The doors of the Barnes and Noble in Walnut Creek squeak loudly every time they close. Last week when I was with my sister on the second floor, I was distracted by that sound as I was trying to edit a CHI paper. It sounded like whispers, like a soft scream muffled by a hand. I like the sound.

It\’s very odd how American culture regards those who love to read and write. In popular culture, they are the smart, but awkward types. The mousey intellect with glasses. They\’re not \”cool\” in a popular culture sense.

A few years ago, at the beginning of my social phase, I was at a friend\’s party. One of the first parties I went to. I was still in a period of my life where I couldn\’t comfortably socialize with random people. A girl approached me, taking a break from chatting and gossiping. I was staring at a magazine on the coffee table, a glossy one smattered with celebrity photos, wondering whether my stay at the party was long enough to warrant coming up with an excuse to leave.

She gestured toward the social scene and asked with a smile, \”So this isn\’t what you like to do? What do you like to do?\”

I paused, thrown off by the question. More so the first part, than the second part. Finally, I said, \”I don\’t know if I can really say…\”

\”Oh.\” She had a confused look on her face. Perhaps, she thought that I was embarrassed or ashamed of my interests. Or perhaps she determined from my wallflower-like demeanor that I was interested in non-social things. Then suddenly as if a light went off in her head, she said with a big smile, \”So you like sitting and reading?\”

I was apalled, but I simply nodded. It seemed like she was treating me like a child–interests that she would not associate with. Back then, I was in denial of what I really enjoyed, always trying to adopt others\’ interests.

Interesting how nowadays, when stranded at a mall, I feel more comfortable in a bookstore than any other store. Although I spend most of my time reading cookbooks and just the first five pages of any book that appeals to me.

Just a thought. I realized just right now that nobody will ever accuse me of being shallow. A great bonus, huh?

Sure, I may misinterpret things, but everyone knows I think too much.

Wireless Cafes. One of the best things ever invented. With free wireless internet.

In the past year with my powerbook, I have absolutely fallen in love with these things. I like studying in atmospheres like this. Mugs clanging. Spoons swishing within the coffee. Looking for that caffiene kick. Quiet typing, lost inside a world static on a 2-d screen. Flipping of pages, a room full of concentration and strains of what did the professor say about this chapter? and what movie do you want to see tonight? I like sitting back in a comfy chair there with my laptop…or simply people-watching (or overhearing random conversations).

In Pittsburgh, I usually would be found at Panera during midterms/finals week (more so this year than last). And with my handy iPass (thank you CMU), I would sometimes be at Starbucks. The 61c cafe, despite it absolutely wonderful teas and music, just couldn\’t do it.

So during winter break, I have rediscovered the cafes in Berkeley/Oakland. At Cal, I didn\’t have a laptop and usually went to a cafe to study. I rarely bought anything, me frugal and cheap. Nowadays though, I go…and always order either a cup or pot of Darjeeling Tea, the champagne of teas. Usually black. I would usually get non-fat milk and sprinkle sugar (one lump please). Then end up losing myself.

Today after lunch and dessert time with Lulu in Rockridge, I had a few hours to spare before I was to meet with Chris. Driving back and forth from Oakland to Lafayette has never been very appetizing, considering the traffic at the Caldecott that can build up and disappear within an hour. So time for rediscovery.

Thanks to eastbayexpress.com, I am currently at Nomad Cafe in Berkeley. The service was surprisingly nice and friendly. Not like the common this-is-for-locals type of cafe. They have a small section with kid\’s books and best of all…many power outlets, usually lacking in most cafes. The cafe was completely full and I ended up sitting outside in the heat which cooled during the day. Finally some room was free inside and I went inside to a large armrest. The music inside is foreign with tastes of foreign…an ambience that lends to the cafe\’s name, yet comfortable at the same time. Like a new friend from another country, finding that you have something in common and the same sense of humor.

Dear Mr. Reader-Of-Cover-Letters:

I am an interaction designer. I am an usability analyst. I am a user experience researcher. I am an expert in human computer interaction.

I want to make an impact on people\’s lives. I want to create. I want to design a compelling rich product. I want to begin and finish something. I want accessibility and satisfaction I want to make a difference.

I listen to their frustrations. I empathize with their needs. I innovate. I imagine rich stories. I seek weaknesses to make them stronger. I watch them to understand.

I am what you need.

Sincerely,

Jenn

I was an only child for approximately 14 months until a small wrinkled being appeared in the house. I don\’t remember a single thing about that transition at all. Sometimes, it doesn\’t seem like I was ever alone.

How is being an only child like? To be the only one child, the target of parents\’ affections and nagging. Are they really that much more spoiled? And self-serving and self-centered? Or aren\’t they more mature? More independent? Are they satisfied with being an only child?

There\’s one only child I used to know. He always talked about having a big sister. In fact, within the first few years of college, he had many female friends. Older. \”Wiser\”. To serve his need of having a mother-like same-age-group sibling.

My friend described being an only child as: when i want to sleep, i\’ll go to sleep. when i want to eat, i\’ll eat. How\’s that?

Unlike most people, I have never thought how it would be like to be an only child. I have always wondered how it would be like if I actually was the younger one rather than the guinea pig. Some of my most horrifying nightmares have been when my sister went away. It would be so lonely, not to have an accomplice to understand my angst of my parents. To not have a sidekick when we end up in a boring family event. To not have someone who do things I like doing without having that pressure and anxiety of someone that doesn\’t know why I am the way I am. It\’s not blood, it\’s a mutual understanding.

Ordering silly putty in bulk is something I probably would get excited about. At work. To be delivered to my desk.

I am still looking forward to the day that one day I can go to see Groundhog Phil in Punxsutawney, PA. About 90 minutes from Pittsburgh. February 2, 2006? Anybody game? Anybody willing to get up early and stand outside in cold weather at 6 am? I am!!!!

So many people talk about what they want to change about themselves. They point out what they dislike about themselves. They talk about who they want to be like. Most aren\’t satisfied with who they are and want to improve. Or at least, people on the pursuit for happiness are in search of self-improvement.

And yet, would people be satisfied with a sudden transformation? Wouldn\’t they still be looking toward the horizon, hoping for more?

I have always wondered about that in the makeover shows. They look great afterwards. Lost weight, better haircut, better fashion, but are they happier?

It\’s just a thought, because lately several people have been giving me advice on how I should change myself. Externally: Clothes. Appearance. Hair. Makeup. Internally: Characteristics. Personality weaknesses. Traits. Relationships with people.

Some of these come unexpected. Some are welcomed. Some are unwanted. Some come as criticisms. Some come as optimistic encouragement. Some bring about resentment. And that brings up a question, are we always so dissatisfied with the people we know? We think we know what will make them happier so we suggest things, ways to change. We only want to help them, right?

Happy new year!

My sister returned today to Fullerton to optometry school. I am leaving in about a week back to the cold winters of Pittsburgh. To a paper deadline of January 13. And so on.