just a thought for you...

it's GREAT that you'll have it better now. REALLY. i am HAPPY for you. she (whoever she is) will be so happy to have you and you'll be amazing for her.

all because i was PRACTICE.

the oppression of freedom.

I am my own person. my own entity. my own being.
you are separate.

wah wah wah.

as i get older, my birthday each year become less and less special. until it's totally taken over by other birthday or events. i've seen this coming, and it never bothered me. and i'm not even bothered about not celebrating my birthday.

i just want to feel special. to be special to someone. on my day.

that's all,
whiney robot.

why it takes me so long to get ready in the morning...

... because i spend most of the time sitting still in a deep reverie.
it starts after my alarm goes off, and i press snooze in attempts of returning to my encumbered dream. or at least rest a little more in pleasant thoughts or fantasies.
also happens during my morning bowel releasing routine.
if i have the time, i'll lay in the bathtub with the shower water leaping and dancing on me. otherwise, i'll stand in a long daze until i realize it took me 10 minutes to rinse out the shampoo.
then everything after that is a frantic sprint finish to get into my car and off to work.

thoughtfully,
late robot

i'm happy.

artwork: seonna hong

i love you.

i don't say it very often, if at all. in fact, i might say it to my own parents just once in a blue-ish, seafoam green moon. and as far as a significant other... the times it's been uttered out of my mouth have been far less. it's not that i don't want to say it. or i think that the three words weight much heavily than they seem. [actually, no. i do think that.] the thing i don't understand is why they're so necessary to say.

if [for some miraculous reason] you've read previous blogs i've written, you'd have noticed i've explored this topic before. there is a lot of emphasis placed on saying the L-word and i feel people throw it out there just as often and lightly as they inhale oxygen. but hey, for some, maybe they feel love and acknowledging it is just as essential as the very own air they breathe. while it's taken me a while to understand "love" as much as i understand it now (which isn't a lot), i've learned something very significant in how i interpret it: i'm very, VERY happy with the possibility that it exists (especially for someone like me).

i wont deny it; i can be one of those females who obsess over their feelings/how much attention they're receiving, and question if care and consideration between a significant other has been evenly reciprocated. i pay my own bills, i pay for my own gifts--clothes, shows, drinks, food--though i don't mind if someone offers. but as much as i pride myself in being a modern, independent woman, i know that deep down i'm dependent on other people/someone else, especially when it comes to validating my feelings. after spending so much time putting on this stoic facade, i do want someone who can catch me at the end of they day and absorb my woes. i know that i bottle so much inside, that to release any bit of it in any way provides great relief.

thought i might not say it as much (if at all, because it scares me to death), being loved/having love seems like it's a pretty damn good feeling. i know what it's like to talk deeply with someone you care about. i know the feeling to be in someones arms. to be caught in the midst of a tired collapse. the actions themselves speak more than 3 small words could say (as cheesy as that sounds). it may be the case that i don't exchange those words with someone, but it's simple explanation for me. if you show it, i know it. and i can't imagine anything more gratifying. and this makes me happy.

lovingly,
stefrose (robot)

evolution of a jaded heart

at first, I thought I knew what love was.
then I thought I knew what other people said what love was.
now, when anyone even speaks of it, I have no idea what they're talking about.

songs about robots

... of the ones that I dig...


Fembot - Robyn


I'm Not a Robot - Marina & the Diamonds (Starsmith 24 Carat remix)

enjoy,
robot dancing robot

robots can't handle the truth

[forewarning: the subject matter of this post may be, yet again, on the more somber side. as a writer, I was always taught, "write what you know." so, for now, this is what I know. I promise, I'll be more pleasantly amusing in the future.]

as a "robot," I've notice many traits that humans acquire as a means of survival in what science has come to learn as Darwin's Theory of Evolution. many believe it's the skills of strength dominating over weak, others say it's applying practical knowledge and logic. some might even say it's ones very heart and passion that makes them superior beings. that all sounds poetically righteous and all, but I think there's one thing that makes one rise above the other so distinctively. and that is the ability to laugh at ones self in the face of humiliation.

yes, the classic, "laugh at yourself before they can laugh at you." a bold defense mechanism that empowers us individually and gives others the impression that we are in that much control of ourselves. to be bothered by ridicule and shame is the downfall of all tragic heroes with the potential for greatness.

robots utilize this quality quite naturally. due to our stoic nature, embarrassment doesn't stick too easily to our sleek exterior. in fact, we have this capability of stepping outside our biased perception and seeing the humor in our shortcomings. we know what our aptitudes are capable of and understand that even we make mistakes sometimes. now, that can very well be the end of that right there. but like I said in my first post, I do have feelings. and that, by far, is probably my greatest shortcoming.

I have become quite good at repelling embarrassment and demonstrating resilience in things that challenge my ego. but admittedly, having to defend myself so often does take its toll. I don't mean standing up to bullying or laying the better sarcastic line than my opposition. it's when the truth about who I really am exposes me as vulnerable. the truth? I may not exactly know what that is, after all, part of why I started this blog is to find that out... but when I feel it come out, there's no hiding it. see, when robots are hit with these challenges that expose our shortcomings, it doesn't just bounce off us like rubber. sure, we can deflect their impact but the experience resonates, until each incident has built up to capacity in our hard drives, which humans refer to as memories. then, there is that last moment that catches us off guard, triggering us at our weakest, and blowing us over. that one moment that makes us unable to process what is going on and our system overloads where we have no choice but to spill out ourselves. leaving us totally bare in front of anyone who happens to catch us... at least for me.

all that hard work of building a tough exterior completely unravels. probably by the most trivial thing too, but just enough to send me over. that little nudge that makes me lose footing until I fall into a succession of stumbles, each second trying to catch my step but, really, just encouraging the fall even more. and that is where the truth comes out.

it doesn't have to end in shame--that self-exposure being the achilles heel. in fact, those that can accept their truths are the ones that are ultimately triumphant. and that is where I currently struggle...

leaps and bounds, obstacles, that foot that sticks out to intentionally trip me, others that are looking at you, seeing if you might fall... all that I can handle. but to come face to face with the truth about me... it's scary. after putting up a fight to protect myself, maybe it's to keep from finding out the truth and running the risk that I'm disappointing others that matter, and more importantly, myself.

"the truth will set you free," or so they say. maybe I'm not ready for that. for that freedom. because under that vast canvas, I don't know how I can maintain a steady hand and control my brush. what if I paint isn't what I had envisioned it to be?

[gosh, I just sound like a mess... ha]

truthfully,
honest robot

what happens when a robot cries?

-she pretends nothing's wrong, even though her eyes are bloodshot and face is swollen.
-she doesn't want to be talked to, but longs for some comforting attention.
-she bursts the second someone sees her upset.
-she hates every guy in the world, even though it's not one man's fault. 
-in that moment she'd rather die, because living feels too good for the likes of her.
-she repeats a melancholy song a hundred times on end, but also finds solace in silence.
-she expects her man to read her mind, even though she gives him no clue as to what is on it.
-she takes it upon herself to carry the weight of her problems in a heavy sack, refusing assist even though the contents spill over.
-in the grande scheme of things, she understands her problem(s) is just a spec, but seeks to justify why she's deserving of such excruciating pain.
-she longs to cry out her sorrows to the world, but in fear of uninvited attention, keeps it bottled inside.
-she convinces others that on any other day, she's completely fine and things like this would never get to her. today is just an exception and won't last very long.
-though problems may be beyond her control, she'll find a way to feel at fault because she refuses to believe luck, karma, or destiny would grant her such a fate without reason.
-the person who knows her the best suffers bullets from her wounds as an innocent bystander. she will apologize later, but at that point, she feels it will be too late. Her image has been tainted.
-the day goes on around her and she goes about her tedious tasks so as not to draw a pity party. But her face sends out an invitation to everyone but her.
-she remains in her same dressed up outfit throughout and even into sleep because if this moment happens to be her last, one part of her should be decent.
-she whips out a bottle of vodka. she considered the wine she's been aging until a special occasion. or her last favorite bottle of beer. She was close to wasting a good drink. but chose vodka; not because it's a lesser quality of preference, but because she hates the taste. the flavor should pair her mood, and vodka wipes the sting away faster.
-she thinks this is either the best or worst night to take up alcoholism.
-she wishes for that one person to be at her side, consoling her. she might not know who that is, exactly, but she may just end up with the wrong person because she decided to be proactive in feeling better instead of giving herself time to grieve.
-she wonders why you didn't call/text. she refuses to be the first to break the ice but will end up doing so anyway. it'll be a comment of something random and seemingly playful. Or something vague with an option of two choices, but really one.
-she pretends to have drank a lot to justify her ridiculous behavior, but perhaps probably DID drink that much as a result of loss in body water from crying.
-she might be at a bar appearing happy go lucky or dancing.
-she might indulge in the first male stranger's friendly conversation. But will reject any hint of advances so she feels powerful.
-she might be at home. Painting. Drawing.
-or she might be slowly falling asleep
-no matter what she does, who she's with, she feels alone. and probably wouldn't prefer it any other way.

vulnerably,
sad robot

when music just gets you...

i love those moments when a song comes on and it speaks exactly how you think and feel. things that you can't express otherwise, especially when you're as bad as saying what that red squishy thing inside your chest is beating about.

here's one:


adieu,
la la la robot

come here, rude girl.

artwork: joey chou

I'm a rude person. yeah, I'll admit it. and if you're between the ages of 13-23, you might be much worse (not necessarily at your own fault). but I can't be that bad, right? oh, I'm sure I'm not. I hope. I'm a very conscious person, especially of how I come across to others (it's probably this consciousness that inclines me to write this post). I'm very loyal to people I know well and I sometimes put others' simple happinesses before mine. however, I was struck by a small interaction today that made me tell myself "wow, that was kind of rude." maybe no one thought much of it, but i know there've been other times where i'd say hi to someone new from quite a distance away if i've even said hi at all or i've been that one person that doesn't give someone a welcoming hug.

I guess it stemmed from a previous conversation I had over lunch with the company I work for. I'm the youngest in the office, a gap of about 20 years between me and the next person. By now, I'm used to comments such as, "oh, you're too young to remember this" or "that was before you were born." I understand that they assume I'm unaware and I can keep up if I really wanted to... anyway, what pricked my lobes was when the conversation steered about how rude young people are (my bosses added, "i don't mean you, just young people in general"). I don't like to be included with the mass population of those in my age range regarding this matter. my parents grilled me as much as they could growing up so I would remember my pleases and thank you's.

today an acquaintance introduced me to a friend of his. I said the "hi! how are you? Nice to meet you!" and at that moment, I thought that was enough. he moved on to the next person for an introduction and she extended a hand and got out of her seat to meet this new stranger. Right there, it occurred to me. why didn't I think to do that?? am I that busy to not properly engage in someone? maybe my desk was too inconvenient to get up in that short amount of time to just say "hi."

while those reasons might be true, what the issue comes down to is this: I'm not a touchy-feely person. not a big deal. I just really REALLY don't like my personal bubble being intruded. I don't like it when someone grabs something from my desk without prior notice. I would never let someone go through my purse, drawer, or any enclosed personal spaces. if you want to look through photos on my camera, i might just hold it out to you like a kindergarten teaching reading a picture book to her class. I'm not big on holding hands or pda, minus the exception of being inebriated. kind of pathetic that it takes a few drinks to get me to open up and be friendlier. but like it's called, liquid courage encourages me to be the person my sober self tends to hide.

i'm not sure why I have this automatic tendency to physically close myself out. it does make me feel bad that my automatic initial words of conversation aren't "hi! How's it going?" but rather, "so did you decide on that blah blah?" I'm a practical, logical gal. I'm not a control freak... But i feel the need to have a rhyme and reason for everything. which then translates to me not trusting people with my feelings. for some reason I can't differentiate between small interactions with the real crucial, heart of the matter stuff. Any physical closeness or warm waves a red flag. but cognitively, my mind is focused on learning how to be independent and to rely solely on myself for help. and all that mess makes me rude... ha! it comes full circle.

perhaps I'm not that rude as I make myself out to be. or maybe I am if you catch me on a really bad day. i don't mean to be a complicated girl, in fact i love simplicity. but i'm starting to see now (4-5 paragraphs down) that not giving you a proper introduction hinders you from finding out the complicated me. i can't lie to your face about who i am, but maybe avoiding getting anywhere deeper from the start can avoid us reaching that awkward place. i know, that's not the right answer. trust me, i'm working on it. okay, maybe not aggressively, but i AM thinking about it. and that's a start, right? it's a miracle that people actually want to be my friend.

signed,
rude robot

"hello!" in robot.

if you've found yourself here, hello and welcome. I'm slightly surprised and minimally flattered.

robot connections? Yes. for reasons beyond my deep understanding, it seems others view me as a "robot." stoic, emotionally detached, unaffected by what would make the next person weep on your tri-blend shirt that covers your shoulder, and even (I feel unfortunate to say) heartless at times. though much of these descriptions bestowed upon me are valid, I contest that I am a heartless being. I think my perceptions are just different than most. and I'm sure in some psychological sense, something in my past influenced the way I behave and interact with those I come across.

so here I am, writing a blog in attempt to make sense of my experiences or to just merely let it out ('cause I hear that's good for you). apologies in advance if my words are bothersome for you in any way, but you are reading at your own will. and if you relate, that's great. maybe we both might find we're not as alone as we think.

sincerely,
stefrose robot