After I emailed back a very rational explanation last night (figured I wouldn’t be able to sleep well if I didn’t address it right then and there), the creative director wrote back and apologized, explaining that the profanity was not directed at me nor my boss, but at the client. That’s a start.
I do however, still feel like a chump with my credit-whore boss.
Wednesday, June 28, 2006
Tuesday, June 27, 2006
Work is stupid
It's a little dicey, talking about work, complaining about work, thinking about other work... The work people, as far as I know, DO NOT know about this blog. And though Dooce warns about it, I don't care, I'm gonna complain away...
This working thing, I'm so over it. Just a means to afford things like traveling, concerts, movies, shopping... I'm luckier than most - I like the industry I'm in and I like more than 50% of the people I work with. I have flexible hours, we play video games and pingpong, and we have a treasure trove of food and drink.
But for me, the sparkle is gone. I've done the big bureaucratic company thing with its ridiculous protocols, bloated managers, and cookie cutter storytelling. And now I've done the small scrappy company thing with its struggling name recognition, structure resistance, production hating, money needing, and stupid client acquiesing.
I'm tired of the understaffed projects, the burnt out artists who end up leaving, the empty promises, the stupid egos, the smelly funk in the one room we all share, the misplaced blame, the crazy hours, my cheesy, credit-hogging, control freaky, "sick"-on-Mondays, oblivious boss, and above all, all the guys there who have caused me grief because it's my job to take it and still act professionally.
I mask all my stress and frustration so well, I even fool myself as to when I'm upset. Which means the stress manifests itself in odd ways. Since I've been at this company, I've had countless dreams (and nightmares) about work, broken out in hives in the middle of the night, gotten more sick than I ever have in my life with the flu, pink eye, strep throat, and severe allergies, seen all my doctors more frequently than I ever have before, had my neck and back lock up for days, and spontaneously broken out in tears in the car and at home.
Today, my boss "offered" to have me "help" him as associate producer on a new project. Mind you, I'm already his AP on two other projects, which basically means I'm doing all the legwork while he claims executive producer credit on the projects. He's also sole producer on 2 other high profile projects (one of which is working his team way too much) and would have taken sole producer credit on this latest project if I hadn't asked to work on it and the supervisor hadn't requested me.
I just wrapped up another project on my own, but to "keep consistent" with his credits and because he started up the project (basically he was the first one to make contact with the client) he's going to take executive producer on this one too. Is he such an egomaniac and so insecure that he has to have his name on everything?
Now I'm not one who usually cares about credits - part of the appeal of first working for this company was how LITTLE they did care about credits. Everyone's business cards, from the creative director, to the fresh out of school artist, look the same with NO titles. Whereas at a certain mouse-eared company I used to work for, people fought tooth and nail for the most credits and the best titles they could get. And only the executives had the privilege of business cards. I guess as this little company grows, it's only natural that hierarchy and titles begin to matter. And when people get greedy, petty and try to rob you of your due, it's only natural that you want to fight back or at least question the stupidity of it all.
Tonight, I got an email from the creative director, asking "what the F*@% is this?" as the first line of the email. Someone needs to take email etiquette lessons. Without giving me or my boss the benefit of the doubt, he flips out that a potential client is not satisfied with our bid for a new project. Even though we walked the client through our costs on the phone, in the email, and as exactly as the creative director suggested. What is this need to blame on the people you CAN bully?
My friend, the Ultimate Beastie Boys fan (UBBF), reminded me today that as a production assistant at my old mouse-eared company, the tyrannical editor once blamed me for his absence at a meeting with the directors - after I emailed him about it, put up post-it notes on his computer, wrote it on his personal whiteboard in his office... he was just too lame to turn his head and look at his board or see all the paper and digital notes. Short of shooting a flaming arrow with a note attached into his office, he was not going to pay attention to the reminders or the schedule. Amazingly, I had blocked this whole memory out years ago!
Anyway, the tirade has gone on long enough for tonight. It's hump day, middle of the week, two more days till another weekend. No four-day weekend for me. Gotta work Monday. Though on a final note, my boss will be out for FIVE whole days. That's 3 consecutive weeks of working less than 5 days a week for him. Hmmmm, wonder why he needed to make me his chump associate producer on yet another project. Sigh.....
This working thing, I'm so over it. Just a means to afford things like traveling, concerts, movies, shopping... I'm luckier than most - I like the industry I'm in and I like more than 50% of the people I work with. I have flexible hours, we play video games and pingpong, and we have a treasure trove of food and drink.
But for me, the sparkle is gone. I've done the big bureaucratic company thing with its ridiculous protocols, bloated managers, and cookie cutter storytelling. And now I've done the small scrappy company thing with its struggling name recognition, structure resistance, production hating, money needing, and stupid client acquiesing.
I'm tired of the understaffed projects, the burnt out artists who end up leaving, the empty promises, the stupid egos, the smelly funk in the one room we all share, the misplaced blame, the crazy hours, my cheesy, credit-hogging, control freaky, "sick"-on-Mondays, oblivious boss, and above all, all the guys there who have caused me grief because it's my job to take it and still act professionally.
I mask all my stress and frustration so well, I even fool myself as to when I'm upset. Which means the stress manifests itself in odd ways. Since I've been at this company, I've had countless dreams (and nightmares) about work, broken out in hives in the middle of the night, gotten more sick than I ever have in my life with the flu, pink eye, strep throat, and severe allergies, seen all my doctors more frequently than I ever have before, had my neck and back lock up for days, and spontaneously broken out in tears in the car and at home.
Today, my boss "offered" to have me "help" him as associate producer on a new project. Mind you, I'm already his AP on two other projects, which basically means I'm doing all the legwork while he claims executive producer credit on the projects. He's also sole producer on 2 other high profile projects (one of which is working his team way too much) and would have taken sole producer credit on this latest project if I hadn't asked to work on it and the supervisor hadn't requested me.
I just wrapped up another project on my own, but to "keep consistent" with his credits and because he started up the project (basically he was the first one to make contact with the client) he's going to take executive producer on this one too. Is he such an egomaniac and so insecure that he has to have his name on everything?
Now I'm not one who usually cares about credits - part of the appeal of first working for this company was how LITTLE they did care about credits. Everyone's business cards, from the creative director, to the fresh out of school artist, look the same with NO titles. Whereas at a certain mouse-eared company I used to work for, people fought tooth and nail for the most credits and the best titles they could get. And only the executives had the privilege of business cards. I guess as this little company grows, it's only natural that hierarchy and titles begin to matter. And when people get greedy, petty and try to rob you of your due, it's only natural that you want to fight back or at least question the stupidity of it all.
Tonight, I got an email from the creative director, asking "what the F*@% is this?" as the first line of the email. Someone needs to take email etiquette lessons. Without giving me or my boss the benefit of the doubt, he flips out that a potential client is not satisfied with our bid for a new project. Even though we walked the client through our costs on the phone, in the email, and as exactly as the creative director suggested. What is this need to blame on the people you CAN bully?
My friend, the Ultimate Beastie Boys fan (UBBF), reminded me today that as a production assistant at my old mouse-eared company, the tyrannical editor once blamed me for his absence at a meeting with the directors - after I emailed him about it, put up post-it notes on his computer, wrote it on his personal whiteboard in his office... he was just too lame to turn his head and look at his board or see all the paper and digital notes. Short of shooting a flaming arrow with a note attached into his office, he was not going to pay attention to the reminders or the schedule. Amazingly, I had blocked this whole memory out years ago!
Anyway, the tirade has gone on long enough for tonight. It's hump day, middle of the week, two more days till another weekend. No four-day weekend for me. Gotta work Monday. Though on a final note, my boss will be out for FIVE whole days. That's 3 consecutive weeks of working less than 5 days a week for him. Hmmmm, wonder why he needed to make me his chump associate producer on yet another project. Sigh.....
Monday, June 26, 2006
Boogers and Other Randomly Funny Things
I swear to god, I saw a gigantic billboard down the street from me painted in red with only the words "My boogers itch." No product, no company, no idea what the point of these words are except to make people laugh. MUST get a picture and share with everyone as soon as possible!
This picture is a furry teapot. Why fur on a teapot you ask? Well, apparently a teapot is the default object for texture settings on the software we use at work. One of the supervisors got the fun job of testing out the latest beta software for hair and fur. Thus, a furry teapot is born. Everytime I look at this picture, I laugh. It's so absurd.
Finally, I don't know why, but the term "no bueno" sends me into a fit of giggles. It might be because SC Girl uses it all the time. Also another great example of its usage, a quote in US Weekly:
"When girls put lipstick beyond their lip line to make their mouth look voluptuous - that's no bueno." On his pet peeves, Owen Wilson.
The silliest things make me laugh.
This picture is a furry teapot. Why fur on a teapot you ask? Well, apparently a teapot is the default object for texture settings on the software we use at work. One of the supervisors got the fun job of testing out the latest beta software for hair and fur. Thus, a furry teapot is born. Everytime I look at this picture, I laugh. It's so absurd.
Finally, I don't know why, but the term "no bueno" sends me into a fit of giggles. It might be because SC Girl uses it all the time. Also another great example of its usage, a quote in US Weekly:
"When girls put lipstick beyond their lip line to make their mouth look voluptuous - that's no bueno." On his pet peeves, Owen Wilson.
The silliest things make me laugh.
Sunday, June 25, 2006
The Walls Are Too Thin
My neighbor is at it again with her boyfriend. I'm afraid to go to sleep in my room for fear of hearing things I'm not supposed to. Thank goodness for Jason Bentley's "After Hours". If I can't sleep, no one can. How you liking that bass, happy humping neighbors?
Movies with Nothing in Common
While taking breaks in between cleaning, I managed to squeeze in two more movies tonight, although in an exhausted stupor.
The first one, A Good Woman, was based on an Oscar Wilde play and filled with interesting twists and turns. It was intriguing to see Helen Hunt play the femme fatale while Scarlett Johansson is the sweet innocent one. The best line in the movie is when Helen Hunt's character, Mrs. Erlynne, says to one of her suitors "Usually when somebody says something was an 'experience' it means something was a mistake." It spins my head a little since I've been telling myself that everything, especially the things that have caused me grief is just another "life experience."
All I can say about the second movie Havoc is bored rich kids are preeeeeetty stupid. I actually liked this movie more than I thought I would, especially the ending. Why it's good - beautiful Anne Hathaway from Princess Diaries plays something different from sweet little girl and it's written by the same guy who wrote Traffic.
The first one, A Good Woman, was based on an Oscar Wilde play and filled with interesting twists and turns. It was intriguing to see Helen Hunt play the femme fatale while Scarlett Johansson is the sweet innocent one. The best line in the movie is when Helen Hunt's character, Mrs. Erlynne, says to one of her suitors "Usually when somebody says something was an 'experience' it means something was a mistake." It spins my head a little since I've been telling myself that everything, especially the things that have caused me grief is just another "life experience."
All I can say about the second movie Havoc is bored rich kids are preeeeeetty stupid. I actually liked this movie more than I thought I would, especially the ending. Why it's good - beautiful Anne Hathaway from Princess Diaries plays something different from sweet little girl and it's written by the same guy who wrote Traffic.
Saturday, June 24, 2006
Laboring
Today was all about the manual labor and I am exhausted. Started off the morning helping Wavy move to a new place. Though I can hardly say I did much heavy lifting (left that to her overeager bschool boys), we managed to pack up, move her into a new place, and unpack enough so that her subletter (my brother) wouldn't have to live amongst a box fort. Then off she went to the valley for corporate housing and her summer internship.
At home, I had my own heavy duty cleaning to do. I accidentally volunteered my place for a surprise birthday party tomorrow so grimy patio furniture needed to be cleaned, cat hair removed from the furniture, and inappropriate clutter hidden. This is why hosting stresses me out. Nothing seems clean enough. There's not enough chairs. The table seems to have rotted. I have nothing to hold cold drinks and ice. And music? I haven't even thought about that yet.
Luckily, I'm not the only host. I don't have to worry about the food. I don't care how many people show up or whether they RSVP'ed - It's not my party. I'm not even too stressed if everyone's gonna enjoy themselves. I know they will this time. Well... maybe except Mr. Dating Debacle...
At home, I had my own heavy duty cleaning to do. I accidentally volunteered my place for a surprise birthday party tomorrow so grimy patio furniture needed to be cleaned, cat hair removed from the furniture, and inappropriate clutter hidden. This is why hosting stresses me out. Nothing seems clean enough. There's not enough chairs. The table seems to have rotted. I have nothing to hold cold drinks and ice. And music? I haven't even thought about that yet.
Luckily, I'm not the only host. I don't have to worry about the food. I don't care how many people show up or whether they RSVP'ed - It's not my party. I'm not even too stressed if everyone's gonna enjoy themselves. I know they will this time. Well... maybe except Mr. Dating Debacle...
Friday, June 23, 2006
Pocahontas
Stupid Captain John Smith. Breaking Pocahontas's heart like that. Just taking off on another expedition and having one of his friends tell her he died. Boy, even back then, guys didn't know how to break up with a girl. I won't give away anything more but just to let you know, that's only about a little over halfway through the movie. She still gets to meet the handsome Christian Bale, er John Rolfe.
I'm teary-eyed from just watching The New World, the first in my next spree of movie rentals before the Blockbuster coupon expires next week.
One of my art teachers once told me that every frame in Ridley Scott's movies could be paused and framed as a piece of artwork - that's how deliberate he was as a director. After watching The New World, I feel the same way about director Terrence Malick. The cinematography, the colors, the mood, it's all so beautiful. It takes your breath away. I thought it would be a terribly slow, pretentiously arty film. Amazingly, it held my attention the whole time, minimal dialogue and all. The film relies on dreamy, poetic voiceovers to move the story along, but you really only need to watch the expressive actress, Q'orianka Kilcher convey all the emotions in her body language and her eyes. She transforms from innocent, virtuous girl in love, to heartbroken woman, to matured wife and diplomat. The girl was only 14 when she filmed this!
I'm teary-eyed from just watching The New World, the first in my next spree of movie rentals before the Blockbuster coupon expires next week.
One of my art teachers once told me that every frame in Ridley Scott's movies could be paused and framed as a piece of artwork - that's how deliberate he was as a director. After watching The New World, I feel the same way about director Terrence Malick. The cinematography, the colors, the mood, it's all so beautiful. It takes your breath away. I thought it would be a terribly slow, pretentiously arty film. Amazingly, it held my attention the whole time, minimal dialogue and all. The film relies on dreamy, poetic voiceovers to move the story along, but you really only need to watch the expressive actress, Q'orianka Kilcher convey all the emotions in her body language and her eyes. She transforms from innocent, virtuous girl in love, to heartbroken woman, to matured wife and diplomat. The girl was only 14 when she filmed this!
So Long, Mr. Dating Debacle?
Hmmm, I just found out that my last dating debacle guy is having lunch at an animation studio up in Glendale this afternoon. Could it be he's just meeting a friend for lunch or also checking the place out and thinking of switching jobs? Could it be he won't be around the neghborhood anymore, always in one of my particular social circles? Could it be I won't have to see him ALL the time anymore? Interesting... Though at times, I fantasize about him being deported so that he's out of sight, out of mind, I have the teensiest twinge of sadness about him leaving. Dammit.
Thursday, June 22, 2006
Spelling and Singing
My childhood friend, the first friend I met when I moved out to LA when I was 8, got roped into participating in a spelling bee for charity. She invited me to go based on the fact that we were competitive little nerds way back when and because I could vouch for her intelligence if she misspelled a simple word. Unfortunately, even though I got to the venue minutes after the scheduled start time, she was already out. Done in by the word "occurrence." "Two r's," she said. Though I couldn't watch her on stage, my spelling friend proceeded to spell every other word out to me as they read them to the contestants. Yup, she's still smart!
So we blew the joint after the rest of her company flunked out and headed over to Palm Tree LA in Ktown. Her old law firm was hosting a karaoke night for their summer associates and her friends were in charge of shepherding those 2nd year law school younglings around all summer. For us, it was free dinner and entertainment.
"Maybe you'll meet a boy," she remarked.
"A boy younger than my brother?" I replied.
We parked ourselves in a prime spot at the table, chowing down on chicken wings and dukboki while the summer associates sang their little hearts out. The Speller had to work for our free meal - she mingled amongst the hopeful associates while I sat back and watched how fresh and unworn-down from law they were.
It was refreshing to hang with non-creative industry people for a change, a roomful of outgoing, A-type personalities, unlike the usual scattered-brained, moody lot I see all the time. I THOUGHT OF actually making an effort to chat and mingle, but my shy and lazy nature got the best of me. It was a huge effort on my part to even go to an event like this. This is me half-heartedly going out, trying new things, possibly meeting new people.... (baby steps!)
So we blew the joint after the rest of her company flunked out and headed over to Palm Tree LA in Ktown. Her old law firm was hosting a karaoke night for their summer associates and her friends were in charge of shepherding those 2nd year law school younglings around all summer. For us, it was free dinner and entertainment.
"Maybe you'll meet a boy," she remarked.
"A boy younger than my brother?" I replied.
We parked ourselves in a prime spot at the table, chowing down on chicken wings and dukboki while the summer associates sang their little hearts out. The Speller had to work for our free meal - she mingled amongst the hopeful associates while I sat back and watched how fresh and unworn-down from law they were.
It was refreshing to hang with non-creative industry people for a change, a roomful of outgoing, A-type personalities, unlike the usual scattered-brained, moody lot I see all the time. I THOUGHT OF actually making an effort to chat and mingle, but my shy and lazy nature got the best of me. It was a huge effort on my part to even go to an event like this. This is me half-heartedly going out, trying new things, possibly meeting new people.... (baby steps!)
A Night of Elvis and Britpop
It's the third time this year I've visited Thai Elvis at the Palms Thai restaurant in Hollywood. If only me@co had had her date there tonight, the evening would have been perfect! Heh heh...
It's decent Thai food for a good price; plus it was just down the street from the Henry Fonda Theater, where Vaj and I had tickets for Keane.
Since the people at Palms Thai are crazy quick about getting you in and out of the restaurant with food served within 10 minutes of your order, we had time to kill before the concert at 9 pm. I decided to drag Vaj down the street to Lickety Split Frozen Custard, hoping it would be as scrumptious as Scooter's in Chicago. After circling Hollywood Bl a couple of rounds, we decided that I'd run in to get some, while Vaj stayed in my illegally parked car. "It's alright. I don't mind. I understand. You're a chick and it's icecream," he said. And this is why I love Vaj.
Unfortunately, nuts... it was so not worth it. Scooter's Frozen Custard it is not.
We got into the theater just after 9 pm and caught the last two songs of opening act, Kid Beyond. He looked like a 40ish year old bald man, likely running one of those scary boot camp workouts while working as a motivational speaker on the side. Armed with what seemed like his Mac and the program Garage Band, he was a one man show, looping his own recordings live as his music and background vocals. My dislike for Kid Beyond was instant and Vaj laughed at how strongly and quickly I reacted to this odd musician.
Keane, however, was so good I'm running out to buy the album as soon as I can. The band started their show dramatically with its U2-esque spotlighting (ala Rattle and Hum) on the keyboardist and the lead singer. The crowd cheered at every song and SCREAMED every time the band played a song from their first album, Hopes and Dreams. And except for their penchant for seizure inducing flashing lights and occasionally blinding the audience with spotlights, I was impressed with the stage lighting and color sequences that were chosen. (I notice these things because one of my old bosses used to be a lighting roadie for the Jimmy Buffet tour)
Never have I seen such a grateful and genuinely appreciative band of their audience. The lead singer Tom, who resembles a 6 year old ruddy, round-faced English school boy, managed to sincerely thank all of the audience and the city of Los Angeles no less than half a dozen times. I was also amazed to see that their music consists of only keyboards and drums. I could have sworn some of those sounds from the keyboard were the wails of a guitar.
Their crowd was equally entertaining to watch. Vaj and I spent much of the concert watching the exuberant and perfectly coifed Asian boy in front of us. Throughout the show, this boy waved his hands and bopped his head like a cross between an orchestra conductor and a wannabe gangsta rapper. Amazingly enough, his girlfriend didn't seem embarrassed to be there with him. And of course there was the loud and possibly drunk guy a few persons back, who yelled "F*CK YEAH!!!!" every 5-10 minutes from beginning to end.
I didn't feel as old at this concert as I did at the Arctic Monkeys one. However, I still proudly wore my earplugs, and stumbled out of the venue, rubbing my sore back from standing so long, blinking hard from the eye strain of the flashing lights.
Tuesday, June 20, 2006
Movies galore
The Asian in me could not pass up the deal. $2.50 each for unlimited rentals at Blockbuster?! Wheeeeee! So I've been renting to my little heart's content. Horror films for my mom, romantic comedies and dramas for me...
Mom's review:
The Ring 2 - "it was ok"
The Eye 2 - "stupid"
Exorcism of Emily Rose - "I'll give it 2 stars. Maybe 1 1/2 stars. Best of the bunch."
Wolf Creek - "STOOOOPID... Your dad and I fastforwarded through it. What stupid people. Based on a true story? Such stupid people existed?"
You can't pay me to watch horror films so I rent them for mom based on critics's and friends' recommendations. Nothing scares my mom. She's been watching old Japanese horror films since she was a kid and apparently none of these modern day films measure up. She will grudgingly give some props to The Shining, Exorcist, Poltergeist, Amityville, and the original Halloween and Friday the 13th. Recommendations anyone?
My review:
Elizabethtown - My mind started wandering. Crowe's musical choices for his movies are still fun.
Just Like Heaven - Super cute! Plus I love Mark Ruffalo.
Saving Face - Highly recommended!!!! Joan Chen looks amazing and the relationships are so well developed!
Proof - Also very good. Gwyneth as an intellectual plain Jane. Jake Gyllenhaal is always hot... yes even as a gay cowboy.
Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants - Only girls will love it. But also lovely to watch
Fever Pitch - I love Drew Barrymore in romantic comedies. Though this movie is not as continuously funny as I thought it would be.
Hitch - Funny and perfect for a lazy Saturday afternoon. Though I had a hard time buying the ending between Will Smith and Eva Mendes
Squid and the Whale - A little sad, a little quirky. But then divorce always is. All the actors were great in it! Especially the little boy.
Vanity Fair - Long movie. Beautiful art direction. And Reese Witherspoon is amazing in it.
Last Holiday - Queen Latifah rocks.
Serenity - I was a fan of the TV show and Joss Whedon. So it's like visiting an old friend. Still watching right now... The cat seems to be watching intently and enjoying it.
On a side note, my stereo system and new TV rock, especially for action movies like Serenity. (I know, I'm such a boy...) The surround sound, special FX, and action sequences have already caused me to jump out of my seat a couple of times. Heart is still racing. Ahhhhhh, they're worth every penny.
Mom's review:
The Ring 2 - "it was ok"
The Eye 2 - "stupid"
Exorcism of Emily Rose - "I'll give it 2 stars. Maybe 1 1/2 stars. Best of the bunch."
Wolf Creek - "STOOOOPID... Your dad and I fastforwarded through it. What stupid people. Based on a true story? Such stupid people existed?"
You can't pay me to watch horror films so I rent them for mom based on critics's and friends' recommendations. Nothing scares my mom. She's been watching old Japanese horror films since she was a kid and apparently none of these modern day films measure up. She will grudgingly give some props to The Shining, Exorcist, Poltergeist, Amityville, and the original Halloween and Friday the 13th. Recommendations anyone?
My review:
Elizabethtown - My mind started wandering. Crowe's musical choices for his movies are still fun.
Just Like Heaven - Super cute! Plus I love Mark Ruffalo.
Saving Face - Highly recommended!!!! Joan Chen looks amazing and the relationships are so well developed!
Proof - Also very good. Gwyneth as an intellectual plain Jane. Jake Gyllenhaal is always hot... yes even as a gay cowboy.
Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants - Only girls will love it. But also lovely to watch
Fever Pitch - I love Drew Barrymore in romantic comedies. Though this movie is not as continuously funny as I thought it would be.
Hitch - Funny and perfect for a lazy Saturday afternoon. Though I had a hard time buying the ending between Will Smith and Eva Mendes
Squid and the Whale - A little sad, a little quirky. But then divorce always is. All the actors were great in it! Especially the little boy.
Vanity Fair - Long movie. Beautiful art direction. And Reese Witherspoon is amazing in it.
Last Holiday - Queen Latifah rocks.
Serenity - I was a fan of the TV show and Joss Whedon. So it's like visiting an old friend. Still watching right now... The cat seems to be watching intently and enjoying it.
On a side note, my stereo system and new TV rock, especially for action movies like Serenity. (I know, I'm such a boy...) The surround sound, special FX, and action sequences have already caused me to jump out of my seat a couple of times. Heart is still racing. Ahhhhhh, they're worth every penny.
Monday, June 19, 2006
On the Flip Side
Why don't these types of articles about single men dying earlier than married men whip them into a frenzy like the ones from Newsweek about single women's chances of marriage? We're talking early death here, people...
Sunday, June 18, 2006
Father's Day Part 2
I don't know when it happened but years ago, my family decided to avoid eating out for mother's day and father's day. Then we got lazy and avoided eating out for our weekend lunches too, opting instead to order take out dim sum or take out Shanghainese food. Today was no different.
After the cemetery visit, we headed home for lunch. My parents went to pick up Shanghainese food and boba drinks, while my brother and I went to pick up an ice-cream cake for Father's Day. I heard there was mention of ACTUALLY eating at the restaurant itself, but on account of the mega packed sports watching day, it was vetoed by the male half of the family.
So Father's day was another gluttonous afternoon of World Cup soccer, US Open golf, a fantastic BBQ at home, and then the NBA finals. Laundry was done, the Sunday paper was read, and I snuck in a luxurious nap in my parents air-conditioned living room during the golf watching. It's good to be home. And it's good to have my brother back home from Chicago, making us a family of four again - eating together, yelling at sports together and throwing pillows and wadded up paper napkins at each other.
After the cemetery visit, we headed home for lunch. My parents went to pick up Shanghainese food and boba drinks, while my brother and I went to pick up an ice-cream cake for Father's Day. I heard there was mention of ACTUALLY eating at the restaurant itself, but on account of the mega packed sports watching day, it was vetoed by the male half of the family.
So Father's day was another gluttonous afternoon of World Cup soccer, US Open golf, a fantastic BBQ at home, and then the NBA finals. Laundry was done, the Sunday paper was read, and I snuck in a luxurious nap in my parents air-conditioned living room during the golf watching. It's good to be home. And it's good to have my brother back home from Chicago, making us a family of four again - eating together, yelling at sports together and throwing pillows and wadded up paper napkins at each other.
Father's Day Part 1
I met my family at the Rose Hills cemetery this morning to pay our respects to my late grandfather. It's been over a year since I've gone to visit; I always get lost trying to find his grave. Between the "Lanes of Serenity" and the "Gardens of Tranquility", every twist and turn in those hills just leads you in circles. After following my dad's car around for a couple of wrong turns (he got a little lost himself), we found it, gave my grandpa some flowers, bowed three times, and dusted off his grave marker before heading to lunch.
It's been 13 years and 2 days since he passed away, two days before my high school graduation. I wish he was here. I wish he was still the patriach of this fractured extended family that fell apart with petty feuds immediately after his death. I wish he was still here to retell his stories of fleeing from China during WW2 or lecturing all of us about nutrition and exercise. He was the only grandpa I knew healthier and stronger than all his sons, swimming laps every morning and sending all of his children exercise bikes for Christmas one year.
He was a bodybuilder who always dared the grandkids to punch his arms as hard as we could, yet he was a gardener who tended to the prettiest roses and most delicious orange tree in his backyard. He taught high school chemistry where my mom was one of his favorite students, and ended up running a liquor store in downtown Phoenix, where I had fond memories of eating swirly icecream cups with those wooden stick-like spoons. He liked my mom so much that he was determined to set her up with one of his sons - my dad happened to be home from graduate school and the rest is history.
Our family was the last one to move out to California so we spent the most time with him. Weekly visits were a must, and when he and my grandmother babysat my brother and me, they tried hard to entertain us. I remember one particular visit when my 2 year old brother was fussing for mom, my grandfather decided that taking out his dentures to talk to him would make him laugh. Instead my frightened brother burst into tears and wouldn't stop crying until my parents came to pick us up. Grandpa shrugged and hung out with me while grandma tried to call my brother down.
After moving to California, my brother, my cousin, and I flew back for a couple of summers to spend time with my grandparents, lazing about their pool, watching TV and reading, and playing games. Our favorite part of the summer was at the beginning of the stay - our grandparents would take us to the wholesale market where they used to stock their liquor store, and each of us could have one FULL box of candy bars to ourselves to last our entire visit. Of course, we didn't know how to share and all of us would get the same candy bars - Nestle White Chocolate Crunch.
The rest of my memories of him are fading. I don't remember him ever yelling. I remember he wouldn't let us watch TV during dinner, but would turn on the radio to some kind of easy listening elevator-type music. I remember that he and my dad would settle down for an evening of chinese chess after dinner. They also loved watching basketball games together. I remember he liked to laugh and all my uncles and aunt adored him. Above all, I remember that even though I feared him a little bit as he could be stern, I always knew he was a kind, gentle man whom I would probably like hanging out with and getting some dimsum together if he were still here.
It's been 13 years and 2 days since he passed away, two days before my high school graduation. I wish he was here. I wish he was still the patriach of this fractured extended family that fell apart with petty feuds immediately after his death. I wish he was still here to retell his stories of fleeing from China during WW2 or lecturing all of us about nutrition and exercise. He was the only grandpa I knew healthier and stronger than all his sons, swimming laps every morning and sending all of his children exercise bikes for Christmas one year.
He was a bodybuilder who always dared the grandkids to punch his arms as hard as we could, yet he was a gardener who tended to the prettiest roses and most delicious orange tree in his backyard. He taught high school chemistry where my mom was one of his favorite students, and ended up running a liquor store in downtown Phoenix, where I had fond memories of eating swirly icecream cups with those wooden stick-like spoons. He liked my mom so much that he was determined to set her up with one of his sons - my dad happened to be home from graduate school and the rest is history.
Our family was the last one to move out to California so we spent the most time with him. Weekly visits were a must, and when he and my grandmother babysat my brother and me, they tried hard to entertain us. I remember one particular visit when my 2 year old brother was fussing for mom, my grandfather decided that taking out his dentures to talk to him would make him laugh. Instead my frightened brother burst into tears and wouldn't stop crying until my parents came to pick us up. Grandpa shrugged and hung out with me while grandma tried to call my brother down.
After moving to California, my brother, my cousin, and I flew back for a couple of summers to spend time with my grandparents, lazing about their pool, watching TV and reading, and playing games. Our favorite part of the summer was at the beginning of the stay - our grandparents would take us to the wholesale market where they used to stock their liquor store, and each of us could have one FULL box of candy bars to ourselves to last our entire visit. Of course, we didn't know how to share and all of us would get the same candy bars - Nestle White Chocolate Crunch.
The rest of my memories of him are fading. I don't remember him ever yelling. I remember he wouldn't let us watch TV during dinner, but would turn on the radio to some kind of easy listening elevator-type music. I remember that he and my dad would settle down for an evening of chinese chess after dinner. They also loved watching basketball games together. I remember he liked to laugh and all my uncles and aunt adored him. Above all, I remember that even though I feared him a little bit as he could be stern, I always knew he was a kind, gentle man whom I would probably like hanging out with and getting some dimsum together if he were still here.
Saturday, June 17, 2006
Advantages of Being A Grown-Up
Today:
Sleeping in till 1:30pm
Eating two desserts and an ice blended coffee for my afternoon snack
Watching as much E True Hollywood Stories as I want on a Saturday afternoon
Last night, I joined some old college friends for an evening of delicious fried chicken at Honey's Kettle Fried Chicken and dancing at Firecracker in Chinatown. The fried chicken was awesome of course. And Firecracker has gotten quite diverse in its crowds since I went years ago before the huge revival of Chinatown. We enjoyed some jazz downstairs, some dancing upstairs, and when we were ready to call it a night...a bunch of obnoxious drunk people sat down at our table for some conversation. They were friends with one of the girls in our group and relatively harmless.
As we yawned and tried to find a polite way to exit, Girlsnob pointed out the guy next to her and said something like "this guy is into glowsticking," got up, and walked to the side of the table to talk to her boyfriend, indicating that she was ready to leave. I got up and followed suit, as did Hungry Monster, leaving the other 2 girls still at the table with the hooligans. I asked if we should rescue Misocrazy but HM thought she didn't need rescuing. Girlsnob looked at us and said "one of the best things about growing up is being able to say... whatever comes to mind."
Though I don't think she meant spewing out any and all thoughts without filtering, it really got me thinking. The whole time I had thought growing up meant learning to hold your tongue. For years, I naively opened my mouth to share whatever thought or opinion that popped into my head, inadvertently offending people and causing misunderstandings left and right. And for years, I didn't even realize I was doing it. Friends who knew me shrugged it off and figured "That's just her. She says things. She means no harm." It was a tough thing to realize and rectify.
Now that we're out of our twenties, does that mean I can regress? Can I go back to not caring and saying whatever I damn well feel like? Because THAT would be a wonderful advantage of being a grown-up.
Sleeping in till 1:30pm
Eating two desserts and an ice blended coffee for my afternoon snack
Watching as much E True Hollywood Stories as I want on a Saturday afternoon
Last night, I joined some old college friends for an evening of delicious fried chicken at Honey's Kettle Fried Chicken and dancing at Firecracker in Chinatown. The fried chicken was awesome of course. And Firecracker has gotten quite diverse in its crowds since I went years ago before the huge revival of Chinatown. We enjoyed some jazz downstairs, some dancing upstairs, and when we were ready to call it a night...a bunch of obnoxious drunk people sat down at our table for some conversation. They were friends with one of the girls in our group and relatively harmless.
As we yawned and tried to find a polite way to exit, Girlsnob pointed out the guy next to her and said something like "this guy is into glowsticking," got up, and walked to the side of the table to talk to her boyfriend, indicating that she was ready to leave. I got up and followed suit, as did Hungry Monster, leaving the other 2 girls still at the table with the hooligans. I asked if we should rescue Misocrazy but HM thought she didn't need rescuing. Girlsnob looked at us and said "one of the best things about growing up is being able to say... whatever comes to mind."
Though I don't think she meant spewing out any and all thoughts without filtering, it really got me thinking. The whole time I had thought growing up meant learning to hold your tongue. For years, I naively opened my mouth to share whatever thought or opinion that popped into my head, inadvertently offending people and causing misunderstandings left and right. And for years, I didn't even realize I was doing it. Friends who knew me shrugged it off and figured "That's just her. She says things. She means no harm." It was a tough thing to realize and rectify.
Now that we're out of our twenties, does that mean I can regress? Can I go back to not caring and saying whatever I damn well feel like? Because THAT would be a wonderful advantage of being a grown-up.
Thursday, June 15, 2006
Hair
It's the same dance we do over and over. I'll trim my hair ever so slightly and my mom will say "You cut your hair? It's still so long. Why don't you cut more?" For some reason, unlike most moms, she dislikes long hair, even on girls, and especially on me. For the first 13 years of my life, I had the same shoulder length bob. Until one day I refused.
This past weekend, when she said the same thing to me again, for the 200th time, I stopped unloading my car, looked her in the eye, and said loudly MOM, I WILL NEVER HAVE SHORT HAIR. I'M NEVER GOING TO CUT IT SHORT. IT DOESN'T LOOK GOOD ON ME. AND I DON'T LIKE IT. GET USED TO IT.
Luckily, she chuckled at me instead of breathing fire and incinerating my very being right there on the spot for being so insolent. What a long way we've come.
Tuesday, June 13, 2006
Balloon Lady
For the past two days, The Fray's "How to Save a Life" has been playing over and over in my head. Though the song is about the lead singer's mentoring relationship with a teenage crack addict, the chorus "where did I go wrong, I lost a friend." just breaks my heart. It reminds me of all the friends I've lost through distance, growing apart, or just plain neglect.
I used to pride myself on the fact that I was a great friend. I went to extreme lengths to stay in touch. Once I was your friend, it was pretty hard to get rid of me. You'd have to shoo me away with a broom. And if for some reason, we drifted apart through time and distance, I stayed nostalgic and sad about it, trying to resuscitate the relationship every so often. One high school friend called me the Balloon Lady, trying to hold all her balloons together and keeping them from flying away forever in different directions.
The unfortunate thing with growing older is that you do eventually lose friends. I didn't understand for a long time and took it extremely hard, wondering what I did wrong to make people not want me anymore. Surprisingly, of all the things that helped me cope was one of those ubiquitous feel-good-encouragement email forwards. It's the one that explains how people come into your life for a reason, a season, or a lifetime. I had always believed that every friend I made HAD to be a friend for life.
I still take it hard and wonder what I did wrong, but a little light turned on. Sometimes, it's not entirely within my power to sustain the friendship if there's no reciprocation. Some friends come back, ebbing and flowing like the tide, but some I have to let go so I that I don't hurt myself by banging my head repeatedly on a brick wall of disappointment.
I worry that I become too callous, dropping friends left and right in my efforts of self preservation. Then I realize that the ones I do lose are usually the ones who won't even notice, the ones who are tougher than me and not looking back. It reminds me that letting go of some of the balloons will only make it easier to hold onto the ones I really want.
I used to pride myself on the fact that I was a great friend. I went to extreme lengths to stay in touch. Once I was your friend, it was pretty hard to get rid of me. You'd have to shoo me away with a broom. And if for some reason, we drifted apart through time and distance, I stayed nostalgic and sad about it, trying to resuscitate the relationship every so often. One high school friend called me the Balloon Lady, trying to hold all her balloons together and keeping them from flying away forever in different directions.
The unfortunate thing with growing older is that you do eventually lose friends. I didn't understand for a long time and took it extremely hard, wondering what I did wrong to make people not want me anymore. Surprisingly, of all the things that helped me cope was one of those ubiquitous feel-good-encouragement email forwards. It's the one that explains how people come into your life for a reason, a season, or a lifetime. I had always believed that every friend I made HAD to be a friend for life.
I still take it hard and wonder what I did wrong, but a little light turned on. Sometimes, it's not entirely within my power to sustain the friendship if there's no reciprocation. Some friends come back, ebbing and flowing like the tide, but some I have to let go so I that I don't hurt myself by banging my head repeatedly on a brick wall of disappointment.
I worry that I become too callous, dropping friends left and right in my efforts of self preservation. Then I realize that the ones I do lose are usually the ones who won't even notice, the ones who are tougher than me and not looking back. It reminds me that letting go of some of the balloons will only make it easier to hold onto the ones I really want.
Sunday, June 11, 2006
Random Contradictions
See these roses? They're beautiful and they're right outside my front door. Obviously, I don't take care of them or duh, they'd be dead since I don't like to go near plant life. A couple of weeks ago I'd walk up and down my doorstep to rose petals strewn every which way - nature's way of making me smile everyday as the roses bloomed and then shed its petals everywhere. I don't like most plants (it's gonna take a special guy to figure out which nonscary flowers to get me one day...) but I appreciate these roses.
This afternoon I also rewatched Star Wars: Revenge of the Sith on cable. I don't care what anyone says. It may not be the best movie ever, but I STILL LIKE IT. I still get sad at the whole Padme/Anakin storyline (he turned evil trying to save her!!! He had good intentions...) and I like how everything kinda ties together. It's so bleak but it gets the job done amidst some pretty special FX eye candy. Yes, I'm a hopeless romantic and a big geek. If it has some kind of love story in it, I'm hooked.
To cap off the afternoon of cable movie watching, I had pizza and ice cream for dinner with the parents. Yeah, they rock. My mom made sure to pack some good homecooked meals for me, but then she was all over the ordering of pizza and picking up a half gallon of Baskin Robbins icecream. This is where I get my eating habits from... And this is why even though I hate running and I hate mornings, I have to get up at 7 to run.
Thursday, June 08, 2006
Turning 30 - The Musical
Me@co got a bunch of free tickets to see this fantastic musical Tick Tick Boom. If you liked Rent, this is pretty much a prequel to it. Well, it's actually an autobiographical short musical about Jonathan Larson's life as a struggling playwright on the brink of turning 30.
The main character "Jon," feels the pressure of juggling career, love, and his dreams all while angsting about turning 30. Very apropos for our little group outing. The music, the style, the humor, and the lovely harmony echoes Rent on a smaller scale. And because I loved the musical Rent, this one held my attention with minimal daydreaming.
One of my favorite songs is "Therapy", where Jon and his girlfriend sing about miscommunication in their relationship, but in tongue twister format. Here are some of the lyrics:
JONATHAN:
What are you saying?
I'm saying I feel bad, that you feel bad
About me feeling bad, about you feeling bad
About what I said, about what you said
About me not being able to share a feeling
SUSAN:
If I thought that what you thought
Was that I hadn't thought about sharing my thoughts
Then my reaction to your reaction
To my reaction
Would have been more revealing
The other song I love? It's titled Sugar. It's literally an ode to sugar and all it's wonderfulness. How great is that?!! It's my song.
The main character "Jon," feels the pressure of juggling career, love, and his dreams all while angsting about turning 30. Very apropos for our little group outing. The music, the style, the humor, and the lovely harmony echoes Rent on a smaller scale. And because I loved the musical Rent, this one held my attention with minimal daydreaming.
One of my favorite songs is "Therapy", where Jon and his girlfriend sing about miscommunication in their relationship, but in tongue twister format. Here are some of the lyrics:
JONATHAN:
What are you saying?
I'm saying I feel bad, that you feel bad
About me feeling bad, about you feeling bad
About what I said, about what you said
About me not being able to share a feeling
SUSAN:
If I thought that what you thought
Was that I hadn't thought about sharing my thoughts
Then my reaction to your reaction
To my reaction
Would have been more revealing
The other song I love? It's titled Sugar. It's literally an ode to sugar and all it's wonderfulness. How great is that?!! It's my song.
Moodiness
I've been in a mood. It might be from lack of sleep for the past oh... 4 weeks, but I'm definitely cranky, bratty, gloomy and all around hating a lot. Especially at work. So at lunch, I went off to eat by myself and do some more writing. The type of writing where I drag out the dark thoughts and throw them on paper.
The beauty of this blog is that I've gotten all the random thoughts out of my head. I have another one where I chat about love and relationships with friends. But the darkest, most neurotic, and pathetically morbid thoughts that scare even me, those go in the private handwritten journal. No need to frighten the masses.
To cheer myself up, I hit up the Coffee Bean and strolled over to the Barnes and Nobles to pick up a couple of books, even though I still have about a dozen in my possession that I haven't read. I like to buy fleeting happiness, as my brother would say.
Picked up Cracks in My Foundation by Marian Keyes, The May Queen, and the latest Nick Hornby book, A Long Way Down. The first two were recommendations from friends and the Hornby book, well, it just looked interesting because it was about four different people who try to jump off a building on new year's eve and end up changing their minds.
The May Queen, a compilation of essays from famous women writing about life in their 30's, was placed in the women's studies section. I thought that was odd, but I guess it's because it's nonfiction essays? Anyway, curiosity nearly sucked me into all the feminist literature in that section. Classic titles like The Feminine Mystique, Backlash, The Beauty Myth.... I've always been fascinated by feminist theory, but to me it's a slippery slope. No need to make myself angry and jaded, on top of the gloominess!
The beauty of this blog is that I've gotten all the random thoughts out of my head. I have another one where I chat about love and relationships with friends. But the darkest, most neurotic, and pathetically morbid thoughts that scare even me, those go in the private handwritten journal. No need to frighten the masses.
To cheer myself up, I hit up the Coffee Bean and strolled over to the Barnes and Nobles to pick up a couple of books, even though I still have about a dozen in my possession that I haven't read. I like to buy fleeting happiness, as my brother would say.
Picked up Cracks in My Foundation by Marian Keyes, The May Queen, and the latest Nick Hornby book, A Long Way Down. The first two were recommendations from friends and the Hornby book, well, it just looked interesting because it was about four different people who try to jump off a building on new year's eve and end up changing their minds.
The May Queen, a compilation of essays from famous women writing about life in their 30's, was placed in the women's studies section. I thought that was odd, but I guess it's because it's nonfiction essays? Anyway, curiosity nearly sucked me into all the feminist literature in that section. Classic titles like The Feminine Mystique, Backlash, The Beauty Myth.... I've always been fascinated by feminist theory, but to me it's a slippery slope. No need to make myself angry and jaded, on top of the gloominess!
Monday, June 05, 2006
Old Friends
"Girl Before a Mirror"
The beauty of art is in the interpretation. I have no idea if Picasso meant for this painting and all his other bizarrely beautiful Cubist paintings to mean distorted views of ourselves and the world, but that's the way I embrace them.
This is one of my favorite Picasso paintings. I first saw it back in 1998 when LACMA hosted a huge (overpriced) Picasso exhibit and have a postcard of it taped to my door. To me, it represents the distorted views in which we see ourselves, something I and tons of women everywhere, struggle with on a daily basis. I may be 30, but deep down, I will always see myself as that nerdy awkward girl from junior high. It's that anchor that weighs my self-esteem down from time to time. The anchor that prevents me from being consistently confident about my looks. The anchor that seeks validation from silly boys, overly critical parents, and mean petty girls..
It's terrible that no matter how much my good friends compliment me, sometimes it's the words and actions of people who don't unconditionally love me that make the most impact. Over the weekend, I went to a birthday dinner and met up with some old friends I hardly see anymore. One of them in particular, a truly poised and cool beauty who looked exactly the same as the day I met her over ten years ago, struck up a conversation towards the end of the night. Over the years of our friendship, I never knew with her when she would be warm and open, or aloof and taciturn. That night, she was friendly and gregarious, complimenting me on the fact that I looked good, like I had lost weight and toned up. I.was.blown.away. It was like being thrown back to junior high and getting complimented by the most popular girl in school. It was one of the highlights of the evening, my encounter with this old friend.
As for the painting, I went to the MOMA in New York for the first time earlier this year. To my wonderful surprise, I saw Girl Before a Mirror and several Picasso's that I remembered from the LACMA exhibit years back. I had forgotten that the exhibit had been directly curated from sources such as MOMA. I left with a happy feeling inside, like I had just visited old friends.
Sunday, June 04, 2006
Local Tourist
It's too hot to live. Anything over 75 degrees is no good for me. How I survived in Phoenix as a child, I don't know. But right now, I have every single door and window open in the sauna that is my air-conditioning deprived apartment. I'm thisclose to just walking around nekkid, modesty be damned.
Anyway, been trekking out and about all day, playing the local tourist. I joined SLY on a free metro art tour of the LA redline and finished it all before lunch. Impressed with this lazy sleeper? We started at Union station where Lucille and Dan provided commentary and led us through the Gateway Transit Center, which manages all public transit in LA.
Art Deco-like lighting fixtures in the GTA.
On the way down to the Red Line, there is a hypnotizing light piece called "Atrain" by Bill Bell. If you watch the different lighting configurations, you're supposed to be able to see and hear a train, taxi and famous faces. I only saw a train.
So we finally get to ride the Metro. Wheeeee! My first time riding on the LA subway system! Right away I notice that
1) it is super clean
2) no rats scurrying about in the tracks
3) it's really quiet down there
This is probably the reason why. There's no smoking, eating, drinking, littering, gum chewing, gum spitting, skateboarding, rollerblading, razorscootering, music playing, nor loud talking allowed. Subject to $250 and 48 hours of community service. Sheesh.
My favorite piece on the tour is "Into the Light" by Therman Statom. It's the pieces suspended in the skylight of the Westlake/Macarthur Park station, pictured at the very top. Beautiful as the MacArthur Park area is during the daytime, it's also the Rampart district. Lucille warned the women on the tour not to come here at night because of the rampant drug dealing - this used to be the area where Shrewlady prosecuted pimps, prostitutes, and drug dealers. How lovely to see her old workplace...
Some aspiring musicians waiting for the next train.
Last stop of the tour, Hollywood and Vine. This is the interior of the station - no joke. Film reels cover all of the ceilings.
By then, I was starving and ready to head back to Union station. SLY and I trekked over to Chinatown for some quick takeout dimsum and boba tea. We walked along Broadway where I bumped into a distant relative (go figure) and managed to whip out enough Chinese from who knows where for a quick conversation. I think she's my mom's brother's wife's sister, or something like that. She didn't even know my mom's name, only her birth order and title! "Ninth sister." haha! Gotta love the Chinese formality of names and titles.
After we headed our separate ways, I made a quick jaunt through some shopping plazas. My peoples has really stepped up with the trendy shops! Munky King is like the Chinese version of the Giant Robot store. Cool toys and uber friendly staff that greet everyone with a loud shout "WELCOME TO MUNKY KING!!!" But don't mention the GR word around them. They pouted at me in mock indignation. Next door was another fun novelty shop Realm. I definitely need to go back and explore some more, maybe on a less sweltering day, say October.
I also managed to see my friend's ballet recital and run some errands, including picking up a pair of new hiking shoes. I'm exhausted! I've decided that if the metro ever came out to West LA, I'd try to use it. I really like the idea of subways, even if I feel dirty riding on public transportation. Kinda like how I really like the idea of camping, hiking, carpooling, eating healthy, and having a boyfriend, even if it's the wrong boy.
Feeling Old But Still Kicking
It's been an eventful weekend, in which I'll continue to write about later. Because I've foolishly passed on my concert friend's offers in the past to see bands such as Coldplay and Keane at tiny venues when they first started, I decided to take a chance and see the Arctic Monkeys (who look all of 12 years old like the bulk of their fans) and We Are Scientists concert tonight. It taught me one thing.
I am old. Not only was I extra cranky when people tossed their cups full of liquid in the air or shoved into me with their sweaty bodies, I actually wanted to kick people and walk out. Maybe I didn't get enough sleep or maybe the music was much too hip for me, but dance as I might, I couldn't completely get into it. At least I bought earplugs for the first time so that my ears wouldn't bleed like usual - hopefully I'll still have all of my hearing when I'm 50.
My friends lined up in eager anticipation at 6:30. The concert started at 9. I haven't lined up for a concert since the college days of Britpop but luckily we did; we were the last three people to get wristbands and make it into the pit. It was all fine and dandy and spacious until the Arctic Monkeys' lead singer (he needs a haircut) invited the less fortunate wristband-less audience to jump over the rails into the pit. I guess I can't have it both ways - being up close to the band and not being stepped on and maintaining personal space. Ah well...
The best part of the night, besides a Courtney Love celebrity sighting (she's looking good!) involved a conversation with a Ridiculously Young Boy standing in line with us. As I recounted to my friends those good old Britpop-concert -going college days of waiting in line for hours at Blur, Pulp, and Charlatans UK, the RYB interrupted the conversation with something like this:
RYB: Excuse me, did I just hear you say that you saw Pulp live in concert?
Me: Yeah I did.
RYB: WOW! I'm so jealous! I'll never get to see them. *(The band broke up a while ago). The last time they were here was like 1995! Was it the one at the Palace?
Me: Yeah, that's when I went, back in college. I'm old.
RYB: Aww man, I wanted to go so bad but my parents wouldn't let me! I was six!
Me: Wow, I feel old. Thanks. I'm gonna throw my water bottle at you.
I am old. Not only was I extra cranky when people tossed their cups full of liquid in the air or shoved into me with their sweaty bodies, I actually wanted to kick people and walk out. Maybe I didn't get enough sleep or maybe the music was much too hip for me, but dance as I might, I couldn't completely get into it. At least I bought earplugs for the first time so that my ears wouldn't bleed like usual - hopefully I'll still have all of my hearing when I'm 50.
My friends lined up in eager anticipation at 6:30. The concert started at 9. I haven't lined up for a concert since the college days of Britpop but luckily we did; we were the last three people to get wristbands and make it into the pit. It was all fine and dandy and spacious until the Arctic Monkeys' lead singer (he needs a haircut) invited the less fortunate wristband-less audience to jump over the rails into the pit. I guess I can't have it both ways - being up close to the band and not being stepped on and maintaining personal space. Ah well...
The best part of the night, besides a Courtney Love celebrity sighting (she's looking good!) involved a conversation with a Ridiculously Young Boy standing in line with us. As I recounted to my friends those good old Britpop-concert -going college days of waiting in line for hours at Blur, Pulp, and Charlatans UK, the RYB interrupted the conversation with something like this:
RYB: Excuse me, did I just hear you say that you saw Pulp live in concert?
Me: Yeah I did.
RYB: WOW! I'm so jealous! I'll never get to see them. *(The band broke up a while ago). The last time they were here was like 1995! Was it the one at the Palace?
Me: Yeah, that's when I went, back in college. I'm old.
RYB: Aww man, I wanted to go so bad but my parents wouldn't let me! I was six!
Me: Wow, I feel old. Thanks. I'm gonna throw my water bottle at you.
Thursday, June 01, 2006
The Basics
On Tues morning, Kevin and Bean from KROQ fielded online dating horror stories! The best one that stood out to me involved a woman who showed up on her date 8 months pregnant. Apparently, when the guy caller had asked if her photos on her site were recent, she said yes. Because after all, within one year is pretty darn recent. The kicker is when he asked why she didn't say anything before they met. She answered "well you never asked."
Sometimes you wonder if you're just taking certain things for granted. Years ago when I met my friend's then boyfriend for the first time, he asked if I would mind being set up. Then he proceeded to ask me the usual questions "Is height important? Career? Ethnicity? Then he asked in half-seriousness "Is hygiene important?" He was from Berkeley and just wanted to cover his bases. At the time, I thought "I haven't dated much at all, but is that an optional thing now?!"
Anyway, the stuff we don't list, the stuff we assume is a given - honesty, strong moral ethic, Hygiene, a place to live... do people compromise on that? Sometimes I feel like Bridget Fonda's character in the movie Singles, when she was telling her friend about what she wanted in a guy. She said she used to want someone who was nice, smart, sense of humor, had a good job, and someone who would say "bless you" when she sneezed. Her friend asked her "what about now?" She answered "Someone who will say Gesundheit when I sneeze. Though I prefer bless you."
Sometimes you wonder if you're just taking certain things for granted. Years ago when I met my friend's then boyfriend for the first time, he asked if I would mind being set up. Then he proceeded to ask me the usual questions "Is height important? Career? Ethnicity? Then he asked in half-seriousness "Is hygiene important?" He was from Berkeley and just wanted to cover his bases. At the time, I thought "I haven't dated much at all, but is that an optional thing now?!"
Anyway, the stuff we don't list, the stuff we assume is a given - honesty, strong moral ethic, Hygiene, a place to live... do people compromise on that? Sometimes I feel like Bridget Fonda's character in the movie Singles, when she was telling her friend about what she wanted in a guy. She said she used to want someone who was nice, smart, sense of humor, had a good job, and someone who would say "bless you" when she sneezed. Her friend asked her "what about now?" She answered "Someone who will say Gesundheit when I sneeze. Though I prefer bless you."
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