We feel obligated to buy seventeen skin products to look decent. There's nothing wrong with trying to accentuate the positive and go the extra mile on special occasions. As long as they don't distort our idea of who we are.

I know many people who won't even buy milk without putting makeup on, or wearing heels. Argh. Looking spiffy is nice, but who you are is so much more than that and why do you really have to be this "mystical entity" all the time?

I like the idea of celebrating who we are. Putting light makeup, dressing comfortably, being happier in your own skin. I wish more of us did that. We're so busy being fed the person we have the potential to be, that we never enjoy being the person we already are.

It's like people who live for the freedom they'll have once they're retired but their entire life is torture until that moment. We live in a society where plastic surgery and diet programs thrive. One where size 2 is the norm and one where normal-looking people are never good enough. Images get doctored, blemishes covered. Views are skewed.

What's so bad about just being you?

Previously? Trust.

I tend to make friends easily.

Well, maybe not friends but acquaintances. For the most part, I'm outgoing and it's easy to hold conversations with me. So at a party, I mingle well and make many acquaintances. I'm also often spread thin so I know many people from different situations/commitments. During college, I knew just about anyone in my year and the two years above and below me.

Becoming my friend, however, is a complicated and time-consuming task. Probably as a result of my past, I take a real long time to truly trust a person.

Having said that, once someone becomes my friend, it's pretty much a done deal for life. I try to always to my best to be there for my friends and make sure that they always feel comfortable coming to me for anything. I'm not trying to boast, I believe that's what friendship is all about, so I'm no more special than the next person.

So what do I do when a friend hurts me? How much do I forgive? How far is too far?

Such questions occupy my mind at times. Some people would say that you should always forgive accidental malice and others would say friends should know better. I would assume the ranges of unacceptable behavior would change from person to person. I have my own list. What's on yours?

I've lost friends from not having kept in touch. I've lost friends from our priorities and routes having split. I've lost friends due to large distances that came between us. But all of those are temporary losses. As soon as our paths cross once more, it will be like we never parted.

The ones who've hurt me will have a totally different fate. Over the years, I've learned to forgive, but I don't think I will ever learn to forget. I never forget my own fuck-ups, why should I forget others'? To be totally honest, even though I forgive my friends things never really are the same.

That's the problem with trust, once it's broken it's not truly replaceable.

If you break a vase and then glue it back together, you can still see the break marks. As much as both parties might try to ignore them, if we were all being honest, we'd have to admit that you can't go back.

So don't fuck with other people's trust.

Previously? And the Chicks for Free.

Each time I go to another "for women" meeting, I get more and more disappointed in members of my gender.

As a way of celebrating Women's History Month (which pisses me off in so many ways that I won't go into it) my firm organized a session on women and money. I ran to the session twenty minutes late cause I had a meeting, so I can't vouch for the first part of the meeting. But the second part gave me enough frustration to last a few weeks. It also confirmed my suspicions that I must not be female.

The first thing the presenter does is ask people what their parents taught them about money. Several hands go up. Women say: "My dad told me never to pay on a date.", "My mom used to sing 'Daddy's coming home, he'll give us all his money.'", "My mom told me to marry rich.", and this went on and on.

Holy Fucking Shit! Is this the 21st century or not? Every single woman in this room is working at quite a prestigious firm, so we're not talking people who went to college to find a husband. Or why would they be working?

My mom never graduated high school. My father never finished college. Both have worked pretty much every single day I've been alive. Neither ever told me to make the man pay or that I'd never be able to make money on my own. I don't mean to imply that my parents never disagreed about money. They fought all the time, even though we were fortunate enough to have enough to go around.

My father used to hate the enormous phone bills so much that when my sister and I were teenagers, he had machines installed on the phone lines to cut us off after three minutes (cost multiplies in Turkey every three minutes so the longer you're on the phone, the more you pay). It wasn't that we didn't have the money to pay; he just got irritated by how much we took advantage of the situation. Most money related issues were handled similarly. If we really wanted something we got it but not if it was merely caprice. For some reason, I don't think that either my sister or I never took anything for granted. We never assumed that all we wanted could be ours. Even now, we're more likely to not buy something than go crazy with shopping.

So I don't know whether my parental education on issues of money was any healthier than other people's but I was never ever told that I would need a man to provide the cash in my life.

The presenter says that a large population of women fear being a "bag lady". Huh? She claims this is a common fear in wealthy, professional women. Huh? Maybe I'm snotty, but I have never ever had that fear. Or anything equivalent. Is that cause I'm fortunate enough to have a family who's financially secure? Nope. I know better than to assume that money today has any guarantees. My parents could get sick and that money would disappear literally within days due to doctors' fees. They could make bad investments. There are a million things that could go wrong. I could even lose my own savings overnight and be forced to start from scratch.

So what? Don't I still have a brain? Even if all technology jobs dried up and I couldn't get something in my field, I could learn a new skill. How is it that women question their capacity to mold to different situations? And don't even get me started on the presenter's opinion on women and math. I'm so sick of women becoming victims and I'm even sicker of women who victimize themselves.

I have many fears, but the ability to make money has never been one of them. It seems that makes me a minority in my gender.

What a shame.

Previously? Unspoken.

Last week, I started reading Dangerous Liaisons. Between that and the Decameron I'm remembering why I used to love such books.

They mastered the art of suggestion.

These novels are dripping with sexual acts yet the word sex is not mentioned once. The creativity of the author in weaving the appropriate words in with the beautifully amusing and intelligent characters makes me smile each time. I love these people. I admire this author. Not just for his ingenuity and wit but for not assuming that his or her readers are dumb.

I have the same problem with movies. What bothers me about recent movies is not as much their lack of creativity as their assumption that the audience is stupid. Characters have no depth, plots are rarely complicated and just about anyone can figure out the ending of most current movies.

I don't mean to imply that I want movies to have open endings. On the contrary, I enjoy when the story has an ending. I don't need every single knot tied but I don't like the ending left to the moviegoer's imagination, either. But the recent movies are so shallow that just viewing the preview is enough to get the entire plot. There are no surprises.

I'm offended by the implications of the recent movies and novels. Either the authors and moviemakers are dumb or they think that the population is. The characters are so unbelievably one-sided. No good characteristics on the bad guy and nothing bad about the good guy. It's so sad.

If the characters aren't going to be totally realistic, like in The Taste of Others, then I want them to be witty. I want them fun and interesting. I want them unpredictable. I want them to be worth my time.

I know it takes longer to read novels that dance around the issues. You need to pay attention to the words, you need to read between the lines. But that's what makes the reading so much more rewarding. You can read it once and then strip the layers and discover another level of meaning, like in Shakespeare. These novels are fun to read on the surface but they offer so much more to the person who's looking for it.

Especially since these deliciously wicked people are so much fun.

Sometimes what you don't say can mean so much more than what you do.

Previously? No More.

You're always free to change your mind and choose a different future, or a different past. from Illusions by Richard Bach

Many years ago, I went through a Richard Bach stage. I read almost everything he wrote and devoured his thoughts. Until Jake's parents ruined it for me, Jonathan Livingston Seagull was my favorite book.

After a while, I started to grow tired of his style and his ideas became less and less plausible. For some reason, the above quote always stuck in my mind. Obviously choosing a different future is no big whoop. Most people believe in the idea that they have the ability to change their future.

On the other hand, changing your past might require some more work. I'm not sure what exactly Richard Bach meant by that but here's my interpretation:

What I call my past is a collection of memories my brain stores from events that I believe occurred. It's pretty much proven that, in some cases, what we remember is an accurate version of the event and, in many cases, it's not.

Most popular sayings tell you to forget the past and the future and concentrate on today. They claim you have no ability to change what has already occurred or what's yet to come. But I disagree. I know that I don't like the way I remember my past and I've decided I'm going to change it. Memory is selective and I'm electing to no longer remember things in their distorted way.

Almost everyone has some horror stories from their past. One kid was teased mercilessly, another beaten by bullies regularly, and yet another had to go through much more severe problems. Some of these people get hung up on their past and others move on. I don't know how one 'gets over' it and the other doesn't and I've always subscribed to the notion that if you're the type who clings to the past, you can't just 'get over it'.

I am now changing my mind. I've decided to get over it. And I'm going to. Enough is enough. It's time to stop holding on to the negative memories. It's time to remember the good times, the kind people, the laughter. It's time to move on and make new memories.

It's time to let go.

Previously? Right Moment.

"Have you talked to her yet?"

"To whom?"

"You know who I'm talking about."

"What?"

"Look if I wanted to be more straightforward, I would have. Try to think back to our conversations the last time we saw each other."

She's silent for a while. I can't tell if she's thinking or distracted by something else. After a few seconds, she says, "You mean my mom?"

"Right. You haven't talked to her, have you?"

"No."

"You're not going to?"

"No."

"But you can't keep repressing those feelings."

"I'm not. I don't care."

"Are you trying to fool yourself or me? Cause I'm not buying it."

"I don't think it's worth wasting my time talking to someone who's too shallow to get it."

"She's your mother."

"So?"

"How do you know she's too shallow? Wouldn't you be hurt if I thought you were too shallow? Maybe you're really worried that she'll understand and still not change. Cause then you can't tell yourself that she's doing it because she doesn't know."

"Maybe."

"I still think it's better to talk things out. Always better to know."

"Maybe I'm waiting for the right moment."

"Maybe. And maybe you make the moment."

She pauses again. "Maybe."

I don't want to push her anymore, "I love you."

"Me, too."

I put the phone down and hope the right moment comes soon.

Previously? Girlie.

I'm learning to play the saxophone. When I told my dad about the classes, he said, "Are you sure you want to play that? It's not really a girly instrument. Why not the piano?"

My first reaction was to laugh. I work in an investment bank and I am a computer programmer. Neither of which are 'girly' environments.

As a child, I was quite far away from a tomboy. To the day, I have never climbed a tree. I used to sew clothes for my Barbie dolls. I spent most of my time playing with them or reading. I cried often and I was extremely shy. So I spose I was a girly girl.

And then I started school. Since I suck at history and adore math, I leaned towards the sciences and math. I went to all-girls middle and high schools, so I never knew that girls weren't supposed to be good at math. Or at being leaders.

I moved from one 'boy-field' to another. I studied computers at a college where the ratio of women to men is 1 to 7. (thankfully, that's not the case anymore) I worked at Bell Labs and then joined the investment bank. Never even paid attention to the fact that I was surrounded by men. I guess I never read the memo explaining that since I was a female, I was supposed to feel inferior. So I just kept on doing what I liked, learning as much as possible.

I pretty much suck at all the 'girly' stuff, now. I can't cook and I hate to clean. I'm pretty messy and I hate shopping for clothes. I never remember to put creams on my skin. Makeup is an effort. I have never ever thought of my wedding day. I don't even know why TV and film producers think that all women dream of their wedding day. Almost all my good friends are men.

I guess I've been lucky that no one ever made me feel less important. No one said, "You're a woman, you don't know." And at this point, I'm confident hell would break loose if they do. I may have many hang-ups but being female has never been one. No one can tell me what I can or cannot do.

So after I was done laughing, I replied, "I love you, Daddy, but I want to learn the saxophone and not the piano."

Previously? Falling Sky.

It's pouring outside. When we were little, my sister would say that rain is God crying. During earthquakes, she'd say it's the devils fighting down below. Quite funny, cause we were never ever a religious family.

I don't like rain. Over the years, I've observed that people either love it or hate it. Rain always depresses me. It makes me think of mud. In the non-paved streets of Istanbul, rain doesn't cause a pretty mixture. Maybe it's due to my having lived in big cities all my life, but rain is people rushing home, subways overflowing, and the unbearable traffic

I could imagine a beautiful house with large glass panes, facing the ocean, by the beach. In that case and assuming I don't work or that I work from home, rain might not conjure up such bad emotions. If I lived by some trees, I might like that, too. I love the smell of wet trees.

I suppose the other factor would be the temperature. If it were raining but warm, like in Florida, I could go out in the rain in my shorts and twirl around. I might even do cartwheels. In Turkey, during the summer, we get short, fast showers. I remember many times where I'd be walking at Burgaz from my house to the club as I got caught in one of them and I'd get soaked. And then, just as quickly as it started, it would all be over and the sun would cover the sky, the last few drops decorating it with rainbows. It never bummed me out then, I just jumped in the sea with my clothes on.

I guess it's closely related to my frame of mind. In the ideal setting, with no work to do, rain is delightful, but in New York, during lunch or the commute home, it's a pain.

I'm definitely ready for spring.

Previously? Silence.

Today was the last day of my sign language class. The classes at my school go until level eight and I just finished level seven.

At this high level, most of the grammar and basic concepts are long covered. We spend the class time on vocabulary and deaf culture. One of the reasons sign language vocabulary is harder to learn than most other languages is cause it has only one-way lookup. A dictionary can only tell you the sign for a specific word. If you watch two people signing, you can't take note of the sign one made and look it up in the dictionary. The only way to learn the meaning of that sign is by asking that deaf person. If you make a note of the sign and ask another deaf person, you're likely to have missed a subtlety of the sign or the context, which would change the potential meaning of the sign immensely.

Even more frustrating than acquiring vocabulary is understanding deaf culture. There are so many aspects to a hearing person's life that we take for granted. One of the discussions we had last week in class was about a deaf person going to the emergency room. Imagine your friend bleeding and you're both deaf and you need help. Trust me when I say that it's overwhelmingly frustrating. Or imagine being mugged and you approach a police officer. The possibility of getting immediate help is completely nonexistent for deaf people in a hearing world.

My firm hired its first deaf employee a few weeks ago. She is a network specialist. When you enter my firm, there is a four-month training program that is organized to prepare you for your job. After she was given interpreters, the girl insisted that she needed note-takers as well. I know that, initially, the coordinator thought that the girl was being picky and greedy. The fact is we take for granted that we hear with our ears and write using our eyes. We don't need to look at something to be able to write it down. Deaf people hear with their eyes. If she's watching the interpreter, she can't take notes. Any second she takes her eye off the interpreter to write, she'll be missing words.

Tonight, our teacher took my class to a restaurant after class. She told us that we're not allowed to speak, so we can have a better understanding of what the world is for her, as she's deaf. The six of us walked into the restaurant, signing and laughing and we were lucky to have a waitress who had a deaf mother so even though she knew Polish Sign Language, she knew enough to help us out.

The little trip made me realize more and more about what I take for granted. Sitting there, I knew that at any moment, I could speak if I got frustrated enough. I could explain what I really wanted to say with one word. Instead of having to use paper or mime. No matter how hard I try, I will never truly be able to live in the shoes of a deaf person, cause deep down I'll always know that I have the choice to opt out while real deaf people don't.

Previously? Intentions and Expectations.

I've always thought of myself as a pretty decent person. I try to be nice to people and I make an extra effort not to harm anyone.

What differs between levels of kindness is a combination of expectations and intentions.

When my boss asks me for a favor and I do it, I can be classified as a good employee (or a kiss-up depending on the favor). But I think it's fair to say that I have reasons to want to keep my boss happy.

Similarly, I am kind to my family and friends. I care about them and I want to make them happy. I don't want my friends to be sad, hurt or in difficulty. Therefore, I take the time and effort required to help them out, to work with them and to do their favors.

So it's fair to say that, in measuring whether you're nice or not, we can exclude those people. How nice are you to strangers? Do you hold the door to someone whom you know is walking into the room after you? Do you help someone if they drop their stuff in the middle of the street? If someone asks a question about something you know, do you take the time to help him out?

I used to have two teammates. When stuck in the middle of a piece of code, one would give me an idea to try while the other actually sat with me and we worked through different alternatives until we came up with the best solution. In my book, they would both be considered nice since neither of them ignored me, but the second guy went above and beyond the call of duty. In the process, he gained a loyal teammate. I knew that I would always take the time to help him no matter what the circumstances.

So part of being nice is doing more than expected. Giving when it's not required. Going out of your way when you don't need to. Having pure intentions.

The other part is tied to what you hope to receive as a result. I often hear people complain about how so and so wasn't thankful enough. If you spend all night helping someone out and then he blows you off when you ask him a question, don't you have the right to get mad?

Probably. But I think you should never help someone with the intention of getting something as a result. If I help a person because I know they have the connections to get me a job, am I really being nice? What if initially I didn't know that he could get me the job? My intentions were nice but then my expectations took over.

That's where I need improvement. Just because you're nice doesn't mean the other person has to be nice to you in return. Being a good person isn't about that. It's about having the right intentions with no expectations. That's when you know you did something good. That's when it's rewarding.

I need to work on that.

Previously? Genius.

I don't believe in the idea that there are a few peculiar people capable of understanding math, and the rest of the world is normal. Richard Feynman at an interview with Omni magazine

I've always believed in the theory of "there is no such thing as can't." Each time someone claimed I couldn't do something, I'd work incessantly and accomplish it, just to prove them wrong. I never liked the idea of others claiming they could judge the range of my capacity.

Any human's capacity.

I've often wondered if there is such a thing as human capacity. Are we all born with a set of abilities or do all babies come to the world with the same set of competences and somehow, some people learn to tap into this well of knowledge better than others?

I guess like most nature vs. nurture questions, the answer lies somewhere in between. It's highly likely, to me, that there is some kind of genetic wiring that allows for one baby to be more artistically inclined than the other. It's also plausible, even probable, that two babies with equal capacity in this area might not grow up to have the equal artistic ability in practice. One baby might have parents who recognize this inherent talent early on and they may hire the best tutors for the child early on, expanding and honing this skill while the other kid's parents are oblivious. Therefore, in my mind, it makes perfect sense to say that both nature and nurture have an effect in the resulting genius.

The fascinating question, however, is whether such a genius can be the result of mostly nurture. What if I don't have these special genes that make me an amazing artist? (Let's call these the Leonardo genes.) Can I still be a master painter without the Leonardo genes? What if I worked with people who had these genes and I practiced night and day? Are you saying that even if I made it my sole purpose in life, I couldn't become a Leonardo without his genes?

What a depressing thought.

I often suffer from lack of perspective. When I see something amazing, I get overcome with despair that I am incapable of producing such a thing. I'm not talking about achieving an outcome at the level of a Leonardo or a Nobel Prize winning physicist. Some amazing drawing someone my age did. Some program a fellow teammate wrote. Some idea a teenager had that's truly unique and clever. I see all these as achievements within my reach and I feel depressed that I am incapable of producing such outcomes. I don't mean to say that I feel animosity or jealousy towards the originator of it. On the contrary, I have huge respect and admiration towards them. I just feel bad that I couldn't be such a person, too.

Therefore the idea that genius cannot be learned is upsetting to me and I refuse to believe it. If I can't hope that by hard work and determination, I can reach just about any goal, I might as well lose hope.

And I don't ever want to lose hope.

Previously? Taboos.

I've never been good with using the right words when I have to.

As my friend Jessica would fondly tell you, during my first few months in the States, I made a few boo-boos. If someone pissed me off by not meeting my demands immediately, I'd say, "If you don't give me your notes, I will fuck you."

As you can tell, these threats didn't go over very well. My sweet friends would laugh at me and tease me mercilessly. Actually, Jessica retold that story to just about everyone we met for the next four years of our college life. Even today, if we're together and she is telling someone about me, she'll ask me if it's okay to tell the "fuck story."

Even after I learned how to curse properly, I seem to enjoy using words that push people's boundaries. I almost always say "I'm going to pee" or "I have my period." I don't really understand why certain words are never meant to be used.

I understand that there are cases where manners are crucial. I don't get up in a meeting and tell the vice presidents and partners in the firm that I have to pee. I just excuse myself. But why can't I tell a male friend that I have my period? How come shaving and periods are only acceptable subjects to be discussed among women? They're natural. They occur consistently. What's the big deal?

So yes, I get my period. If I'm lucky, every month. If not it's bad news, I guarantee you. And yes, I pee. Several times a day. If not, I'm not drinking enough. And I shave. As often as possible, so little forests don't grow under my arms, on my legs and anywhere else I don't want them. When I want to look pretty, I get a manicure or a pedicure. I might even get a facial if I feel in the mood. So there.

Since "it's that time of the month" is already socially unacceptable to mutter to your boss or such people, I think it's okay to use the actual word "period" with the rest of the people in your life.

I'm gonna start a taboo-breaking revolution. Even if it's a one-man one. (or one-woman one as the case my be here.) No more tiptoeing around the issues, dammit.

And if you don't like that, I will fuck you!

Previously? Look Ma, I'm Bonding.

I've never really been into bonding with women. Just not my thing and until this very night, I don't think I could put my finger on the reason.

My firm just had a shinding for women in technology, in the firm. Imagine a fancy restaurant setting, filled with middle aged women, trying to form networking and mentoring relationships with each other.

I'm not saying that networking or mentoring are bad concepts. I just think that they can't be administered like that. You can't put a bunch of people in the same room and tell them to network. At least, not me. I don't perform well on demand.

Even if we were to take the personal aspect of mentoring and networking out of the diagram, who is to say I want a female mentor? I think the assumption that just because I am a woman only other women can mentor me is a condescending assumption. Especially when talking about career issues, I can imagine many men who are more similar in thought to me than women. Not to say there aren't issues which are specific to women, but assuming women make the best mentors for other women is wildly wrong if you ask me.

Maybe my impressions are overpowered by the fact that I feel women are inherently cattier and more conniving then men. Whatever that says or doesn't say about men's level of intelligence or calculating nature, it does say that sometimes men are more trustworthy then women.

Most of the women managers I've known are much less self-confident and secure. Many of them couldn't care less about your career goals or lack thereof.

I'm not trying to say that there are no women who'd make great managers and mentors. One of my favorite managers in the firm is a woman. She's a great mentor to me cause she took the time to get to know me and tries to make sure I am on the path to my goals. She doesn't feed me her lifestyle. She doesn't fear I'm going to take her job. She is just there for support and she is my cheerleader in the firm. And I appreciate it immensely and I talk about her everywhere.

So we both network through each other and she is one of my mentors. But none of this has to do with the fact that she's a woman in technology and therefore understands me and where I'm coming from.

It only works cause caring for me and helping me out is something she wants to take the time to do. And those connections cannot be made at an administered event.

Previously? Antsy.

As my backache dissipates, life is becoming fun once more. Everything must be good cause I've been searching for trouble lately.

Last week, I picked a fight with Jake three days in a row. I looked for any possible excuse and tried to be overly harsh and too judgmental. Having been with me for as long as he has, Jake was kind and patient and didn't let me stupidly ruin our relationship.

A similar scenario ensued at work. I told my workmate that if people get on my nerves, I might just walk out. That maybe I'll move to San Francisco or even Turkey. Maybe drive across country. Just something drastic and different. To which my very sweet workmate responded, "Please don't quit now. Finish this project and then quit."

Obviously I don't want to quit my job or leave Jake. I have this amazing setup at work and I adore my job. And you already know how I feel about Jake. So it seems rather odd that I have this urge to ruin my life.

But I do.

Not to ruin my life, really. But to do something drastic. Something crazy. Something wildly uncharacteristic. Something that I can tell my kids about. Something I can't tell my parents about.

The thing is, I probably won't do a thing.

I never have.

Previously? Mental Trance.

If you haven't already figured out the pattern, Tuesday is psychology day. Mostly cause I have my theories of personality class today at 10am and the teacher always leaves me with many thoughts.

I decided that one of the most important tools to have in a relationship is the "it's not about me" thought process. This doesn't only apply to romantic relationships. It works with parent-child, friend-friend, worker-boss or any other scenario you can imagine.

Here's how it works: while the opposite party is reaming you a new ass for having failed at such and such, you mentally repeat the words "it's not about me" over and over again. After a while, it becomes easy to do and easy to believe.

The thing is, in most cases, it's not about you. Think of the times you yell at someone. Are you really yelling at that person cause they did something bad? I believe we tend to yell at the person who we think will let us. If I'm really pissed off one day at work, I come home and yell at Jake over a set of dishes. It's not because the dishes are so important but I need to get this anger out of my system and I know Jake will let me vent and get it over with.

Same thing at work. Your coward boss yells at you cause he can't yell at his boss. Your mom screams over something stupid cause she was really stressed or worried about something totally different and hopefully something much more legitimate.

Obviously, you can now use this knowledge to make sure you never yell at an undeserved person. (Not that anyone deserves being yelled at, it accomplishes nothing. If you need to get it out of your system, it's often a better idea to yell at the walls or sing loudly or do something physical, like exercise.) Next time you make a mountain out of something tiny, try and think of the repressed root of your anger and work on resolving that instead of creating more unnecessary problems.

As for when you're being yelled at, try the "it's not about me" technique and when things are calm, remind your loved one or your friend or your boss that no one has the right to yell at another human being.

Ok, done being psychologist for this week.

Previously? Disappearing Act.

A while back, Jason polled his readers about their preferred superpower. Even though it didn't win, my choice of the three would have been to make myself invisible. But my real option wasn't even on the list. If I got to pick my superpower, I'd want to read people's thoughts.

I'm confident this is an outcome of my childhood dealings with two-faced people. But even besides that I'm always fascinated by what goes through people's minds. How people feel about things and what they're thinking at specific moments.

So alongside the "I wish I knew what people think about me" thought, I do have a scientific interest in this superpower.

Ahem. Well most wise people in my life say that this would be a huge disaster. When you hear other people's thoughts, you'll quickly realize that the world is not a nice place. Even people whom you consider close friends, have negative thoughts about you every now and then. And some things are better left unsaid. There is a reason we choose to say some words out loud and others not to say at all.

Think of the number of times you think a negative thought about your best friend. About your boyfriend. Even about your family. How much of a relationship would you have with any of them if they could read your mind?

I totally agree that the above is food for thought. But it also makes me wonder why we keep certain things unsaid. When you feel anger or sorrow and you keep it inside, it only builds up to become resentment. If someone pisses you off, why don't you tell them? If someone hurts your feelings, is it better to not be honest? When does hiding become a good thing?

Maybe I am naive, maybe I am stupid. But I'd still like to hear people's thoughts.

At least until I lose all faith in humanity.

What about you? Would you want to hear other people's thoughts?

Previously? Labyrinths.

Would you think it's possible to learn all about life in one afternoon? Not even an afternoon, just two hours or so.

My three-hour labyrinth class taught me all that I need to know.

The first thing we did as the class started was to go to another room and walk a labyrinth the teacher had laid in yarn. The instructions were to keep quiet, take our shoes off, and write our reactions as soon as we completed the walk to the middle of the labyrinth and back.

The first picture below is the shape of the rope we walked. It's a seven-ring labyrinth. The image next to it is the eleven-ring one found in many cathedrals.

Here's what I wrote after I finished my walk:

- It's best to keep your eye in the present instead of worrying about the future.

- Try not to worry about your sense of direction so much as it can shift.

- When you think you're done, you're not.

I swear these are the exact sentences I wrote as soon as I sat back down at my desk. As I stared at my writing, I noticed how similar that experience was to life itself.

A forty-dollar two-hour class taught me more about life than anything else.

Previously? Camera Fun.

It's all Heather's fault. When I saw her post about the camera, I told myself I wasn't gonna buy it.

I am sucky at taking pictures. I already own a digital camera and the watch camera. I run Windows NT on my desktop and it has no USB support. It's too bulky.

Those are just some of the really good and legitimate excuses I had. I was good, I resisted. But the little voice in the back of my head refused to shut up. I kept inquiring and checking availability at CompUSA but I resisted buying it.

Only until last night that is.

I am officially the proud owner of one Aiptek PenCam.

I found out a few annoying features: it won't let you take a picture when there isn't enough light and you can't see the picture after you take it. You can only see your pictures after you download them. But it's really light. Has an almost hollow feel. And it rocks!

Here are some mirror shots of Olga and Me, discovering the limitless fun my new toy offers.

Doesn't it just look like it's so much fun?

Previously? Fictional.

My friend Natalia is applying to Business Schools. As with collegeapplications, these schools have a variety of utterly boring and annoying essay questions.

Anyhow, Natalia wants to get in and she's doing all the filling out the forms, taking the exams, getting therecommendations bit on her own. But I get to help out with the essays.

I can't remember any of my college essay topics besides two. One wasabout "three major events in my life" and another was "why Swarthmore"(which I did quite badly on since, back then, I didn't even know whereSwarthmore was).

We've been working on Natalia's essays for three months now. Amidst thereally boring and common questions, I've recently come across one thatreally got me thinking. One of the essay topics for Chicago Business Schoolis:

"If you were a character in a book, who would it be and why? What do youadmire most about this character?" (the question also asks how you relate to this character but we'll ignore that part)

You might have a totally different answer if you were writing an essayfor college, but the question of what character you would like to be isreally interesting, if you ask me. After hearing the topic, I spent daysthinking about what character I would have chosen and why.

Assuming they meant a "fiction" book, here are a bunch of myfavorites:

Little Prince: cause he is always curious, looks at things from adifferent perspective, is honest and kind, is fascinated with the world andis open-hearted.

Winnie the Pooh: cause he's nice to everyone, is always in a goodmood, is curious and loving.

Atticus: Cause he fought for what he believed in, had integrityand was kind.

I love many of Anne Tyler and Jane Smiley's characters. I wouldn't wantto be a Stephen King or Anthony Burgess character. I'm on the fence aboutJohn Irving and Salinger's characters. And I hope I never come close to aHemingway one.

Ok so I can't think of good examples. I'll add to this list as I think ofsome. In the meantime, tell me, whowould you want to be? Feel free topicka movie character if you want.

Previously? CanDo.

Don't particularly want to harp on all the psychology knowledge I'm acquiring, but the more I find out, the more questions I accumulate, it seems.

I've talked about Adler before and along with his theory of "wanting to improve yourself" comes the idea of having an end goal. Something you want to be.

The trick is that if your end goal is unattainable, you are neurotic (yes, neurotic is a big thing with these psychiatrists). Obviously it's cause you're setting yourself a goal that, somewhere deep down, you know you can't possibly achieve. Therefore, you will forever strive towards a goal that you will never reach. So you must be neurotic to put yourself in that situation.

It all makes perfect sense to me.

The teacher gave an example of a mediocre high school student who wants to make it to the NFL. Up until that point, I was happy with Adler's theories. I don't know if it just was a bad example on the teacher's part or if Adler really did imply such cases, but I wouldn't have considered that high-school student neurotic.

Which, of course, brings to surface the question of what's an unattainable goal.

While I'll admit to its being a little drastic, my opinion is that everything is an attainable goal. Short of biological/scientific limitations, I truly can't think of a wish impossible to reach. Yes, you can't be younger. Yes you can't go back to the past or future. But I'm talking about life goals within the confines of science as we know it today.

I can think of some dreams which would be hard to reach. I'm 26 and I have a technical background. If I decided to be an anesthesiologist, I'd have to work really hard and be extremely patient. I'd have to fulfill all the perquisites to some of the biology courses needed to get accepted into medical school. I'd have to do several years of medical school and many more of residential experience and etc. But it is possible. Same with any other profession. Or traveling the world. Or wanting to publish a novel. Or jump out of an airplane. Or fall in love. Or anything.

Maybe my imagination is limited. Maybe you can think of other goals. Is there really such a thing as the unattainable goal? Given enough drive, motivation and hard work, what can you not do?

Previously? Sweet Dreams.

On the surface life is good.

I wake up every morning with a smile on my face and sleep in my eyes. I brush my teeth and comb my hair. I pick my clothes for the day and prepare my bag.

On the surface all is well.

I walk from class to class, sucking in the new information, feeling my brain swell. I try to mold my mouth to fit the mouthpiece and make the reed vibrate just the right amount. I sign. I force my brain to think in Japanese. I work. I go from meeting to meeting, talk about the system and our vision and the multitude of requirements. I sit at my computer and reply to email. I code perl. I write queries. I read through the specifications of the messaging-based programs the department recommends.

On the surface successes outweigh the failures.

I come home and watch the TiVo. I call a friend or two. I read a book or two. I stare at my computer and read about other people's lives, thoughts and interests. I hug Jake. I talk to my bird. I write.

On the surface I smile.

I go to bed. So does Jake.

On the surface life goes on.

I hear the consistent exhale and inhale of his breathing.

I cry.

Previously?Socially Unacceptable.

My relationship with alcohol has always been a rollercoaster ride.

In Turkey, we have no drinking age. My first real boyfriend liked his vodka on the rocks and he liked to have it often. And he hated drinking alone. We spent many nights at bars, he with his Vodka and me with the only alcohol that would slide down my throat: Safari with Peach Juice.

Even back then, I never drank wine or champagne.

After I got to college, I was completely freaked out with the fraternity scenes. Even though social drinking is big in Istanbul, I'd never seen people drinking for the sake of drinking before. In Pittsburgh, I stopped drinking altogether. They didn't have Safari there anyhow.

For no logical reason, my second boyfriend also enjoyed his alcohol. He was a large man who could down several beers in a minute, and he worked hard to prove it.

When my first boyfriend got drunk, he'd stop being so shy and share his deepest emotions with me. So I didn't mind his alcoholic habits so much. But things weren't so simple with the second man. He seemed to have more anger and resentment than the typical teenager. Alcohol brought all this suppressed anger to the surface resulting in urinals being pulled out of their sockets and water fountains being torn off. As I said, he was a large and muscular man. Unfortunately, it also resulted in lots of emotional, verbal and physical abuse. None of which helped an already self-deprecating person.

We tried to go to several Alcoholics Anonymous meetings together, but it's impossible to quit for someone else. He wasn't ready. He couldn't do it. Or he wouldn't do it.

It took me too long to realize that I would never be able to fix his problems. But I finally did. I got out.

I'd never been a major drinker, but after him it got much worse.

The first time I got drunk was in Jake's dorm room with Wine Coolers. Since I hated the taste, I downed them really quickly and they went right to my head. The burning sensation was so strong that within minutes I ended up taking off all my clothes. Everything was suffocating me and had to be removed. Thankfully the only other person in the room was Jake's roommate.

I've always thought that I should drink. Everyone else did. Not drinking made me boring and I hated being boring. I've tried just about every kind of wine and alcohol. I'm able to drink Midori Sour, Archer's and I can do shots since they go right to my stomach. But no wine, no champagne. And I'm careful not to get drunk since it's not really socially acceptable to remove clothing at public places. Just the physical activity of drinking is difficult. Let alone the emotional baggage I've attached to it over the years.

One of the nice side effects to growing older is that drinking is less a part of our social surroundings than before and I don't feel as pressured to try it.

Champagne? No, thanks, I'll have the water.

Previously? Ketchup.

This weekend was catch-up weekend. I finally got to implement the design I'd dreampt up a few weeks ago. Like it? Don't like it? Tell Me. Many thanks go to six, heather, christine, and leia for helping me out. All the design faults, ugliness and stupidities are mine. I don't want you to think this is representative of their work as their workis much much better, but they did take the time to tell me what they think and answer my questions. Thank You!

A while ago, I asked people to share melodies that brought back memories. Here are some replies I got. Send me yours!

In case you were curious about my hairdo, here's me, in multicolor.

As for the theory of life Heather posted a while ago, here are my charts.

Expect some more changes soon. But not real soon. I need some sleep first.

Previously? Spiderwebs.

A few years ago, a really good friend of mine was going through some rough times. Instead of calling me to share and lean on, she segregated herself more and more from her surroundings. At one point, she even stopped talking to me altogether.

When I found out about her problems, later on, I was very hurt and angry that she chose to avoid me. I thought that it said a lot of negative things about our closeness. If she couldn't come to me when she was really down, how could I say that I was there for her?

Over time, she worked through some of her issues on her own and started calling me again; we got back to hanging out and chatting. And I never brought up the distancing herself issue. Even though, deep down I still didn't fully understand her reasoning and still felt hurt about it.

On Thanksgiving Day, I woke up with pain in my lower back and have been unable to sit for longer than ten minutes at a time since then. I have taken a multitude of medication, which is supposed burn right through my stomach. My nerves are doing the native dance of some foreign tribe.

My psychological state has gotten progressively worse each day since the end of November. Not to say I'm a total mess. Life goes on. I have good days and I have bad days. I have had ups at work, in my personal life and in my personal achievements. I've had days when I feel proud of myself and days when I want to hug the world.

But I've been avoiding all my close friends. My great friend Cheryl, who sends me encouraging mails almost daily, gets no responses. I haven't called my best friend Laura in weeks. Emails in my inbox go unanswered for days. Not the ones from new friends, but the ones from old ones. The ones who know me well.

I think I finally understand my friend.

Previously? Dualities.

My sophomore year in college, my friend Jessica recommended a fun book called Life Colors. The book is supposed to tell you your aura color.

You take these extensive tests, which are multi-question and can be answered by "yes", "no" or "sometimes". At the end, you add up your replies and pick the category with the most yes's.

My aura is blue. Hands down. I have a small dose of green, which must be why I can function in corporate America, but I am pretty much the casebook example of the overly emotional, overly maternal blue.

Do I think all this aura stuff is true? Nope.

Do I find it entertaining? Sure, I'm pretty easily amused.

Do I decide anything based on these results? Good Grief, No!

But one of the things I like about this book is that it doesn't just list the typical characteristics of a blue. It differentiates between two states that are common in most people's lives. Centered and in power versus being out of power. This certifies that I am not the only person who acts totally different when I feel confident then when I am drained and weak.

On a good day, I am kind, confident, a true "doer" and I kick ass. Nothing can get to me cause I rule. I will do anything in my power to help others.

On one of the many bad days, I whine. I am paranoid and worried constantly. I am insecure.

To an outsider, these dualities might give the impression that I am possessed, but they're both me and now a published book confirms that possibility. Color me happy!

To add to my delight, Pamala adds that blues like to comfort and counsel people, they worry continuously, they cry even at happy movies, they are bad at receiving compliments, people trust them, they are great promoters of things they believe in, they desperately want to be loved, if one bad thing is said they will remember that over a million positive things, they are often overworked and overwhelmed with responsibilities they create, they are strong feelers and they must learn to love themselves.

It's good to know that there are enough people like me to justify an entire category.

Previously? Anywhere, Anyone