My Thoughts Exactly...

I love bunnies. I love cartoons. I love this song. And as for the subject matter, so apropros. Sigh. Enough said.

Anger Issues

Don't judge me but I did something bad the other day. I keyed some woman's shiny silver Benz. Just a little bit.

I've always wanted to do something like that, talked about it many times after several encounters with rude drivers. But it was always just talk. That day, something snapped inside of me. Maybe it was years of frustration with doing the right thing and feeling that life was really just that unfair. Or maybe it was some latent rebellious streak striking out at the one millionth customer. Who knows. I think I'm just going to blame it on hormones.

Let me back up and explain. I was at one of those ubiquitous Chinese shopping plazas near my parents' house, stopping off to run an errand. I waited patiently for a couple to get into their car and pull out of their spot in the busy parking lot, my signal light flashing for all to see. Unfortunately, as their car pulls out, a shiny silver Benz pulls forward from the other side to take their spot. Completely irrational as she had a spot on the other side - no need to pull forward like that, especially as I was waiting there, gesturing to her to indicate this fact. Instead, the beeyotch stares at me, then shuts off the car and ignores me. To top it off, someone else has already pulled in behind her to take the other spot so that I'll have to continue to circle the lot.

After I found another spot, surprisingly near her car, I couldn't help sticking out my key near my hips as I brushed by her car. Call it a moment of devilish weakness as my id took over and knocked the ego over its head momentarily. She'll probably never notice it and likely has more than enough money to buff it out. She fit the mode of middle aged spoiled Asian housewife. Yes, sometimes the stereotypes are true. Asian women can't drive. Asian drivers are rude. And women are crazy. Especially nicely repressed Asian women. Have a nice day!

Hours and Hours of Music Therapy

There's no getting around it. November was a sh*t month. And soon it will be time to do the annual year end reflection on whether or not the year leaned toward sh*t half empty or sh*t half full. Did I mention that my vocabulary has become atrocious this year too?

On a bright note, after yet another gut wrenching argument with the bf, I slunk over to my brother's so that we could catch the KROQ Almost Acoustic Christmas concert at the Gibson Amphitheater at Universal Studios. This is a concert I've been trying on and off for 15 years to get tickets. I've stood in line for hours outside Tower records, called in repeatedly, and jumped on the Ticketmaster website the minute tickets were released for sale. I've never come close.

My brother, however, is blessed by magical concert fairies and managed to get tickets the second year in a row.

We got rained on when we left, but the hours and hours of music, along with some quality time with my brother really salvaged the night and pretty much this week. I had to admit, the first hour during the bands Vampire Weekend and Snow Patrol, I had to rein in some rogue tears every so often when my mind wandered over to sadder matters. But by the time we stepped out for some grub during the not so great Scott Weiland set (he of Stone Temple Pilots and Velvet Revolver fame), and returned to a lively Franz Ferdinand set, my brain was succumbing to the infectious ambiance and tunes.

While riding the wave of happy music, all of a sudden the surprise guest showed up. My brother looked up and said, "that sounds like Kanye...OMG it's Kanye West!" The guy was so cool, it didn't even matter that he was playing to a alternative rock crowd. He's probably so confident, he's thinking "hell yeah, hiphop, rap, alternative rock... whatever. Put me in front of a bunch of senior citizen Neil Diamond fans, and watch me work that crowd! I transcend demographics."

Paramour and Death Cab for Cutie were just as enjoyable, but the main act - the one my brother really came for was The Killers. I loved this band the first time I ever heard them on stage at the KROQ Weenie Roast concert more than 7 years ago. Now, they're one of the biggest acts and all their tunes are super catchy. I mean come on, are we human or are we dancer?

My favorite Killers song of all time - to listen to, sing aloud, and play guitar hero/rock band for is When You Were Young. Not only do I personally interpret the song's lyrics to describe one of my own follies - having idealistic sweep-me-off-my-feet notions and then falling flat on my face - the music video is so nicely done that it manages to tell a real emotional story in about five minutes time.

Finally, the band I stayed all the way till the end for, a band I never thought I'd ever hear live singing songs I used to listen to on cassettes - The Cure - opened with Pictures of You and I nearly died and went to heaven. I think that song came out when I was 10. But mainly I got into The Cure during the high school and college angst years, thanks to UBBF and other more musically savvy high school friends. I looked around and figured a good amount of the crowd wasn't even born when the Disintegration album came out and then I felt old. (On a side note, I also felt bitter, jaded, and old when I saw the young couple in front of me smooch, hug and make out all through the concert and I could keep thinking was "oh puhleeze, go get a room!"

Luckily my brother understood my need to see this band and stayed till I was ready to go. He may not have understood why The Cure sounded good to me or anyone else, but he understood that it was something I needed to do. For now, my concert going is complete. I have seen almost everyone I've ever wanted to see. And for now, I'm on a music high which will hopefully carry me through the night until I deal with reality tomorrow.

Things I've Found to Be True

Some are cliches, some are bits of advice from friends, and others are just so.

- Things can only get better once you hit rock bottom
- There is no such thing as loyalty from companies to their employees
- A bad job situation can destroy your self worth if you let it
- Relationships are f***ing hard work
- Boyfriends may come and go, but your friends will always be there for you
- No one can fix you except yourself

What Happened to Normal and Happily Ever After?

Do people sneer at those two things like the Fox and the Sour Grapes - because they're unattainable? Lately, I've never felt further from either of them. Not that I was ever in the vicinity of normal in terms of conforming to a standard. But one definition of normal seems to be "free of mental disorder: sane." And I'm not even sure I conform to that definition anymore.

Is it normal to cry so uncontrollably that you can't quite make it to work in the morning or explain to your bf why you are so worked up? Is it normal to get so depressed and flattened by your boss and your job that you start tying in your self worth as a person to your performance at work? Or is it normal to sometimes have so little faith in people or yourself that you just constantly expect the worse?

I'm so tired. And recovering from yet another cold, which doesn't help the mental anguish. I'm hoping this is rock bottom for now and that all that therapy will help. I'm hoping I won't need drugs to stop the crying. And I'm hoping a car runs over my boss tomorrow. Kidding. Kind of.

A Sad Whimper to the End of the Work Week

This week, work has soundly kicked me in the ass all up and down Monday through Friday. I still haven't had my review, but maybe it's for the best as god only knows what might come out of my mouth.

Highlights from the work week include:
- Artists on my projects blowing every possible deadline
- Mr. DD in full beeyotch mode, not only being extremely unappreciative but actually giving me attitude about work he's SUPPOSED to do. I'm nor sure if I've ever hated him more
- Making an artist cry (a girl, though it would have been interesting to have made a boy cry)
- Plenty of "what went wrong?" meetings - I'm starting to feel like a failure here...

Now, it's raining cats and dogs. Like thunderstorming. And as much as I love rain, I'm actually still quite frightened of lightning and thunder, a silly childhood fear I never kicked. And I realized I don't know who I could call or if I have anyone in particular to call who could comfort me at this hour. Silly I know, but still sad. I think I'll just try to go to bed early and end this week once and for all.

The annual fall breakdown

It must be cyclical. I have been feeling so worn down and unable to sleep well the past two weeks, plagued by work dreams and a brain that won't shut off long after my head has hit the pillow and the covers are pulled up to my neck.

Maybe it's the weather change. I woke up on Monday and felt the chill in the air and in my head I screamed out in exuberance. "Fall is here!" Unfortunately, it means being chilled to the bone, achiness, swollen glands, and sitting on the precipice of illness.

Maybe it's the stress of the annual work review. Which has been postponed to possibly tomorrow and about a month late. Which I don't even feel up to par for battle as all projects are in full swing and kicking my ass everyday. Not to mention certain artists driving me nuts and not being very nice or appreciative. It hasn't happened in awhile, but today I wanted to cry like a girl for no reason at all as I drove home.

Cloudy With a Chance of Meatballs

This was a children's book I loved as a kid - a perfectly whimsical and odd title that often describes my mood forecast. Good and bad and weird all combined together. It started off as a decently good day. Then it launched into weird when my fellow coworker and I suddenly started venting about our control-mongering boss and went out for a nice lunch outdoors at a lovely cafe. She tended to be closer to him since they worked together long before I was thrown under his wings after my former boss fled the company in not-so-good circumstances. So it feels even better to know that even she is angry and frustrated with his used car salesman ways.

The bad happened late in the afternoon, suddenly and surprisingly. One of the guys IMed me out of the blue to tell me that Mr. DD was going snowboarding. Rage surfaced from I don't know where and I wanted to yell "Why the hell are you telling me? I HATE HIM. I don't want to know what he's doing on his 'sabbatical' nor hear about him having fun." And of course, I couldn't and didn't say anything except "Hope he doesn't break anything."

Wow, nearly a year later, I can still rage for no good reason at all, stunning even myself. I really didn't and don't think I hate him at all. It put me in an uncomfortable and foul mood the rest of the evening knowing that I'm still affected and nothing seemed to make me feel better at home. Nothing looked good to watch on TV. Most foods made me feel nauseous. So I had some steamed dumplings and bubbly juice, hoping it's not that flu/virus going around work that's making me feel ill. Maybe I just not to sleep. A lot. And the distraction of choice? The Wire Season Two DVDs. Who knew that this show about Baltimore cops, drug dealers, and smugglers would be the perfect enjoyable escape. Here we go again...

Detox

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

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

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

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

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

Blubbering

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

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

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.

On Being A Hater and An Outsider

The work friends are catching on. After nearly three years of working alongside some of them, they know that beneath the smiley, friendly, calm facade, I'm truly a hater. One of them picked up an Oscar the Grouch t-shirt for me at Comicon last weekend. "For those days when you want people to leave you alone at work," he said. "It'll go right along with your Happy Bunny 'Not Listening' t-shirt."

Since I'm up to 5, possibly 6 projects right now, I went into work yesterday to catch up on reports, emails, schedules... all those tedious things I can sit down and do while listening to my Ipod without someone coming up to me every 15-20 minutes. One of the supervisors shuffled over, all happy that I was there working on his project and updating his ridiculous powerpoint book. I told him time and time again, that powerpoint was not a production friendly shot tracking system, but he insisted on using it.

"Are you guys going to actually use this?" I warily asked.
"Oh yeah, we're definitely going to! I'm going to print the whole thing out" he answered.
"You better use it, or else I'm going to use it to throw at people." I grumbled.

Besides feeling like I'm slowly going crazy from not being able to sleep the past few weeks due to the obnoxious heat, work is cranking my grumpiness levels to an all time high, while my productivity level and brain activity is pretty darn low. Last night was also the second annual farewell party for my old boss and her husband. Though he'd continue to work offsite for our company, they were moving to Texas, where they could actually afford to buy a freestanding home.

I was pretty burned out from large groups of people in general, much less more work people. But I hitched a ride to the house party and settled into a nice lawn chair in the backyard for the rest of the night. As I watched crowds of people swirl about, I felt like we were back in high school. The popular kids were all sitting at the picnic table - beautiful blond mememe talkers and the boys who loved them. The smokers stood off to the right chuckling about manly things, whereas I sat with the few quiet loners in the middle, leaning back in our lawn chairs, occasionally making conversation with passerbys, observing all the quaint interaction.

I also realized that I was the only Asian at this shindig. Not a big deal, but it felt like a rare first since the days of going to elementary school in Phoenix. Most of the time I don't think of race - I even forget that I'm Asian. Not in the whole I'm totally whitewashed kinda way, but more in the it's no big deal manner. I take it for granted that most of my closest friend are Asian-American and that in Los Angeles, I blend.

I'm more American than most of the company since we have people from all over the world working there. The last few guys I've dated or have been interested in have all been non-Asians. But it's the little things that remind me from time to time that I look different from everyone else. The innocent questions regarding my background and my culture. We have a handful of Asians from other countries at the company, but I'm truly the only Asian-American there. It seems to amuse them.

By midnight, many people were calling it a night. I hitched a ride back to work with my favorite loner and could feel the curious and the gossipy high schoolers raising their eyebrows as we walked out together. Just another typical night being around the work peeps.

Things That Made Me Sad Today

Seeing the Ford Freestyle Commercial on NBC tonight. A family plays at the beach, hangs out together all day, then at the end of the day, the Dad steps out of the Ford Freestyle and thanks the Mom for inviting him along to hang out with the kids. He hugs the kids and says "See ya next weekend." An example of a healthy divorce, but when is divorce (with kids) ever not sad?

Reading this quote by Sheryl Crow in Us Weekly. "In many ways, it's like having part of your life amputated and you still have that phantom itch... I'll see something and I'll think, Oh, I gotta make sure Lance is hip to this band... Oh wait, that's not my life [anymore]." On being single after breaking up with fiance Lance Armstrong. Good metaphor. That's how I feel about people I've lost in my life.

Is This Normal?

Have you seen those commercials on TV for some new depression study? Or maybe it's a new drug... Anyway, it asks "where does depression hurt?" And without waiting for the answer, I answered "Everywhere." the first time I heard it. That ended up being the correct answer.

Depression fascinates me because it's like a secret club. You don't want to reveal it to just anybody - they might not understand it. They might become scared of you or uncomfortable around you. But once you find people who have been affected by it, you want to inundate them with questions.

My mom's favorite brother committed suicide at this age. 30. For most of my life, we were told that he died of cancer. As the years went by, more information came out. He suffered from depression. He was depressed over a girl. He couldn't cope.

And then the pattern came out. My grandfather was an alcoholic. He was depressed from losing all his money in the stock market. He couldn't cope. Eventually he died from liver cancer.

I scare myself and my closest friends when I get in my moods, which seem to have worsened in the past few years, thanks to a couple of bad experiences. Right now, I feel fine. I can't even imagine being that sad ever, even though I spent most of last year wallowing in the pit of despair and recently visited the pit only 2 months ago.

But when it hits, it's like the flu. I'm down, and I'm down hard. I can't imagine ever being hopeful or truly happy again. I feel purposeless and shut down. If it's bad, I reach out to my closest friends to talk. If it's really bad, I can't even bear to talk to or see anyone for days because even I'm sick of myself and the whole spontaneously breaking into tears thing.

If I'm feeling particularly lucid in my wallowing, I'll ask close friends to help me gauge "is this normal?" "I opened up a gift from a friend trying to cheer me up and I broke into tears. Is this normal?" "So-and-so snapped at me when I asked him a question, and I wanted to leave work and cry? Is THAT normal?"

I've met people who had to take depression medication, although for a limited amount of time. I'm pretty sure I don't need it at this point because bad as it gets, in the back of my mind, I know eventually I will be ok - purely because I seem to have gotten out of it before. Even if I'm feeling hopeless, there is a blind faith in that light at the end of the tunnel even if it takes months or a year. Until I physically can't snap out of it, I just have to suck it up and get tougher.

Recently, a coworker friend of mine revealed that he's been on depression/anxiety medication for about a decade now. I was shocked. He's always been the most pleasant, happy, and calm person I know at work. It throws my world upside down to know that he relies on those drugs to help him stay that way.

The flipside is that now that I know, he has no qualms telling me about his new medication or constantly checking to see if I'm ok. (Do depressed people sniff out other depression inclined people?) He knows my calm facade is just that - a facade. And now it makes me uncomfortable. And slightly scared to be around him too much for fear that he'll want to keep talking about it. Man, I suck. Is THAT normal?

Moodiness

I've been in a mood. It might be from lack of sleep for the past oh... 4 weeks, but I'm definitely cranky, bratty, gloomy and all around hating a lot. Especially at work. So at lunch, I went off to eat by myself and do some more writing. The type of writing where I drag out the dark thoughts and throw them on paper.
The beauty of this blog is that I've gotten all the random thoughts out of my head. I have another one where I chat about love and relationships with friends. But the darkest, most neurotic, and pathetically morbid thoughts that scare even me, those go in the private handwritten journal. No need to frighten the masses.
To cheer myself up, I hit up the Coffee Bean and strolled over to the Barnes and Nobles to pick up a couple of books, even though I still have about a dozen in my possession that I haven't read. I like to buy fleeting happiness, as my brother would say.
Picked up Cracks in My Foundation by Marian Keyes, The May Queen, and the latest Nick Hornby book, A Long Way Down. The first two were recommendations from friends and the Hornby book, well, it just looked interesting because it was about four different people who try to jump off a building on new year's eve and end up changing their minds.
The May Queen, a compilation of essays from famous women writing about life in their 30's, was placed in the women's studies section. I thought that was odd, but I guess it's because it's nonfiction essays? Anyway, curiosity nearly sucked me into all the feminist literature in that section. Classic titles like The Feminine Mystique, Backlash, The Beauty Myth.... I've always been fascinated by feminist theory, but to me it's a slippery slope. No need to make myself angry and jaded, on top of the gloominess!