First

First things first.

Her name is Volia and the first time she said, “No, thank you” was before I could even ask her out!

She is my beautiful Belarusian friend, with powdered blue eyes, blonde hair and a gift to never have a single, comprehensible conversation with me. So when I invited her to spend a day in Boston, she misunderstood my gesture and wrote back a long response, which can be aptly summarized as, “No, thank you.” Of course!

This was the bittersweet beginning of a warm friendship and, over the years, we bonded over small problems (Macroeconomics presentation? For tomorrow?!) and shared a few relationship secrets (Date with him? Tomorrow?!). Somewhere in-between, we even learned to play squash and overcame language barriers of “Heh?” and “What?”

But just as a hot cup of cocoa has to cool at some point, our everyday bond eventually came to an end. Now, she is back at the university, writing her honors thesis on business regulations and I am doing a finance fellowship in another city. So much for practicing squash together.

So much for Boston.

A few weeks ago, I received a letter from her. On a creased piece of paper, she told me of her worries when thinking about life after college. How will she stay in touch with friends? Should she apply for graduate programs, or start searching for jobs? What if she finds failure and disappointment?

I wrote back, “Volia, you shouldn’t be afraid of failure. No one’s ever succeeded without falling a few times, so don’t be afraid to succeed.”

Though, on the inside, I’m just as scared. How do I establish a stable career path in this economy? When will I be able to support my family? Can I stay healthy, mentally and physically? What if all I find is failure and disappointment?

No, thank you!

This past weekend, I visited my university and celebrated Volia’s birthday with her. It was refreshing to see her, not because of overdue squash matches or for her powdered blue eyes, but because she reminds me to always work hard. Forget about worrying and, instead, spend that time focused on the tasks in front – honors thesis or fellowship.

More importantly, I am reminded to always treasure the moments with my beautiful Belarusian friend. After all, laughter is just as serious as work. So, along with long hugs and dinner, Volia smiled and joked, “Okay, no more Boston. How about we do D.C. next?”

Yes, please!

Footnote: All names have been changed for privacy and safety purposes - you know, in case I ever end up as a CIA agent.

Footnote 2: This post is titled "First" because it is the first time that I mention a specific person, what I do and where I am (approximately). 

Superhero

Whoosh!

Instead of saving people, this superhero slaps them across the face. Then he flies off, leaving behind his favorite adage: “Man’s greatest ignorance is his assumption that others are more ignorant.”

“Wise words of Confucius!” he’d bellow from the sky.

Except, Confucius never said these words. Not even once. But quotes sure sound more righteous when attributed to a famous figure, don’t you think? So take your pick: Socrates, Churchill, or the fortune cookie that came with last night’s take-out.

Regardless, the superhero’s resolve remains the same. He wants to convey a message on something significant, like world peace and so on and so forth.

On most days, the superhero isn’t one to discuss world peace – the Miss Universe Pageant does enough of that for everyone – yet he’s become increasingly distraught over recent conflicts. Activists rebel against police lines formed for their safety. Rioters commit murder over a film preview. Fishing boats clash for the possession of uninhabited islands. And so on and so forth.

Seems like one big misunderstanding, don’t you think?

The superhero believes that the biggest misunderstanding comes from one’s self. It starts with becoming convinced that you know more than others. Therefore, you must convince others that they know less than you. But once every individual reaches the same conclusion, they all fight blindly to impose new perspectives.

“Place a few world leaders and university students in a round room, and they’re bound to bicker about where the corner exists.” There hasn’t been a famous figure to quote this yet, but the superhero will let you know when he finds one.

For now, he zips around the world, slapping those who fight blindly to impose new perspectives. If you’re lucky, it might just be a simple flick on the forehead – but with super-strength fingers, no less.

The act is meant to smack some sense into a person, so to speak. Maybe the stinging burn and the favorite adage will serve as a reminder to be more considerate of others. After all, no one knows everything but everyone knows something. Perhaps world peace can stem from joining ideas, like some grand jigsaw puzzle of thoughts.

Yes, one day, great minds will conspire to eradicate hunger and poverty. Communities will prosper together. Disease will cease to prevail. Wars will no longer be waged. And so on and so forth.

The superhero slaps people to keep them from fighting each other, and he fails to see the irony in this. But as the saying goes, “The show must go on.”

“Wise words of Confucius!” Of course.

Who do you think the superhero might be? I'll give you a hint: It's not me!

Footnote: Special thanks to a few friends who helped me set up this story.

Desire at Two-Thirty

This is a story about desire at two-thirty in the morning.

At two-thirty in the morning, I was unable to sleep. I tossed and twisted beneath my heavy comforter, occasionally slipping my toes into the cool nighttime air. Even with eyes shut and hair bent stiff against my pillow, it was no use trying to dream. My subconscious sought exactly what my thoughts craved, and sleep would only make me forget.

And so, I tossed and twisted, thinking, maybe I could shake the thoughts off from my mind.

But this was an overpowering desire; it overwhelmed the deepest of deep sensibilities and left me wide awake late into the night, until, finally, I sat up in my bed. One could only ignore a desire for so long. I had to succumb eventually, admitting that what I wanted, truly wanted, was…was…

A cheeseburger! But not just any cheeseburger. I wanted the 100% perfect cheeseburger.

Yes, this was the deepest of deep hunger pangs, and my lips lusted for that heavenly, gourmet sandwich. Oh, I could taste it so clearly! There were the buttery buns, slightly crisped on the edges, with a hint of roasted sesame seeds on top. Next came the 8 ounces of barbecued ground chuck, grilled to its succulent, beefy center. Then, toss in two slices of a tomato, leaf lettuce, pickles and Muenster cheese – melted right onto the charred meaty crust, of course.

Add a blend of ketchup, diced onions and minced garlic, and voila, not even a heavy French dish can be as satisfying.

I knew just how I would eat it too – with fingers lightly pressed against the bread, careful to hold everything together without squeezing out bits of ripe tomatoes and savory sauces. But as soon as my teeth sank in for that first bite, the fattiness would trickle down from the steaming patty, infusing itself into a salty, sweet and tangy flavor.

In every scent and touch, this was the 100% perfect cheeseburger for me at two-thirty in the morning. Nothing more, nothing less.

Well, okay, maybe a slice of cheesecake wouldn’t be too bad either.

But did I actually get up to grill a burger or toast the buns? The short answer is no. I simply tossed and twisted some more.

After all, this was only a story about desire.

What are your late-night cravings, and how do you deal with them? 

Footnote: Many thanks to writer Haruki Murakami, whose short stories in The Elephant Vanishes have inspired this post.