Soulmates, The Ones, and Other Minor Infatuations Pt 2

To wrap up the silly boy business within 3 hours...

Last year saw a depression so great and palpable, that friends all around noticed the difference and worried that The Boy (the "one") had destroyed my spirit for good. It didn't help that he wouldn't let me go, wouldn't stop being my friend no matter how hard I tried to avoid him and cut myself off.

"You're one of my best friends out here in LA," he told me. "It's so much easier to talk to girls about stuff than guys. I don't want to lose your friendship." Selfish or sweet?

I pulled myself off of Yahoo messenger, made myself invisible or blocked him on other instant messaging formats so that I was less accessible, put away all the notes and cute drawings he gave me, and stopped initiating any contact. It helped for a bit but I had to relearn how to live life differently with him around. Soon The Boy met his "one" online and got engaged within 7 months of meeting the girl, and for all intents and purposes, I could at least put this chapter of life away. He no longer needed me as the girlfriend substitute.

As I mentioned earlier, I was starting to feel good again early this year, when out of the blue, Mr. DD happened. He was a friend who convinced me to take a chance again, and got me at just the right time and mindset. It was great for a brief shining optimistic moment until he panicked and blunderingly called it off.

You can't really break what's already broken. I wasn't so much devastated as I was extremely disappointed and at a loss of what was up, down, right, or wrong anymore. The hardest part of moving on as you can tell, is that there hasn't been anyone else worth making an effort for, and I see him EVERYDAY. I'm certainly mature enough not to smack him on the head when I get the urge, but the daily minute damage is hard to measure. Some days are fine. Other days, he's a reminder of failure. And dammit, it is extremely annoying when thoughts of him creep into my head at the most inopportune times.

I explained to Wavy that the only way to move on was 1) meet someone new, 2) distance or 3) time. Unfortunately, time is the default method of choice and it is the MOST excruciatingly slow and inefficient way to go about it.

I talk a tough game and can play flippant and normal to the average persons. (The Boy and Mr. DD will never know how much they dented my flimsy armor.) While I pretend to be over it and walk forward, my head is actually turned looking back the whole time, hoping for some kind of sign. I guess the good thing with this is that eventually, I'll walk far enough ahead that I won't be able to see what's behind me anymore.

Like a snail's pace, the recovery is getting there because really, what other choice do I have? The new year feels like a good time to stake a fresh start.

Soulmates, The Ones, and Other Minor Infatuations

Seeing that it is the end of the year and I'm in SUCH a pondering type of mood, I will continue to touch upon another thorn-at-my-side type issue I'd love to resolve. The Counterpart. Obviously, there are no delusions to resolve this within the next oh... 22 hours, but I also strive to make some sense or peace of it all.

I've met "a soulmate," I've met "a one" and like many girls out there I've had many heartachingly frustrating infatuations. I preface these people with an "a" because I have to believe that there is more than one out there. Or I could also admit that I was stupendously wrong and only thought I had met a soulmate and the one (two different people, strangely enough.)

I'll start by saying that in a tremendously low moment the other day, I actually fled the scene when I bumped into the boy I once believed to be a soulmate. He didn't see me, and it had been years since we'd talked or seen each other, but I felt blah and unfit for any human contact other than perfect strangers. At one point we were dear to each other and I truly thought he was a kindred spirit who also knew how to push my buttons for better and worse. It all sounds so silly now, but at the time, I took a chance on this friend and told him how I felt. Sadly it was not a storybook ending and the friendship deteriorated quickly after that. That was the first and last time I ever took a chance to tell someone I liked them.

"The one" on the other hand was a beautifully torturous life lesson. Full of denial, hope, massive weeping, more hope, heartache, unfailing faith that it would somehow work out in the end - so much so that I swore to UBBF that if ever I ended up with someone else, she alone would know he was number two, and finally painful acceptance that a person I cared for so much and would leave everything for, just didn't feel the same way about me. Not even a fraction of that. Despite all the time we spent together - the meals he cooked for me, picking each other up at airports, Xmas shopping together, attending dinners and parties together, and for a blissfully long time, knowing that we were the last person the other one spoke to before nodding off for bed. None of it meant a thing.

It was a reaffirmation that my so called gut instinct, continued to have shit for brains. (The same gut instinct that's told me it's fine to fall for the wrong people, and also had me initially disliking every single person that ended up being one of my closest friends.) It also taught the lesson that just because I had never felt that way about anyone before and felt so 100% confident that we'd end up together, red flags be damned, that Feeling can also mean nothing will come to fruition. No matter how hard you will it so.

Clearly it was a shellacking designed to make me stronger and wiser, to learn how to cut my losses earlier and recognize disinterest right off the bat. And it did in a way.

Unfortunately, the day after I triumphantly confessed to Turtle that after two years, I finally felt good again and optimistic about meeting someone new, in waltzed Mr. DD early this year to set me back a couple of steps.

To be continued and concluded...

Reflections In My Flannel Pajamas Pt 2

There's little over a day left in 2006 and I feel somewhat at peace about my friendships. The most important thing I've learned about friendships in the past year and a half, is learning to let go for my own peace of mind.

For most of my life, I operated under the notion that every friend I met was absolutely a friend for life. And I stayed in touch through decades and tried to be the best friend I could be with everyone, short of them shooing me away with a broom. It was exhausting and unnecessary.

It's sad to let go of people who are part of your history, who had a hand in shaping you and hold a piece of you with them at all times, whether they know it or not. They are irreplaceable. As old friends fall away, less and less people know the real you - the reasons behind the quirks, the because's behind all the why's, the original unjaded, noncynical and unbroken you.

But I know now that it's beyond any person's control why some friends stick and why others don't. Why some are nostalgic and loyal while others forge ahead alone or with a brand new crew. No guilt, no regret, and no more sadness for friends of yore. That is resolution number one for the new year.

Reflections In My Flannel Pajamas

It feels so decadent to pad around in flannel PJ's for several waking hours at a time. Here at my dear friend, "Turtle's" place, where she and her husband bend over backwards to make sure I'm not too cold, not too hot, not too hungry, nor ever in want of anything, the only time they leave me alone is late at night when they fall asleep. They say that you should always have a place you can escape to, and this is my place to recoup.

We joked about the title of "best friend" the other day - what it means, what it signifies, and the curse of bestowing that title on a person. I distinctly remember one afternoon about 2 decades ago, sitting in the car with my mother, driving home from a piano lesson, and asking her "when will I have a best friend?" She told me that not everyone has a "best friend." You might have several good friends and that should suffice.

I've been fortunate enough to have several great friends. And also blessed to have a best friend from junior high, one from high school, another from college and even one for after college. Each one critically important to me at that time in my life and then some. The first three are all up here in the bay area, and strangely enough, married to men who all share the same first name. The fourth one is migrating back up here next year, and perhaps that's why I'm so drawn to San Francisco and have fantasies of uprooting myself to live here for awhile.

Sadly, some of these friendships have naturally drifted apart as we grew in different directions and time and distance set in. Turtle is from high school, and somehow, in 17 years of friendship, we've only had one fight. Not even so much a fight, as in a period of just not hanging out together. Then, it passed.

She asked me why girls place such an emphasis on the title of best friend. It seems to have caused more petty squabbles and heartache amongst childhood friends than you'd think. Is it possession, a responsibility, or knowing that next to a spouse, you are the most important person and dearest to their heart?

I find it oddly parallel to searching for "the one." You may never find it. It may not even exist for certain people. Or for some, there are several "ones" out there or "one" for a certain time period in your life. All I know is that if I'm as blessed in finding "the one(s)" as I had in finding great friends, the future will indeed be bright.

Detox

Since the creation of Dreams In Blue, this is the longest I've gone without writing. I'm here and I am alive. I miss writing but I'm exhausted as we wrap up 2006. From the last busy week of work before Christmas vacation to staying at my parents' house for 5 straight days, to fleeing up to San Francisco less than 12 hours ago to hide out at a friend's house till the new year, there's been swirls of activity and much to reflect on before I succumb to the alluring waves of sleep every night.

I hope to sleep, read, write and unwind as much as possible now that I'm up here. It's been a week since I stepped foot in the workplace and only now are the work dreams starting to subside, the work people fading from my brain. The stress of what I should be doing versus what I want to be doing no longer looms at the forefront and strangles all enjoyment of life and living in the present out of me.

The morning I arrived at my parents' home, I cracked and wept for an hour. All because my family was inconsiderate enough to not wait for me for lunch. Again. For the third time in the past month. That was the first sign that I was not well. As I cried uncontrollably in my room and the despair of everything that was wrong with my life gripped me, the sadness felt so inconsolable. All I could do was nap it off, and spare myself the embarrassment of having to explain to my parents, my brother, and his girlfriend that sometimes, I just get sad for no reason and there's nothing they can do about it. It was better to let them think I was being childish and petulant, mad that they simply didn't wait for me.

It still scares me that despair can strike at the strangest times. I can go for months feeling great about life, baffled at how I could ever feel so low and without hope. Then a minor catalyst can set it off and I have to go about fixing myself in any way possible, whether it means sleeping, running, writing or simply reaching out to a good friend who will listen and console me, assuring me of the intactness of my sanity.

It's a tall order, but I hope to be at peace with myself by the end of the year. I have three more days to try.

Twas the Week Before Christmas...

And Whatchamacalit is all stressed out...
There are cards to write
and unwrapped presents strewn about.

Dinners were planned for the rest of the week
Dear friends to see and year end goals to meet!

---------------------------------------------------------

It's been busy. A good busy. But I do miss writing (thus the silly poem) and exercise and the routines of the rest of the year. December is special. The whole month is about the holidays and how many friends and loved ones you can cram in to see and gift before the year ends. Did I mention it's also about gluttony? Gluttony with food and money and gifts. It's almost shameful.

Work has become an annoyance, something that gets in the way of my holiday month. I want to smack my boss upside the head when he wastes my time with inane questions because he doesn't read emails clearly or think before speaking.

I want to sit at home, wrap gifts, sip tea, and watch movies. I want to sleep in, brunch with friends, catch up on years worth of letters, emails, and books. Most of all, I want to be with my family, stuff gifts under the Christmas tree, and sit around in flannel pajamas staring at the lights of the tree until I fall asleep.

Holiday Movies

When I was at the mouse-eared company, two other coworkers and I decided to form our own movie club. A movie club devoted to watching sappy romantic chick flicks so that we wouldn't have to drag unsuspecting victims, like boyfriends, to movies such as The Notebook or Save the Last Dance (our inaugural movie choice).

We don't get to meet up once a month anymore since some of us have moved on to different companies and have different hours. However, we'll still try to meet up for dinner monthly and pick a good movie to watch together at least once a year. Last weekend, it was The Holiday.

I knew it was a romantic comedy about two women swapping homes in England and LA to get away from the heartache of their their failed relationships but Wavy had given me a bit more of an in depth heads up. Apparently, when she watched the opening and listened to Kate Winslet's narration, she went "Whatchamacalit?! Is that you?"

Still, I was unprepared for just how much the writers got it. And how well Kate Winslet conveyed it. Without giving away too much of the movie, let's just say the pit of my stomach dropped out a couple of times and I wept throughout the movie. It was a swift kick to the gut in the best way possible. I wasn't so much crying from the sadness, it was more of the relief that someone else, and possibly many someone elses actually felt that way one time or another. My heart physically ached for her character and ached at the past experiences which made me feel like a sopping mess.

One of the girls I was with stifled a laugh and shook her head at me when the movie started. She too, had gone through the same experience with me years ago. We all loved the movie and had a wonderful time, but the best part was being able to cry and laugh about it with friends who understood why.

Last Concerts of the Year

Since we enjoyed the Hotel cafe tour so much, SLY and I decided to go to the Troubadour to see Brett Dennen on Friday and Josh Radin on Monday. I'm getting old and for mellow music like theirs, I prefer to sit. Instead of standing around in the main area, we sat in the back of the bar at the same table both times. The Troubadour is a tiny venue that feels like it's been around for decades, grunginess and all. So when we spotted Zach Braff and Donald Faison from the cast of Scrubs on Monday, right in front of us in the will call line, I had a feeling we'd spot them again.

Sure enough, Sarah Chalke from the show Scrubs also showed up, standing right in front of us, chatting up the other musicians like Priscilla Ahn and Cary Brothers. Zach Braff came over and bought a couple of beers for his group while SLY and I tried not to stare at the whole group 5 feet in front of us.

They were both great concerts, especially Josh Radin's on Monday when he invited his fellow musicians up on stage for various duets. Good music, celebrity sightings, it was a great way to cap off the last concert of the year. To celebrate, I'm buying tickets for another indie singer songwriter, Rhett Miller, at the Troubadour in January.

Like Sands Through the Hourglass...

In college, my roommates and I had too much time on our hands. One roommate was a big fan of the soap opera General Hospital while another one got hooked on Days of Our Lives with me when we met the cast for a question and answer session at school. Being the nerds that we are, we took it upon ourselves to chart out all the past and present relationships between the characters to keep them straight.

So when I recently found myself in an odd little scenario straight out of the soaps, my first instinct was to chart it out.



For one night, all in the same room for the same event and no one got hurt, no tears were shed, and smiles all around. Sometimes art does imitate life more than life imitates art.

Creepy Tunnel

Here's the creepy tunnel we ran through on Mile 13. It only took my phone 2 days to send it to my email account. Ain't technology grand?

All's Fair In Love and Parking

I wish I were meaner. Because if I were, I would have run over the girl's foot, which was unjustly in the way of my parking spot.

Wavy ran into the pizza place to order some dinner for me while I looked for a place to park. There was a prime spot right in front of the restaurant and a diminuitive college student standing in the prime spot, obviously holding the space for one of her friends. I started backing into the space and she waved her tiny hands at me, as if that would stop me. I glared at her, mouthed "no, you can't do that." and continued backing the car in. She kept smiling at me and waving her hands, refusing to budge. Another boy ran into the spot to support her, also smiling and waving his hands at me.

Fantastic. I can run over his feet too.

There was a standoff for a good two to three minutes, as I yelled at them and tried to keep reversing. We were causing a scene. People from the restaurant stared at us. For once, I longed for a cop to come by and do something good for a change, like yell at these kids for me. I debated about how close I could nick them with my car before it was considered a crime. Their punk friends finally showed up and drove straight into the spot, adding to my rage.

I realized that 1) I would have tried to save a parking spot for a friend by standing in it but 2) I would have chickened out and moved out of the way if someone tried to take the spot and yelled at me 3) I'm not mean enough to key someone's car or run over their foot but 4) I really wish I could. Maybe life would be a little bit better if my id ran loose every so often and people feared me as the "unhinged" one. I can only dream.

The Aftermath

Stumbled home after brunch, showered and fell asleep. The alarm clock went off at 4:30 again. Very much like 12 hours before, but this time the sun was still out. What a strange day. I went out briefly to visit some friends and their newborn, got some dinner, came home and slept some more. Today, I woke up briefly at 8am to email work and tell them I was too achy to go in, and continued to sleep until 10.

When I woke up, I called the friends with the newborn, offering to bring them lunch. And they replied "Oh my God, you sound as if you just woke up after partying all night and now you're hungover and just coming to."

The Final Run

The alarm clock went off at 4:30am. I had laid out everything I needed, knowing I would be half delirious. Somehow I managed to toast a PB & J sandwich, and stumble out the door by 5, feeling as if I was living some surreal dream. It was pitch black, no cars on the freeway, and all the skyscrapers of downtown were still lit up as I drove toward them. The clock said 5:05 but it could have been am or pm. I felt like I had gone mad.

I found the parking lot where we were meeting, and slowly the others trickled in after me. We all agreed it was a bit surreal, and the nine of us made our way toward the meeting point up the hill. It was still pitch black outside and a chilly 30 degrees. With wind.

We found the last two members of our group, and lined up for the shuttles that would take us to the starting point. It was still only 6am. Another hour and a half to go. I think I saw an old boss from my last job, but I really didn't care.

They unloaded us at the Travel Town Museum in Griffith Park, but we didn't want to get off the bus. It was only 6:30 and it was FREEZING outside. They booted us off anyway so we joined throngs of people milling about waiting for the start of the race. WHY DID WE NEED TO GET HERE AN HOUR EARLY? There was no shelter so we huddled together in a small circle to stay warm, kind of like the penguins in the documentary March of the Penguins.

Pre-race entertainment included chanting by a group of Native American performers, seeing how many guys ditched the porta potty lines to climb up the hillside to relieve themselves, and watching fellow racers in various fashion schemes (men in short shorts should never bend over and trash bags make for handy windbreakers). By the time the race was ready to start, we had been awake at least 3 hours and lost all feeling in our legs.

A Mile By Mile Breakdown of the Race:

Mile 1 - Feeling good! Still no feeling in my legs but I'm almost tempted to continue running even after our first walk cycle. I have never seen so many guys randomly peeing in the bushes along the path. And WHY is the woman mooning everybody? Gross.

Mile 2 - Ack, only one mile done?!!

Mile 4 - All right, we're heading outside of the park. Still feeling good and running too fast. I keep losing my group.

Mile 5 - Hmmm, I'm too far ahead of the group. I can't hear them yelling "Run!" or "Walk!" I can't believe I'm doing so well.

Mile 6 - CRAMP! We're running along the freeway now and the sun's out. Still a ways to go.

Mile 7 - Holy Mother of God, I'M IN PAIN.

Mile 8 - We're only a little over half way. I'm never going to make it. Every time we run, my stomach feels like it's going to explode.

Mile 9 - Half the group has caught up and ahead of me. Resorting to prayer and bargaining now to finish the race.

Mile 10 - I can't run anymore. It physically feels impossible. My knee is throbbing, my foot aches, and the cramps still come and go. Four people from the group run ahead and one of them stays with me to walk. Thank god for her. We seem to have lost three of them in the back. We're now without timer people. No one to tell us when to run and walk at our 2 minute/1 minute intervals. But no matter. If I run, I will fall over and die at this point.

Mile 11 - Bless all these wonderful kids and adult volunteers handing out drinks and cheering along the way. I taste Gatorade for the first time. I love sugar. My buddy convinces me to run for the downhill stretch of this mile when my cramps subside.

Mile 12 - Eureka! We're finally in downtown. We're almost done. I can't believe it. Will I have to keep all the promises I made when begging all the powers of above to help me finsh? My buddy is already calling her boyfriend to let her know we're almost done. I wonder if my parents will show up at the finish line.

Mile 13 - Walking through a creepy tunnel. Straight out of some sci-fi flick. Two more peeps from our group catch up with us since we've been walking much of the time. One of the members from our running group who lost us at mile 1 is done and coming back toward us to head home. "It's so close you can taste it!" he yells.

Mile 13.1 - The four of us decide to run toward the finish line, so that we at least look less pathetic for straggling in so late. Amazingly, we finished within 3 hours! And my parents are so cute! They are there too, taking pictures, giving me a Capri-sun, as if they were cheering me on as a little kid in little league (which we never did).

I can't believe we finished. That was one of the hardest things I've ever done and one of the most physically excruciating. I've gotta find more constructive and less painful ways to cope with frustration and sadness or else I'll be in a wheelchair by the time I'm 40.

One of the runners in our group said there are two types of people who do these things. One says "I will never do this again" and the other asks "when's the next one?" There is talk of the San Diego marathon in June and the 5K/10K Firecracker run in Chinatown in February. Good God, I just want to be able to walk normally again. And sleep in on Sundays. MAYBE the 10K in February. If something else is pissing me off next year.

Eve of the Big Run

Good lord, we have to meet at 5:15 tomorrow. That means even if I sleep right now at 10pm and wake up around 4, that's only 6 hours of sleep. That bites. I haven't slept at 10pm since I was eight years old. And waking up when it's still dark and cold out? Inhumane.

Spotted on the Freeway

A strange Oldsmobile tilted up at a 25 degree angle, the back wheels so close to the ground, I expected sparks to fly if the car hit a bump. Etched on the back of the car, the classy quote "Too low for you big hoes."

Playing Hooky

I woke up at 7:30 today with intentions for my last run before the half marathon. Unfortunately, it was too cold to get out of bed. And I was too tired from sleeping so late. And because I couldn't get up to go run, I figured why bother getting up to go to work? I deserved a day off and have two more sick days to use before the end of the year.

Not seeing me online all morning, Wavy called me at about 11:30 to see if I was dead or alive, then invited me to lunch and a day of shopping. What perfect timing! It was like a mini vacation.

We marveled at how crowded the Century City shopping center was, and wondered who these people were who lunched at Bloomingdale's on a Thursday afternoon. Lots of retired folks, well-off housewives with their kids, perhaps grad school students, and people playing hooky from work like us? And why is the interior of my apartment even colder than the outdoors??!

The best part of the day happened when we were trying on clothes at the Banana Republic. Wavy tried on a lovely red holiday dress while I tried on jeans. Being the close friends that we are, and having the dressing rooms all to ourselves, we momentarily forgot that we weren't in the privacy of our homes.

As I noted the bad cut of the dress around her chest, she checked out my butt in the jeans (THIS is why you need great friends with you when trying on clothes, especially jeans.) Circling around me to thoroughly check out every angle, Wavy went above and beyond the call of duty. As she stared intently at my behind, the saleslady walked in and started laughing her head off, asking "Is there something to see over there?" and bent down to check me out too. "Luckily, no guys walked in on you two in the hallway, or else you would have made their day!" I'm sure we made her day though.

Such a fun day, but back to running, baking to stay warm and working tomorrow...

Cold

As much as I love the cold and detest the heat, I'm a wimp. I have a temperature comfort range of about 10 degrees. And unfortunately, there are only about 2 good weeks a year, where my apartment isn't too cold or too hot. Sigh.

So until the Gas Company comes over next week to light the pilot light for the winter, I am 1) too cold to clean my apartment. 2) too cold to write most nights. Plus my brain is too sluggish and my fingers numb. 3) baking things in the oven to warm up the apartment. 4) in a sweater, a sweatshirt, under a blanket and a sporadic cat every evening, huddled in a corner of my sofa watching TV and eating warm apple pie. It's all I can handle.

The Fourth Long Run

Today, I didn't hate running. It was brutal to get up so early on a holiday weekend to run, but I didn't hate the running itself. AND we ran the same 12 mile course as last week in 2 hours and 33 minutes.

I'm so impressed and proud of our group. I'm really loving the people in this running group and think we may even keep it up for shorter runs after the race. I finally feel like we're going to be OK next week. Amazing what a 20 degree drop in the temperature will do to make everyone hustle along. 20 degrees colder = 20 minutes faster. If the weather is like this next Sunday, we'll be flying along to the finish line in no time!

P.S. Everything still aches.

Turkey Day Traditions

My brother, his girlfriend, and my cousin put up our new Christmas tree already. It's the first new one we've bought in 2 decades. We've never had a real tree. Apparently, my parents paid a buck to chop down a tree in Phoenix when I was a little kid of 3 or 4, and I sneezed and complained about the smell in the house. To which, my brother says "Thanks a lot, dork."

Can't wait to fill up the bottom with gifts!

Turkey day also consisted of the usual copious amounts of food and desserts, a rousing game of speed Uno, video games, and extreme ping pong with the cousins, and laughing till our sides hurt. Some traditions I hope, never change.

Pavlovian Effect

Yet another post about music. I loved the movie Flushed Away so much that I actually paid to see it twice. One of the songs they have in there, always brings me back to such a happy time in my life.



A few years ago, I joined Contiki tours with two good friends to see Eastern Europe. One of the gimmicks that each tour conducts is to choose a theme song for the group. Once it's chosen, they will blast that song EVERY morning on the bus to kick off the day, whether we want it or not. "Bohemian Like You" was our song. Appropriate since we were kind of touring Bohemia.

When I hear it, I think back to a time when I was happily unemployed for two months, reading books from the library everyday, meeting up with friends, about to start a new job (the one that I have now), and embarking on a new adventure in life, brimming with so much hope, that it was bursting at the seams. My other two friends were at similar places in life and we still look back to that time as one of the best memories we have. Amazing how much one song can conjure up.

The Power of Music

I heard this old Madonna song on the radio the other day and it's been stuck in my head since.

(It's not the best recording but the only one I could find.)

It's from the show Felicity, a show that chronicled a girl's angsty travails through college just as I and all my friends graduated. It was like reliving college all over again and a bunch of us followed the show religiously.

It's a beautiful song that reminds me of how much you can grow by letting go and moving on with your life. Surprisingly, it hasn't made me sad all week as many songs are apt to do. A new friend recently told me she can't handle listening to much music anymore because it affects her too much. Even if she was in a good mood, a sad song can bring her down so badly, she'll be depressed for the rest of the day.

This is exactly why I love music so much. It can influence your mood or you can choose it to suit your mood. The Ipod has enabled everyone to walk around with their personal soundtracks and I am definitely one of those people. I can also attribute a song or two (or ten) to every friend I have and most people I know. Tons of songs can bring me back to an exact place, a time period in my life, or a feeling I had. This week, I'm in a optimistic mood, sad music be damned.

A Cocktail and Some Emo Rock

It's Monday night and I've already hit a bar and had my drink for the week. At the Temple Bar, the Ken Oak band had their belated CD release party and sang most of the songs from their latest album. Clancy, Me@Co, and a couple others came out with me, adding to what seemed like Asian night at the Temple Bar.

These boys were cute and pretty talented. Seems that all the girl groupies in the crowd thought so too, especially one particular loudmouthed, not quite drunk girl who kept bellowing rude and annoying comments. I first saw them over a year ago performing at 3rd Street Promenade for free and have seen them several times since when I happen to go shopping around there. How far those little emo rockers have come.

I also had some delicious champagne/juice concoction at the bar. I haven't craved a drink in over a year, after getting miserably sick and hungover last August. All of a sudden, I wanted a glass of Riesling Friday night and some fruity cocktail tonight. Odd indeed. We'll see how I hold up when the holiday parties come rolling around...

The Third Long Run

We finally managed to run 12 miles. In 2 hours and 53 minutes. That means we'll have to run/walk a bit faster to finish 13.1 within 3 hours. Everything aches as much as it did for the first run. Probably because of the extra 4 miles. And probably because it was hot as hell.

My hands were completely swollen at the end of the run. I've never seen them swell up like that. Maybe it was from all the meat I inhaled the night before. Heh heh...

On another note, I caved and spent good money on more running clothes and gear. What a difference that makes! If anything, I'll at least look decent huffing and puffing my way to the finish line.

The Smell of Ice, Violence, and Beef

As of Friday morning, I had absolutely no plans for Friday night or all day Saturday. Except to maybe clean my apartment or start Christmas shopping. By the afternoon, thanks to my Spelling Friend with the great hookups at Staples Center, a chain reaction was created and suddenly I had plans.

She gave me her company tickets to the LA Kings game, but the catch was I needed to actually find someone to go with. Otherwise, she'd give them to someone else. Within 10 minutes, I had called up everyone I thought who would remotely be interested and left messages all across town. Erm, fortunately and unfortunately, three of my friends called back and said they could go.

I ended up meeting with one of those guys, my Chai Tea Specialist friend and a couple others for a Friday night flick "Happy Feet." Not my first choice for a movie (Super cute penguins and a good message, but a bit too much singing for my tastes), but he worked on it.

Took Vaj with me to the afternoon hockey game, and he treated me to a delicious McDonald's lunch as we watched players shove each other into the side panels. It was refreshingly cold in there in contrast to this freakishly hot weekend. It was also the closest I've been to the ice for a hockey game - so close that some poor kid one section over got beaned by a flying puck. Luckily all was well, and he came back one period later with a ice pack on his head.

I have to say, hockey is right up there as one of my favorite sports to watch live. Purely because the people are no frills and these guys are so talented, they are ice skating AND wielding large sticks, trying to play a game of hockey. What other sport are they doing TWO different activities at once? I can barely ice skate (I just grip on the railing and go in circles on the outer perimeter of the rink) or play hockey (played once in a gym. We wore shoes and used a small rubber ball.)

After the game, I went home briefly and then met up with Bizarro Twin for dinner in Koreatown. She had also said yes to the game but she decided to treat me to a belated birthday dinner of pure meat instead. She took me to her favorite spot - Soot Bul Jeep.

When she described it to me over a year ago, I thought she was exaggerating. But I kid you not, you can smell the meat before you get near the restaurant. It is also so filled with smoke, everything is hazy inside. I'm not sure what all those fans are for, but the restaurant certainly has some ventilation issues. In the end, WHO CARES, because it is the BEST kalbi I've ever had. BT and I ate three plates full. The waitress gave us a strange look when we ordered but then again, the two of us always get strange looks when we eat together because of how much we pack away. It might be that good because they use a charcoal grill instead of the usual gas grill. I'm sure I've inhaled enough carcinogens to take a few months off my life, but it was so worth it.

We went to an outdoor cafe for tea and dessert afterwards, partly so we could keep chatting but also to air ourselves out from eau de BBQ beef. I told her that I'd probably be oozing the smell of beef as I ran with the running group the next day - which might make a strange impression since I've only just met these people. And she replied "Oh come on, what man doesn't want to meet a women who smells like meat?" All in all, an unplanned and unexpectedly great Saturday with friends.

Game Mania

On my way home from dinner and trying to air myself out from smelling like Korean BBQ beef (certainly not a horrible thing by any means), I heard lots of loud chatter as I drove by the Best Buy. There is a long line of people around the block from the store, people with tents and sleeping bags huddled alongside the building, looking miserably cold and missing their beds. All for what, you wonder? Apparently, the Sony Playstation 3 comes out on Friday.

IT IS WEDNESDAY EVENING. Do these people not work? Not have school to attend? Lives to live? I like video games as much as your next nerdy girl, but spending $500-$600 on this and having to camp out for days to get it? That console better be able to make French toast and vacuum my floors too.

Tis the Season For The Ubiquitous Holiday Work Party

The annual Christmas Party invitation went out today. And as usual, as with every work function, I am filled with anxiety and dread. An opportunity to get dressed up and kick off the holidays, but also forced socialization with work people outside of work and work people's plus ones. The problem with being the only girl in a social group at work is having to adjust for the dynamics of mingling with all of their wives and girlfriends outside of work. Continue to be one of the guys or ingratiate myself to their significant others by being one of the girls? Feels like junior high all over again. Except with more drunkenness and regret.

The Second Long Run

I love this running group. Last week, we were supposed to run 9 miles. We ran 8. This week we were supposed to run 12 miles. We said "screw it" and ran 8 miles again, although incorporating a very steep hill and finishing 15 minutes faster than last week. I call it success!

I don't ache as much as I did last week, nor are my fingers tingly. I also refused to nap so that I can hopefully sleep even more like a baby than usual.

Instead of running out in the streets, we stayed inside Griffith Park this time, where they were already stringing up holiday decorations and lights for the Light Festival. As much as I love this park, this is the most I've ever explored it, especially on foot.

I'm still not fully confident we can finish 13.1 miles within 3 hours yet. But it's been nice to chat with new friends and have something that is my own and completely separate from work and work people. A few others in the group actually hate running like me and had various reasons for starting up. One girl told me she doesn't hate running anymore but doesn't quite LIKE it yet. I think that will be my new goal. Learning to not hate running.

VIP

I have the coolest friends. On Wednesday, my Spelling Bee friend, treated me to a Clippers game at the Staples Center. Usually, I'm a Lakers fan and I've been to a few games years ago, but watching any sports game live is pretty fun. (Well, except football and golf. Bleh.)

The difference with this game was the fact that the tickets belonged to her company's general counsel - season tickets in the premiere/suites level. I may sound like a country bumpkin, but on that level, waitresses come to take your order and bring you food while you watch the game. There is a restaurant on that level where you can actually dine at a table while watching the game. There are secret passageways that lead you to the different levels and the exits quickly without having to mingle with the masses. All you have to do is flash your golden ticket. It amazes me that from the get-go, the architects of the Staples Center clearly had a "haves" and "have-nots" mentality when it came to the arena's design.

I couldn't stop gushing about how great this experience was to my Spelling Bee friend. Though she usually left before the end of every game to beat the crowds, I even managed to get her to stay until two minutes to the end, when I knew the Dallas Mavericks would not be able to make up a 12 point deficit against the Clippers. For a night, thanks to my dear friend, I felt like a VIP - a "have" if you will. Just another atypical Wednesday night in a day of my life.

I Voted!

I have a sticker that says just that. Like I did for all my homework assignments and exams in the days of yore, I somehow managed to wait till the last minute and crammed all the reading in an hour before the polls closed at 8pm on Tuesday. Made it to the neighborhood voting garage (so weird that a voting place can be out of someone's garage at their home…) with 10 minutes to spare and got in my semi-educated votes in, undeniably proud that I made some sort of effort to exercise my right as an American.

It may not sound like much, but this is coming from a girl who always lived her life blissfully ignorant of politics, current events, and hot buttons issues. My favorite story to point out my ignorance is from nearly two decades ago, when my intellectually superior junior high best friend railed about the Iran-Contra scandals. I looked at her and asked "Are those the annoying debates on TV that are bumping all my TV shows at night? I hate them too!" I think I stunned her speechless and why she chose to continue to be my friend, I'll never know.

Fast forward to the present, and it seems somewhere along the way in the past few years, awareness has crept into my head. I find myself suddenly very passionate about certain issues (though by no means am I joining any protests or grassroots campaigns yet) and asking people if they're voting too.

The proudest moment I have is of my parents signing up to vote around the same time I did years ago. The fact that my dad, a relatively conservative kind of guy, chose to vote against Bush and told my mom they were doing so because we had to protect abortion rights, blew me away on so many levels. For that alone, I would respect my dad for eternity.

Rats, Slugs, Undercover Agents, and Magicians

In between all the running, the anti-pining, and the disinterest in work, I managed to see a couple of good movies lately.

The Departed, which is a remake of the Hong Kong film Infernal Affairs is ultra violent, dark, lengthy and classic Scorsese. I actually like it more than the original and though his character didn't even exist in the original film, I think Mark Wahlberg (of Marky Mark fame) stole the show.

I think I may have laughed the loudest in the theater for Flushed Away. I love Wallace and Gromit, Creature Comforts and all things Aardman. Though this film was CG mimicking claymation, I swear the slugs looked just as smudgy as the original clay models. The French frogs were hilarious. Hugh Jackman and Kate Winslet are excellent voice actors. And the film was less schmaltzy than the usual studio animated features.

Finally, The Prestige, which has two fine pieces of eye candy, Christian Bale and Hugh Jackman. Ah, but the movie isn't just about eye candy, it's about an intriguing story that twists and turns and does upside down loops. The director, Christopher Nolan, excels at the whole nonlinear timeline storytelling technique. I was captivated throughout the entire movie, not once looking around me to see what other people were doing, as I'm apt to do during slow moments of a movie. You don't know who to root for and you'll be talking about it with your friends, trying to dissect the movie and figure out what really happened for an hour after it ends.

I love the holiday movie season! So many good movies dumped in the theaters the last 3 months of the year to qualify for the Academy Awards. I'm going to watch as much as I can.

Putting That Sociology Degree To Use

On Friday, I was asked to sit in on a meeting amongst the IT guys, the programming and pipeline development guys, and a couple of supervisors to discuss the creation of software tools to better the efficiency of the studio. It seemed likely to be a yawnfest, but my role was to take notes, organize their schedule and just lend an overall official production presence to these noncommunicative folks.

Instead, I got to witness a prime example of how NOT to run a meeting and conduct a productive discussion. From a sociological perspective, it was fascinating to note how many things these boys did wrong. They stepped all over each other's sentences, constantly interrupting each other. They raised their voices to be heard and drown out the others, pointing at each other when talking (a very aggressive gesture). Some tried to put words in other people's mouths, consistently and wrongly summarizing someone else's thought for them, purely out of impatience. It was such a tense environment.

I was appalled. Yet thankful that I wasn't personally involved in this discussion. If I were being talked to that way, surely I would have hurled my notebook at someone's face. Lucky for them, I was just an observer. It'll be interesting to see how that goes when we reconvene tomorrow.

The First Long Run

I survived it. We ran/walked 8 miles through Griffith Park, past the Warner Brothers Lot in part of Toluca Lake, past the Disney lot in Burbank, past an Equestrian Center with smelly horse poop, and through Glendale back into Griffith Park.

Everything below my waist aches. And for some strange reason, my hands have been tingly all day.

BUT, it wasn't as bad as I thought. Despite the little bouts of panic attacks this week including one yesterday morning, when the power went out and the smoke alarm started beeping at 7 in the morning. I woke up freaking out that I had to wake up that early this morning and train for a 13 mile run.

The pace group was great, the scenery was nice, and there seems to be a peculiar population of people who run. In the mornings. On a Sunday morning. In packs. All around Griffith park. AND they're so encouraging! They cheer and clap when our groups run by each other, like we're all bonded in this masochistic activity we've all committed to doing together. I'm definitely experiencing a different slice of life. One that also includes me downing a couple of Motrin now before I pass out on my bed for the night.

Weddings and Childhood Friends

One of my first friends ever, Miss Flip Flops, got married this weekend. It's the end of an era. I imagine that she won't be coming out to stay with me for a random weekend nor be able to travel with me anymore. At least not till 2008, she told me. IF they don't have kids.

I DO know however, I will always be able to stay at her place in Phoenix, always be able to stuff ourselves silly with good food, and that she'll always be one of the first people to offer to run over and beat anyone who hurts me.

Our birthdays are a day apart and yet we've only celebrated together once. We became friends when I was about 5 and she was 7 though it turned out we lived in the same neighborhoods as babies. We were each other's first pen pals (remember when people wrote handwritten letters to each other?) when I moved away at age 8 and stayed in touch to this day - me going back for the summers to visit my grandparents, and she driving out here as soon as she got a car and a license.

The wedding and preparations reflected the low key nature and down to earth personality of Miss Flip Flops. The night before the wedding, we busted open her new Bissell Spot bot to try it out on the carpet, (thanks to her excitable dog) and proceeded to hook up her Tivo.

The day of her wedding, her mom came over and fried dumplings and eggs for us, while I ran out to get coffee for everybody, bought more cables for the Tivo, and finished setting up the DVR so that she wouldn't miss her shows while on her honeymoon. I even had to call the Tivo customer support line at one point, explaining that I NEEDED to do this for my friend, she's getting married today, and it's my gift to her! The guy laughed and luckily was able to talk me through it



The wedding took place at a golf course, far far away from central Phoenix. The Arizonians joked that we were halfway to Los Angeles, it was that far west. At one point, we worried that some errant golfer could knock the bride unconscious with a golf ball and a shout of "Fore!" during the ceremony. She really would have that kind of luck. That's why we're such kindred spirits.



Other than the gigantic bug bites I came back with and the fact that the DJ had the bright idea to make each table sing a song with the word "love" in it in order to line up at the buffet, the wedding was lovely, filled with old childhood friends, family (including mine), and more kiddies than ever. For the first time, I felt neither young nor old, as I sat out from the festivities from aching feet, watching three different generations on the fance floor. I thought of how we used to be the kiddies laughing and dancing on the floor, while our parents and grandparents watched, waiting for us to grow up while hoping time would stand still.

Still Aching...

Another huffing and puffing filled 2.7 miles in 35 minutes. And shin splints to boot! Ack!!!!!

Training... Or Lack Thereof

I guess this would be week 2 of my "training" for the half marathonand I'm officially panicked. I'm doing the most basic requirements of running (twice a week for 30-45 minutes) and missed the first long run with the group on Sunday since I was in Phoenix. Last night I ran and today I feel like I got hit by a truck. EVERYTHING ACHES. And I barely covered 2.7 miles in 35 minutes. How the hell will I finish before all the cars are let back onto the streets of downtown?!!

Daylight Savings

Just got back a while ago from a weekend in Phoenix, where for some reason, they don't celebrate daylight savings. Instead, while the rest of the world "falls back" an hour every October, Arizona simply switches from Pacific Standard time to Mountain Standard time.

Though it's one of the fastest growing cities, and far from the sleepy and culturally homogeneous town I spent my childhood in, there's still quite a bit of mid west in Phoenix.



Yes, that's a gun shop with a teddy bear and guns sign.

I missed out on my extra hour of sleep last night. I'm trying to trick myself into sleeping early tonight. Odd, I know but I will just putter about, reading, watching TV, writing until it seems too late to be awake. And I am exhausted from the fun weekend.

Mornings = Bad

As daunting as 13.1 miles of running is, I'm actually more concerned with getting up at the crack of dawn to do it. I had to wake up around 6:45 am this week for a Dr's appointment and when I awoke to my alarm beeping in the cold darkness and convinced myself out of bed, I wanted to throw up and die.

I'm not exaggerating. Every time I have to get up before the sun's out, I want to throw up and die. I haven't had to do it much because I tend to avoid early morning activities. I resent people and things, at least for the first hour or so, when they make me get up early. All the friends know not to even bother trying to call me before 10 on the weekends (that's already better in recent years. It used to be noon) And having a coherent conversation with me? Forget it. It's going to be interesting come December 3rd for the half marathon...

Double Rainbow

Two Fridays ago, on a gloomy stormy afternoon, the sun broke out of the clouds for a moment and rainbows appeared! I've only seen a double rainbow one other time in my life when I was a kid. It's a little hard to see the inverted rainbow on the left, but it's there! I didn't have a camera with me at work, so I ran around the studio grabbing the first camera I could borrow. I blame the foreign camera for the wacky colors. The sky was actually much bluer and things weren't quite so yellow and bright.





The funniest comment from one of my coworkers: "Looks like the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow is in Inglewood."

Running to Stand Still

After over a two month break from running, I went back again last night. Partly because work is letting up a little (or I'm just too burnt out to care about sticking around) and partly because the bad feelings were coming back. And today I am sooooooo tired and sore.

Coincidentally enough, Clancy just convinced me to try this half marathon. Boy I hate running and I hate early mornings even more. We have about 5 weeks and I've never run more than 3 miles in a row. Never in my wildest dreams would I think to try a marathon, but this half marathon... I don't know. The satisfaction of finishing something like that might just be worth it. It's something I didn't think I could ever physically do or want to do.

But then I'm feeling a little rebellious against myself lately.

Mis-cues

You know how people learn things through socialization with others? But then there are the odd ones that never pick up certain cues? I'm great with the etiquette and being courteous of others but when it comes to certain dating cues, wow, I'm a slow learner. According to some of my favorite blogs, here and here, inviting someone over to watch a movie means making out. Heh heh. Up until the last year or two, I was still thinking it harmlessly meant inviting a friend over to watch a movie. Boy was I suprised. Never too late to learn.

The Beauty of Song

Ooh, I learned a new trick. Instead of posting a link to the band or song I like, I can post the song itself now.

The Killers - When We Were Young



I've currently been obsessed with this song. It's upbeat yet wistful. And it fits my mood. I feel like I should be upbeat because technically nothing's wrong. I have a full successful life with people who love me. Yet I'm wistful. I yearn for the days of being young and naively hopeful about life. I yearn for the fairy tale. I want to save and be saved. But as wistful as the song is, it also reminds me that I can't wait around, be saved, nor settle for something less than the real thing. Yup, all that, attributed to one song.

List Update

I haven't forgotten the list. But try as I might, I can't seem to blow those wrappers off the straws. It's a pretty sad sight since I've been practicing every chance I get.

On the other hand, belly dancing is going well. I may not be able to move my hips like a Tahitian dancer, but at least the hips are still moving. Whew...

Life Imitates Art Imitates Life

I'm not sure about the rest of America, but one of the reasons I love the show Grey's Anatomy so much, besides the clever writing and beautiful people, is the gut-wrenching angst and relatability of their situation. No, I don't save lives for a living. In fact, in response to all our bosses running about stressing over some minute scheduling delay, one of my favorite bosses once exclaimed "Just chill out people. It's not brain surgery. We make cartoons for a living! No one's gonna live or die if this doesn't get done." Doesn't sound like the strongest thing for a work ethic, but I've kept that motto in my head ever since.

Anyway, I digress.

The small group of main characters all work, date, live, and breathe in each other's presence. Bosses, exes, friends, and enemies are forced to be around each other ALL the time. You may think, "ah, that's because it's a TV show. That's why they don't leave that pool of people." Not so. Not so at all.

I read a magazine poll that said something like 38% met their significant other at the workplace, about 34% through friends, and maybe 10% or less at a bar. Only 2-3% found relationships online, about the same percentage as randomly meeting someone at a bookstore or a park out of pure serendipity. Of course, this is the same magazine that said the average woman owns about 30 pairs of shoes, so yes, according to all of its statistics, I fit in quite well in the "normal" category. Whoo hoo!

On the last episode of Grey's, the main character, Meredith exclaimed "You're everywhere!" to her ex, just like her ex's ex said to her when she was crying in the closet. (it's a complicated love triangle) And of course, there's nothing they can do about it. They've made their bed and now they have to lie in it, so to speak.

They are everywhere. I work with them, I eat with them, I take classes with them, I celebrate birthdays with them, and I watch movies and attend dinner parties with them. I tell myself that I'll be fine. I tell my friends I feel fine. I'm being strong and sucking it up. But I know subconsciously, it's probably damaging my psyche in the long run. Maybe it's out of convenience. Or maybe because I can't quite let go nor delicately extricate myself. I'm stubborn as all hell and refuse to compromise what work ethic and pride I do have by collapsing into a heap or quitting my job until I 100% believe that the reasons are purely professional.

I try my hardest not to complain to my weary friends, even if it doesn't seem that way. I try to coop it up inside because even I'm sick of hearing myself talk about the same fretful, stupid things. I made my bed, and boy am I lying in it. Yet, I don't have any regrets because I'd probably do it the same foolish way all over again. The hopeful romantic in me needs to be stabbed with a fork.

Sucks To Be An Elephant

To forgive = to not hate; acceptance of the wrongdoer's existence in your life
To forget = to be indifferent; not caring at all whether wrongdoer is in your life or not, happy or sad, dead or alive

I'm finding that forgiveness is much easier to do. Hating someone expends too much energy. And sometimes you have to be grown up and continue to see or interact with people you'd rather send to a place like... Zimbabwe.

The tricky part is forgetting. The goal is indifference. But to forget the sting of being hurt or betrayed - the timing of that feels so unpredictable.

I've been tossing around the phrase "To forgive and forget" in my head for awhile now, trying to make sense of it, because for me, those things don't feel like they go hand in hand. Can you do one and not the other? Can I forgive someone but never be able to forget? Or can I forget about something out of sheer old age, but yet never forgive them? I feel like I've done both but wondering if the forgiveness and the forgetfulness eventually cross paths one day.

It's A Small World After All

This weekend, my friend, the ballet dancer, attended a birthday party for some people she knew through her boyfriend. When she scoured the Evite the week before, she saw a name that seemed strangely familiar. Mr. DD.

Of course, luck would have it that the ballet dancer answered the door when Mr. DD arrived. She politely introduced herself, feeling like she already knew him so well. Of course, like a heat seeking missile, she would have sought him out anyway, after asking the hostess to point him out if he ever showed up. (Never underestimate the power of a protective girl friend.)

She introduced herself, asked where he worked and said "Oh, do you know Whatchamacalit? She's one of my VERY good friends and we used to work together at the mouse-eared company." Though she was perfectly friendly with him, offering him food and chatting with him for a bit, her boyfriend claimed that she "pounced on him like a shark." He didn't stay for very long.

Apparently, the hostess, who only knew Mr. DD through her husband's mutual friends, did not think highly of him and confessed to the ballet dancer that they always thought he was hiding in the closet and gay. I'm fairly confident he's not, but boy, I could not stop laughing or wipe the idiotic grin off my face for a good 5 minutes after I got the voice mail from the ballet dancer.

Soooooo cheap, but it feels sooooooo good...

The hostess also complained to the ballet dancer that he didn't seem to know how to treat women very well and lacked social graces, completely oblivious to someone's birthday and refusing to move from a seat at the center of table for the guest of honor. Yup, that would be my emotionally stunted and socially awkward Mr. DD.

I don't feel so crazy anymore. He's not my Chicken Boo and I'm not the only one who was treated badly or befuddled or knows he's not THAT much of a nice guy. My ballet dancer friend has brought me some closure and boy do I love her for it.

The Circle of Life (Work Life That Is...)

In a strange coincidence, I saw several old bosses from my first job at the mouse eared company this week. On Thursday night, I ran into my first boss at the Century City mall as she was leaving the Container Store grand opening party while my curious Spelling Bee friend and I were trying to crash it. We didn't get in but we did get a nice giveaway gift and I did get to catch up with my old boss.

I temped for her right out of college and she was kind enough to eventually hire me on permanently. Being one of the few Asians at the company at that time, we bonded on a certain level and I considered her a friend though she was eleven years older and newly married. By the time the tumultuous project ended and we had gone through 3 years together, we needed a break and I realized there was too much of a generational and cultural gap between us to remain close friends. We both stopped trying though there weren't any hard feelings between us and I still inquired about her life through mutual friends.

To see her again after a couple of years, though she's left the business and I've done well career-wise, still brought me back to the 22 year old kid I was when I started working for her. I almost felt silly and a fraud telling her my title now. At the same time, it was refreshing to realize how far I had come and that she was genuinely happy for me.

On another note, I attended a baby shower for another old boss from that first project this weekend and again saw two old supervisors from that first job. They were both very nice but still had an unaffected air toward me just like when I was that 22 year old assistant running around trying to please. Luckily, I met a lot of other nice women there and even one girl who worked for all the same bosses after me. I'm going to try to hire her to work with me.

Bad dream

Last night, I revelled in the thought of getting a good 8 hours sleep but instead had a fretful night. I dreamt that Mr. DD was in a relationship with one of my childhood friends. And they had a baby. And my friend was telling me that they'd probably get married sooner or later. As soon as I cleared him for some vacation time.

He never had the decency to tell me about any of it. (Which I guess would be characteristic of him.) He just shrugged and mumbled at me. I wasn't mad at my friend and she wasn't sorry or insincere. She was just being herself. And I was happy for her as much as I could be though it hurt so much.

I woke up with a start in the middle of the night, awoken by the gigantic ache in my chest. Heartache I think it was. Though I don't know why. I don't know what strange subconscious thought conjured up that dream. I don't know why I would ever ache for this person. And frankly, I'm a little pissed that the bad dream destroyed the possibility of good sleep.

No more cuppa tea for me after dinner. Or maybe I should take up watching horror films so that I can have a proper nightmare instead of an emotional one.

Words I Hate

Well I guess technically, some of them are phrases...

proactive
synergy
due-diligence
ETA
IMO
IMHO

I guess there's a pattern here.

On a totally nonsequiter kind of note, there's rain forecasted for the weekend! Wheeeeeeee!

Procrastination

Like Dooce, I was always the type of person that always did well in school but procrastinated until the last minute to get everything done. Ten page papers, school tests, class projects...and almost all the time I'd pass with flying colors and get that A. Maybe I do well or even better under pressure, but the toll my body, especially my weak stomach, took from the stress more than made up for it.

Sometimes I feel like my dumb luck ran out or maybe it's karma biting me in the ass. It's the only way I can explain working in a place FILLED with people who like to work till the last minute, yet stun all our clients in the final hour when we do make our deliverables and surpass their artistic expectations. In turn, stressing me out even more since I now have to manage these people. It's like my own personal purgatory, but without all the fire and brimstone.

"Mom" Clean

After over a year of not visiting, my parents decided to slum it and visit me at my hole of an apartment and visit the Getty Villa for my birthday. Since I'd had no time to really give my apartment a good scrubbing the past couple months (nor did I want to), I decided to bite the bullet Saturday morning and called several cleaning companies until one could fit me in that day.

One company managed to squeeze in an hour and a half and prioritized scrubbing my kitchen and bathroom. I explained the situation. My parents are coming by tomorrow. This place needs to be "mom" clean. I overpaid of course, but I figure it was a birthday present to myself. Well, that and the two pairs of very cute shoes I bought over the weekend.

Come Sunday, parents showed up and marvelled at still, how small my apartment was and how much stuff I had. I had to say it. I had to tell them "look how clean my place is!!!" But 15 minutes later, my mom was scouring my rice cooker. "Look how filthy this is!" as she picked out crusty old rice bits with a toothpick. Then she started on the pan. "You can't use this pan. The teflon is coming off. You'll poison yourself."

"But it's my only pan!" I protested. "We'll get you a new one." she affirmed.

Before she could continue cleaning every kitchen appliance of mine, we dragged her out and headed for the Getty in Malibu. The last time we saw it, I was possibly in high school. Or maybe college. I don't remember. I'm getting senile in my old age.

Anyway, the Getty Villa would be the opposite size of my apartment. I long for the giant wading pool/fountain in the front. And though I don't like pomegranates, I love this pomegranate tree full of fruit that looks like onions.




After spending about 2 hours viewing all the Greek, Roman, and Etruscan art featured at the museum, not to mention reading all the mythology that accompanied each piece, my favorite quote inscribed on the wall of The Enduring Myth: The Tragedy of Hippolytos and Phaidra exhibition was this:
"I shall never get my fill of hating women... Their evil is eternal."

Ankle Deep in the 30's

Miss Flip Flops told me that October 5th is the most common birthday around the world. New Years babies she called us. Apparently I share a birthday with the most people in the world, including Kate Winslet from Titanic, my death defying glacier climbing coworker, and the fiancee of a boy I once thought was The One. Go figure.

The past few years, I usually made sure to not be at work, out of the country, or at least out of town. This year, bogged down by work and little vacation time (and my boss's inopportunely timed vacation), I was unfortunately grounded here with only plans of getting ice cream. Let that be the last time I ever do that.

Birthday eve had me staying until 10pm, dealing with the crazy client, a couple of artists melting down, and a near breakdown myself. Birthday morning, grouchy as all hell, I got up at 7 to get in to work by 8am to deal with more crazy client, burnt out artists, and insensitive clods. I nearly burst into tears when Mom called, wondering if I was enjoying my day off somewhere and having a nice day.

By the time it was nearly 7, I realized I had been there for 11 hours, I had had enough and dammit, it was my birthday. And courtesy of the lovely Sly, there was homemade chicken noodle soup to be had. As it has been the theme of late, I burst into tears in the car as I drove off.

The only thing that saved this birthday from being the worst one of all time, was all the continuous wonderful phone calls, emails, cards, gifts, and friends and family throughout the week. And at the end of the night after Sly and I had finished our ice cream at Baskin Robbins, me@co, Clancy, Homey, and Kinemagirl made the effort to stop by and have an ice cream with me. It warmed my heart and erased some of the awfulness of work... at least until I had to go back again the next day.

Healing

I'm a bad healer. By that, I don't mean I heal others badly. I actually possess no such powers. I mean, I heal badly. Slowly, painfully, awkwardly, and all twistedly (yeah, that's probably not a word).

Physically, I scar and it hangs around for months, years, sometimes permanently. My ankle scrape from July? It's still there on my ankle. I have a lovely purple bruise looking scar on my elbow. It's from 8th grade and happened when I fell down my friend's driveway as she tried to kill me by closing the garage door on my head as I walked out.

Emotionally, I seem to take about 10 times as long to heal from something than the actual thing itself, be it a falling out with a friend, a crushing from a boy, a fight with anyone I remotely care about, a careless comment, a forgotten gesture... I don't come out of it the same person. Though some may say it's a good thing, that you're supposed to come out stronger, I detest the helplessness of it all.

Bizarro Twin said it best when she told me "Every time these things happen, it all dings you a little bit. And it all starts adding up." Apparently, we're all at the age where the sum of it all is starting to weigh us down. I'm learning and trying very hard to let things go. But honestly, I think I'm healing all funny.

Day 2 of Octoberfest

At 6:38pm, I walked out the door, fed up with the socially retarded artists, the whiny babies (also the artists), the ludicrous clients, and the insensitive clodlike bosses. I ditched a meeting, checked in with nary a supervisor, said goodbye to no one and didn't look back. It was glorious. And it was only Monday.

Tonight, Sly and I hit the House of Blues on Sunset for the Hotel Cafe Tour. I highly recommend trying to catch the show. I mainly went to see Joshua Radin, whom I first heard playing live on KCRW almost a year ago. Rarely do I hear an artist or band once and fall head over heels in love with a voice to the point of exerting effort to seek out live shows and buy the CD. For this artist, I dragged Sly to the Hotel Cafe last year and we lined up for an hour outside the venue (they shun Ticketmaster there). Sadly, we didn't get in but stood outside the door and listened to the whole performance.

This time, I made dinner reservation at the HOB restaurant, hoping to get some kind of early entrance or table at the front to watch the whole concert. But it was a Monday, and luck hadn't really been on my side today. (I left my credit card behind at the restaurant at lunch, my crazy client had called no less than 4 times by 9am and gave me an earful at 5 demanding that I "verbally describe" the animation we were going to post for him in a few hours since it wasn't ready to be posted right then and there....) After circling the whole venue, having our purses searched and metal detector wands waved over our bodies, going up the stairs, and being "processed," we ended back on the other side of the restaurant we started from with the same regular seats. Apparently a gaggle of agents were showing up halfway through the concert and they had to reserve all the VIP tables in the front.

We still had a deliciously filling dinner of soul food and made it into the concert at the end of Schuyler Fisk. Apparently her name is pronounced "Sky-ler" and she's the daughter of Sissy Spacek of "Carrie" fame. Those crazy offspring of celebrities with their crazy names...

Anyway, there was also the redheaded, barefoot swaying folksy singer, Brett Dennen. He actually greeted us at the front of HOB and gave us directions when we walked up to the porch and asked where the restaurant entrance was. Imagine our surprise an hour and a half later when we saw him take the stage.

Joshua Radin followed and he sounded every bit as wonderful as he does on the radio and on my mp3's. There was Cary Brothers, who I sadly thought were two brothers with the surname of Cary. It's actually one guy with the surname of Brothers. Amos Lee was a surprise guest who looked terrified of the crowd but sang one song beautifully in his deep voice. Priscilla Ahn also surprised guested for one song. She managed to play guitar and the harmonica at the same time, in between singing and looking absolutely petitely beautiful. Sometimes life just ain't fair.

By the time we got to Jim Bianco, whom I wasn't terribly interested in, we had made our way downstairs, where I wanted to support these struggling artists and buy a CD. I got Joshua Radin's CD and lo and behold, he was hanging out right there at the booth chatting with random people. I decided to have him sign my newly bought CD and waited patiently while he finished chatting with some other fan. Maybe I was too patient and not fanlike enough, because three pushy women cut in front of me to have their posters signed and asked for hugs. When the fourth girl stepped up to do the same, I moved over and blocked her out like a defensive lineman. It was too ridiculous.

I stepped up to Joshua, said hi, and handed him my CD.
"What's your name?" he shouted.
"What?" I shouted back so elegantly.
"Your name?" he shouted again.
I told him and he was sweet enough to ask which way I spelled it.
I was determined to not be like the other silly girl fans and fawn over him or ask for a hug.
"I heard you on KCRW," I told him, "and I tried to see you at the Hotel Cafe last year, but we couldn't get in."
"Aw, I'm glad you made it out tonight. Thank you for coming! Let me give you a hug," he replied, and then reached over to give me a lovely warm bear hug.

Totally unexpected but hey, the most affection I've gotten from any boy in ages. I'm officially a loyal fan for life. I turned around and walked back to Sly who was laughing at me. After we watched Jim Bianco precariously stage dive into the crowd of mostly women and indie music loving non moshers, we called it a night and headed out. Not bad for a Monday night.

It's October!

Since I was a kid, October has always signified the start of good things. Happy times. Good food. My birthday kicks it off in October, followed by the holiday involving gobs of candy. Then there is my brother's birthday, my dad's birthday and Thanksgiving in the next month. For December, the whole month is just a countdown to Christmas, with my parents' anniversary wedged in between, and finally my mom's birthday on the last day of the year. I can't help but be happy the last three months of the year since it means gifts - giving and receiving them - family, and friends. I'm almost depressed come January and the rest of the other 8 months.

Today, I am happy. Happier than I have been in a long time. My belly is stuffed full of some of the best food I've ever tasted, I've spent a very relaxing day with a great friend, and I've had a lovely weekend away from work.

On Friday, I received my first birthday gift - a beautiful knitted hat
from UBBF which I've stowed away in my purse and already worn this weekend. Last night, I joined a couple of work friends, a different group from the usual cliques, to watch The Science of Sleep, which I loved and also perfectly encapsulated how zany and emotional your dream life can be.

For this first day of October, it sprinkled rain and stayed coolly overcast all day. Just the way I like it most of the time. Wavy helped kick off the birthday month with brunch at Coral Tree Cafe and treated me to a massage at The Massage Place. Both brunch and massage were amazing. Suitably oiled up from the massage, we wandered over to Century City Mall, trying on overpriced t-shirts, and strolled around until dinner.

Dinner was the best part. Out of pure serendipity, we parked in front of Katsuya before brunch. We knocked on the door to make dinner reservations to the chagrin of the hostess, giving us an annoyed "can't you see we're not open yet and I'm busy typing on my chic laptop?" kind of look. Luckily that was the only snobbery we encountered the rest of the day in the shishi town of Brentwood.

I can't even begin to describe how wonderfully scrumptious the food was. The dish on the right is the seared salmon and avocado wrapped in tempura while the dish with the leaf is spicy tuna on crisped rice.












Tom Hanks, his wife Rita Wilson and their kids dined two tables away. Peter Gallagher from the OC, ate with his family in the next room over and made a point of stopping by Tom Hanks' table to say hi. We didn't try very hard not to stare.




All in all, a perfect day. In the end, the best part was spending a whole day with Wavy. And the best gift was the gift of her time.

Genius or Sell-out?

Is it me or am I the only one annoyed by the latest Gap ad with Audrey Hepburn dancing to AC/DC's Back in Black? I'm sure they donate the money to some of her charities, but how could her family sell her out like that?

Anyway, I'm so going to regret staying up late tonight but it's been awhile since I've written. I managed to start many posts this week but would fall asleep before I could finish any of them. Just one more day of work to muddle through....

Scottish Rockers

Citing the reason that his "throat fell out", the lead singer of Snow Patrol, explained why the concert had been postponed from June until now. Back in June, when life felt so different from now, I was going to go to the concert with a certain redheaded Irish boy whom I had a latent crush on for years.

Now in September, said redheaded Irish boy was visiting the motherland of Ireland. Luckily good ole Bizarro twin stepped in to save the day. She introduced me to the wonders of Silver Lake as I fumbled my way through the hilly and confusing hipster town, trying to find one of her favorite Vietnamese joints Pho Cafe. I swear this place was as fast as a McDonald's drive-thru but with better food.

After another great pep talk and quick catch up with our lives, we made it into the Wiltern at the tail end of the 2nd opening band Augustana and found a spot standing smack in the middle of the place. To my surprise, instead of the usual short and slight, trendy Indie music crowd, the crowd was littered with tall white folks. I mean, it looked like a frat and their Amazonian blond women. Not that I have anything against tall white folk, but I've never had so much trouble seeing over the crowd to catch a glimpse of the band. I guess this means the band has really made it.

It was sold out, no crazy people around me (though the couple blocking my view should have got a room), no pot smokers, and no rabid fans with the urge to bellow out inane song requests or I love yous every five minutes. To top it off, Snow Patrol actually sounded really clean and strong live. At the end, the lead singer got into the moment and started taking off his sweat drenched shirt. And nothing beats the sight of a cute scrawny Scottish rocker prancing around shirtless and singing his little heart out.



Feed a Cold or Starve a Fever?

After nearly two months of 60+ hour weeks at work, my body has had enough and broken down. I'm congested, kinda achy, and want to sleep all the time. The nice thing is it's my get out of jail free card. No one bats an eye when I leave before 7 these days. The bad thing is breathing and coughing are kind of an issue.

I made plans this week long ago when I didn't realize the craziness would still be going on. Despite the slight cold, I joined some girl friends for Dine Out week at Windows in downtown. The view was amazing.









Sly kept joking that Citysearch had rated this place as "very romantic" and periodically brought that up during dinner. Though it was a quiet Tuesday night, it felt like a special occasion to be out on the town eating a delicious meal and enjoying good conversation with friends.

Apparently I was feeding a cold, because even though I was with girls who could eat (no picking at salads type girl friends for me!), I polished off my 3 course meal - from calamari to steak to a brownie sundae ala mode, the size of 3 CD covers - shocking even myself. It was not pretty. But sooooooo worth it.






A Post Inspired by my People Magazine

There is a funny ad in my People's magazine. It's for Teddy Grahams and Colin Mochrie from Whose Line Is It Anyway? is the Snack Fairy. Sprinkled over a scattering of Teddy Grahams, he says "Tell your kids not to feel bad: bears would eat them in a heartbeat."

These are things I wish I was told as a kid. So I could have felt less guilt eating things like Teddy Grahams and goldfish crackers or anything with a face. I'm such a wuss, I can't even toss stuffed animals aside or punch a pillow without feeling like I'm hurting the poor inanimate object's feelings.

See Ya Lata Suckas!

Every morning, no matter how tired we were, or how unresponsive I was, she always greeted me with a "Morning!" The first few months, I didn't know how to respond - I was much too groggy in the mornings to interact with people and most of the guys who sat around me didn't possess enough social skills to partake of traditional greetings. Even my own boss and the other producer who sat on the other side of the table never acknowledged the morning. This whole interaction was new to me at this company.

We were complete opposites. She was a morning person and didn't really eat dinner. She studied theater and thrived in conflict and challenges. She hadn't had a staff position in over ten years, preferring to freelance work whenever something popped up. She had a zen about her that only a tough single career woman in her forties, who's seen her share of BS and bullies in our industry, could possess. And the best part about it - she still retained a strong sense of moral integrity. You could never push her around but she'd also never step on anyone to get things done. I couldn't figure out if I wanted to grow up to be like her or not.

On her first week, we were talking about a mutual client and she told me she could read a person within 5 minutes. I marvelled at that skill and said I wished I could do that. She looked at me wisely and said "With time."

On her last week there, she looked at me with a mixture of compassion and resignation. She had had enough. And apparently the powers that be knew that she wasn't a good fit either. I wouldn't find out for 2 more days.

On her last day, she gave me a hug and simply said "good luck." Then she waltzed out of there without any bitterness, already looking forward to her next adventure. She lasted almost a year at the company and I was just beginning to get used to having her around.

Blubbering

Maybe it's because it's been months since I've bawled, maybe it's because I'm tired and fed up, maybe it's because I've had no time to take care of mundane life stuff... but watching Grey's Anatomy and listening to the angsty music they use to really punctuate those emotional moments was just the release I needed to cry my eyes out over everything.

The chronic fatigue of work, the insensitivity of my brother before he left for Chicago, the disarray of a number of friendships, the antipeptalk from my old boss, the stunning layoff of a fellow coworker today, the piling on of her unfinished work onto my already full plate, the continual burn-out (to the point of illness) of my team of artists, the constant drowning feeling of never getting any projects done at home, the confusion and overwhelmingness of self-improvement, and finally the disappointment and self-loathing of the person I'm growing up to become. I am my harshest critic.

Things I Wish I Could Do

In no particular order...

• Whistle
• Shoot straw wrappers at people by blowing on the opened end of a straw
• Ride a bicycle
• Play drums
• Race cars
• Climb a tree
• Style my hair with merely a brush and blow dryer like a hairstylist
  
• Juggle
• Walk around without bumping into inanimate objects or tripping on rugs
  
• Hang glide
• Rappel down a cliff
• Brake when rollerblading
  
• Build a tree house
• Shoot pool well enough to hustle money
  
• Shark diving
• Wear pretty shoes even if they hurt my feet
• Move my hips like Tahitian dancers
• Fly like a bird
  

Visual Aids

Maybe it's because I've spent so much time confined in the same space as him, but I do believe things are getting better with Mr. Dating Debacle. At least I'm not as affected anymore, though I do wonder if it's possible we'll ever be friends again. As I pondered that thought to Wavy, she decided to draw me a diagram to illustrate the inner workings of his brain. It went something like this:



Sometimes seeing things drawn out make so much more sense.

There's Something For Everybody

I just saw a commercial for a slew of religious movies on TV and while I wondered if it was Easter again, the banner for Fox Faith flew on screen.

Wow, I never knew it existed. The Bible Belt is going strong.