I like to read. I love to read.

I like to listen to music. I like to go to the movies. I like to watch TV.

Until I moved to the United States, I didn't realize that there were a whole list of movies/books/etc. I could never admit to reading/watching/etc. It appears, here, there are two sets of people: one. people who have no standards, two. people who only read literature or watch small budget/foreign movies.

It appears I don't belong in either.

I like to read what I like to read and I tend not to worry about what others think about it. I read John Grisham and I read Charles Dickens. I'm not embarrassed of one just like I'm not particularly proud of the other. I don't read Danielle Steel and I don't read James Joyce or Hemingway. I believe that you can't judge something unless you've actually done it. if you've never read Sydney Sheldon, can you really say that he sucks? If you've read even one book, I'll give you the benefit of the doubt, but I know tons of people who are happy to bash a novel they've never read, a movie they've never seen.

I think when you have the whole attitude that surrounds the mindset of 'I'll only watch movies that are small budget and independent', you're automatically ruling a whole set because it doesn't fit into criteria that you've preset at a certain point for a certain reason. It's such an exclusionary mindset. But that's their problem. What people choose to deprive themselves from is completely their own problem.

I mostly mind the people who judge you for liking something they define as low quality. There is an entire list of music you should never admit to listening. And God forbid you enjoy some mainstream writer or movie. Which means you have to walk with your head down in shame and hide any part of you that might find the movie fun or the music entertaining.

Why are people so judgmental? Why do people have to categorize themselves? Why can't you read comics and literature and Harlequin all in one and still be a high quality human being? Why do you have to wear all black and adhere to strict rules just to be intelligent?

I love Disney. I love cartoons. I enjoy watching teenage movies and TV shows and music.

And I refuse to be called stupid or non-intellectual.

Previously? Point of View.

I've realized that, like many others around me, I'm a victim of 'limited point of view.'

I remember years of torturous childhood experiences and pain just to be able to hang out with the group of people I was initially thrust in. My parents' friends' children. These people, purposefully or not, made me feel worthless on a regular basis. They made fun of my looks, my habits, my opinions, my preferences. Just about everything. They hurt me so much and so to the core that I can recite most of their words even today. I can even tell you exactly where those words were uttered. But I couldn't even perceive the idea of not hanging out with them. I had no other friends. If I stopped trying to fit in this group, I'd be completely alone. It felt as if I had absolutely no other choice.

A few years later, an opportunity presented itself and I was able to find a new group of friends more accepting and rewarding that the previous, which helped me regain some of my long lost sense of self and allowed me to find even more appropriate friends. The hardest part was straying from the initial path.

Looking back, it's easy for me to say that I should have left even sooner, I should have made friends of my own. But the fact is, at the time, my limited point of view did not allow for that possibility. It's hard to seek something that doesn't even cross your mind, or something that's clearly not an option for you.

The same thing happened when I graduated from college. Having wanted to study computers since I was ten, I immediately found a job as a programmer and got on the path to 'success.' In the first few years I had a lot of tough times. Worked many weekends and late late nights, dealt with irresponsible and immature bosses, took a lot of the stress home with me. There were many times I spent hours crying from frustration and loss of hope. Even though my family and loved ones told me to quit, I never considered it to be an option. I didn't really see a way out.

It sounds stupid now, but it truly was a lack of point of view at the time. I was so locked in my path that it seemed unthinkable to waver. It took a long time for me to come to terms with my unhappiness and I had to get really miserable before I started taking initiative. And literally within the week I moved into my new job, I wondered what took me so long. I realized that it was easily possible for me to be happy at a job and that I was insane for having suffered as long as I did in my previous one.

Hindsight is always 20/20.

I am now standing at another crossroads in my life. Another case where I am struggling to look at my life from another point of view. Giving up a lucrative job and one that appears successful and amazing to others. A job that I enjoy. This time it's for a bigger cause. This time I don't know if things will work out. I'm feeling the same anxiety I've felt before. The fear of leaving the comforts of my chosen path. I'm struggling to let it not get to me.

I'm trying to stand on my table and look at it from a different point of view.

Previously? Shortchanged.

"We sometimes ask our students at The American University to list twenty famous women from American history. There are only a few restrictions. They cannot include figures from sports or entertainment. Presidents' wives are not allowed unless they are clearly famous in their own right. Most students cannot do it. The seeds of ignorance were sown in their earliest years of schooling." - Failing at Fairness by Myra & David Sadker

My friend Ashlie used to refuse to read novels written by men. She told me that her high school and college education was male-dominated and she had decided that she needed to compensate by reading many of the women authors that get neglected within our schools.

I can't say she doesn't have a point.

Today, I can name many fantastic authors, but if I look back upon my formal education, with the possible exception of the Bronte sisters and Jane Austin, I don't believe we studied any women writers. Female scientists? Marie Curie. That's the extent of the list I was ever taught. Can't even think of one female mathematician or physician. Historical figures? Short of presidents' wives, I got none. Well, there's Anne Frank, but I'm not sure what category she falls under.

Quite pathetic if you ask me.

I was never explicitly told that just because I am female, I'm not supposed to be good at a certain field. In elementary school, I rocked in math and the teacher never made me feel like that was a bad thing. For middle and high school, I attended an all-girls school so obviously there was no male-female competition there. But I have consistently been interested in the male-dominated fields and I have never felt intimidated by the men around me. So I always thought that maybe I grew up without gender discrimination.

The fact is, gender discrimination is there all the time. I didn't avoid it. Most people aren't even aware that they are biased. I, for the most part, haven't internalized it. ( Though, I did internalize a whole lot of other things.) Just because it didn't destroy my life, or at least not in the ways I'm aware of, doesn't mean the bias isn't out there. Doesn't mean it isn't important. And it surely doesn't mean that it doesn't affect many others.

Can you name twenty women from American history?

Previously? Good Mate.

As I explained yesterday I'm not very good at coming up with ideas on what to write lately, so I decided to use the aid of some hardware. I bought If and a bunch of other several books in college when it was fun to talk about such random issues with random strangers. To be fully honest, I don't think I've cracked the book since then but this seems a good time as any.

So here's today's question: If you had to name the single most important quality of a good mate, what would it be?

Honesty: I think honesty is at the root of any healthy relationship. Even though it can be mean or not-so-fun-to-hear at times, but it's still better than any untruth. Maybe this is exceptionally important to me because I worry too much and am not always completely self-confident. Ask any paranoid, the stories he or she is capable of coming up with are way worse than any awful truth. Honesty is also the core of trust and once you lose trust, what exactly do you have left? If I know that my partner is being fully honest with me at all times, all the extra layers of garbage are automatically peeled off and we're communicating at the most fundamental of all levels. An honest mate is a mate who respects me and values me.

What other qualities?

Compassion: Someone I can lean on. Someone who will care for me and take the time to listen to me and understand me. Sounds cheesy but I think most people in the world want to be understood. Someone to listen to what I'm actually saying. Someone who will just hug me when there's no good option. Someone who will choose to be by my side through thick and thin. Someone who loves his family, babies and animals. Someone who's not embarrassed to kiss me in public.

Laughter: Someone who makes me laugh. Not much to say here. I love a man who can make me laugh.

Intelligence: I like people who make me think, people that give me different opinions, people who have interesting hobbies, people who can introduce me to new worlds.

How about you? What's the single most important quality that you care about?

Previously? Quiet.

I don't know what happened.

To be fully honest, it's been this way since September. I just can't seem to find something worthwhile to say. September and October were spent in confusion, disbelief, and applications. I honestly cannot even remember November.

December had me interviewing, brought a proposal, a promotion, a job offer, more holiday food, and a lovely New Year's eve. All in one month.

January turned my life upside down, sent Jake back to work, meant we're definitely not moving to Texas just yet, brought on some begging to make my new career work, and meant hours and hours of work planning for the upcoming wedding.

February so far promises my first flight since September, an engagement party in Istanbul, and more wedding arrangements.

Through all this, one would think I'd have more to write about. More to think about. More to feel. More to blabber on and on. But somehow I don't. Most days, I sit on the computer, trying to come up with something fascinating, something interesting, something readable. And I end up with nothing.

I'm not exactly sure why.

I spend most of my free time lying on the couch staring at the TV. I knit like mad, trying to finish my sister's and nephews' scarves on time. I'm trying to keep the wedding thing together. I'm trying not to disappoint my manager and team at work. I'm trying to arrange our honeymoon plans. I'm trying to read up on teaching and study for the New York State licensing exams. My brain is pretty close to turning to mush and I am just barely able to do the context switching when necessary.

Maybe that's why I can't seem to write much lately. Any ideas?

Previously? Power of Many.

I have heard that some scientists think that what makes humans superior to other creatures is that we're social.

I believe in the power of many. In Turkish we have a saying and it translates to, "What does one hand have? Two hands make noise." Okay, so it doesn't translate well, but I hope you know what it is trying to say. It has always been obvious to me that two people can achieve a lot more than one, and three in return, can do even more.

Unless we're talking about developing software.

But seriously, a single person has limitations on his or her capacity, just by the fact that a person can only do one thing at a time, be in only one place at a time. A crowd can disperse to attack the issue from a multitude of angles, bring the issue to a resolution. A single complaint might be whining, but a hundred people complaining often makes it a legitimate issue. Think about class-action suits, they symbolize the power of a crowd over one individual.

A group of people are stronger in pure muscle power as well as brain power. Having more people means more ideas, more points of view, and more experience to draw from. There are many studies proving that if humans grew up without other humans, they would not acquire language skills. We learn to speak so we can communicate with others. Because we live in a society.

There's also the downside of the 'power of many.' There's a famous psychology test where the subject is placed in a room with nine other researchers and shown two lines where one is obviously longer than the other. The psychologist asks each participant, starting with the nine researches who are acting as if they are subjects, which line is longer. Each researcher has been told to say that the longer line is the one that obviously appears to be the short one. By the time the actual subject's turn comes up, he almost consistently replies in accordance with the undercover researchers.

Why? Because no one likes to sway from the crowd. Even when the answer is obvious and seemingly certain, very rarely do people want to give the single opposing response. It's easier to roll with the crowd than to stand your ground alone. "If everyone said the answer is B, maybe I'm missing something. Maybe the answer is B."

I bet your mom told you that it's a bad idea to do what everyone else does, right?

Even though it increases the pressure to want to belong, I believe working in a group is consistently superior to working alone. It's simply impossible to come up with as many ideas and see things from as many perspectives on one's own.

The trick is not to give up your own sense of being in the process.

Previously? Finally.

I suck at waiting.

I suck at unclear.

I suck at undecided.

As of Saturday, my life was semi-decided, my part of the world was almost completely under control whereas Jake's was still topsy turvy. I was semi-freaked out but also happy that my resolutions had worked out.

Saturday morning, Jake's life made a big leap into the world of fantastic. Suddenly, he had options, each better than the previous. It was time for us to sit down and have a talk. A long talk. One of those you-know-you-have-to-but-wish-you-didn't talks. One where we knew there was no safe path to walk, no one right answer. No one perfect solution.

We talked about the near future, the far future, the unknowns, the what-if, the but-what-about-mes, the beginning of a world of compromises. A few hours into it, I became confident this path wouldn't lead us to answers. I knew the talk was going nowhere and I was getting more excitable by the minute. I told him we had to stop talking and I had to sleep.

I like to sleep when I feel the depression come on. It's preferable to the uncontrollable crying. Wouldn't you agree?

A few hours of sleep gave me all the answers. The ones I knew but was unwilling to admit. It made me realize that I needed to choose us over me and our combined goals over my personal ones. It sounds easy, but let me be the first to tell you: it's not.

Once the decision was made, Jake's life switched to steady and all-good and mine got completely destroyed. I had to go back to square one and travel the path once more. I had to beg, pray and wait.

I'm not good at waiting. Since Saturday morning, I've been alternating between vegging out in front of the TV and sleeping. I've avoided pretty much everyone, as well as my site. I had no motivation to do anything until I knew.

Well, now I know.

And as Heather would say, "It's all good, baby".

Previously? Loss of Identity.

I'm in the process of watching "Sound and Fury." If you are, or ever have been interested in the deaf culture, I would highly recommend seeing this movie.

It tells the story of two families, one hearing, one deaf, both of which have deaf children. The hearing family decides to get a cochlear implant for their son. And the daughter of the deaf family says she wants an implant as well. She says she wants to hear the sound of babies crying, of cars crashing, talk on the phone, hear alarms.

The little girl's parents do a lot of research, speaking with deaf and hearing families whose children have gotten cochlear implants. The father, of the girl, is against getting the implant cause he's worried that the girl will lose her deaf identity and not be able to grow up with the deaf culture. The mother decides to extend her research and goes to the medical labs to find out if she, for herself, could get the implant. The representative at the lab explains to her that it's much easier if the deaf individual is younger, so her daughter, at five, could get the implant without much adjustment, but for the mother it would be a major life change and it's likely that the mom would keep signing.

The film shows the devastated deaf grandparents of the boy whose parents decide to get the cochlear implant and the crying grandmother whose deaf son decides not to get the implant for his daughter. I watched the movie, amazed at how similar it was to other common arguments I grew up with. A Jewish family whose daughter wants to marry a non-Jew, interracial couplings, a parent who moves into another country but wants to raise her children immersed in the culture she grew up with. At first look, there appears to be little difference between this argument and one of a French mother trying to send her kids to French-only schools and surrounding them with other French speaking children.

But then deafness is a disability.

Or so people say. And such, the issue becomes one of "if you could convert your child from a disabled one to a 'normal' one, wouldn't you choose to?"

The movie addressed two main issues. One was specific to this girl whose parents were convinced that allowing her to have a cochlear implant would strip all of her deaf culture away. The father, keenly, observes that a girl who grows up with an implant and deaf parents, cannot speak English properly whereas a girl with hearing parents knows nothing about sign language or deafness. Such, they worry that the implant would mean she would end up belonging in neither the deaf nor the speaking world.

On a bigger scale, deaf people are concerned that if cochlear implants take over, every parent will implant one in their deaf baby and deaf culture will eventually disappear. Like Spanish people would cry at the loss of their culture, deaf people were crying at the potential death of theirs.

As a speaking person, it's easy to judge. It's easy to say that deafness is a disability and that if the girl could possibly hear, the parents owe it to the girl to explore that option. It's easy to assume that since we can hear, hearing people must have a better life, more options. After all, I can sign and I can hear, so don't I have the best of both worlds?

And yet, the movie made me think that maybe it's not better. Maybe deafness is a culture just like ethnicity and religion. Maybe this girl will feel a stronger sense of belonging if she grows up deaf in the deaf community of her parents. Maybe much of life is accepting who you are and not forcing to fit in with the norm, assuming we even know what the norm is.

Maybe.

Or maybe not.

Previously? A Fickle Relationship .

Jake and I saw startup.com last week. The movie follows the conception, rise and fall of an internet startup. Govworks is the name of the firm that the documentary follows. At one point in the movie, the main character, the CEO of the company, mentions how their idea is for the good of the people. How the reason they exist is to help people. It's not his exact words, it might not even be the exact logic behind his words, but the words made me wonder about the plausibility of for-profit companies that exist for the good of humanity. All these words just to ask:

Is it possible for a profit company to have the public's interest at heart?

The idea behind serving the public interest is finding an area where there is a need for help. Building houses. Teaching in inner-city schools. Providing service for the deaf. Giving shelter to the needy. Running a soup kitchen. The idea is to try to make the world a better place. The idea is to wake up each morning and be able to look yourself in the mirror. Working for the public interest is an unselfish act.

A for-profit company's ultimate goal is to make money. Regardless of the specific purpose and details of the company, a for-profit is inherently trying to accumulate profit. The profits are not to be donated to the public. In most cases, they are so that the company can do well in an IPO. And then they are so that the company's shares stay high. And then they are so the partners can be wealthy. Making money for oneself is a selfish act. Not selfish in the 'you're such a selfish pig' sense but in the 'you're putting yourself first' sense.

Can the selfish world of for profit companies mesh with the non-selfish cause of doing good for the public? It seems to me that a for-profit firm, when push comes to shove, would have to do what's right for the business. Take the alternative that might bring in more money. Even at the cost of forgoing human interest. Which makes me think that for-profit and human interest cannot go together.

Initially, when I thought about companies working for human interest, I could only think of non-profit agencies or organizations. Then I started thinking of professions. Doctors. Teachers. Government workers. Both doctors and teachers have a wide range. There are doctors that charge an arm and a leg. There are private tutors who do the same. And yet, many doctors and teachers make so little that tons of people choose not to go into the profession for that very reason. The question of whether teachers should get paid a lot is an involved one and deserves another entry for another day.

It's been a few days and at the back of my mind, I'm still pondering whether the coupling of working for human interest and running a for-profit firm is one of lifelong happiness or one bound to result in divorce.

Any ideas?

Previously? Obligations.

I don't do well with obligations.

No, not the type you're supposed to do for work. I have no problem showing up for work every morning, well every morning that I am supposed to show, which for me is three days a week. I have no problem showing up to meetings. I have no problem delivering what I possibly can when I said I would.

I also don't mean school-related obligations. I complete my assignments on time. I attend each class. I listen, speak up and ask questions. Nor do I mean obligations that include paying bills, feeding the birdie, etc.

What I'm referring to are obligations of one person to another. Unwritten rules. The kind that require a person to act towards another in a manner opposing their actual feelings toward that person. The kind that makes you act, in Elaine Benes's wise words: fake, fake, fake, fake, fake.

"You really should give her a call? She's expecting it."

"We can't do that! We have obligations."

"She invited you, you really should invite her."

I don't like the idea that someone would invite me to an event out of obligation. Furthermore, I despise the idea that I should behave in a certain manner just because it's 'the right thing to do.'"

I understand that there are cases where you do things that you may not like. At work you are at times respectful towards people you might not have a ton of respect for. At a friend's house, even if you see her parents behave inappropriately, you act appropriately and don't meddle in family business. We already have a ton of obligations that we don't have control over, do we really need to fill up the rest of our life fulfilling unnecessary obligations?

I don't like the idea of calling a friend because I have to. I don't like the idea of sending a Christmas card because it's wrong not to. I don't like the idea of inviting people to my wedding cause it will appear rude if I don't. I don't like the idea of having to call or even talk to anyone I don't particularly like.

Life's too short to worry about doing everything right. It's too short to spend your energy on people you don't care about. Why do I have to waste my precious time being sweet to people I don't care about and ones who don't care about me? Why couldn't everyone just be honest to each other? Aren't there enough people to genuinely care about?

I don't mean that you should be malicious to anyone. I just don't think we should say things we don't mean. Or invite people that we'd rather not. It just doesn't seem right that I should waste my time with the fake worries. The fake hellos. The fake smiles. The fake thank yous. Where it's obvious neither party really gives a crap.

Because then it's not fair to the people I really do care about.

Previously? Growing Up.

There's a discussion at metafilter about growing up, prompted by this.

In the last five years or so, I've spent a lot of time wondering what qualifies someone as a grownup, or more personally, when I would qualify as one. Looking at the comments at metafilter, there seem to be a few common themes: a parent's death, having a full-time job, buying a house, getting a divorce. It appears the definition of grown-up changes from person to person. Some people associate it with earning a living on one's own while others relate it to coping with an emotional event.

Each time I cross a major milestone in my life, I wonder if I'm mature enough to be there. Moving to another continent, earning a high salary, paying a hefty rent, getting married. Each of them, an event associated with being a grownup. Am I really mature enough to get married? Am I mature enough to be a teacher?

I spent most of my childhood being too old for my age. A teenager who didn't drink, smoke, or do drugs is pretty boring. I picked books over dress-up. I had goals. I had to work hard to achieve them. At seventeen, I left my home and my family to go miles and miles away. I figured I was old enough.

Not really.

Over the years, I learned that being mature is not a line one crosses. It's not like there's a day before which you're a child and after which you're a grownup. There are events that occur in our lives that force us to act mature and take responsibility, often sooner than we wished. And then there are events for which the time feels right so we take the leap, like marriage and children. I don't believe anyone's ready to have children. It just feels right and we feel like we're in a healthy, stable situation and that we can provide for a child.

And then there are the situations that cause every person to act below their age. A few too many glasses of wine. Hanging out with a kid. Watching a football game. Playing video games. Besides these common cases, each person has a unique series of situations that will reduce that person to a child.

I've come to terms with the fact that getting older will always feel weird to me. Getting married like my parents and working as a teacher both sound odd when uttered to someone else but feel comfortable and right when I don't think much about it. I don't think it matters much when one officially stops being an adolescent. Putting a number on it guarantees that there will be people within the range who feel unfairly treated like a child, and a set of people who fall outside the range but yet act like adolescents.

Life is not about keeping track or fitting in a category. It's about learning to deal with things as they come and taking responsibility. It's also about maximizing the level of fun, no matter how childish, as long as it's not at the expense of others.

The rest simply doesn't matter.

Previously? Looking Forward.

Another year has passed and Jake and I have put another nail in the coffin of the curse of New Year's eve. No fights. A lovely night thanks to Jason, Shannon, Anil and their great friends. Only laughter at the stroke of midnight. Laughter and kisses.

It appears my only resolution for 2001 was "to be a better person, inside and out." I don't know about the inside part but I did lose 26 pounds and dye my hair blonde, which translated to my being a different person outside. Considering the fact that I've wanted to lose weight since freshman year in college, I'd say the loss of weight was an improvement. So I guess I accomplished at least 50% of my resolutions from last year. As for the inside, you'll have to take my word that I've made some progress along those lines as well. Though, I would be unfair if I didn't admit to going back on Diet Coke which started the day after September 11, even though I'd gone almost two years without it.

December has been such a whirlwind of events that I haven't had time to set resolutions for 2002. Heh, I love writing 2002. I love saying 2002. I love that it's a palindrome. Anyhow, back to my point. I'm trying to figure out what my resolutions for the coming year should be. There's the set I have each year: lose weight, quit diet coke, exercise more, finish your novel, etc. The same items I have on my list each year, and the same items that get transferred from year to year because either they never get achieved or they get temporarily achieved until I fall back the next year when they reappear on my list.

And then there's the big stuff like: let go of the past, worry less, forgive yourself, stress less, stop trying so hard, etc. Issues that are at the core of who I am, issues that are way too serious and require way more commitment than a grocery list of resolutions. These issues will only get resolved with time and the regular course of events in my life. Some might never go away, some might disappear by tomorrow morning. But none will be a resolution I can set or follow.

2002 is a rare case where I know I will have some major upcoming events that promise to change my life. I can resolve not to stress over the upcoming wedding. Or the move to a completely foreign state. I can resolve to be the best teacher I can be without taking on all the problems of inner-city education. I can resolve to not worry about learning to drive at the ripe age of 27. Not to worry about having to pack my life into little boxes and move them across the country. But the fact is, I can't make any resolutions about unknown future events, even if they're in the foreseeable future. Setting those types of resolutions is guaranteed disappointment.

A few days ago, I wrote about how humans don't change on demand. I think resolutions fall into that category. It's a time of year that simply makes you sit at your table and list out all that things you wish you were or hope you weren't. Who cares? So what if you don't exercise enough? What's the big deal about eating too much chocolate or not reading enough? In the end, if it really matters to you, you will do it or you will stop it.

Regardless of what day it is.

My resolution for 2002 is to try a little bit each day.

Previously? Looking Back.