As we were about to land, most of us thought, "where the hell are we going to land? It all looks like this. Volcanic crusty stuff." Then a road appeared. And a runway. Whew...
Wednesday, August 30, 2006
Day 1 - Kona
As I flew in to Kona, the first thing I saw out the window was... Maui, which is only 30 miles away.
As we were about to land, most of us thought, "where the hell are we going to land? It all looks like this. Volcanic crusty stuff." Then a road appeared. And a runway. Whew...
As we were about to land, most of us thought, "where the hell are we going to land? It all looks like this. Volcanic crusty stuff." Then a road appeared. And a runway. Whew...
Juxtiposition
I'm too tired to blog much lately. Working an average of 10am - 10pm. No point in me going in any earlier because I'll still end up staying that late. For the most part, working with artists is great. I love the creative energy, the dresscode (there is none), the silliness, the toys, the immaturity...
But sometimes, trying to manage them is a whole other story. I like to think of my job as babysitting most of the time. Professional nag, den mother, big sister, token girl, person to vent and complain to, shoulder to cry on, and most of all timekeeper extraordinaire. Some days, I have to pretty much pry the work out of their hands to deliver to clients on time. Otherwise they'll continue to perfect it until no ordinary human eye can detect the differences between version 278 and version 277.
I was venting to Wavy today in regards to how the past two nights, we've pushed deliveries to the wire. Advanced Express delivery guy will be standing by waiting to get our tape and drive it over to the airport, so that it can get to NY by noon the next day. We (meaning me) are usually running around trying to collect all the deliverables that the artists just finished thirty seconds before the delivery guy arrives. Even though I tell them I need everything an hour before.
Wavy said something like "yeah, computer artists (the ones I work with) must be the worst. They have no sense of structure and schedule like an artist yet they have the anal-retentivness and perfectionism of a computer nerd." That pretty much sums up my people.
But sometimes, trying to manage them is a whole other story. I like to think of my job as babysitting most of the time. Professional nag, den mother, big sister, token girl, person to vent and complain to, shoulder to cry on, and most of all timekeeper extraordinaire. Some days, I have to pretty much pry the work out of their hands to deliver to clients on time. Otherwise they'll continue to perfect it until no ordinary human eye can detect the differences between version 278 and version 277.
I was venting to Wavy today in regards to how the past two nights, we've pushed deliveries to the wire. Advanced Express delivery guy will be standing by waiting to get our tape and drive it over to the airport, so that it can get to NY by noon the next day. We (meaning me) are usually running around trying to collect all the deliverables that the artists just finished thirty seconds before the delivery guy arrives. Even though I tell them I need everything an hour before.
Wavy said something like "yeah, computer artists (the ones I work with) must be the worst. They have no sense of structure and schedule like an artist yet they have the anal-retentivness and perfectionism of a computer nerd." That pretty much sums up my people.
Monday, August 28, 2006
All I Have to Do Is Dream...
The plus side of the cooler weather, I'm sleeping so much better. I love being buried under my covers, snuggled in my yummy sheets. The down side, I dream so much more again. Last night, I dreamt that my current clients pulled me into a conference room and yelled at me, saying awful things about the project. Sigh...
Boys and Girls
Girls who are boys
Who like boys to be girls
Who do boys like they're girls
Who do girls like they're boys
Always should be someone you really love
- Blur
This particular song got me hooked on the band Blur, way back in college. It popped in my head the other day when one of coworkers, whom I'll call The Brit, confided to me about how distraught he was over another coworker's inexplicable snubbing. The snubber, whom I'll call The Swede, sits right next to The Brit and even lives in the same apartment building. They started at the company around the same time, seemed like friendly sort of people, and often The Swede would drive The Brit to and from work as The Brit didn't drive.
For some reason, about a month ago, The Swede stopped talking to The Brit, and though The Brit confronted him a couple of times, asking what the problem was, The Swede would always say "Nothing," and continue the obvious snubbing. I could understand The Brit's frustration with the not knowing, but also understood, with the painful wisdom I've acquired over time, that there isn't much more he can do if The Swede won't fess up to what's on his mind.
The only odd thing was that this was between two guys. Maybe I'm missing something here (They're both gay and it's a love affair gone awry? Doubt it, I'm just projecting.) but I thought guys usually just confronted each other with a "Dude, what's your problem?", said their peace and moved on. I've been snubbed by immature boys, snubbed my fair share of intolerant girls, and vice versa on both accounts. But I've never heard of this happening with two guys quite like this.
On one hand, I really felt The Brit's pain. On the other hand, I thought "You guys are like petty girls. This is ridiculous." I knew I couldn't step in to do anything on a personal level or even a professional level unless it affected their work performances. I felt helpless.
Then The Brit confessed that it really annoyed the hell out of him when The Swede would turn around and chat it up with everyone else around him, how the whole situation just made things so uncomfortable at work. And I thought,
"Boy, you have no idea... Why don't you go and make out with him, and then come back to me about uncomfortable."
Who like boys to be girls
Who do boys like they're girls
Who do girls like they're boys
Always should be someone you really love
- Blur
This particular song got me hooked on the band Blur, way back in college. It popped in my head the other day when one of coworkers, whom I'll call The Brit, confided to me about how distraught he was over another coworker's inexplicable snubbing. The snubber, whom I'll call The Swede, sits right next to The Brit and even lives in the same apartment building. They started at the company around the same time, seemed like friendly sort of people, and often The Swede would drive The Brit to and from work as The Brit didn't drive.
For some reason, about a month ago, The Swede stopped talking to The Brit, and though The Brit confronted him a couple of times, asking what the problem was, The Swede would always say "Nothing," and continue the obvious snubbing. I could understand The Brit's frustration with the not knowing, but also understood, with the painful wisdom I've acquired over time, that there isn't much more he can do if The Swede won't fess up to what's on his mind.
The only odd thing was that this was between two guys. Maybe I'm missing something here (They're both gay and it's a love affair gone awry? Doubt it, I'm just projecting.) but I thought guys usually just confronted each other with a "Dude, what's your problem?", said their peace and moved on. I've been snubbed by immature boys, snubbed my fair share of intolerant girls, and vice versa on both accounts. But I've never heard of this happening with two guys quite like this.
On one hand, I really felt The Brit's pain. On the other hand, I thought "You guys are like petty girls. This is ridiculous." I knew I couldn't step in to do anything on a personal level or even a professional level unless it affected their work performances. I felt helpless.
Then The Brit confessed that it really annoyed the hell out of him when The Swede would turn around and chat it up with everyone else around him, how the whole situation just made things so uncomfortable at work. And I thought,
"Boy, you have no idea... Why don't you go and make out with him, and then come back to me about uncomfortable."
Friday, August 25, 2006
A Quick Note on Hawaii
I have tons of pictures to share, but that will be another longer post for another longer night. For now, the highlights: seeing a beautiful rainbow while driving across part of the island (see picture on the left), McDonald's fried apple pies, finding Whatchamacallit bars at stores everywhere, snorkeling, and living with all my old roommates again, one last time before everything changes forever.
Thursday, August 24, 2006
Another Day, Another Hour
My goal of leaving an hour earlier each day, especially before the cleaning crew got there and turned on all the harsh overhead fluroscent lights was achieved today! I got out of there before 9. Whoo hoo! Never thought I would relish sitting on my sofa, watching TV, eating a frozen pizza, and reading fluffy magazines so much.
I'm so tired, I barely remember what I did at work today. I remember running around a lot. And worrying about two of my coworkers. One has been suffering from chest pains and had to go to the emergency room yesterday. His wife recently lost her dad so is understandably distraught.
I also got my new credit card delivered to work today. While I was living it up in Hawaii, some whatchamacalit wannabe was charging up a storm in South Carolina with a credit card fashioned under my name. Luckily the great folks at MBNA took care of it all. I stressed for about 2 seconds when they told me about the "unusual activity" on my card, figuring it was because I was charging things in Hawaii, not even bothering to call them back until my card was declined Tuesday.
Surprise surprise, they told me there was nothing I could have done about it. Most likely someone somewhere who had handled my credit card transaction got the information off the magnetic stripe, my name, the card numbers... Fortunately, the only thing I'll have to worry about is contacting the places where I have automatic monthly charges like the Y or the cable company and update them with my new card information. Credit card fraud security rocks.
Two things that made me laugh about the whole thing - 1) I kept imagining that credit card fraud commercial where these people are talking with completely different voices. I highly doubt that the wannabe southerner looked liked someone with a whatchamacalit last name like mine. 2) When the nice lady at MBNA started going over my latest charges to verify what was actually mine, it went something like this. Coffee Bean, Coffee Bean, Starbucks, Sprinkles Cupcakes, Panini Cafe, In N Out, Susina Bakery, Coffee Bean... She chuckled. "Yeah I like food. And coffee," I told her. But she already knew that since they're doing a great job monitoring my spending habits to catch those wannabes!
I'm so tired, I barely remember what I did at work today. I remember running around a lot. And worrying about two of my coworkers. One has been suffering from chest pains and had to go to the emergency room yesterday. His wife recently lost her dad so is understandably distraught.
I also got my new credit card delivered to work today. While I was living it up in Hawaii, some whatchamacalit wannabe was charging up a storm in South Carolina with a credit card fashioned under my name. Luckily the great folks at MBNA took care of it all. I stressed for about 2 seconds when they told me about the "unusual activity" on my card, figuring it was because I was charging things in Hawaii, not even bothering to call them back until my card was declined Tuesday.
Surprise surprise, they told me there was nothing I could have done about it. Most likely someone somewhere who had handled my credit card transaction got the information off the magnetic stripe, my name, the card numbers... Fortunately, the only thing I'll have to worry about is contacting the places where I have automatic monthly charges like the Y or the cable company and update them with my new card information. Credit card fraud security rocks.
Two things that made me laugh about the whole thing - 1) I kept imagining that credit card fraud commercial where these people are talking with completely different voices. I highly doubt that the wannabe southerner looked liked someone with a whatchamacalit last name like mine. 2) When the nice lady at MBNA started going over my latest charges to verify what was actually mine, it went something like this. Coffee Bean, Coffee Bean, Starbucks, Sprinkles Cupcakes, Panini Cafe, In N Out, Susina Bakery, Coffee Bean... She chuckled. "Yeah I like food. And coffee," I told her. But she already knew that since they're doing a great job monitoring my spending habits to catch those wannabes!
Fuzzy Moon over Trees
Though it's much easier to share pictures, digital cameras are kinda annoying. So many different settings, and not one allows me to take pictures at night. Either they turn out black on the regular setting or you have to possess hands steadier than a surgeon's to use its darn night setting.
Looks kinda like a scary Munch painting.
Looks kinda like a scary Munch painting.
Performance Anxiety
It was another late night at work – thank goodness it’s a 4 day week for me. The powers that be finally sprung the performance review on me, when I least expected it. It was all good and only mildly uncomfortable, akin to the half yearly dentist checkups.
It’s funny how you can hone in to the one or two slightly negative comments while ignoring the rest of the praise. Work ethic pride or typical neuroticism?
I’m like the abused child when it comes to these things. I’ve been traumatized by awful review experiences at the old job. Actually it was only my first review that was awful, but one bad time is all it takes! I already know I’m highly sensitive to the mildest criticism (everything’s personal when it’s personal to me!)
A review is like laying yourself out there, stark naked and vulnerable, asking for criticism whether you want it or not. The only things I can really compare the experience to are the piano recitals and competitions of my teenage years. Before the performance, I’d be anxiety ridden all day. Afterwards, my heart would still be jittery and the butterflies in my stomach still fluttering about, trying to settle down. That's about how I felt this afternoon. I couldn't even look at the written review from all the different supervisors until I got home. And after I read most of the nice praise, braced in a wincing type position, it hit me that I'm friends with most of these people, I eat with them everyday, hang out with them on the weekends, know their wives and children on a personal level, and hell, some of them even know parts of the real me. Frightening. And sometimes friendship inhibiting.
The occasionally paranoid me thinks, maybe I should stop being such good friends with people who review me (not to mention dating them. sheesh...) but then where's the fun yet masochistic challenge in that?
It’s funny how you can hone in to the one or two slightly negative comments while ignoring the rest of the praise. Work ethic pride or typical neuroticism?
I’m like the abused child when it comes to these things. I’ve been traumatized by awful review experiences at the old job. Actually it was only my first review that was awful, but one bad time is all it takes! I already know I’m highly sensitive to the mildest criticism (everything’s personal when it’s personal to me!)
A review is like laying yourself out there, stark naked and vulnerable, asking for criticism whether you want it or not. The only things I can really compare the experience to are the piano recitals and competitions of my teenage years. Before the performance, I’d be anxiety ridden all day. Afterwards, my heart would still be jittery and the butterflies in my stomach still fluttering about, trying to settle down. That's about how I felt this afternoon. I couldn't even look at the written review from all the different supervisors until I got home. And after I read most of the nice praise, braced in a wincing type position, it hit me that I'm friends with most of these people, I eat with them everyday, hang out with them on the weekends, know their wives and children on a personal level, and hell, some of them even know parts of the real me. Frightening. And sometimes friendship inhibiting.
The occasionally paranoid me thinks, maybe I should stop being such good friends with people who review me (not to mention dating them. sheesh...) but then where's the fun yet masochistic challenge in that?
Tuesday, August 22, 2006
Back to the Real World
After 5 days in Kona, Hawaii, it's a thirteen hour work day my first
day back. Just got back an hour ago and I have no energy to upload
pictures, read my mail, or do anything but lie on the sofa. And type a
little. Of course the boss is out sick yet again since yesterday, the
king of being out sick on Mondays. My performance review has been
postponed three times, rescheduled for tomorrow but likely postponed
again if the boss is out sick or way too swamped if he does comes in.
They're lucky I'm still coasting on my postvacation bliss... can't
believe that just yesterday morning, I was flying around on a small
plane with dear friends, witnessing amazing waterfalls, volcanoes up
close, and lava flowing into the ocean. Until the next getaway...
day back. Just got back an hour ago and I have no energy to upload
pictures, read my mail, or do anything but lie on the sofa. And type a
little. Of course the boss is out sick yet again since yesterday, the
king of being out sick on Mondays. My performance review has been
postponed three times, rescheduled for tomorrow but likely postponed
again if the boss is out sick or way too swamped if he does comes in.
They're lucky I'm still coasting on my postvacation bliss... can't
believe that just yesterday morning, I was flying around on a small
plane with dear friends, witnessing amazing waterfalls, volcanoes up
close, and lava flowing into the ocean. Until the next getaway...
Wednesday, August 16, 2006
Sucking at the Game of Patheticness
"You know what's pathetic?"
"What?"
"Some days like today, I can't bear to hear his voice while he's chatting with other people. So I have to put on my Ipod and drown him out with music."
Pause. "Is there more to the story? Is that it?"
"Yeah."
"That's not pathetic! You suck at this game. You can't play this game against me."
- Chatting with the UBBF
"What?"
"Some days like today, I can't bear to hear his voice while he's chatting with other people. So I have to put on my Ipod and drown him out with music."
Pause. "Is there more to the story? Is that it?"
"Yeah."
"That's not pathetic! You suck at this game. You can't play this game against me."
- Chatting with the UBBF
Tuesday, August 15, 2006
Honorary Columbian
Tonight, I joined my Bizarro twin, her sister, and her mom and hit up the Shakira concert downtown. My Bizarro twin (BT) is part Columbian, Lebanese, and Croatian - a warring nation she calls herself. We foundeach other a few years ago at our old jobs as assistants at the mouse eared company, when one of my bosses was trying to find nice young men for the both of us single girls. When he asked what I was looking for,
I half jokingly said, "someone who doesn't look like I have a fighting chance of beating up." BT looked at me and burst out laughing, exclaiming "I feel the same way!"
We quickly found out that our parents lived down the street from each other, that we grew up in the same school district, played tennis on our high school teams, had extremely similar dispositions and outlooks on life, the same awkwardness about our heights, our shyness, and our tomboyishness growing up, and of course parallel dating histories. She declared that we were each other's Bizarro twins and amazingly, the list of similarities keeps growing as we've continued to find out more about each other.
When Shakira gave a shout out to all her fellow Columbians, BT and her family turned to me and said "you are an honorary Columbian tonight!" They laughed at how much I enjoyed the music though I had no clue to what the Spanish lyrics meant. I knew every song and can actually sing along to quite a few of them, even if it's just mimicking
sounds. BT tried to translate a few of her favorites for me, the ones she called "Women Redemption" songs - songs about not putting up with any more BS from the guy or dealing with grief and heartache heavier than cement. She thinks as much as I already love Shakira's voice and her music, I'll appreciate the songs even more once I find out what they mean. Although, I do like much of her lyrics, there's also
something comforting about listening to good music in which you don't get distracted by the words.
The concert brought back good memories of the last time I saw her tour, when Shakira hadn't even learned English yet. Her music reminds me of a time when I was younger and much more hopeful about life and love. At the same time, her songs also stir up feelings of strength and growth while inspiring fun and enpowerment. I do however, have another new goal in life now - I want to dance like Shakira. Even if it takes me till I'm 80 to do it.
I half jokingly said, "someone who doesn't look like I have a fighting chance of beating up." BT looked at me and burst out laughing, exclaiming "I feel the same way!"
We quickly found out that our parents lived down the street from each other, that we grew up in the same school district, played tennis on our high school teams, had extremely similar dispositions and outlooks on life, the same awkwardness about our heights, our shyness, and our tomboyishness growing up, and of course parallel dating histories. She declared that we were each other's Bizarro twins and amazingly, the list of similarities keeps growing as we've continued to find out more about each other.
When Shakira gave a shout out to all her fellow Columbians, BT and her family turned to me and said "you are an honorary Columbian tonight!" They laughed at how much I enjoyed the music though I had no clue to what the Spanish lyrics meant. I knew every song and can actually sing along to quite a few of them, even if it's just mimicking
sounds. BT tried to translate a few of her favorites for me, the ones she called "Women Redemption" songs - songs about not putting up with any more BS from the guy or dealing with grief and heartache heavier than cement. She thinks as much as I already love Shakira's voice and her music, I'll appreciate the songs even more once I find out what they mean. Although, I do like much of her lyrics, there's also
something comforting about listening to good music in which you don't get distracted by the words.
The concert brought back good memories of the last time I saw her tour, when Shakira hadn't even learned English yet. Her music reminds me of a time when I was younger and much more hopeful about life and love. At the same time, her songs also stir up feelings of strength and growth while inspiring fun and enpowerment. I do however, have another new goal in life now - I want to dance like Shakira. Even if it takes me till I'm 80 to do it.
Monday, August 14, 2006
To be or not to be...
On Saturday night, I continued the weekend of culture with free Shakespeare at the Barnsdall Art park. Vaj and his sister provided most of the food for the picnic, I brought a big picnic cloth and the highly addictive Sprinkles cupcakes, and me@co and clancy brought beach mats, blankets, and sarongs to keep us warm throughout Hamlet.
The guy playing Hamlet was a cross between Jimmy Fallon of Saturday Night Live and Nicholas Cage, but with an authentic British accent. For a free production, this was a highly entertaining and inventive Hamlet for the masses. There's something about the spirit of nonprofit productions that make you really want to cheer for them. The actress portraying Ophelia introduced the show and joked that with helicopters, planes, and police sirens buzzing about Hollywood, this was one show where we didn't really have to worry about shutting off our cell phones.
About a third of the way into the show, Hamlet walked out onto the stage and said "We'll have to a take a quick intermission at this point. The actor playing Rosencrantz has dislocated his shoulder backstage. (Pause) Is there a doctor in the house?" After a fire truck came to cart Rosencrantz off the hospital, another thespian stepped in, script in hand throughout the show, but still convincingly delivering all his lines and keeping up with the stage blocking.
By the end of the very long play (it's Hamlet after all), we were all freezing. I had my hooded sweatshirt wrapped around me like Kenny from South Park I stopped to donate a few dollars to the actors holding up buckets after the show. Not too classy but effective.
"Did you put money in the cute bucket?" Me@co asked.
"Cute bucket?" I echoed.
"Horatio." she answered.
The actor playing Horatio. He was cute and holding a bucket. A bucket in which I put in a few dollars.
"Ah, cute bucket..." I said, finally catching on.
The guy playing Hamlet was a cross between Jimmy Fallon of Saturday Night Live and Nicholas Cage, but with an authentic British accent. For a free production, this was a highly entertaining and inventive Hamlet for the masses. There's something about the spirit of nonprofit productions that make you really want to cheer for them. The actress portraying Ophelia introduced the show and joked that with helicopters, planes, and police sirens buzzing about Hollywood, this was one show where we didn't really have to worry about shutting off our cell phones.
About a third of the way into the show, Hamlet walked out onto the stage and said "We'll have to a take a quick intermission at this point. The actor playing Rosencrantz has dislocated his shoulder backstage. (Pause) Is there a doctor in the house?" After a fire truck came to cart Rosencrantz off the hospital, another thespian stepped in, script in hand throughout the show, but still convincingly delivering all his lines and keeping up with the stage blocking.
By the end of the very long play (it's Hamlet after all), we were all freezing. I had my hooded sweatshirt wrapped around me like Kenny from South Park I stopped to donate a few dollars to the actors holding up buckets after the show. Not too classy but effective.
"Did you put money in the cute bucket?" Me@co asked.
"Cute bucket?" I echoed.
"Horatio." she answered.
The actor playing Horatio. He was cute and holding a bucket. A bucket in which I put in a few dollars.
"Ah, cute bucket..." I said, finally catching on.
Saturday, August 12, 2006
On Dancing and Exercise
I've been running since last January, fueled by anger and sadness from a broken heart. I hate running but an old friend once told me that if you were going to be in pain, it might as well be physical pain (ie: grueling exercise). At least make something good come out of all that angst. She claimed that the summer her 1st boyfriend broke up with her was the summer in which she had the best abs ever from all the situps she did.
I'm getting sick of running - not sure if I'm bored from that particular form of exercise or if I'm out of emotional steam these days. I need something more interactive again, like tennis, or dancing or kickboxing, or even rock wall climbing. I took cardio kickboxing for three years and was in the best shape of my life back then, until I sprained my knee snowboarding. Then the instructor left and I left my job in that area.
Enter Brazilian fit dancing. That lasted another 3 years until work got too busy and the instructor left - back to Brazil. This class - I fell in love with. Great music, a flamboyantly ambiguously gay instructor in tiny shorts yelling out instructions I could never understand, and people of all ages just having fun and dancing as horribly as I did. Three years and I never got the hang of it. I was still the dork facing the wrong direction or sometimes just standing there because I couldn't match a left kick with a right arm swing. And yet, I didn't care.
I suck at dancing and I miss it so. The past year, the only dancing I've done is at weddings and recently at a bachelorette party in Phoenix. On Friday night, met up with me@co, dd, Sly and that whole crew at Par Avion after a couple of us saw the musical Curtains in downtown. I had every intention of dancing, but the exhaustion of the end of the work week, the annoying seizure inducing strobe light on the dance floor, the half naked man flailing about under the strobe light, and the curiosity of talking to me@co's new Irish lad kept me hanging in the loungey back room. Plus, Sly and CK were being accosted by some drunk man in their booth at the front of the bar, telling them to "feel his pecs." Hiding in the back room with the others was for the best.
On Saturday morning, after months of missing the class for some reason or another, I dragged myself to the Y to try out belly dancing. Unfortunately, the instructor was out sick. Fortunately, one of the other dance instructors, a former fellow student in the Brazilian dance class of 2 years ago, was subbing in and teaching... what else? Brazilian dance class! Wheeeeeee!!!! So much fun and I suck as badly as I did before.
I'm getting sick of running - not sure if I'm bored from that particular form of exercise or if I'm out of emotional steam these days. I need something more interactive again, like tennis, or dancing or kickboxing, or even rock wall climbing. I took cardio kickboxing for three years and was in the best shape of my life back then, until I sprained my knee snowboarding. Then the instructor left and I left my job in that area.
Enter Brazilian fit dancing. That lasted another 3 years until work got too busy and the instructor left - back to Brazil. This class - I fell in love with. Great music, a flamboyantly ambiguously gay instructor in tiny shorts yelling out instructions I could never understand, and people of all ages just having fun and dancing as horribly as I did. Three years and I never got the hang of it. I was still the dork facing the wrong direction or sometimes just standing there because I couldn't match a left kick with a right arm swing. And yet, I didn't care.
I suck at dancing and I miss it so. The past year, the only dancing I've done is at weddings and recently at a bachelorette party in Phoenix. On Friday night, met up with me@co, dd, Sly and that whole crew at Par Avion after a couple of us saw the musical Curtains in downtown. I had every intention of dancing, but the exhaustion of the end of the work week, the annoying seizure inducing strobe light on the dance floor, the half naked man flailing about under the strobe light, and the curiosity of talking to me@co's new Irish lad kept me hanging in the loungey back room. Plus, Sly and CK were being accosted by some drunk man in their booth at the front of the bar, telling them to "feel his pecs." Hiding in the back room with the others was for the best.
On Saturday morning, after months of missing the class for some reason or another, I dragged myself to the Y to try out belly dancing. Unfortunately, the instructor was out sick. Fortunately, one of the other dance instructors, a former fellow student in the Brazilian dance class of 2 years ago, was subbing in and teaching... what else? Brazilian dance class! Wheeeeeee!!!! So much fun and I suck as badly as I did before.
Wednesday, August 09, 2006
Simple Pleasures of Today
The satisfaction of feeling guilt-free the rest of the day after forcing myself to get up early again to go running.
Walking to the beach for lunch.
Feeling ok and even in my element amongst friends while Mr. Dating Debacle was present.
Leaving work at a decent time.
Meeting up with an old friend for dessert and coffee and catching up on our lives, knowing that we weren't alone in our aspirations to leave everything, ditch work, and move to Europe to do something silly like sell flowers.
Being able to walk across the street to my friend/neighbor's place to say hi and chat.
Having my cat as an armrest while I type.
Receiving a hand written letter in the mail from my dear friend, the Ultimate Beastie Boys Fan (UBBF)
Hearing about two shy friends who may slowly find their way toward romance with each other.
Walking to the beach for lunch.
Feeling ok and even in my element amongst friends while Mr. Dating Debacle was present.
Leaving work at a decent time.
Meeting up with an old friend for dessert and coffee and catching up on our lives, knowing that we weren't alone in our aspirations to leave everything, ditch work, and move to Europe to do something silly like sell flowers.
Being able to walk across the street to my friend/neighbor's place to say hi and chat.
Having my cat as an armrest while I type.
Receiving a hand written letter in the mail from my dear friend, the Ultimate Beastie Boys Fan (UBBF)
Hearing about two shy friends who may slowly find their way toward romance with each other.
Tuesday, August 08, 2006
Crazy Advice From the Elders
Since my brother's summer internship in LA is already half over, my dad decided that is was about time to have a family dinner with grandma before the summer came to an end and he went back to Chicago for school. On Sunday, we drove from all corners of the LA Basin - my parents from the east out in the Heights, me from the Cerritos area after spending the day with the godchildren, and my brother from the westside. I missed out on an opportunity to carpool with him and have some enjoyable conversation and bonding time, which was a bummer. But the fool locked himself out his apartment sublet and was late to dinner anyway.
At dinner, it was the usual. My parents chatted with grandma, while my brother and I chatted about all sorts of nonsense. I think the elders just like having us around, even if we only talk to each other in English. At one point, my ear perked up to a part of the conversation between my mom and grandma. "Girls are getting married later these days," my mom stated to my grandma. Sigh. Which meant that my grandma was inquiring and my mom was making her peace with the status quo of my singlehood. I tuned the rest out and continued talking to my brother.
The lovely thing is that none of them dare pressure me or bother me about that part of my life. I think they find me volatile when it comes to prying about my personal life. Plus their advice and comments have veered toward the comical.
"A girl shouldn't be that smart and get so much education. No man will want her." - what my grandma said to me in college when I was thinking of pursuing a graduate degree
"You should end up with someone who loves you more than you love them, instead of being the one that's more in love. It'll ensure more happiness. Look at your auntie (one of my mom's never married high school friends). She didn't want to settle. She wanted to be the one that loved her husband more and now she's all alone." - what my mom told me somewhere back in junior high or high school
"You know how in those soap operas, the woman gets all upset when the guy cheats on her or treats her badly, and then kills herself? That is very stupid. She should at least kill him first and then kill herself. What's the point of just killing yourself?" - what my mom told me back in elementary school when we used to watch American nighttime soap operas and Chinese soap operas together
At dinner, it was the usual. My parents chatted with grandma, while my brother and I chatted about all sorts of nonsense. I think the elders just like having us around, even if we only talk to each other in English. At one point, my ear perked up to a part of the conversation between my mom and grandma. "Girls are getting married later these days," my mom stated to my grandma. Sigh. Which meant that my grandma was inquiring and my mom was making her peace with the status quo of my singlehood. I tuned the rest out and continued talking to my brother.
The lovely thing is that none of them dare pressure me or bother me about that part of my life. I think they find me volatile when it comes to prying about my personal life. Plus their advice and comments have veered toward the comical.
"A girl shouldn't be that smart and get so much education. No man will want her." - what my grandma said to me in college when I was thinking of pursuing a graduate degree
"You should end up with someone who loves you more than you love them, instead of being the one that's more in love. It'll ensure more happiness. Look at your auntie (one of my mom's never married high school friends). She didn't want to settle. She wanted to be the one that loved her husband more and now she's all alone." - what my mom told me somewhere back in junior high or high school
"You know how in those soap operas, the woman gets all upset when the guy cheats on her or treats her badly, and then kills herself? That is very stupid. She should at least kill him first and then kill herself. What's the point of just killing yourself?" - what my mom told me back in elementary school when we used to watch American nighttime soap operas and Chinese soap operas together
Monday, August 07, 2006
Unraveled
That's how I felt like last week. Everything felt wrong, everything was broken, I couldn't keep my head above water, and all kinds of minutiae stressed me out. I know that these phases are cyclical. I can see the descent when it starts and I take solace that eventually I get out of it. The up and down is exhausting, but today seemed to be a brighter day.
Though I felt like dying when I dragged my sleepy ass out of bed to go running again (after a 2 week sabbatical), it did start my day out on the right foot. I couldn't ditch work like I wanted (wish I wasn't so damn responsible) but the thought of a relaxing evening comforted me. Things I thought were broken (my Ipod ear buds, the audio on my TV, the wireless mouse for my laptop) merely had loose connections, needed rebooting or new batteries. At work, people left me alone for a good portion of the day, allowing me to get much of my work done while listening to my Ipod. The complaining and the venting were at a minimum (I guess it's only Monday, how much can go wrong already?), there were no meetings, and the weather was wonderful.
Last week, I spent time with different close friends each day. Never a group more than the 2 or 3 of us and each friend managed to help me gain some perspective and comfort. I realize that's what makes me happiest - being around my close friends and my brother, spending quality time with just them.
Oh, and of course ice cream. That makes me happy too.
Though I felt like dying when I dragged my sleepy ass out of bed to go running again (after a 2 week sabbatical), it did start my day out on the right foot. I couldn't ditch work like I wanted (wish I wasn't so damn responsible) but the thought of a relaxing evening comforted me. Things I thought were broken (my Ipod ear buds, the audio on my TV, the wireless mouse for my laptop) merely had loose connections, needed rebooting or new batteries. At work, people left me alone for a good portion of the day, allowing me to get much of my work done while listening to my Ipod. The complaining and the venting were at a minimum (I guess it's only Monday, how much can go wrong already?), there were no meetings, and the weather was wonderful.
Last week, I spent time with different close friends each day. Never a group more than the 2 or 3 of us and each friend managed to help me gain some perspective and comfort. I realize that's what makes me happiest - being around my close friends and my brother, spending quality time with just them.
Oh, and of course ice cream. That makes me happy too.
Sunday, August 06, 2006
Dreaming of My Next Trip
I'm fantasizing about playing hooky tomorrow and sleeping in, figuring out those darn finances, and putting some kind of plan in motion. Whether it be a plan for leaving work, coping with work, creating my next trip, or just actively trying to be happier with my life. Unfortunately as it stands, I've only accrued three vacation days so far and only have one or two sick days left for the year. I've gotta hoard these things like gold if I'm ever going to have a break.
In the meantime, I'm going to list the places I want to go next and see if anyone wants to join me. Trekking through Scotland, Scandinavia and France alone last October was great and all, but I did get lonely at times. You have no one to turn to and share those unique experiences with at the time nor anyone to relive them with later on by reminiscing.
The goal before I die is to step foot on every continent, all 50 states, and visit at least 50 countries. I'm halfway there.
In no particular order:
1) South Africa - my friends there just wrote me asking when I'll ever go visit. I'm dying to go on a safari, touristy as it may sound
2) Australia and New Zealand
3) Spain and Portugal - It's the only part of Western Europe I haven't visited.
4) Croatia and Greece - my friend has an apartment there and goes every other year. Any place where there's free room and board, and a local guide who speaks the language rocks.
5) Brazil, Argentina, and Peru - those are the main countries I want to see in South America
Those are the top 5 though I think I'd only visit the first three by myself. Ooh, Iceland and Ireland too. After that, I'm game to revisit Italy, France, most of United Kingdom, and Japan. I'm intrigued to see Antarctica, China, Turkey, Galapagos Islands, Cuba, India, Russia, Alaska, and the deep South though not as urgently.
In the meantime, I'm going to list the places I want to go next and see if anyone wants to join me. Trekking through Scotland, Scandinavia and France alone last October was great and all, but I did get lonely at times. You have no one to turn to and share those unique experiences with at the time nor anyone to relive them with later on by reminiscing.
The goal before I die is to step foot on every continent, all 50 states, and visit at least 50 countries. I'm halfway there.
In no particular order:
1) South Africa - my friends there just wrote me asking when I'll ever go visit. I'm dying to go on a safari, touristy as it may sound
2) Australia and New Zealand
3) Spain and Portugal - It's the only part of Western Europe I haven't visited.
4) Croatia and Greece - my friend has an apartment there and goes every other year. Any place where there's free room and board, and a local guide who speaks the language rocks.
5) Brazil, Argentina, and Peru - those are the main countries I want to see in South America
Those are the top 5 though I think I'd only visit the first three by myself. Ooh, Iceland and Ireland too. After that, I'm game to revisit Italy, France, most of United Kingdom, and Japan. I'm intrigued to see Antarctica, China, Turkey, Galapagos Islands, Cuba, India, Russia, Alaska, and the deep South though not as urgently.
I'm Still A Kid
Always a Chesire Cat grin moon to me.
I saw these on a street near my work and immediately thought they were fancy looking bounce houses. Someone informed me they're for some kind of Indian festival.
Thursday, August 03, 2006
Trying to Figure Out When It's Time To Go
I don't know how to leave a job. I've had internships that naturally ended after a semester or temp jobs that only required a finite amount of time. For my first permanent job at the mouse-eared company, we went project to project and by the time I left, they had made the alternate choice of staying so grim, they pretty much pushed me out the door. There was always a substantial reason that each job came to an end.
On my first film at the mouse-eared company, I remember being so unhappy in the last year of the project that I physically felt like part of me was dying as I drove into the parking lot each morning. And even then I stayed on another year, lucky enough to be put on a second film with the most laid back, generous bosses I've ever had.
With this current job, I'm permanently staffed. That means unless I muck it up royally and piss off the wrong people or the company hits hard times financially, I can stay there for life. It's a rarity in the entertainment industry but also slows down growth after the first couple of years. I've become sedentary and terrified of leaving the job security.
But... I'm getting that feeling again. I don't quite feel like part of me is dying just yet, but I'm unhappy at least 50% of the time. Sometimes I feel trapped and claustrophobic. My stomach has been hurting all week. This morning I came in hands shaking and felt like I couldn't breathe.
I felt this way last year when my old boss and her issues with the company came to a head, dragging me along for the bumpy ride for most of 2005. She finally left in July and by September, I wanted to join her. Before I cracked completely, I went on the three week 30th birthday European tour by myself in October. I came back refreshed though still wary of what my position would be at the company.
Things got better by the end of the year, and were downright slow the first 5 months of this year. Now, I'm overwhelmed and barely containing my contempt and surliness towards certain people at work. I can't pinpoint any one thing that's causing it. It's nothing and yet it's everything.
My current boss is still one of the biggest schmucks of all time. The owners still completely undervalue production while praising the artists who work till they keel over. I am the one-man complaints department, fielding all the whining, the bitching, the blaming, and the problem fixing. As a producer, I feel like I've regressed in terms of managing a project and kept under my insecure boss's thumb. We have no legitimate HR department to talk to or proper protocol to deal with reviews and problems. The dynamics of the company and the projects don't change - we're still seventy people stuck in one big room with no privacy. And then... there are the boys. Those problematic boys that have left me with more bad memories than good.
I'm ready for another three week vacation soon even if it means traveling alone again. Not one of the many dinky weekend getaways this year to visit friends or attend some obligation. I need to be selfish and do what I want to do, see what I want to see, sleep when I want to sleep. I need to sit down and figure out my finances, update my resume, poke around at other companies, make my infamous pro/cons lists, and mentally prepare myself for pissing off this company and losing a lifestyle. Change cripples me with fear and yet I know that's what I need. It may take me awhile and I may change my mind a hundred times more in between, but waiting for this company to change instead of making the change myself is going to shrivel me up inside. My annual review is next week. It may be just the catalyst I need.
On my first film at the mouse-eared company, I remember being so unhappy in the last year of the project that I physically felt like part of me was dying as I drove into the parking lot each morning. And even then I stayed on another year, lucky enough to be put on a second film with the most laid back, generous bosses I've ever had.
With this current job, I'm permanently staffed. That means unless I muck it up royally and piss off the wrong people or the company hits hard times financially, I can stay there for life. It's a rarity in the entertainment industry but also slows down growth after the first couple of years. I've become sedentary and terrified of leaving the job security.
But... I'm getting that feeling again. I don't quite feel like part of me is dying just yet, but I'm unhappy at least 50% of the time. Sometimes I feel trapped and claustrophobic. My stomach has been hurting all week. This morning I came in hands shaking and felt like I couldn't breathe.
I felt this way last year when my old boss and her issues with the company came to a head, dragging me along for the bumpy ride for most of 2005. She finally left in July and by September, I wanted to join her. Before I cracked completely, I went on the three week 30th birthday European tour by myself in October. I came back refreshed though still wary of what my position would be at the company.
Things got better by the end of the year, and were downright slow the first 5 months of this year. Now, I'm overwhelmed and barely containing my contempt and surliness towards certain people at work. I can't pinpoint any one thing that's causing it. It's nothing and yet it's everything.
My current boss is still one of the biggest schmucks of all time. The owners still completely undervalue production while praising the artists who work till they keel over. I am the one-man complaints department, fielding all the whining, the bitching, the blaming, and the problem fixing. As a producer, I feel like I've regressed in terms of managing a project and kept under my insecure boss's thumb. We have no legitimate HR department to talk to or proper protocol to deal with reviews and problems. The dynamics of the company and the projects don't change - we're still seventy people stuck in one big room with no privacy. And then... there are the boys. Those problematic boys that have left me with more bad memories than good.
I'm ready for another three week vacation soon even if it means traveling alone again. Not one of the many dinky weekend getaways this year to visit friends or attend some obligation. I need to be selfish and do what I want to do, see what I want to see, sleep when I want to sleep. I need to sit down and figure out my finances, update my resume, poke around at other companies, make my infamous pro/cons lists, and mentally prepare myself for pissing off this company and losing a lifestyle. Change cripples me with fear and yet I know that's what I need. It may take me awhile and I may change my mind a hundred times more in between, but waiting for this company to change instead of making the change myself is going to shrivel me up inside. My annual review is next week. It may be just the catalyst I need.
Wednesday, August 02, 2006
Irony, Like in the Alanis Song Kinda Way
At the recent farewell party for my boss, someone told me a story about her coworker meeting someone from my work through Match. They went out only on one date but we marveled at how small the dating circles were despite LA being so vast. We also giggled at the fact that this guy from my work, thought of as so socially awkward and annoying at work, was still functional enough to date online. Mean, I know, but we couldn't help it.
Curiosity and voyeurism finally got the best of me. My mischievous married friend had created multiple fake accounts for window shopping on Match. She liked to scope out the competition for friends who were using Match and also help look for eligible possibilities she would approve of. Normally, I steer clear of the whole thing and wouldn't touch it with a 10 foot pole. But she gave me her fake account password, showed me our mutual friends' accounts and taught me how to window shop.
Since I'd heard that many of my coworkers used Match to meet their girlfriends, I decided to see just which ones were in there. Surprise, surprise, many many guys in my industry in there, but only two of my coworkers. (I guess the ones who got girlfriends, wisely removed their profiles.) One guy was the one we giggled about at the party. The other was my favorite loner who sits next to him. And his profile said he was online RIGHT NOW.
Interestingly enough, three of the photos he posted were ones I took of him. Guess he's not so much of a loner after all. Oh, the things you learn on a random Tuesday night...
Gawd, this is also another reason why unless I moved into a whole other city where I didn't know anyone, say... Fargo, ND, I would be too mortified to use online dating since it's especially prolific in my industry of geeks. I'm the only single girl at my work in the same age range as these boys. I would melt into a puddle of embarrassment if anyone from work saw my profile and said anything. Hell, I won't even tell them what the middle initial in my name stands for! If anyone found my blog, I'd prefer them to stay quiet and keep it to themselves, lest I have to shut the whole thing down.
So now, even though the lyrics don't quite fit the occasion, I have the Beatles song Do You Want to Know A Secret stuck in my head. I'm afraid I'll blurt something stupid out to him like "I just heard from friends, that people use Match for summer flings while Yahoo Personals are for hookups." Or better yet, in a weak mischievous state, create a profile that matches his exactly. Just for fun. Me and my demented sense of humor. Must. practice. restraint.
Curiosity and voyeurism finally got the best of me. My mischievous married friend had created multiple fake accounts for window shopping on Match. She liked to scope out the competition for friends who were using Match and also help look for eligible possibilities she would approve of. Normally, I steer clear of the whole thing and wouldn't touch it with a 10 foot pole. But she gave me her fake account password, showed me our mutual friends' accounts and taught me how to window shop.
Since I'd heard that many of my coworkers used Match to meet their girlfriends, I decided to see just which ones were in there. Surprise, surprise, many many guys in my industry in there, but only two of my coworkers. (I guess the ones who got girlfriends, wisely removed their profiles.) One guy was the one we giggled about at the party. The other was my favorite loner who sits next to him. And his profile said he was online RIGHT NOW.
Interestingly enough, three of the photos he posted were ones I took of him. Guess he's not so much of a loner after all. Oh, the things you learn on a random Tuesday night...
Gawd, this is also another reason why unless I moved into a whole other city where I didn't know anyone, say... Fargo, ND, I would be too mortified to use online dating since it's especially prolific in my industry of geeks. I'm the only single girl at my work in the same age range as these boys. I would melt into a puddle of embarrassment if anyone from work saw my profile and said anything. Hell, I won't even tell them what the middle initial in my name stands for! If anyone found my blog, I'd prefer them to stay quiet and keep it to themselves, lest I have to shut the whole thing down.
So now, even though the lyrics don't quite fit the occasion, I have the Beatles song Do You Want to Know A Secret stuck in my head. I'm afraid I'll blurt something stupid out to him like "I just heard from friends, that people use Match for summer flings while Yahoo Personals are for hookups." Or better yet, in a weak mischievous state, create a profile that matches his exactly. Just for fun. Me and my demented sense of humor. Must. practice. restraint.
Tuesday, August 01, 2006
You Gotta Fight, For Your Right...
to a tennis court!
After another rough work day, I texted my brother in the evening. "Wanna play tennis? I want to hit something tonight." And amazingly enough, he called me immediately and said yes.
We tried another set of public courts to see if the poaching situation would be any better. Unfortunately, it was only marginally better. We still waited a good half hour and this time decided to stand in the middle of two courts to claim whichever one opened up first.
A little while later, another girl and boy walked in, looked at us, and said "which court are you waiting for?"
"Whichever one opens up first. We've been waiting here for half an hour." I warily answered.
"Well, I thought you're supposed to wait for one court only. Can you choose one so that we can wait for the other one?" the girl asked.
Before I could say "Back off, beeyotch," my brother wisely answered "It seems like everyone else is waiting by sections, since the courts are sectioned off by two."
"Well, what if I don't feel like being everyone else?" the girl whined/mumbled to her friend.
We looked away and replied with silence, leaving her to her useless petulance. They backed off and my brother and I grinned at each other at our 2nd official weekly victory of claiming a tennis court.
"You know..." he said, "If we couldn't play, I would have just as much fun making it miserable and ruining everyone else's game by throwing balls at them or stealing them. If I can't play, no one can."
And this, this is why I love being around my brother.
We played till I could barely lift my arm anymore. It was great!
After another rough work day, I texted my brother in the evening. "Wanna play tennis? I want to hit something tonight." And amazingly enough, he called me immediately and said yes.
We tried another set of public courts to see if the poaching situation would be any better. Unfortunately, it was only marginally better. We still waited a good half hour and this time decided to stand in the middle of two courts to claim whichever one opened up first.
A little while later, another girl and boy walked in, looked at us, and said "which court are you waiting for?"
"Whichever one opens up first. We've been waiting here for half an hour." I warily answered.
"Well, I thought you're supposed to wait for one court only. Can you choose one so that we can wait for the other one?" the girl asked.
Before I could say "Back off, beeyotch," my brother wisely answered "It seems like everyone else is waiting by sections, since the courts are sectioned off by two."
"Well, what if I don't feel like being everyone else?" the girl whined/mumbled to her friend.
We looked away and replied with silence, leaving her to her useless petulance. They backed off and my brother and I grinned at each other at our 2nd official weekly victory of claiming a tennis court.
"You know..." he said, "If we couldn't play, I would have just as much fun making it miserable and ruining everyone else's game by throwing balls at them or stealing them. If I can't play, no one can."
And this, this is why I love being around my brother.
We played till I could barely lift my arm anymore. It was great!
Dread
On the return of Mr. Dating Debacle from his vacation back home. His car was gone from the parking lot this weekend, which means he's already back in town hiding out at home. Two weeks was not long enough. I need at least another four.
It's so annoying when the quintessential "nice guy" whom everyone loves, treats only you like crap. Especially when he can't lay claim to even an ounce of justification. "Am I crazy?" you start to think. "Has no one else experienced this infuriating crappiness that he's capable of?" His loyal admirers pepper me with questions of "when is he back?" daily, and though I know perfectly well it's Thursday, what I really want to say is "how the f*%^ should I know?"
The optimist in me hopes that his journey home will have revived and refreshed him, knocked some sense into him and made him realize what an ASS he's been. And then he'll be normal and nice to me again. And we can begin that very long and slow journey to becoming friends again. Almost like we used to. Hey, it happens.
The realist in me thinks FAT CHANCE. Immaturity isn't cured overnight or even in a fortnight. You'll have to suck it up and toughen up. Even if it is hurtful as hell to endure it everyday.
It's so annoying when the quintessential "nice guy" whom everyone loves, treats only you like crap. Especially when he can't lay claim to even an ounce of justification. "Am I crazy?" you start to think. "Has no one else experienced this infuriating crappiness that he's capable of?" His loyal admirers pepper me with questions of "when is he back?" daily, and though I know perfectly well it's Thursday, what I really want to say is "how the f*%^ should I know?"
The optimist in me hopes that his journey home will have revived and refreshed him, knocked some sense into him and made him realize what an ASS he's been. And then he'll be normal and nice to me again. And we can begin that very long and slow journey to becoming friends again. Almost like we used to. Hey, it happens.
The realist in me thinks FAT CHANCE. Immaturity isn't cured overnight or even in a fortnight. You'll have to suck it up and toughen up. Even if it is hurtful as hell to endure it everyday.
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