TOO funny! Just a straightforward homage to the gems that come out of her boyfriend's mouth. It actually reminds me of a couple different people, my brother included.
Tuesday, January 30, 2007
Something Light and Funny For A Change...
TOO funny! Just a straightforward homage to the gems that come out of her boyfriend's mouth. It actually reminds me of a couple different people, my brother included.
Monday, January 29, 2007
Bye Bye Love...
I never thought it would happen, but I've fallen out of love. It took me awhile to understand why this last visit felt different but then I realized I'm no longer infatuated with the city of San Francisco.
It was a long affair that lasted over a decade. From the time I was 19, I've migrated up north at least once a year, always visiting friends and trying to see something new in the city every time. I had pipe dreams of uprooting myself to live in the city and work for Pixar or ILM. My closest friends from nearly every stage of life lived up there and I would take turns staying with different ones on each visit.
I've helped various friends move up there in a UHaul, helped them move back years later, taken a certain redheaded boy up there for the first time and walked across the Golden Gate Bridge together, realized months later none of it meant a thing, watched the seals at Pier 39 half a dozen times, got dressed up to go dancing with friends, cried in Marin County when a friend scolded me, snapped foggy panoramic pictures of the whole city from Alcatraz (still taped together on my wall today), screamed in the city streets when Turtle finally waved her engagement ring in my face, went to a spa for the first time with girl friends, enjoyed Napa Valley many times, met many friends' boyfriends, only half of which became their future husbands, and finally endured each friend, one by one, moving out of the city and into the suburbs as they got married, bought homes, had kids and said goodbye to the past.
San Francisco makes me sad now, like watching Peter Pan trying to coax a maturing Wendy back to Neverland. I guess I missed the boat in living up there in my twenties. I can't go back to those fun days - it's actually an endeavor to drive into the city from any of their homes - and I feel childish and resentful that I'm too old to play and enjoy the city like I used to. Yet, I feel too young to settle down like everyone else. So instead, I blame the city for my anguish and associate the hazy nostalgic memories with a place. I've lost the never ending urge to see and be with the city and wonder how long I'll manage the avoidance. Good bye San Francisco, at least for now. We had some great times and I sure will miss you. But until I make peace with myself, it's definitely not you, it's me.
It was a long affair that lasted over a decade. From the time I was 19, I've migrated up north at least once a year, always visiting friends and trying to see something new in the city every time. I had pipe dreams of uprooting myself to live in the city and work for Pixar or ILM. My closest friends from nearly every stage of life lived up there and I would take turns staying with different ones on each visit.
I've helped various friends move up there in a UHaul, helped them move back years later, taken a certain redheaded boy up there for the first time and walked across the Golden Gate Bridge together, realized months later none of it meant a thing, watched the seals at Pier 39 half a dozen times, got dressed up to go dancing with friends, cried in Marin County when a friend scolded me, snapped foggy panoramic pictures of the whole city from Alcatraz (still taped together on my wall today), screamed in the city streets when Turtle finally waved her engagement ring in my face, went to a spa for the first time with girl friends, enjoyed Napa Valley many times, met many friends' boyfriends, only half of which became their future husbands, and finally endured each friend, one by one, moving out of the city and into the suburbs as they got married, bought homes, had kids and said goodbye to the past.
San Francisco makes me sad now, like watching Peter Pan trying to coax a maturing Wendy back to Neverland. I guess I missed the boat in living up there in my twenties. I can't go back to those fun days - it's actually an endeavor to drive into the city from any of their homes - and I feel childish and resentful that I'm too old to play and enjoy the city like I used to. Yet, I feel too young to settle down like everyone else. So instead, I blame the city for my anguish and associate the hazy nostalgic memories with a place. I've lost the never ending urge to see and be with the city and wonder how long I'll manage the avoidance. Good bye San Francisco, at least for now. We had some great times and I sure will miss you. But until I make peace with myself, it's definitely not you, it's me.
Sunday, January 28, 2007
Vegas, Baby, Vegas
This is the only picture I took in Vegas this weekend, sunset outside the Primm outlet mall, as the cars from Los Angeles crossed the Nevada border.
It was a low key, yet interesting trip to visit a couple friend of mine. The husband was a trusted work friend, my daily coffee buddy and work confidante. His wife was a cool girl friend I could watch chick flicks with. We barely had anything in common with completely opposite upbringings and personalities, but we complemented each other and shared the same sense of loyalty and stubborn dislike of injustices, being Libras and all. She was the one that would try to get me drunk every time, but also the one that would always keep an eye on me, keep me safe, ward off any strange men, and make sure I had a good time without getting too sick by the time they dropped me off at home.
They lived a block away and often invited me over for dinner and a movie. He called me his stunt double when I'd go out with his wife to attend all the free ballets she scored from work. It was almost what you'd call a perfect relationship amongst the three of us. So when they broke the news to me last year that they were moving to Vegas for her job, she asked "Are you mad at us? Will you ever talk to us again?"
The first thing they hit me with after flying in Friday night was "we have something to tell you." For the past few years whenever anyone says that to me, my first response is always "You're engaged." or "You're pregnant." Because really, what other big news in our age group warrants such an anticipatory announcement? But then she threw me off and stood up, as if she were going to walk off and fetch something to show me. So I said nothing. Then she unbuttoned her jeans and showed me her flat little tummy. Still I said nothing. (Trust me, you don't want to err on these assumptions.)
I looked back at her, thinking "well, my unpregnant stomach looks a hell of a lot bigger than her allegedly pregnant one. This sucks." I looked at the smiling couple again and said "No. No way." They kept beaming. And I was floored. Only a few months ago, she had confided that she was fairly confident they weren't going to have kids. And she responded "well, it was always going to be zero or two."
After luxuriously sleeping in till 11 the next morning (though waking up in the middle of the night anyway), we hit the outlet mall to buy her some new clothes. How surreal is it to help your friend buy tops that could work as regular tops and maternity wear? Especially when you're wearing those same types of tops because they're in style AND they hide that extra ice cream sundae or burger you've been eating. Another humbling moment.
Shopping wiped us out. And the way the desert that is Las Vegas saps every ounce of moisture from your body is unnerving. We were constantly drinking water and going to the bathroom every hour. We managed to see a very Vegas like musical comedy show Saturday night - Gordy Brown at the Venetian hotel. (Yay, it was free!) And we squeezed in the movie Pan's Labyrinth this afternoon. (What a beautiful, unique, creepy, and sad movie all in one! A must see.)
The best part of the weekend was knowing that these two are the only people who will give me no pressure to wake up by a certain time on the weekend nor stick to a strict schedule. We lounged, they cooked delicious meals for me like the good old days, and we sipped lattes from their fancy schmancy espresso machine that puts Starbucks and Coffee Bean to shame.
The bad part? Seeing how I was bigger than the pregnant woman, hungering every two hours like the pregnant woman, running to the bathroom and waking up during the night as much as the pregnant woman and often tired in between going out like the pregnant woman. Sympathy symptoms?
This trip will always be exciting and fun - going to Vegas and not spending the whole time on the strip for the first time, being one of the first few friends to know their secret and having to keep quiet to our mutual friends about it for another 6-8 weeks. BUT it's also the trip that marks the beginning of my first ever diet. A sad resignation to age and slowing metabolism, cutting back on my great love of SUGAR.
To put it into perspective of how difficult this is going to be, as a child, a relative once told me (incorrectly) that if I kept eating so much sugary things, I'd get diabetes and never be able to eat sugar again. And I stubbornly responded "I will die without sugar. I guess I'll just have to die then." Ironically, the fear isn't so much of death. It's the fear of being alive but constantly unhappy with myself that's going to drive me.
Thursday, January 25, 2007
The Trouble With Dreams
Annoying buggers, they wake me up at night like a bad neighbor practicing the drums or saxophone. At least once a night, usually twice. I can't remember the last time I slept 8 hours straight. Everyday I wake up tired.
Most of the time, the dreams evaporate as quickly as I wake up and fall back asleep. Other times I remember the culprits that wake me up.
Last week, I dreamt I was driving, just about to rear-end the car in front of me. At the sound of the nerve wracking crunch of impact, I woke up to the sound of my neighbor slamming her front door, coming home at 3 in the morning. Freaky.
A couple of hours later, I woke up again - after a rousing and ineffectual game of tennis, with a large loofah sponge as a racket. The realization of using the completely wrong tool for the game (duh!) woke me up. Puzzling.
The worst kinds of dream? The ones that leave me feeling sad or upset, lingering for the rest of the day like a bad perfume. Like the one earlier this week when I dreamt that Mr. DD was dating someone new. I didn't even think it would bother me as much in real life as it did in the dream life. Frustrating.
I miss a good night's sleep and wonder when it will come back to me. For now, I continue playing the part of Zombie Whatchamacalit. Yawn.....
Most of the time, the dreams evaporate as quickly as I wake up and fall back asleep. Other times I remember the culprits that wake me up.
Last week, I dreamt I was driving, just about to rear-end the car in front of me. At the sound of the nerve wracking crunch of impact, I woke up to the sound of my neighbor slamming her front door, coming home at 3 in the morning. Freaky.
A couple of hours later, I woke up again - after a rousing and ineffectual game of tennis, with a large loofah sponge as a racket. The realization of using the completely wrong tool for the game (duh!) woke me up. Puzzling.
The worst kinds of dream? The ones that leave me feeling sad or upset, lingering for the rest of the day like a bad perfume. Like the one earlier this week when I dreamt that Mr. DD was dating someone new. I didn't even think it would bother me as much in real life as it did in the dream life. Frustrating.
I miss a good night's sleep and wonder when it will come back to me. For now, I continue playing the part of Zombie Whatchamacalit. Yawn.....
Tuesday, January 23, 2007
It's Like Crack...
Thursday, January 18, 2007
Things To Watch
At the beginning of the new year, a friend lent me season 1 of The Wire, a look at the lives of Baltimore drug dealers from every level, and the cops that bust them. It's not my usual fare of choice, but by episode 3, I was hooked. When I only had 4 episodes left for the season, I only slept 4 hours because I NEEDED to finish it. I have season 2 in my hands but I need to recuperate before diving in again. I was also worried that I'd start swearing a lot more from the bad influence of this show.
On the complete opposite side of the spectrum, thanks to UBBF, my fellow coworkers and the new upgraded (legit) cable, I'm addicted to watching EVERY episode of Foster's Home for Imaginary Friends. I laugh out loud watching this. Craig McCracken is a genius. (He also created Powerpuff Girls!) Eduardo and Coco are my favorites.
I also finally managed to watch Children of Men with SLY last night. It was a chilly night in Westwood, but SLY and I got out of work early enough to find free parking, smuggle in a sandwich, soup, and some tea for dinner, and made it into the theater barely before the movie started, munching silently in the dark. The movie was bleak but an intriguing concept of the future. If mankind became infertile, I agree that humanity would cave in on itself and most of us would shed our morals. The movie just kind of ends with tons of unanswered questions, but we just decided to make up our own back story for the hell of it.
I realize that I loved watching all of these because there is nothing in them that I can really relate to - nothing that makes me angst or reminds me of anyone or any time way back when. Just pure escapist entertainment.
On the complete opposite side of the spectrum, thanks to UBBF, my fellow coworkers and the new upgraded (legit) cable, I'm addicted to watching EVERY episode of Foster's Home for Imaginary Friends. I laugh out loud watching this. Craig McCracken is a genius. (He also created Powerpuff Girls!) Eduardo and Coco are my favorites.
I also finally managed to watch Children of Men with SLY last night. It was a chilly night in Westwood, but SLY and I got out of work early enough to find free parking, smuggle in a sandwich, soup, and some tea for dinner, and made it into the theater barely before the movie started, munching silently in the dark. The movie was bleak but an intriguing concept of the future. If mankind became infertile, I agree that humanity would cave in on itself and most of us would shed our morals. The movie just kind of ends with tons of unanswered questions, but we just decided to make up our own back story for the hell of it.
I realize that I loved watching all of these because there is nothing in them that I can really relate to - nothing that makes me angst or reminds me of anyone or any time way back when. Just pure escapist entertainment.
Wednesday, January 17, 2007
Songs That Make Me Laugh
Heard this one on KROQ quite a while ago. It doesn't quite get as much air play anymore but every time I hear it, I cackle in delight at this band's eloquent words.
Hate is a strong word
But I really really really don't like you
This other song makes me laugh purely because it's so melodramatic. I actually really like James Blunt's first song, You're Beautiful, overplayed as much as it was. It reminds me of when I was in Scandinavia and it played on the music stations every night. His second single however, begs to be sung at the top of your lungs preferably to a friend who finds it equally humorous, like Wavy.
Hate is a strong word
But I really really really don't like you
This other song makes me laugh purely because it's so melodramatic. I actually really like James Blunt's first song, You're Beautiful, overplayed as much as it was. It reminds me of when I was in Scandinavia and it played on the music stations every night. His second single however, begs to be sung at the top of your lungs preferably to a friend who finds it equally humorous, like Wavy.
Monday, January 15, 2007
Firsts' of the Year
Last night, I went to my first concert of the year and it was a good one. After some good ole chicken pot pie from Marie Callendar's to warm us up, SLY and I hit the Troubadour again to see Rhett Miller. I'd never heard his music but boy was I pleasantly surprised.
The pretty boy can sing. And he has the charm of Elvis with his hip swinging, knee shaking, circular guitar strumming nonstop energy. He played for 2 hours and came back for three encores. My favorites included "Four Eyed Girl" and his band Old 97's song “Rollerskate Skinny,” where he sings “I believe in love, but it don't believe in me.” I'm definitely a fan now and plan to attend more of his shows! I loved every song and couldn't stop smiling!
Here's SLY's favorite.
His opening band Western States Motel, wasn't bad either. Plus they had the charm of looking like engineers as their day jobs.
Today, I finally dragged my slow, lazy self to the courts to play tennis with my old tennis buddy from work. That was not pretty. I haven't run or really exerted myself since early December and it shows. Though the cold air didn't help, my chest was screaming in pain after running around the court and missing several shots. Apparently getting a new racket doesn't miraculously improve your game. Or enable you to hustle after the ball faster.
On a better note, I did finish reading my first book of the year. A librarian friend introduced me to graphic novels. Not the comic book superhero anime type stuff, but well crafted stories using artwork to convey some of the emotions or serious subjects, like war, loneliness, family, dual cultures... I highly recommend both "Persepolis 2" and "Goodbye Chunky Rice."
Well, it's mid January already so we'll how much more will be accomplished by the end of the month...
The pretty boy can sing. And he has the charm of Elvis with his hip swinging, knee shaking, circular guitar strumming nonstop energy. He played for 2 hours and came back for three encores. My favorites included "Four Eyed Girl" and his band Old 97's song “Rollerskate Skinny,” where he sings “I believe in love, but it don't believe in me.” I'm definitely a fan now and plan to attend more of his shows! I loved every song and couldn't stop smiling!
Here's SLY's favorite.
His opening band Western States Motel, wasn't bad either. Plus they had the charm of looking like engineers as their day jobs.
Today, I finally dragged my slow, lazy self to the courts to play tennis with my old tennis buddy from work. That was not pretty. I haven't run or really exerted myself since early December and it shows. Though the cold air didn't help, my chest was screaming in pain after running around the court and missing several shots. Apparently getting a new racket doesn't miraculously improve your game. Or enable you to hustle after the ball faster.
On a better note, I did finish reading my first book of the year. A librarian friend introduced me to graphic novels. Not the comic book superhero anime type stuff, but well crafted stories using artwork to convey some of the emotions or serious subjects, like war, loneliness, family, dual cultures... I highly recommend both "Persepolis 2" and "Goodbye Chunky Rice."
Well, it's mid January already so we'll how much more will be accomplished by the end of the month...
Thursday, January 11, 2007
Conversations With My Brother
Bro: Why is he a "Lord?"
Me: You mean Voldemort?
Bro: Yeah, why is he "Lord Voldemort?" He wasn't born a Lord.
Me: Um. I don't know. Maybe because if you're mean and powerful enough, you can demand people to call you anything you want.
Bro: Well then I want to be King.
Me: You can't be King. You have to be King of some country. You'd have better luck buying a title like "Duke."
Bro: I don't want to be a Duke. I want to be King. I'm going to make people call me King.
Me: Whatever dude.
Some days, I feel like our roles have reversed as we've gotten older. He's become the older sibling that I can go to for practical advice, the person who may not know everything about me now, but will always know the true me that will never change. Freckles and all.
And then there are conversations like this, reminding me he's still my silly younger brother who used to annoyingly follow me everywhere, whom I adore till the end of the world.
Of course if I ever told him that, he would just say "You're a big dork."
Me: You mean Voldemort?
Bro: Yeah, why is he "Lord Voldemort?" He wasn't born a Lord.
Me: Um. I don't know. Maybe because if you're mean and powerful enough, you can demand people to call you anything you want.
Bro: Well then I want to be King.
Me: You can't be King. You have to be King of some country. You'd have better luck buying a title like "Duke."
Bro: I don't want to be a Duke. I want to be King. I'm going to make people call me King.
Me: Whatever dude.
Some days, I feel like our roles have reversed as we've gotten older. He's become the older sibling that I can go to for practical advice, the person who may not know everything about me now, but will always know the true me that will never change. Freckles and all.
And then there are conversations like this, reminding me he's still my silly younger brother who used to annoyingly follow me everywhere, whom I adore till the end of the world.
Of course if I ever told him that, he would just say "You're a big dork."
Tuesday, January 09, 2007
Where To Go... Where To Go...
Last week, I reminded my boss once again "I'm taking a vacation in spring!" No less than 3 weeks. It's the minimum to feel like you really shook off the work dust. Of course last time I traveled for 3 weeks, I gave a year's notice and reminded him every month - he still gave me flack about it when I got back.
Anyway, two different travel opportunities have been presented to me and I am torn where I want to go. One of them is a 9 day hike to Machu Pichu, leaving early April. The link is a sample itinerary but I'm guessing it approximates the amount of hiking and roughing it this trip will entail. Though you spend half the time in nice hotels and the other half in "full service camping" type haciendas, my idea of a vacation usually does not involve "5-6 hours of daily strenuous hiking." This trip would be with some friends from my running group (very appropriate) and the idea of possibly losing weight on such an active vacation is somewhat enticing. On the same masochistic level of running. Did I mention we might get a discount from a friend of a friend?
On the other hand, my Bourgeoisy friend is planning a Caribbean cruise for May. This would be the polar opposite of the Machu Pichu trek. 9 days of wining and dining, sleeping and relaxing, reading, writing, shuffleboarding, gambling, snorkeling, and whatever other hedonistic things cruise goers do on the giant ship. Normally all of this would sound pretty nice but I'm wondering if I'll get bored. And claustrophobic. And above all, very very fat. But did I mention there is also a family and friend's discount on this one too?
Machu Pichu was one of the places on my list of places to go. But my idea of a vacation is still a mix of relaxing and eating while also walking around a city and exploring all day. I'm still keen on Spain and Portugal, dropping by Paris again. Or braving it to South Africa before the friends I met from there years ago forget me and I feel too inconsiderate to ask to stay with them.
Both trips are only 9 days long which means I have 12 extra days to go somewhere else before or after those trips, or split up the vacation days to go on a separate trip in the fall. My dilemma also lies in going on trips that aren't my first choices but with companions. Or going to places I really want to go and when I want to go but by myself. I haven't traveled with anyone in years. I miss having people to share those experiences with but wonder if I've gotten too independent. Either way, I'll have to decide soon!
Anyway, two different travel opportunities have been presented to me and I am torn where I want to go. One of them is a 9 day hike to Machu Pichu, leaving early April. The link is a sample itinerary but I'm guessing it approximates the amount of hiking and roughing it this trip will entail. Though you spend half the time in nice hotels and the other half in "full service camping" type haciendas, my idea of a vacation usually does not involve "5-6 hours of daily strenuous hiking." This trip would be with some friends from my running group (very appropriate) and the idea of possibly losing weight on such an active vacation is somewhat enticing. On the same masochistic level of running. Did I mention we might get a discount from a friend of a friend?
On the other hand, my Bourgeoisy friend is planning a Caribbean cruise for May. This would be the polar opposite of the Machu Pichu trek. 9 days of wining and dining, sleeping and relaxing, reading, writing, shuffleboarding, gambling, snorkeling, and whatever other hedonistic things cruise goers do on the giant ship. Normally all of this would sound pretty nice but I'm wondering if I'll get bored. And claustrophobic. And above all, very very fat. But did I mention there is also a family and friend's discount on this one too?
Machu Pichu was one of the places on my list of places to go. But my idea of a vacation is still a mix of relaxing and eating while also walking around a city and exploring all day. I'm still keen on Spain and Portugal, dropping by Paris again. Or braving it to South Africa before the friends I met from there years ago forget me and I feel too inconsiderate to ask to stay with them.
Both trips are only 9 days long which means I have 12 extra days to go somewhere else before or after those trips, or split up the vacation days to go on a separate trip in the fall. My dilemma also lies in going on trips that aren't my first choices but with companions. Or going to places I really want to go and when I want to go but by myself. I haven't traveled with anyone in years. I miss having people to share those experiences with but wonder if I've gotten too independent. Either way, I'll have to decide soon!
Monday, January 08, 2007
My Favorite San Francisco Day
As much as I love my attentive friend in SF, my favorite time during the holiday visit was the morning they left me to wander the city alone for a few hours. Nothing feels more like a vacation than wandering around a city center, visiting museums and snapping pictures. They dropped me off at the San Francisco Shopping Center (above picture) before heading to church. I walked through the Yerba Buena Gardens where I saw this funny sculpture of a downed boat.
With the hour and a half I had before meeting up with another friend for lunch, I hit the MOMA the way I always do. I took the elevator to the top floor, starting with the feature exhibit of Anselm Kiefer and, and slowly made my way down. I passed through the Edward Weston and Tina Modotti photography exhibit, finishing down in the modern collections from the early 1900's. Sprinklings of Picasso, Matisse, Pollack and others I haven't heard of wrapped up the 2nd floor.
My only complaint - blank canvases passing as contemporary art. I may not understand all contemporary art, but I'd like to think I'm more openminded than most. I often get bored at art films in museums, but I understand what the artists aspire to convey. However, when an artist just paints a canvas all white, all blue, all whatever color they choose, that's just plain lazy. Anything that requires paragraphs of explanation and interpretation from the curator is trying too hard. I've seen various blank canvases in contemporary museums around the world and every time, I think "they've gotten so lazy or egotistical they think 'yup, this is enough.'" At least paint a circle in the middle of it. Or add some stripes. Anything.
This is the entrance to Macy's. To me, this is a cooler piece of art than any blank canvas.
Sunday, January 07, 2007
Parallel Dimension
My sleeping schedule is all messed up. Yesterday, I didn't get out of my PJs till 7pm and finally went out at 10 to pick up my friend from the airport and get some dessert. With the whole cable service merger, I temporarily have oodles of movie channels and on demand, which means I watched countless movies, such as The Man In The Moon, a movie that I've wanted to see since it came out in 1991. It's the sweet film debut for Reese Witherspoon and let's just say, it makes me glad not to have a sister.
I stayed up late again but unfortunately had to wake up early to drive across town for my goddaughter's birthday party. They have these warehouses filled with jump houses, slides, various other activities, and a food room for kids parties, booked by the hour. The one we went to, Hullabaloo's Playhouse was far away, filled with 25 of my goddaughter's closest kiddie friends, all under 6, most of them around 3.
Other than my godson's elderly nanny, I was the only childless/unmarried person there. It felt like a parallel dimension where I didn't belong. Other than the 2 other friends I knew there, none of the parents talked to me. To be fair, I was still groggy and delirious for most of the party, stupefied that I was even there.
For most of my life, up to my mid-twenties, I was so good with kids. I'd be the one on the floor playing with all the children and pets while the rest of the adults talked. They trusted me, followed me around, and saw that I was still a child like them. It's what inspired me to go into children's book writing.
Somehow, a few years back, I started losing that ability to relate. Of course, the inspiration to write children's stories evaporated soon after. Now, I look at kids and I see exhaustion. I see more than 6 kids and I think how did I ever manage to teach a class of them for a summer? I love my godchildren but worry I won't be able to relate or do enough for them. Every time I spend more than 2 hours with them, I want to nap.
The ironic thing is my friends chose me to be the godmother of their kids years ago because I was the youngest one amongst our friends, the most childish one, the one who loved my goddaughter the most, and the one likeliest to not have my own kids. Someone who could continue to love their kids the most.
I stayed up late again but unfortunately had to wake up early to drive across town for my goddaughter's birthday party. They have these warehouses filled with jump houses, slides, various other activities, and a food room for kids parties, booked by the hour. The one we went to, Hullabaloo's Playhouse was far away, filled with 25 of my goddaughter's closest kiddie friends, all under 6, most of them around 3.
Other than my godson's elderly nanny, I was the only childless/unmarried person there. It felt like a parallel dimension where I didn't belong. Other than the 2 other friends I knew there, none of the parents talked to me. To be fair, I was still groggy and delirious for most of the party, stupefied that I was even there.
For most of my life, up to my mid-twenties, I was so good with kids. I'd be the one on the floor playing with all the children and pets while the rest of the adults talked. They trusted me, followed me around, and saw that I was still a child like them. It's what inspired me to go into children's book writing.
Somehow, a few years back, I started losing that ability to relate. Of course, the inspiration to write children's stories evaporated soon after. Now, I look at kids and I see exhaustion. I see more than 6 kids and I think how did I ever manage to teach a class of them for a summer? I love my godchildren but worry I won't be able to relate or do enough for them. Every time I spend more than 2 hours with them, I want to nap.
The ironic thing is my friends chose me to be the godmother of their kids years ago because I was the youngest one amongst our friends, the most childish one, the one who loved my goddaughter the most, and the one likeliest to not have my own kids. Someone who could continue to love their kids the most.
Saturday, January 06, 2007
The Change of Plans... For The Better
On Thursday night, I had planned to leave work early enough to watch the movie Children of Men with friends and also to avoid boy with foreign girlfriend so that I wouldn't have to decline drinks. Of course, I ended up working late, missing the movie, and bumping into him. Drink invitations were extended, but not having eaten any dinner yet made it much easier to decline drinks on an empty stomach.
Instead, I went over to SLY's where she heated up a homecooked meal for me and we decided to go watch The Painted Veil. It was a beautiful movie in every way - the 1920's period clothes, the settings in London and China, and most importantly, Edward Norton and Naomi Watt's acting which blew me away. Definitely a better alternative than getting drinks.
Instead, I went over to SLY's where she heated up a homecooked meal for me and we decided to go watch The Painted Veil. It was a beautiful movie in every way - the 1920's period clothes, the settings in London and China, and most importantly, Edward Norton and Naomi Watt's acting which blew me away. Definitely a better alternative than getting drinks.
Lazy Saturday Afternoon
It's a beautiful sunny day outside but I am still in my favorite flannel pajamas watching cartoons, all the backlogs of Foster's Home for Imaginary Friends that I've Tivoed. Finally, after weeks of fitful sleep, I slumbered from 3am to nearly 2pm, putting away the alarms and the phones. I amaze even myself with how much I can sleep.
I plan to drink vanilla green tea, watch cartoons and movies, read, munch on bon bons, and stay in my pajamas as long as possible. I'm going to pretend I'm still on Christmas vacation. Unfortunately a friend called and needed a ride from the airport late this evening so eventually I'll have to change and leave the house.
I plan to drink vanilla green tea, watch cartoons and movies, read, munch on bon bons, and stay in my pajamas as long as possible. I'm going to pretend I'm still on Christmas vacation. Unfortunately a friend called and needed a ride from the airport late this evening so eventually I'll have to change and leave the house.
Wednesday, January 03, 2007
Dust Settling
It's 3 days into the new year and the dust is still settling. Work is ramping up again and I still really don't care. The only thing the holiday break did for me was to make me want a longer vacation and SOON. It's amazing that my shoulders and back immediately started aching the first day back at work.
My brother is headed back for his final 6 months of business school tomorrow morning. The next time I see him, he'll be graduating with an MBA. An MBA that my dad had also hoped for me long long ago.
They all drove up tonight for dinner at Curry House and dessert at Beard Papas, and of course they had to comment on how small and cluttered my place was, how fat I was getting, etc. However, after telling me to "stop eating so much," Dad promptly asked "where's my cream puffs?" There's nothing sweeter than laughing at your parents with a sibling.
Yesterday, the boy in town with foreign girlfriend, had mentioned having a group of us meet for drinks Thursday night. I'm still on the fence about that. On one hand, would it look rude and blowing-them-off kinda thing or would it not matter since there's a group of people who were his usual friends that will be there? I haven't "met up for drinks" at a local bar since he moved away. It was never my thing, and never my friends though they were always friendly to me. Back then, I went along with him because I didn't mind being there nor being someone else for awhile. Now, it would feel out of place and odd to go revisit the past in a sense.
Finally, on another note, every December I look back on the year and go "oh my God, what have I done this year?!" Usually in the tone of "another year down the drain and what have I to show for it?" My pragmatic friend, the polar opposite, laughed when I told him that and said "Funny, but I ask myself the same thing every year end too! But more like Wow! What have I done this year?" In the tone of "look at all my accomplishments this year!" Inflection can be so powerful.
In the spirit of both our attitudes, I'm doing one more list. The list of goods and bads for 2006.
The Bad:
1) Continued boy angst, such as Mr. Dating Debacle
2) Burnt out from work
3) Straining an old dear friendship
4) Didn't get to travel out of the country
5) Random bouts of depression and weeping
6) Getting used to being 30 and knowing that I'm nowhere near being a together person
7) Spending a lot of money
The Good:
1) Surviving all the boy angst and possibly getting tougher (only time will tell)
2) Traveling nearly every month within the US
3) Starting this blog and writing a lot more
4) Getting a nice raise and not getting fired from work, despite my complaints
5) The friendships that did stick and the friends who were there for me
6) The realization that I'm actually learning from my experiences and a tad wiser
7) Spending a lot of money (or being able to spend a lot of money on nice things)
My brother is headed back for his final 6 months of business school tomorrow morning. The next time I see him, he'll be graduating with an MBA. An MBA that my dad had also hoped for me long long ago.
They all drove up tonight for dinner at Curry House and dessert at Beard Papas, and of course they had to comment on how small and cluttered my place was, how fat I was getting, etc. However, after telling me to "stop eating so much," Dad promptly asked "where's my cream puffs?" There's nothing sweeter than laughing at your parents with a sibling.
Yesterday, the boy in town with foreign girlfriend, had mentioned having a group of us meet for drinks Thursday night. I'm still on the fence about that. On one hand, would it look rude and blowing-them-off kinda thing or would it not matter since there's a group of people who were his usual friends that will be there? I haven't "met up for drinks" at a local bar since he moved away. It was never my thing, and never my friends though they were always friendly to me. Back then, I went along with him because I didn't mind being there nor being someone else for awhile. Now, it would feel out of place and odd to go revisit the past in a sense.
Finally, on another note, every December I look back on the year and go "oh my God, what have I done this year?!" Usually in the tone of "another year down the drain and what have I to show for it?" My pragmatic friend, the polar opposite, laughed when I told him that and said "Funny, but I ask myself the same thing every year end too! But more like Wow! What have I done this year?" In the tone of "look at all my accomplishments this year!" Inflection can be so powerful.
In the spirit of both our attitudes, I'm doing one more list. The list of goods and bads for 2006.
The Bad:
1) Continued boy angst, such as Mr. Dating Debacle
2) Burnt out from work
3) Straining an old dear friendship
4) Didn't get to travel out of the country
5) Random bouts of depression and weeping
6) Getting used to being 30 and knowing that I'm nowhere near being a together person
7) Spending a lot of money
The Good:
1) Surviving all the boy angst and possibly getting tougher (only time will tell)
2) Traveling nearly every month within the US
3) Starting this blog and writing a lot more
4) Getting a nice raise and not getting fired from work, despite my complaints
5) The friendships that did stick and the friends who were there for me
6) The realization that I'm actually learning from my experiences and a tad wiser
7) Spending a lot of money (or being able to spend a lot of money on nice things)
Tuesday, January 02, 2007
Eep!!!
That was the sound my brain made today when the universe decided to knock me on my ass and say "nope, not so fast, my friend. You ain't closing any books and moving on quite yet." The past week and a half has been a parade of boys from Christmas past, nearly all the ones I've dated or liked in the past few years, all coming out of the woodwork to shake my world up a bit. You wonder why I've been so reflective? This is why.
To be fair, I see two of them all the time. They are my crosses to bear for wading in the workplace dating pool. But about a week and a half ago, I saw the brother of the first boy I ever dated. The boy who told me that one of the reasons he liked being with me so much and didn't want to let go (though he was in the middle of a possible reconciliation with his ex unbeknownst to me) was because I was so innocent and optimistic at the time. Unscarred and unscathed from any real heartache, thinking the worst of people never even crossed my mind then. He found it "refreshing."
Then there was the boy from whom I fled. Not a proud moment by any means, but I think less contact meant less ruminating.
Today, there were two incidents. One, a voicemail from an old crush who may or may not have liked me back. Distance and job uncertainty proved to be a downfall but today I got a voicemail saying "it's nice to hear your voice again. Hope you had a good new years in SF and we'll have to catch up soon." Harmless, fun, and not too agonizing.
The second, literally walked up to my face. A boy whom I dated after "The One" had crushed me to tiny bits the first time around (there were a couple of rounds). Someone whom I knew wasn't right for me nor in it for the long term, but hey why not? He was nice to me, I genuinely liked him, and found him fascinating in the you're-nothing-like-me-at-all-and-I-could-never-introduce-you-to-my-family kind of way. I believed people described him as "surly." At least he wasn't a wimpy nice guy who hemmed and hawed so that I never knew exactly where I stood.
We dated for a summer until he moved out of the country in the fall and I thought I'd never see him again. Unfortunately I still heard about him sporadically from mutual friends who had no idea, telling me about his exploits and girls, right up until half a year later when he came back for a visit for our company party and I was drunk out of my mind from depression. I thought "OK, NOW I'll never see him again."
Surprise! He's back in town visiting with overseas girlfriend in town, all grown up, less lost and hopefully no longer searching for himself like I claimed he was when he first told me about his plans to leave the country. I must sadly admit that I tried to flee and hide again, thinking "Really what is the point? I prefer most boys from the past to stay in the past and drop off the face of the earth." It really is much easier that way.
Interestingly enough, he was the more mature one and came by to chat, give me a hug, introduce me to his sweet girlfriend, and bring by his dog I had loved so much. And then, at the oddest of times, I felt some hope for all those hapless boys out there. I was sincerely happy for him, pleased that he made the effort to stop by, closure beaming out like the rays of the sun. Even though it's not with me, (and it does seem that they seem to get their act together AFTER me. go figure.), at least some of them do grow up and get better. I can only hope I'm the lucky beneficiary of some other poor woman's heartaching finished product. The other circle of life.
To be fair, I see two of them all the time. They are my crosses to bear for wading in the workplace dating pool. But about a week and a half ago, I saw the brother of the first boy I ever dated. The boy who told me that one of the reasons he liked being with me so much and didn't want to let go (though he was in the middle of a possible reconciliation with his ex unbeknownst to me) was because I was so innocent and optimistic at the time. Unscarred and unscathed from any real heartache, thinking the worst of people never even crossed my mind then. He found it "refreshing."
Then there was the boy from whom I fled. Not a proud moment by any means, but I think less contact meant less ruminating.
Today, there were two incidents. One, a voicemail from an old crush who may or may not have liked me back. Distance and job uncertainty proved to be a downfall but today I got a voicemail saying "it's nice to hear your voice again. Hope you had a good new years in SF and we'll have to catch up soon." Harmless, fun, and not too agonizing.
The second, literally walked up to my face. A boy whom I dated after "The One" had crushed me to tiny bits the first time around (there were a couple of rounds). Someone whom I knew wasn't right for me nor in it for the long term, but hey why not? He was nice to me, I genuinely liked him, and found him fascinating in the you're-nothing-like-me-at-all-and-I-could-never-introduce-you-to-my-family kind of way. I believed people described him as "surly." At least he wasn't a wimpy nice guy who hemmed and hawed so that I never knew exactly where I stood.
We dated for a summer until he moved out of the country in the fall and I thought I'd never see him again. Unfortunately I still heard about him sporadically from mutual friends who had no idea, telling me about his exploits and girls, right up until half a year later when he came back for a visit for our company party and I was drunk out of my mind from depression. I thought "OK, NOW I'll never see him again."
Surprise! He's back in town visiting with overseas girlfriend in town, all grown up, less lost and hopefully no longer searching for himself like I claimed he was when he first told me about his plans to leave the country. I must sadly admit that I tried to flee and hide again, thinking "Really what is the point? I prefer most boys from the past to stay in the past and drop off the face of the earth." It really is much easier that way.
Interestingly enough, he was the more mature one and came by to chat, give me a hug, introduce me to his sweet girlfriend, and bring by his dog I had loved so much. And then, at the oddest of times, I felt some hope for all those hapless boys out there. I was sincerely happy for him, pleased that he made the effort to stop by, closure beaming out like the rays of the sun. Even though it's not with me, (and it does seem that they seem to get their act together AFTER me. go figure.), at least some of them do grow up and get better. I can only hope I'm the lucky beneficiary of some other poor woman's heartaching finished product. The other circle of life.
Monday, January 01, 2007
And Now, Back To Our Regularly Scheduled Programming...
Happy New Year!
For the past few days, I've committed the written equivalent of vomiting more than enough personal angst and sappy drama for a year. I've gotten it out of my system for all the world to read so that I can finally forge ahead for 2007. Or at least that's the plan anyway.
Until last year, I was never one for new year's resolutions. I preferred to make them in June, March, or whenever the fancy struck. It's such a boring grown-up thing to do. Plus I'll just break them anyway. Well, now I'm rebelling against my own rebellion and throwing them out there anyway.
Old resolutions to continue:
1) read a book a month
2) write consistently
3) exercise consistently
4) keep work and personal life as separate as possible (ha!)
5) write more letters and emails back to friends
6) plan my next big trip out of the country
7) pick up drawing again
New resolutions to try:
1) curb that monster appetite of mine to normal portions
2) be nicer and more patient with the parents, especially mom
3) get a better handle on my finances
4) clear off all that junk on my kitchen table and put it all away once and for all
5) update my resume and MAYBE send it out somewhere just for the hell of it
6) volunteer or mentor a student at my college alma mater
Alright, 13 is a nice odd number to end it on.
I'm not looking forward to leaving SF and going back to work tomorrow. Here, I've managed to write every night, watch a movie every night, eat well, bake cakes, play entertaining games, and nap in the car every time my friend and her husband drive me to and from the city. Strangely enough, I still haven't slept well, though it could be that all the tea and naps throughout the day may have exacerbated and jolted the swirls of thoughts in my brain into overdrive.
It's 2 hours into 2007 and all I see is a gigantic blank canvas for the marking. Let's just say I'm cautiously optimistic.
For the past few days, I've committed the written equivalent of vomiting more than enough personal angst and sappy drama for a year. I've gotten it out of my system for all the world to read so that I can finally forge ahead for 2007. Or at least that's the plan anyway.
Until last year, I was never one for new year's resolutions. I preferred to make them in June, March, or whenever the fancy struck. It's such a boring grown-up thing to do. Plus I'll just break them anyway. Well, now I'm rebelling against my own rebellion and throwing them out there anyway.
Old resolutions to continue:
1) read a book a month
2) write consistently
3) exercise consistently
4) keep work and personal life as separate as possible (ha!)
5) write more letters and emails back to friends
6) plan my next big trip out of the country
7) pick up drawing again
New resolutions to try:
1) curb that monster appetite of mine to normal portions
2) be nicer and more patient with the parents, especially mom
3) get a better handle on my finances
4) clear off all that junk on my kitchen table and put it all away once and for all
5) update my resume and MAYBE send it out somewhere just for the hell of it
6) volunteer or mentor a student at my college alma mater
Alright, 13 is a nice odd number to end it on.
I'm not looking forward to leaving SF and going back to work tomorrow. Here, I've managed to write every night, watch a movie every night, eat well, bake cakes, play entertaining games, and nap in the car every time my friend and her husband drive me to and from the city. Strangely enough, I still haven't slept well, though it could be that all the tea and naps throughout the day may have exacerbated and jolted the swirls of thoughts in my brain into overdrive.
It's 2 hours into 2007 and all I see is a gigantic blank canvas for the marking. Let's just say I'm cautiously optimistic.
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