Here Come the Singles

Last night, I went along with SC Homey, Polar Opposite and another random friend to a "Singles Mixer" - those parties hosted by very generous, event-planning-loving people. The idea is to balance out the numbers so the one requirement is to bring another single of the opposite sex with you, thus the random friend. Pre-party, the four of us joined Hungry Monster and her boyfriend for some good ole greasy fried chicken dinner at Honey's Kettle Fried Chicken. As we walked in the door, he good-naturedly exclaimed "Hey, it's the singles!" And that pretty much summed up the feeling of the party for me.

I tried, really I did. But I remembered why I didn't like these types of parties and how the last time we went to this particular one a year or two ago, we had left early and gotten some coffee instead. From the get go, I had developed a dislike for the random friend within 5 minutes of meeting him. I am that much of a hater. Luckily, only Polar Opposite picked up on this. (Dammit, I thought I had gotten better at hiding my feelings towards people.)

When we got to the party itself, held in the host's lovely apartment home, I also remembered that yup, I'm still pretty socially awkward when it comes to a crowd of people I don't know, especially when it's a crowd with an agenda and everyone knows why there's a pink elephant in the room.

For the few hours we were there, I did manage to leave my friends' side and talk to a couple of people. There was the fellow animation industry guy who came up to about my nose and turned around to sit down on the sofa and talk to some other more scantily clad girl after we finished out conversation. And there was a very pleasant recording engineer guy, who studied classical guitar, participated in triathlons, but also deemed "possibly gay" by SC Homey.

Halfway through the night, my high school friend, Shrewlady and her boyfriend showed up to crash the party, along with some mutual friends from college. Pleasantly unexpected for both of us, I blew their cover but we all had a good time chatting. It suddenly became just a party where you're chatting with old friends instead of a "singles party" where you're painfully trying to make conversation with strangers and assess if they're crazy.

By midnight, I was ready to leave. (Well, actually the thought crossed my mind to walk home after I was there for fifteen minutes). Of course, the most successful participant of our little group, was the random friend. The one I found annoying and slightly obnoxious? He was surrounded by a group of girls chatting him up, and we had to sit and wait around for him.

At 1 AM , we finally made it out of there and all I wanted to do was crawl into bed, read, and get a good night's sleep. I turned down a late night meal and recap at our local hip diner with the group (much to SC Homey's surprise. She's usually the one who sleeps by 11pm and never stays out late.) and did just that, with no crazy dreams to plague me.

Social Etiquette in the Cellular Age

I ran across this hilarious Helio ad booklet in a magazine and had to share. These are my two favorite pages.The reading between the lines for Coworker... ah it explains so much now....

Heat, Sunset Junction, Old Faces, New Faces

After yet another grueling workout Saturday morning, and a lovely home cooked meal (I started craving fresh food so was forced to cook) I awakened from my nap feeling hot, parched and overall grumpy from my apartment's lack of insulation and air-conditioning. What's a girl to do? I hid out at the neighborhood mall enjoying the controlled climate and temperature until it was time to meet up with Polar Opposite in the late afternoon.

Though I wasn't too familiar with their music, I decided to tag along with Polar Opposite and his ex (since he is my polar opposite, HE actually stays great friends with his exes) to see Blonde Redhead at the annual Sunset Junction Street Fair. "See" wouldn't be an accurate description. We heard their music and maybe I got a brief glimpse or two of how the band looked like when the mass of giants who stood in front of me cocked their heads to the side for a moment. It was nearly impossible to enjoy the concert among the throngs of people packed into these two streets, smoking, talking, milling about just to be there and not for the concert.

It took all my self-control to not just bust out of there and go "guys, see ya later. I can't handle this. I'm gonna wait over there." At first, I was afraid of becoming an old crankasaurus before my time, but felt much better when Polar Opposite and his friends complained of the unbearableness of it all afterwards. Phew. It's not just me becoming more particular about crowds...

I do wish I brought my camera though, as Sunset Junction was filled with the most diverse crowd I had ever seen, along with the most tattooed group of people I had encountered. We were probably unique in that none of us possessed any ink on our bodies.

Out of the blue, in that crazy mass of people, I saw a cute boy who reminded me of someone I once knew at the mouse eared company. And then I realized it WAS that same boy I once knew years ago when I saw his tattoo and remembered clearly how he was the one who started me on this unhealthy fascination with tattoos, the reasons behind them, and the boys who wear them.

I tapped him on the shoulder and said his name. He turned around, answered "yes?" and looked at me blankly. I asked him if he had worked at the mouse-eared company and he said years ago. I told him who I was and he had clearly forgotten. He was back in art school which is what he been saving up to do. I congratulated him on that and he still looked at me fuzzily, comprehending that we had been more than just passing acquaintances with polite conversation, but unable to retrieve that part of his memory. He apologetically explained he had had a few drinks, then said "well I have to find my friends." and shuffled off. His friends behind him smiled at me and moved on. And I thought, "Wow, I'm glad he's doing well and looking good." And then "Damn, my tastes haven't changed in years."

We rounded off the night with dinner at Cha Cha Cha's , a Caribbean restaurant close by, and heartily discussed Polar Opposite's coworker's love life. The coworker had filled his new Iphone with pictures of the girls he was dating/juggling and wanted to get the ex's and my impressions on these potentials. This was fun purely because 1) I didn't him know very well nor any of those girls at all, 2) he had been a serial monogamist all his life and only now dating multiple people for the first time and 3) he was genuinely a nice guy just blessed with a lot of girls interested in him. It was refreshing to not judge, feel bad for the girls as I tend to do, and just be one of the guys, chiming in on whether each one looked like "trouble" or "crazy." Sometimes it does seem easier to be a guy.

Friends For Life, Fifty To Life

Work has swallowed me whole again. And when I'm not working, I've taken up residence at the gym thanks to a trainer I signed up with at the Y. It helps keep me accountable to working out no matter how tired I am. It also gives me an excuse to leave by a certain time after working all day with the bunch of monkeys I'm surrounded with.

Today in particular, I was thisclose to strangling one with my bare hands. And you have to know it does take a lot to rile me up at work. When I vented to Wavy over IM about it, she was ever the resourceful advisor.

"May I suggest rope?" she responded. "I watched CSI and they said using your bare hands would likely leave fingerprints."

I have awesome friends.

Some Things, You Just Can't Shake

Today, 8/8 is supposed to be a lucky day in Chinese culture. But it was a crappy day of work. Which started when I overslept and woke up at ten till 11 after ten hours of nonstop dreaming ABOUT work. I woke up more exhausted than ever.

And then in the midst of all the crappiness, I get this from The Boy who was the one, who moved away, who got married... Second IM this week. Guess he's back from his honeymoon.

Boy: W
Boy: are you going to talk to me any more since I moved?
Boy: :-I

I don't know what to do. It breaks my heart to keep ignoring him though I know I'm invisible to him on IM - yet he keeps trying. It's against my nature to just drop someone without explanation and to be a bad friend who doesn't stay in touch with the other person when they make the appropriate amount of effort. Yet, there's really only 3 choices here:

1) continue ignoring
2) respond back and keep up the charade
3) come clean and explain "Dude, you broke my heart. Do you not get it? Do you not understand that this is a broken, damaged version of me that you keep kicking in the shins every time you want to be my friend?"

Perhaps #3 is a bit too dramatic and unnecessary.

Wavy suggested responding back curtly, telling him that I'm busy with work. (Which is kinda the truth really.) And that after a few times of this, he'd get the message and it would be a natural devolution of the friendship. But that feels mean to me too and also along the lines of being a bad friend. "Arghhhhh!" I want to yell. "Look at what you're making me do!! You're making me into a 'bad friend!!!!!'"

Simpsons Me

On the Simpsons movie site, you can create the Simpsons version of yourself. Or of anyone else you like. Almost as fun as creating Miis on the Wii!

Wavy says that she's seen this exact expression on my face before. Oh, and yes I definitely own red shoes.

We'll see if some of the artists can sneak in the Simpsons versions of ourselves as background characters into our latest project.

Enjoying This Day and Age and More Summer Movies!

It took months, but Princess and I finally finished watching West Side Story for the first time Friday night. It was entertaining, though long, and I don't know why I never watched it as a child. I've certainly seen The Sound of Music no less than twenty times. We were both surprised that the song "Somewhere" was actually from this movie and not Barbra Streisand. We were also quite entertained by the dark pancake makeup they used to make the actors look Puerto Rican. Being raised here in LA as a second generation kid, sometimes I forget how dating outside your race is intolerable and taboo for the older generation and perhaps still in several parts of the world. It just seems so silly to me when you look at the big picture now.

On Saturday, I met Ballet Dancer at the Arclight Theaters. It was my first time there and despite the pain of actually getting through the traffic to Hollywood and the insane parking lot, I would definitely go there again. It's what a movie experience should be - reserved seating, cleanliness, attentive staff who introduce each movie and personally request people to turn off phones and refrain from talking, AND stand in the wings throughout the whole movie to make sure temperature, sound, EVERYTHING runs smoothly. Not to mention a very nice theater with comfy stadium seating, crisp screens and sound buffering from the typical action movie next door.

We watched Becoming Jane, which is right up our alley. However, I'm usually one for happy endings. Though I knew in the back of my mind that Miss Jane Austen died young as a spinster, although a successful novelist, I couldn't help but hope that the movie would give her a happy ending with her true love. Because I'm just a sap that way. I was a bit sad afterwards for her, and again marveled at how horrible it was for people, especially women back then, when money and property meant everything to a good marriage. Again, I take that for granted in this day and age but I also do wonder if I'll end up like her and whether that's so bad?

Finally, on Sunday, after an early morning (ack!) adventurous yoga session with Jigaho and brunch with our friends, a bunch of us caught The Bourne Ultimatum. I've always loved Matt Damon despite the whole dumping of his girfriend on national television (talk about not handling a breakup smoothly) and I loved the Jason Bourne series. The movies are always intelligent, fast paced, intriguing, and fun to watch. This third one in the series is no exception. In fact, I think it's better than the second one because it has more of an emotional hook to it, without losing any of the pacing. Definitely recommended! I hope they make more!

Oh I also caught the movie Sunshine a week ago, a small sci-fi thriller from Danny Boyle- he of Trainspotting and 28 Days Later fame. I was drawn in by the crazy improbable premise, a bunch of astronauts traveling to the sun to deliver a nuclear bomb to the core and reignite the star before it dies out, and by its diverse international cast. Of course, I can't give an accurrate review of it as I saw the last thirty minutes hunched in the corner of my seat with my hands over my face. Erm, I'm a bit of a scaredy cat and though this isn't a horror flick, it's quite tense and some crazy stuff happens as the movie concludes. Still, I would objectively say it's a good movie and if you like that sort of stuff, definitely go support it.

How I Know I Have A Bad Pattern

Me telling UBBF about the 5 Minute Crush , went something like this.

UBBF: So do you see him all the time?

Me: No, he lives too far away.

U: Oh, do you chat with him?

M: Nope, no IMing.

U: Well, do you guys chat at work?

M: No, we don't work together.

U: Oh, well I guess that makes things a little harder. What about lunches?

M: Uh, he doesn't work here.

U: Wait, he doesn't work at your company?

M: Haha, no. Novel isn't it?

U: Ohhhhhhhh.......

The 5 Minute Crush

After spending a whole day with him, I was slightly smitten. He was nice, normal, socially functional... after all this time, I hardly know what to do with a guy, much less a nice normal one. So it was just refreshing to have met him in the first place.

He was a classmate/friend of a friend, so I at least knew he wasn't a serial killer. At a series of parties, we ran into each other. There were sporadic emails. And finally, since I was in his neighborhood last weekend, we met for lunch and I invited him along to a friend's housewarming party.

Throughout the whole day, we chatted. We talked about our families, our jobs, long distance relationships, music, games... Did I mention that he's the only Frenchman I've met that doesn't tolerate smoking, pays for lunch, has wine handy for housewarming gifts, and also plays the piano and played some songs for me? He also managed to make conversation with tons of strangers and enjoy himself at the party. Something I'm not so sure I could do with ease. I was thoroughly impressed.

The first two days afterwards, you kind of hold your breath and wonder, "will he write, will he call?" And then with each passing day, as you see the lack of email from the email address you want, it starts waning. The old me would have conjured up excuses. "He's probably busy with work. Maybe I should write? Maybe it's my turn again?" Maybe he's shy? Maybe he's in the hospital with some horrible illness!" Now, it's more like "OK. Well then I guess we're done here." No use pining. If he was interested enough, he'd make the effort. And really that's all there is to it.

Must Be a Martyr Complex

UBBF recently sent me this article on women who fall for jerks. As entertaining and logical as it was, it got me thinking. Yes, I do fall in some of those patterns, yes I like taking care of people, and yes even if there's a glimpse of hope for salvation, I'll hold onto it like a mouse to cheese. I think I'm getting better at recognizing this and shaking it, but it often led to tough love from other friends.

Such as the time Wavy bought this book for me as a joke Christmas gift, in the waning days of the great Boy depression of 2005. Unfortunately it was too soon and when I unwrapped the gift, I gasped and maybe squeaked, not unlike the sound my old dog would make when one of us accidentally stepped on his paw when he tried to run in between our legs.

I never read the book -it was just too painful - but lent it to several other friends for perusal. It kind of leers at me from the bookshelf, in it's bright obnoxious pink cover. It taunts me and dares me to read it but I'm not sure anymore if it's just a reminder of a bad time in my life or if I'm past being lectured to by some stand-up comedian about common sense. Until I decide what to do with this book and whether I'll ever read it, I moved it to another bookshelf away from my frequent line of sight. And put some cute little toys in front of it.

No Good TV = Much More Reading

Other than last weekend's marathon that was Harry Potter, my appetite for books has been voracious of late, more likely due to the elimination of TV distraction. Since I seem to have ADD sometimes, I'm in the middle of quite a few books, not to mention whatever magazines capture my fancy at the bookstores or grocery checkout lines...

Blankets is a graphic novel I actually finished in one night while babysitting/housesitting two Fridays ago. I can't get enough of Craig Thompson's work. His very personal stories and illustrations are simply amazing. I read Goodbye, Chunky Rice over Christmas and can't wait for his next book. I almost feel like a groupie in that I want to go up to Portland and meet him, so that I can tell him in person how great his stuff is.

One of my favorite authors is Karen Brichoux. I guess her books would qualify as chick lit, but I think her stories and writing style elevate her books from the usual lighter and fluffier fare. I recently finished her latest one, Falling Into The World, which deals with a girl putting her life on hold to take care of her invalid father. The premise doesn't sound light at all, but her thoughts and the reappearance of her "wild " runaway sister shakes up her life a bit. I'm just extremely fond of the mood Brichoux creates and the way the language flows in her books.

I started but haven't finished two different compilations. One is The May Queen, which I bought last year. I always forget about it because it's tucked underneath by bedside table. Based on Misocrazy's recommendation, I also started Good Luck Life, a book that provides more of the background on those crazy fun things we do in our culture for holidays, superstitions, and traditions. I lent it to my brother last weekend and he said it was pretty much a lot of common sense things we already knew but never questioned.

Finally, I started another compilation with a hilarious title. The Bigger the Better, The Tighter the Sweater. It contains personal essays and stories dealing with all the body issues women grow up with, told from the point of view of twenty-one different women. One of my dear friends contributed a story to the book, so I attended her book reading and had her autograph my copy.

Lots of good stuff to read, and still more unread books sitting in my shelf as always. At least I have until fall when the new TV season starts...

The Sacrifices of A Girl

At lunch the other day, I mentioned the great sacrifice of 2007. Cutting off cable TV. All the guys at the table didn't understand why.

"It was too expensive," I told them. "I'm only paying forty-four dollars a month for my thirteen channels and cable modem connection now."

"No HD?" one asked.

"No shark week on discovery channel?" another pondered.

"It's only a hundred and ten dollars a month, including internet, " the third one said.

"Listen, I gotta buy shoes, people," I explained.

"I only buy a pair of new shoes once a year," one confessed.

"I'm a girl," I reminded them. "I love shoes."

"Oh right. Well, you do always have the nicest shoes," the other admitted.

"Then it's all worth," I silently smiled to myself.

The Walls Are Still Too Thin

My wannabe dancer/singer/actor neighbor had been AWOL for a couple months. And I didn't even realize it (or care) until our other neighbor asked if I had seen her in awhile. I just assumed that 1) she had a new boyfriend and was staying there all the time or 2) maybe got a gig somewhere out of town? Either way, I figured she wasn't dead in her apartment. I was enjoying the peace and quiet.

Well she's back. At 2am a couple of weeks ago, I heard the familiar slam of her front door, and the incessant talking in the bathroom to her cats or on the phone has started up again. And I believe there's a new boyfriend. And a whole lot of screaming tonight. Sigh.

Mind (and Appetite) of a Child

I have the appetite of an eight year old but stuck with the metabolism of a thirty-one year old. It's all pretty unfortunate. At our work, we have free catered lunches every other Friday and I remember suggesting a kid's themed lunch for one of the Fridays. You know, hot dogs, corn dogs, JELLO, chicken nuggets, fruit punch... that kinda stuff. The office manager looked at me as if I were criminally insane.

Like the gazillions of other kids and adults around the globe, I embarked on the ten hour marathon of reading the last Harry Potter book this past weekend. (LOVED IT!) Nutrition went out the window as I scrambled for whatever was in the fridge. Two hot dogs with buns equaled dinner. Dryer's Dibs equaled dessert. Oops dropped one on the floor. Three second rule, picked it back up, we're good!

Being Old and Young at the Same Time

Finally, I found more people to play tennis with, more people to help me conserve my energy so that I don't have to go one on one with my French tennis buddy (who I swear is part Tasmanian devil. On speed.). Singles equals my chest nearly exploding every 15 minutes as I try to run down every ball and cover the whole side of the court. Doubles equals more hitting, less lateral running, less chances to twist my ankles. I think one friend called me the laziest tennis player ever.

My Tasmanian Devil friend and I, we like to run and just hit the ball as hard as we can, getting all that pent up crazy energy out on the courts. (Except for me, maybe half the energy exertion). So when our two new tennis buddies asked if we wanted to play an actual game Thursday night, we just looked at them as if they were speaking Martian, then turned to each other and said the same thing.

"Not really. We just to like run around and hit the ball."

Screw rules and regulations. Screw waiting around for serves, love this, deuce that. This is pure kid rules. Where there's no rules except you try to hit the ball back no matter how many bounces there are or how far it lands outside the lines. Lines? What lines?

By the time we tired out our new friends enough for them to call it quits, I was all boundless happiness.

"I feel great! I usually want to die after 15 minutes of playing Tasmanian Devil! But right now, I'm not tired at all!!!"

Until I got home. And every muscle, fiber, tendon, skin and bone ached from the inside out. For two days. It hurt to move. Darn it. Guess I'm not a kid after all.

A Wedding

This is the first year in many years that I didn't have to attend any weddings. No close friends getting married. No Macy's registries to search. No guilt-laden wedding invitations requesting replies. Except for one. From The Boy who was the One, marrying the girl who is his One. Way out in the boonies, clear across the continent, joined in holy matrimony today.

There is no sadness for me, just nostalgia for what seemed like a lifetime ago. Was it only a few years ago when Miss FlipFlops and I, single and carefree, venturing to NYC for New Years, mooned over our Could Be's? When I scared Miss Flops out of the bathroom because I started screaming in the apartment for joy when I got a voicemail from the Boy, "just calling to see how the vacation was going and wishing me a good time and Happy holidays?" Was it only two years ago when I sat on the floor of my living room, crying nearly every night for a week, sporadically for a month, because my chest physically hurt so much, too immersed in sadness to even call a friend for comfort because I didn't want to scare them at the lowest times?

I don't feel connected to that person anymore. That person, meaning the freshly broken me. That person, also meaning the boy who so selfishly toyed with my affections and friendship. I'm sure I'll still hear from him from time to time, mass email updates, news from our mutual friends, big event type stuff like when they buy their house and get settled in BF Nowhere, have the first of their many kids, or come back in town to visit.

I came across a book the other day that I wanted to lend him, knowing that he'd enjoy it. But I flashed back to the present and realized that physically and mentally, he's not here anymore. So I put the thought away and continued my book in peace.

Oh Brother, Part 5

There is this wonderful McDonald's commercial from the 1980's called "Little Sister" which I cannot find though I scoured the internet for it. It pretty much sums up why I've always longed for an older brother, the idea of someone other than your dad watching out for you and protecting you throughout your childhood and then some. As much as I can't imagine life without my younger brother, I had always yearned for a big brother. So much so that when my parents asked me at age three, what I'd prefer from her pregnant belly, I requested an older brother.

As a shy, small kid who got picked on a lot, I pinned my hopes on finding a big brother to take care of me. Hey, it was better than a superhero right? At least my dreams were halfway realistic.

Anyway, 3 decades later, I've learned to somewhat take care of myself, or at least surround myself with a whole bunch of caring and tough friends. And the closest thing I have to a big brother is one of my old bosses from the mouse-eared company, who to this day seems to be able to read my thoughts and every facial twitch I make. Scary.

Instead of the foresight I could have had with men by observing a big brother's advice and dating habits, I have 20/20 hindsight from watching my younger brother's foibles and sometimes questionable rationale. When he got to junior high and I was in high school, I saw him and thought "Ah, now I get it! Why did I even bother liking boys?" When he got to high school, and I graduated on to college, it struck me in the head again. "Oh my god, they were still that immature at that age?! Sheesh. Why do I still bother liking boys?" Post college, post twenties, post heartbreak... I still look at him and wonder the same thing. If anything, I feel slightly better and encouraged. Maybe one day, it'll all catch up. Maybe one day, the hindsight will become foresight as I watch him grow up and become the awesome person I know he'll be.

Oh Brother, Part 4

Because he left for Asia for 3 weeks, straight from his friend's wedding, I didn't get to hear what went down until this past week. Apparently, not much.

"Did she go to the wedding?"

"Yeah."

"Did you talk to her?"

"No."

"Did her friends talk to you?"

"Heh. No. I guess it's too soon."

So, no he hasn't told her. Or his LA friends. In fact, he didn't tell our parents either. Until this week. And only because he had to.

"Did you tell Mom and Dad yet?

"No."

"When are you going to tell them?"

"Wednesday."

"Oh. Why Wednesday?"

"Because I'm going to Chicago for the weekend on Thursday. By the way, can I stay over at your place Wednesday night and can you take me to the airport Thursday morning and maybe pick me up Monday morning?"

When I related this whole story to my Ballet Dancer friend, she scrunched up her nose at me.

"He sounds like the guys you've dated."

Huh. Well, I guess I have no rebuttal to that. Must be some kind of cosmic balance. And I seem to have the short end of the stick.

Oh Brother, Part 3

"You have to tell her yourself." I told him. It was the only thing as his sister, as a fellow girl, that I could offer to his ex. Straightforward honesty. The courtesy and respect of finding out firsthand that her ex was already dating someone new, instead of hearing it second or third hand, especially so soon after the break-up. It would kill all hope of reconciliation - being cruel to be kind.

I believe in him strongly enough that he wouldn't cheat on his girlfriend, but I swear the boy was probably single for what? A day? A week? So much for having both their adult children still single. Yes Mom and Dad, it's still just me.

Anyway, my brother looked at me incredulously as we finished off our frozen custard on my last day there in Chicago.

"Why?!"

"Because it would suck to hear it from someone else. "

"I don't care if she hears it from someone else."

"It's like that game telephone. The story might get mangled. She might think you were cheating on her. She needs to hear it straight from you. Out of respect for your eight year relationship."

"Then I just won't tell any of my LA friends."

"Yeeeeeah, that's a plan. Is she going to your friend's wedding?"

"God, I hope not."

"What if she does? She's their friend too. You guys were together when you were both invited."

"Then I won't go!"

"You can't do that! You're in the wedding!"

Oh Brother, Part 2

I felt like a chump. After every single one of my friends knowingly said to me, "he met someone else, " I had staunchly defended my brother's honor by telling everyone "NO. He told me he didn't. AND I believe him." When he confessed otherwise, my first question wasn't "who is she?" it was a plaintive, "why did you lie to me?"

"I wasn't ready to tell anybody. I wanted to keep it separate from the breakup," he explained. "It's like you said. She wasn't the reason, just the catalyst. I had been thinking about this before business school."

Now I felt like a manipulated chump.

"I didn't want you to have a bad impression of her."

Silence.

"You have a bad impression already, don't you."

"I don't know! I'm still digesting."

"You do! You have a bad impression now!"

"Dude, I don't even know her! I'm going to sleep and digesting overnight!"

Oh Brother, Part 1

It took me awhile to digest all the new information from my brother. It's been awhile since my visit to Chicago, when on the second night, lying in the darkness, slowly drifting off to slumber, he asked me this question.

"Why is it that everyone's second question is always 'did you meet someone else?'"

"Well," I conjured, searching for the right words with the part of the brain still running its hamster wheel, "I think it's because that happens all the time. Human nature is inherently selfish, and most people don't want to be alone. I don't think they ever plan on something like that, but usually people need some sort of catalyst to end their relationships. Whether they end up with the new person or not, most people need a catalyst to help them realize that they want something else, or something more. If there's nothing majorly wrong in their current relationships, people find it hard to let go of that person in case there's nothing better out there. I've seen it happen so many times, to quite a few of my friends."

"Oh, OK, " he answered pensively, satisfied with my lengthy and wise sisterly explanation.
I let myself drift again, toward happy heavenly sleep, when five minutes later, he broke through the silence.

"Everything you just said. You're right. I met someone else."

Convertibles + bald men = Painful Sunburn

As I drove around town all weekend, I noticed that many middle aged men, especially the follicly-challenged ones, drive convertibles. I don't blame them for wanting to drive around sunny LA with the top down, cruising through the city. That's exactly what this city is for. And it's their middle-aged rights to do so, after slaving away for their hard-earned cash as youths. But I wonder if they remember to rub sunblock on the tops of their shiny heads.

Being Asian, I probably don't burn as easily as Caucasians do. And with sunblock, I'm good for hours. But even I burn if I'm out in the sun for 10-15 minutes without sunblock. Sunburns are never fun. That is precisely why I have a steady supply of aloe vera gel. I wonder if these guys have to run aloe vera on their shiny heads if they do burn. That probably wouldn't be very sexy either. They really should just wear hats. With chin straps so they don't fly off. I'm kinda feeling sorry for guys now.

Now We Know Why Homer Is So Fat. Doh!

I finally made it inside the Kwik-E-Mart yesterday but all they had left were squishees and brightly colored pink donuts. Frosting upon frosting - ingenius. I bought twenty of them to share with my coworkers for breakfast. And we promptly all went into sugar shock. Thank goodness I only had half of one.

On the Lack of Hate

On the show, Big Brother, a reality show which I've actually never watched, people are cooped up in a house until they're voted out one by one (or maybe until they can't stand it anymore and run screaming out the door?) Winner is the last person standing in the house. Apparently on this latest season, the twist is that each person is stuck in there with their respective enemies.

As SC Homey explained this premise to Polar Opposite and me last week, we wondered aloud who our own enemies were, and whether we each had such a nemesis we'd hate to be stuck with in a house for months. In the end, we all realized that none of us were diligent enough to have any active hating going on - but there were sure tons of people who would annoy the hell out of us if trapped in a house for months.

There are a couple of people I no longer want to see because of a sense of betrayal or lying but I can barely remember the last time I really hated a person. There was a boy I hated for years purely because he called me ugly in junior high and it was mean and hurtful. I'm sure he's a perfectly decent person now (well, maybe... I heard he was still a bit of a dick in college.) There were three bosses from the mouse-eared company who made my life absolutely miserable, people who lacked a soul and people I never understood - why they worked in the lovely industry of animation is still beyond me. A few of us still have a good cackle when we hear bad things about them. Shameful, yes, but oh so satisfying.

There were fleeting moments of hate with all the past hurtful boys, but it was always too much energy to maintain hate. Indifference is so much more energy conscious.

As for annoying, my silly fluff of a boss, with his constant puns, rude interruptions, and habit of talking over people loudly to take over a conversation would be up there on the list. But I realize if we were on equal footing, I'd just ignore him and all would be fine. Same with the tactless and crass owner's wife. She scares me but I'd much prefer to ignore and avoid her more than anything else. I wonder if hate fades away as we grow older and hopefully wiser. Or is it tiredness and wariness that tells us to save such a passionate emotion for something better?

A Cautionary Comedy

Work had another Friday night party - this time to celebrate all the new blood who had joined the company in the past month - so per usual I bolted as quickly as I could. Instead, I cheaped out and ate in, shared some of my junk food with Sly, and caught the movie Knocked Up with Sly, Polar Opposite, and his friend.

Shock value is what comes to mind when R-rated comedies are involved. This one (by the same folks who brought you Forty Year Old Virgin) was no different. Let's just say if you're on the fence about having kids, this one might just hurl you over to the other side. (In case you're wondering, that would be the side that disappoints your parents by not propagating the human species.) I think it's also a grand example for pushing oral contraceptives on young women. Seriously.

There were tons of hilarious moments in the movie and it was a perfect Friday night, end of the work week, no brainer type movie. My only beef is that much like Forty Year Old Virgin, the movie is definitely a man's point of view. The female characters are fleshed out slightly better than Virgin, but there are still some oddities we noticed, like why does the female protagonist have no friends of her own?!

Anyway, when we stepped out of the theater, Polar Opposite asked us girls "So would you guys have kept the baby?" And he was met with a resounding and simultaneous "HELL NO!"

Thank You, Come Again!

I've passed by this 7-11 transformed Kwik-E-Mart everyday to work and finally remembered to take a picture of it. Tomorrow I might try to actually go in it and buy some Springfield goodies too. I love it when make-believe comes to life. Sometimes I need more of that in my life.

The Other Woman

As a single gal, I often hang out with other single folks. However, there are quite a few couples I'm perfectly comfortable with spending much of my time with too. Usually, they're pretty low key, low PDA couples whom I'd be friends with separately anyway, if they weren't already married.

One of these couples is a pair from work whom I befriended nearly 3 years ago when the three of us were all just friends, and the wife was actually still dating someone else. I love them both and often have lunch and dinner with them, especially when they're offering up steak dinners. :) However, there are days when I wonder if I'm spending too much time socializing with just couples. Like yesterday, when the three of us passed by a guy selling flowers, and he yelled out "Sir, care to buy some roses for your wife and mistress?"

Summer Movies and a Fun Fourth

There were a ton of summer movies I was excited about and so far, I've seen two of them.

On Friday, we had a company movie day to see Ratatouille, which I adored. So much so it only furthers my desire to work for Pixar and move up to the bay area. I'm also going to see it again tomorrow night.

The voices aren't celebrity driven like Shrek and other mediocre animated films. The look of it is amazing. The story is well-written and never predictable or cliched, a difficult feat for an animated film. And the fur on the characters - well maybe it's because I know how hard it is to create computer generated fur, but it makes me want to pet the rat as much as I had wanted to hug Sully, the blue and purple monster from Monsters, Inc. If a company can make rats look cute and huggable, they got my vote.

Today, instead of heading toward the beach where gazillions of other people went, I steered toward the other direction. I headed toward Westwood to watch Transformers in the nice big Village theater, where they have all the fancy schmancy movie premieres. This is my favorite theater not only because it's an old fashioned one movie only theater, it's also has the best sound, crisp digital projected picture and it's huge. I lined up for hours to see all the Star Wars there back in the day, and it makes the movie watching experience that much more fun.

I have to say I was extremely impressed with Transformers. I knew it would be fun to watch but didn't expect much from these big budgeted Michael Bay splashy movie events. Let's just say my jaw was literally hanging open every time I watched the robots transform and battle. They came up with a decent story, good actors (especially the lead kid), decently fleshed out characters and of course, mind-blowing computer animated robots. I never thought those toys my brother and I played with as children could look so cool in "real life." It was also fun to see a couple of my friends' credits at the end of the movie.

After the movie, to celebrate feeling better after 4 days of some weird stomach bug, I risked a night of pain by getting some Haagen Dazs ice cream. Yum! And instead of sitting at home relaxing, I fought off the tiredness and the lonerish instinct, and accepted my friends' invitation for some nice grilled steaks at their place. We also managed to lean way out of their balcony to see the fireworks show down at the marina. If only we had every Wednesday off.

Childhood Nostalgia

I just finished weeping over a beautiful anime film titled "Only Yesterday." It's a Studio Ghibli film, one of the biggest and most successful Japanese anime studios that managed to get a distribution deal with the Mouse-eared company and enjoy some mainstream releases here in the US.

This particular film was never released here, but a coworker lent me his DVD from England (I heart Macs for having an awesome DVD player, able to play films from different region coded DVDs!). He promised me the ending made the film and I have to agree. It was thoughtful but slow throughout, or maybe I'm just tired from the weekend. It flows like a short novel - anadult's memoirs about her childhood and where she is now in terms of achieving her dreams. Something I can definitely relate to as I've ruminated over this a lot the past couple years.

You bounce back and forth between bittersweet nostalgia and hope for the future. You remember how important certain things were to you as a child and pivotal turning points in your life - some barely noticeable to adults and people around you but monumental in shaping how you see things as an adult. The film captured all of that so well and by the time the heroine wraps up her journey, tears were just uncontrollably streaming down my face.

Yup, it's a Monday.

Sometimes, I'm Just Asking for It...

I chalk it up to eternal optimism. Once I see something good in a person, it's hard to let that go, despite repeated incidences of asshole-ism.

Today was Mr. DD's birthday. I remember from last year, because well, I inadvertently ended up including him in as one of the birthday guests of honors in one of our mutual friends' birthday party. I doubted anyone would know it was his birthday today, but I thought that if it were me, I'd be a teensy bit sad if no one acknowledged my birthday, even if I hadn't told anybody.

I still find it easier to be nice to him than to be mean. Since a couple of coworkers and I have had a running joke of me tying girly ribbons around all their ugly figurines from comic books and videogames, I decided to tie a gigantic ribbon around Mr. DD's monitor and a taped a monkey sticker, saying happy birthday on his second monitor.

Would you like to guess how he reacted? Nada. No reaction. No acknowledgment. In fact, he didn't say one word or even glance my way today. Pretty big feat considering we're working together. This is where Wavy or UBBF or actually anyone in the whole wide world can say "told you so." Not that I expected anything, but "wow," I thought, "this guy must really hate me, no not hate, but not care for me one tiny bit, that he can just be like 'whatever.' OR he was seriously raised in a barn because the guy has no manners."

It boggles my mind. At the same time, it's good because it'll toughen me up and help me along in seeing just what an inconsiderate clod this guy has turned out to be. It saddens me that I'm disappointed in him not only as a friend I once admired, but as a human being.
"Waste of perfectly good ribbon," UBBF remarked. But she also brought a up a good point. You can't let the mean, ungenerous, inconsiderate people bring you down to their level or change your personality. You can keep hoping that the "do unto others as you would have them do unto you," would one day rub off on some, but you can't expect it.

Thwarted

Last night, Sly and I tried to participate in the LA Film Festival and watch a screening of Buffy the Vampire Slayer's "musical" episode from season 6. Apparently, it's become this new cult phenomenon much like Rocky Horror Picture Show, complete with props and singalongs. We realized this too late, however, and drove by the long line for people who actually had tickets and then passed by the other long line for standby people who didn't have tickets. Who knew there were so many geeky fans like us out there?

We decided to not waste our time in line and headed for the newly reopened Barnes and Nobles bookstore. As we walked up to the door, the security locked it up right on the dot at 10pm, only letting people out. We pressed our noses to the window to see if anything had changed at the bookstore and whether there had been any hullabaloo or fanfare on reopening day. None at all. Just your usual books.

We walked across the street to get some ice cream at Cold Stone Creamery. The employee inside locked up as we walked up to the door, shaking his head at the girl begging to be let back in because she actually left her cell phone in there. Sheesh, these people really do just close up as fast as they physically can, regardless of business.

We gave up and headed to the supermarket instead, picking up a pint of Ben and Jerry's and heading back to my place for one of the many movies still on my Tivo. I decided that Sly HAD to watch She's the Man with me again because we needed a good laugh from the night of bad luck. I think the ice cream and silly movie at my apartment ended up being the cheaper, more fun alternative!

Rockin Out With the Old Folks

Back in March, I forked out an obscene amount of money for the first and only show for the Police reunion tour in LA, at Dodgers stadium. It was so expensive, it physically hurt but I thought "hey, once in a lifetime opportunity!"

Everyone told me to sell the tickets on Ebay, use the profit to finance my trip to Africa. I waffled and weeks later, they added two more arena dates in LA. By the time I decided I could live without seeing the Police play live and tried selling the tickets for face value, it was too late. People were selling below cost! Luckily, my good ole college roommate, the singer, agreed to go, making it so appropriate since I had also seen Sting in concert twice with her years ago.

The concert was scheduled to start on Saturday at 6:30. We figured we could miss part of the first opening band and just watch Foo Fighters and Police. I left home at 5:30 to meet up with her and leave one of our cars. At 6:30, I managed to crawl through about 17 miles of traffic to meet her in Los Feliz. Leaving a little before 7, we inched forward to the stadium, a mere 5 miles away, at 2 miles an hour.

By the time we were at the base of the hill, I had to go to the bathroom so badly, I was near tears. Guys were leaping out of their respective cars and running up the hill to pee in the bushes or behind trees as traffic came to a near standstill trying to get into the parking lot. I briefly contemplated running up the hill too but realized it could only end with me falling on my ass and rolling down the hill with my pants down. Not something I wanted to chance.

When I couldn't stand it any longer, I handed singer her ticket, jumped out of the car and ran up the hill all the way to the stadium, begging security to let me in for the bathroom. Of course there was a line. And it was close to 8:30 already. I squinted down at the stage and realized that Foo Fighters was nearly done with their set. ARGH!

By the time, singer and I met up at our awesome seats on the field, Foo Fighters wrapped up their last song, and we were left standing next to a whole lot of old smelly people, frazzled and astounded at how painful it had been to get in. I took the opportunity to take a picture of how close we were to the stage with my cell (my tiny cellphone camera has no zoom), but it doesn't do it justice. Took this 5 seconds before the lights went out and the show started.


When the band finally came on, I was brought back to my high school and college days, when I listened to their greatest hits CD so much that I broke the first one and had to buy another. Not only was it refreshing to be one of the younger folks in the crowds, it was amazing to see how great these guys were. The Police now, could blow any of the popular younger bands I've seen out of the water.

Stewart Copeland hit the drums with so much vigor and smiles, I wanted to make him my new drumming idol. Right up there with Dave Grohl, Larry Mullen Jr, and Taylor Hawkins. Andy Summers had some minor technical difficulties with his guitar so he had a perpetual scowl on his face, but Sting's beautiful voice singing and playing songs I never thought I'd get to hear live in my lifetime eased away most of the pre-concert trauma.

Going Back to Basics

My six months of free HBO and Showtime ran out last month and after eyeing the nearly $100 dollar statement that showed up yesterday I called up Time Warner cable to downgrade. At first I was only planning to cancel the premium service, but then I noticed something. For ten bucks, I could have the broadcast basic service, which means I basically pay them to have clear reception of what I remember we had free as kids - channels one through thirteen.

Paying ten bucks for basic service isn't the issue. I was already doing that for years with Comcast. The issue is that when Time Warner bought out Comcast about six months ago, and forced digital cable on me, their brochures said they were getting rid of the broadcast basic service. When I called to complain, instead of telling me that THEY WERE LYING, they apologized and offered a bunch of discounts and free six month premium service. It was still twenty dollars more a month but I really really did not want to resort to bunny ears.

Now that this option was back, or perhaps had always been there and I had just been hoodwinked, I decided to go cold turkey and give it all back. Go ahead and take back that fancy digital receiver. So long On Demand! Bye Bye Cartoon Network!

"You know, you'll only get channels two through thirty," the rep cautiously warned me, as if I were renouncing all modern technology and joining the Amish.
"Yup," I answered. "That's what I had before Time Warner came along. I'll be fine!"

The Art of Not Telling the Truth

Lying. It kills friendships, destroys trust, and breaks hearts. It's one thing to tell a little white lie "no you don't look fat today!", but another thing to flat out lie when asked a serious direct question. I understand avoidance and not divulging everything when not prompted. I understand poker. I understand protecting a loved one. But I don't understand looking someone in the eye and giving a false answer when asked. Maybe because I'm just not wired that way. My brain might short-circuit or severe twitching could occur.

I have a friend who constantly and not so subtlety changes the subject when he doesn't feel like answering a question. At first, I thought it was a cultural or language thing, perhaps a Swedish thing? Some days it's annoying, some days charming in a kooky kinda way. I finally realized he does that because he's a bad liar like me. Changing the subject and just avoiding the question altogether is his only defense. Of course he needs to work on those conversation segues a bit more so that he's not glaringly drawing more attention to the truth. Or nontruth.

I ended a friendship once, abruptly and without remorse, because lies were told and my sympathy manipulated. That was over ten years ago and I'm not sure I've forgiven. Or more accurately, I don't know if I care enough to even ponder forgiveness, it's that inconsequential now. All I knew is that I no longer wanted this person in my life, effective immediately.

My brother lied to me about his breakup. And tried to manipulate my feelings. Obviously I can't cut him out of my life, I adore him. And I almost understand what's he trying to do. But I'm quietly disappointed that he flat out lied to me when I asked him a direct question. It almost would have been better if he just pretended not to hear me or changed the subject to something temporarily distracting and entirely ridiculous, like baby penguins.

Why I'd Be A Poor Candidate For Grad School

My dad always wanted me to get an MBA. Not that I had any aptitude in business. He just felt like an MBA degree equated financial and job security for me. My parents finally gave up the harassment after 3 straight years of nagging. I can be quite stubborn to say the least.

Luckily my brother accomplished that dream. And several of my friends. Graduations have been my thing lately. Two in one week. Some people crash weddings. I attend graduations. And promptly ignore all the long-winded speeches by daydreaming and doodling because I have the attention span of a six year old.

Here's what I did at Wavy's graduation last week. The kid on the right didn't think much of the keynote speaker's speech either. He plugged his fingers in his ears the whole time.Ran out of blank space on the program and resorted to sketching these kids in my little notebook that I carry around everywhere. It was nice to sketch again, even if prompted by the strangest time and place to do so.

Movies of Conflict

Rarely am I ever in the mood to watch war films or movies depicting the atrocities of humanity or civil unrest. I much prefer happy escapism. Why bother with movies depicting real life when I already think real life and growing up two highly overrated things one must endure? Anyway, occasionally I'll stumble upon these movies when they fall into my lap.

While I was in Chicago, my brother happened to have a DVD of The Last King of Scotland. I heard great things but nothing about it interested me. But hey, since he had it around, why not? From the first 15 minutes, I was intrigued. I can't quite explain why it was so mesmerizing. It could be the phenomenally charismatic portrayal of Idi Amin by Forrest Whitaker. Or maybe the charm of newcomer James MacAvoy. Mainly it could be the story itself, about the fictionalized friendship between the dictator and his personal physician, seen through the young idealistic physician's eyes. Whatever the reason, the movie was riveting despite the subject matter.

Another movie I happened to watch on cable this weekend, was Courage Under Fire. It's over ten years old, but I remember I was somewhat interested in it when it first came out, probably because it had Meg Ryan and Denzel Washington in it. Now that it happened to be on at the right time, I couldn't stop watching it through dinner, Father's Day or not, much to the amusement of my parents. It's a little slow, but the mystery that slowly unfolds is worth it. Great acting on everyone's part, including a very young and skinny Matt Damon and a tough-guy Lou Diamond Phillips of La Bamba Fame.

If I Only Had Wings...

I hate flying. I hate the act of traveling. It tires me out either from the glut of people or the lack of oxygen on the plane. Then there's the layovers and the delays, like the 7 hours my family and I spent at the Chicago Midway airport just last weekend because of bad weather on the east coast. Yet, I'm always restless to hop on the next flight for another trip. I like going to new places and being temporarily away from my normal routine.

Unfortunately, short of sprouting wings, there's no other quick way to get to all the places I want to go. I wish I could apparate into a new place, ala Harry Potter but it sounds difficult. Then there's floo powder for beginning wizards but you need a fireplace. Finally, I could hope for beaming technology like Star Trek. But I'm a little frightened of what could go wrong. What if I'm reassembled with my arm on top of my head or worse, inside out as in Galaxy Quest? Not pretty...

Until something quicker and better comes along, I do have two free flights to go anywhere I want in the continental US, courtesy of all the frequent flier miles I've accumulated. Hoorah! The choices are endless... another trip to San Francisco to see the pregnant best friend before she explodes? New York city again for a birthday indulgence? Seattle to visit Princess while she's up there on a project for the summer? Or maybe Austin to see my old boss, purely because I've never been to Texas and it would check off another state in my quest to see all 50 states one day. Or if I was feeling especially masochistic I could fly to Vermont for the Boy's wedding since I did receive that dreaded invitation. Ha! I'd rather chance beaming technology and be turned inside out.

Obscuring English Words

My brother finally told the parents about the break up, saving me from uncomfortable explanations of why I changed our accommodations in Chicago from a one bedroom suite for the three of us to a swanky hotel for them and an air mattress for me at my brother's apartment. Thank goodness because I'm a terrible liar. I manage to hide things well, but faced with a direct question from a person, short of running away, I usually just blurt out the truth so that my head won't explode.

Within a few hours of my brother's revelation, my parents called me last weekend and the conversation went something like this:
Dad: Hi! Are you coming home to visit this weekend? Did your brother and his girlfriend break up?
Me: Yes I'm coming over for lunch and uh... did you talk to him?
Dad: Yes, he told us they broke up.
Me: Well... then I guess they did!
Dad: Ok, hold on, Mom has some questions for you.
Mom: Hi honey, did you know? When did you find out? What happened?
Me: Hi mom, I have no idea. He hasn't returned my calls. You know about as much as I do.
Mom: Well, he explained to me what happened, but it was all in English and I don't understand him very well. It was "something something personal something something..."
Me: Hahaha
Mom: That's ok, we'll be able to ask him in person next weekend!

I'm sure my brother can't wait for the family inquisition tonight. I recounted the conversation to him and we had a good laugh. He told me "when I tell things to Mom, I try to obscure the English words to her."

Grass Greener, Etc, Etc... Redux

These rose-colored glasses, they're stuck on with crazy glue! There are days when I look at Mr. DD at work and I think "oh holy mother of God, what was I thinking?" And then there are those days when I get so angry at myself, so pissed at my stupid ole brain for still being the slightest bit attracted to him. The days when he speaks so patiently and intelligently to other newer artists, the way he hasn't changed his hair in months ever since I told him it looks good at that length, or when he smiles carefreely in some very rare occasions. I'm sure it all means nothing and rationally, I know it's just because I have no space from him.

Unfortunately for me, the space is about to get smaller. I have a huge project coming up in which I'll be working closely with Mr. DD from August till the end of the year. However, work has been slow and I know I've been coasting along pleasantly while my colleague is unfairly overwhelmed. Insert foot in mouth to boss and offer to help out. Voila. Beginning next week, I'll take over one of her projects in which I'll start working closely with Mr. DD next week, as soon as I come back from Chicago. Next week until the end of the year. Until 2008. It's going to be an interesting second half of the year.

Tongue-Tied

There is eye candy at work. A tall dark haired, blue-eyed, beautiful cheek-boned Irish looking man freelancing upstairs in our other department. I met him before last year but I don't think he remembers me. I hardly think we have anything to talk about nor would I ever dream of dating someone that uncomfortably good-looking. But he is quite some eye candy.

As I walked upstairs to the copy room, wondering if I'd see him that day, thinking that I was having a pretty good hair/outfit day, I ran smack into him coming out of the room. He smiled and I attempted to saying something that resembled hi. Instead, I think it came out like "Hielphhllphh..." Graceful, yet eloquent.

Milking The Premium Channels For All They're Worth

Have I mentioned how much I hate the Time Warner Cable Service and their monopolies on television? I used to pay ten dollars a month just to get basic service for my local 13 channels. As if that wasn't highway robbery enough, once Time Warner bought out Comcast and Adelphia, they forced everyone to upgrade to basic cable for forty-five dollars a month or suffer the fate of bunny ear antennas and fuzzy reception. What happened to the days of free and clear TV of yore?

Because I could not bear to deprive my Tivo of its glorious recording capabilities and brand spanking new TV of its hi-resolution potential, I sucked it up and continued to pay. I stay on hold for over an hour with customer service to log my complaints and get refunds when the service goes down. I send them emails complaining of their crappy services and policies. And the lovely thing is, they sometimes set it right by crediting my money back or in my case giving me six months free of premium channels.

I think that's how they get you. It's like drugs. Now that I have HBO, Showtime, and TMC, I don't know if I want to give it up. This whole On demand thing is brilliant. And the shows they're airing on cable these days far surpass many network shows and feature films at the theater.

My six months free is nearly up, so as I teeter on the fence of practicality and thriftiness versus indulgence and lunacy, I've been recording every movie I can get my hands on, every movie I ever remotely wanted to rent or watch if it happened to be free and landed squarely on my lap as I sat there bored with nothing else in the world to do.

Last night, I watched half of The Lake House, which I already saw a while back and made me weep yet again. I followed that up with She's The Man, a modern remake of Shakespeare's Twelfth Night. Now I am a SUCKER for any modern remake of classics. Clueless. Loved It. Ten Things I Hate About You. One of my favorites. She's All That. Pygmalion story never grows old. I actually laughed so hard and so loudly at She's The Man, that any person who happened to pass by my apartment at that time must have thought a crazy retarded person lived there. It was that funny and cute. I may need to watch that one again.

Finally, I watched Just My Luck, in which Lindsay Lohan actually reminds me that she's a cute adorable girl who can act and oozes charisma. The whole luck thing was very appropriate for my recent entry and I love the idea of karma and balance in the world.

There's ten more movies beckoning to me in the next week or so. The farewell to premium channels never felt so sweet.

My Book Club of One

One day, I'd like to be in a book club. It would force me to be disciplined enough to read consistently, discuss things other than celebrity gossip, friend gossip, or movies, and provide quality social time with other like-minded friends.

I recently finished a hilarious book one of my old college roommates (the cute little quiet one who also loves books) lent me last year. Jennifer Weiner's "Goodnight Nobody." One of our other roommates called her "Sweets" - though Sweets certainly possesses a wicked (sometimes dirty) sense of humor also found often in her choice of books.

This book is probably classified as chick lit since the main character still angsts over her first love, but it has a murder mystery thrown in it, along with a well crafted and thoughtful look at being a grown up. And by grown-up I mean, getting married, having kids, moving to suburbia, mourning the loss of a career and juggling a meaningful relationship with your single friends.

Jennifer Weiner is a funny and intelligent writer. Even though I can't relate to her other books about having kids, marriage crises, and the like, I will probably seek out some of her other books for a read.

My favorite part of the book? The protagonist's best friend tries to get the guy who broke her friend's heart deported. Ah, a story point and best friend clearly after my own heart.

When Sweets moves back to LA, we may have to start our own book club, though she'll probably read circles around me and pick up more meaningful intelligent scifi/fantasy novels. I used to read that stuff before my attention span got whittled down to the size of a goldfish's brain. Maybe we'll have to alternate the scifi/fantasy/grown up stuff with my graphic novels, children's books, and chick lit. It'll be one awesome book club.

Easy Listening Music

Last night, SC Homey scored some free center orchestra seats at the Walt Disney Hall for songwriter Burt Bacharach. AND since Acura was sponsoring the event, those whose drove Acuras could park free. Wheeeeee! Did I mention the good folks at Acura also provided free desserts from Patina afterwards? Not bad for a plain ole Tuesday night.

We were by far some of the youngest people in the crowd of gray hairs. Though I wasn't familiar with Mr. Bacharach, I love going to the Disney hall for its beautiful acoustics and architecture. I can't pass up a live concert at such a wonderful venue.

OK, I have to admit, I slept through two of the slower more unfamiliar songs but my catnaps left me quite refreshed. To my pleasant surprise, I also recognized about half the songs which threw me down memory lane.

"Raindrops Keep Falling On My Head" is one of the first songs I can remember as a kid, when I used to carry around a yellow windup music box toy with rotating ducks and a plastic handle. My mom sang that song for me though after the phrase "raindrops keep falling on my head" we were out.

There was also "Say A Little Prayer," "What The World Needs Now Is Love," "That's What Friends Are For," "What's Up Pussy Cat?" and "Arthur's Theme," that song about being caught between the moon and New York City. (huh???) Of course, I don't remember hearing any of these songs when they first came out. In fact, I think I heard the Pussy Cat song with a cartoon, "What The World Needs Now Is Love" during Forrest Gump, and the "Say A Little Prayer Song" in the romantic comedy My Best Friend's Wedding. I'm guessing his music, though charming and slightly sappy, will continue to entertain future generations - and they will have their own memories of when they first heard those songs. I'm wondering if anything I'm listening to these days on KROQ will become classics like Mr. Bacharach's songs. Hmmmmm....

Anyway, my first thought was "wow, I can't wait to tell my parents about the concert and make them jealous!" But then it was followed immediately by "this would be an awesome birthday or Christmas or Father's Day/Mother's Day gift for them next year!"

Grass Greener, Etc, Etc...

Since the painful days of high school, UBBF and I were firmly convinced that we were bestowed fairy godmothers with a warped sense of humor. It's hard to complain about because in a way, we're both pretty fortunate. We were good students, had caring parents, silly siblings and every necessity a girl should possess. And strangely enough, I always had decent luck. Most of the time, if I wished for something, I got it, though usually in a bizarre way.

UBBF suffered a similar fate. For example, there was the time when she wished for a sensitive guy. The deluge of uber sensitive, not too ashamed to cry, can't get enough of pouring out their souls type guys that came forth for the next year is only something we can laugh about years later.

Apparently, we're still plagued by those persistent and irritating godmothers. The Boy, whom in my mind, I had already said goodbye to, won't leave me alone. He IM's me at work and bugs me for lunch even though I've made myself invisible to him on IM. "Egad! How does he know?!" I keep thinking. I even had Wavy test out this invisibility thing. Immature, I know, but people, I'm trying to achieve some closure here. I would have longed for this kind of attention from this boy ages ago if only he wasn't engaged and didn't tell me he doesn't like me "in that way."

On the other hand, I could drop dead and Mr. DD wouldn't notice. However, we're persistently thrown together, on projects, on lunches together with coworkers, at parties with mutual friends. When we oh so briefly dated, he had no time because he was swamped with work. Now we seem to have all the time in the world together. Yay.

My married friends covet my single lifestyle (or at least that's what they tell me). I, of course, would like to stop searching, or at least stop going through the motions of it anyway. And yet we both know grass greener, etc, etc...

Work Void

As I've mentioned before, ever since I got back from the trip, there's been nonstop change to adapt to. I've mentioned the best friend being 6 months pregnant, the brother dumping his long time girlfriend, the departure of The Boy... and then there's the mass exodus of several work friends. Ten people in one month to be exact.

I was shocked and then sad. But what I didn't expect was this consistent void and feeling of disconnect the past week. Not to mention the grumpiness and indifference. My work load itself has been a breeze of late. I can't complain. Only two projects, boss too busy to bug me, clients behaving, artists behaving, long lunches, early departures. Yet I walk in every morning and think "God, I hate everybody and I want to go home." It's best not to talk to me before 11am, before I've come to my senses.

Half our company is filled with new people. Many fresh out of school, eager, unfamiliar with all the stories and histories of those who left and those who have been left behind. New people who unfortunately have met me at the wrong time and the wrong place, when I'm no longer eager to befriend them and help them out with everything they could possibly need - finding an apartment, suggestions on where to eat, places to shop for furniture, must-sees in this city... I've done that already, multiple times like Groundhogs day.

I miss certain friends, looking forward to having lunch with them each day, coffee runs, and getting the random IM's or chat breaks that helped a gal get through the day. Instead, I go home to eat alone half the time, no one to vent to about work (people who would actually know what I'm going through and the people I deal with) and I'm not sure what to look forward to at work each day anymore. I know I'll eventually get out of this funk and life will go on as usual. But for now, I'm in mourning. And yes, I'm hating the changes.

How To Ruin A Hard Rocking Song

I've come to really like Nine Inch Nails since their last album, With Teeth, but unlike many of the artists I work with, I'm definitely not one of those hard core fans who live and breathe their music.



Me: Is this Nine Inch Nails' latest single? Is he saying "I push the button?"
Coworker friend: Yeah, I think so.
Me: You know what that reminds me of? Plucky Duck from Tiny Toons! When he's the baby version in the elevator and going "I want to push da buttons!"
Coworker friend: Haha, I don't think that was the effect he was going for. Oh god! Now I can't ever take this song seriously!

(It's actually a very political song that's likely a commentary on our president.)



Only a tiny glimpse into what goes on in that silly childish brain of mine...

Movies Appropriate for A Goodbye

For the Memorial Day weekend, not only did I visit tons of friends and shop up a storm, I also went and supported the movie box office by watching not one, but THREE movies at the theater. First there was Pirates of the Caribbean - At World's End, the last of the Pirate trilogy with the ever charming JohnnyDepp and the beautiful, Boy (who was the One)-resembling Orlando Bloom. Unnecessarily long at nearly three hours and headachingly confusing with triple crossing and quadruple crossing protagonists, the movie was fun though not completely satisfying.

To make up for supporting the big budget, somewhat soulless studio film, I paid to see two independent, made on a shoestring type films. The first one was Waitress, starring Keri Russell (she of the heartwrenching heroine Felicity fame). The movie's most known fact, however, was the unfortunate murder of the writer/director/actress Adrienne Shelly last year. All of the actresses were great. And boy did I crave pie. You'll have to watch it and see what I mean. They market the movie as a light romantic comedy but don't be fooled. It's a tiny bit dark and sad even if it is cute overall.

The last movie I saw yesterday was the Irish "modern day musical" film Once . The director and the lead actor were in the band The Frames and all the beautiful music was written and performed by the two lead actors. It's not a musical in the traditional sense of singing and dancing and random breaking out into song. The music's presence actually makes sense as these are two musicians falling in love, getting to know each other, performing and recording their songs.

I enjoyed all the movies for entertainment value, but also because I saw a common theme that I liked. They weren't so much about the "happily ever after" but more about showing how love - being in love or being loved - inspires you to do big things with your life. (You may think it's a stretch but if you watch all of them, see if you'll agree with me.) That is encouraging. It makes me think "I want that. I want to be in love. I want to be inspired." If only I could have just the good parts, the giddy, lost all sanity, think I can fly parts. And not the inspired to run so hard, the physical pain is better than the emotional pain parts. If only.

Hello and Goodbye

Yesterday, I said good bye to The Boy (formerly thought of as the One) in my own way. Tacitly and without any fanfare, without even using the words Good bye. Nearly four years ago, he came into my life and turned it upside down.UBBF calls him a giant pigeon. Someone who flew in, made a giant mess, and then swooped away. If four years could be calling a swooping.

I know I'll still see him once or twice at going away parties and lunches before he actually drives off to the other side of the country with his One. But yesterday was the last moment we'd spend together, just ourselves, taking an afternoon stroll for some coffee and Pinkberry, chatting about everything except what was better left unsaid. How we may never talk to each other or see each other again once he leaves, why I won't stay in touch, won't ask how he's doing, if he's happy with the life he chose, if he's scared or nervous. Most of all, we didn't talk about how much he had meant to me, how he broke me and I had to put myself back together again even though the reassembled pieces have turned out a bit askew.

Later that afternoon, he asked me for my mailing address and I asked if he was going to send me maple syrup or a fuzzy woodland critter from his hometown as my new pet. He replied "yes, I'm sending you a real live groundhog." I gave it to him anyway for lack of credible excuse, wondering if I'll be receiving a wedding invitation soon, or better yet a wedding announcement after the fact. Then I thought to myself, even if I've been dying to visit his hometown, even if it were one of my top places to visit before I actually died, I cannot imagine a worse idea for a trip to take this summer. Luckily, all I'll have to do is check the "regretfully unable to attend" box, wish him good luck, and bid him goodbye. Be careful what you wish for, because you might actually get it. He's sadly, happily, unfortunately, and finally out of my life.

Good Grief Pt 2

The changes. They keep on coming. Yesterday, my beloved brother told me he broke up with his girlfriend of the past EIGHT years. A few weeks ago. AFTER I had emailed her about dropping by this past weekend and giving her some gifts from my trip. AFTER I had even told him I was going to do that. Argh!

Though she and I were never close, I was still puzzled by why she kept insisting that it was ok, I didn't have to drop by, we could wait until the next time we saw each other, which was supposedly when my brother would come home. So when I casually joked to him that "hey your girlfriend seems to be scared of me," and recounted the incident he responded with "oh, we broke up. A couple of weeks ago."

"WHAT?!!!! Why didn't you tell me?!"
"Because I knew you'd freak out. You don't like change."

Sigh. Either I am certifiably nuts and much too fragile for human consumption or the people around me are much too protective. I think with BF, it's more the latter. With my brother, he just thinks I'm a huge hassle to deal with.

When I asked him more about it, he said "You're too nosy. And pushy."
"I'm your sister. You're supposed to tell me these things." Deal with it. I was the one who stood up for him when our mom said he was too young at 19 to date this girl seriously. I was the one who didn't take sides when our mom stopped speaking to him for weeks because he lied about going away for a weekend trip for their first anniversary. I believe I was also the one who told our mom she was being completely ridiculous when she started nitpicking about this girl's height and ethnicity.

I have been bracing myself for them to get engaged within the year once he comes back home. "Well now, you can unbrace yourself." he tells me.
I asked him what changed? And he says "I've grown and realizing more of what I want in someone."
I tell him, "I just want to know what that is, because I'm curious. I've always admired how well you balanced your relationship with everything else."
"Flattery will get you everywhere," he replies.
"You nitwit, I'm not trying to flatter you. I was being sincere."

Brothers. AUGHHHH! I said I'd call him but he decided to go play poker with his buddies instead and wouldn't pick up my call, nor call me back. I wonder how the rest of the family will cope because I'm sure not saying anything. I wonder how she's coping, because so like a guy, he actually thinks she's fine by now. He had been thinking about it for awhile but when I asked if he had discussed his thoughts with her earlier or if he just sprung it on her, he said "uh, more the latter." When I told him that it would likely take her over a year to get over this, he replied "wow, that's a long time." Duh.

So with that, another person out of our lives. I've decided to send her the gifts anyway and not mention the breakup or my lame-ass brother. I've decided that even though I'm disappointed in him in how he handled the breakup, I'm not going to tell him that. And I've also decided that I'm gonna have to figure out some mad coping skills before everyone is afraid to tell me anything. Either that, or I'm going to learn to at least fake it and feign the rock solid exterior of Queen Elizabeth.

Rainbows Make Me Happy

One of my favorite photos from the trip. This is only the second full rainbow I've ever seen. First one is from Kona, Hawaii on the side of this blog. This second one is from Cape Town, South Africa, on our way for brunch on the last day.

Good Grief

As I mentioned before, my best friend is 6 months pregnant. She neglected to tell me this until she was... 6 months pregnant. Partly because she didn't want to tell anyone in her first trimester. Partly because she didn't want to freak me out, since we had been discussing how marriage and kids have caused so many friendships to drift apart.

When I saw her right before I left on my trip, she didn't want to say anything for fear of "ruining my trip." And when she finally told me the week after I got back, she started with the line, "dude, I have some bad news..."

I'm really touched that she's so concerned with my well-being, but I was also stunned and a little sad that she has to worry about not being able to tell me things. Important life changing things.

When I told my mom the news, she of course knew just the right thing to say. "Oh, did she not want to tell you because she was afraid to make you feel bad? Since you're still not dating and you don't have a boyfriend?" And for good measure, she had to repeat it out loud for my dad when he asked why BF had been afraid to tell me. "Oh, she didn't want to say anything because she was afraid to make Whatchamacalit feel bad. Because she's not dating and has no boyfriend." Yup. Mothers. They always know just the right thing to say.

The First Step Is the Hardest Step

1 day since I finally started running (walking) again at the track with Jigaho and Polar Opposite
1 week since I woke up to the sound of chainsaws in the yard (Landlord decided to have some trees cut down at the crack of dawn. Not a pleasant sound to wake up to)
1 week since my best friend reluctantly confessed that she's 6 months pregnant. Life as we know it will never be the same
1 month since my last post. The longest I've gone without writing. It's been so hard to start back up again
1 month since I've seen Wavy, before we took off for our respective trips
1 year since anyone has captured my eye or stirred any butterflies in my stomach
1 year since I started this blog as an outlet for my sadness and frustrations after dating debacle
1 year since I went to Chicago to visit my brother.
1 more day before another dear work friend packs up and leaves the company. I'm running out of coffee buddies
1 more day before I get to meet up with Wavy and Princess for dinner so we can catch up
1 more week before Boy Who Was the One disappears forever back to the east coast to marry his One, settle down and has a gazillion kids
1 more week till a lovely 3 day weekend. Our first work holiday of the year
1 more month till I go to Chicago again to see my brother graduate
1 more month before my brother comes home to LA for good (I hope)
1 more year before 3 dear friends will celebrate their first mother's day
1 more year before I hopefully can go on my next big trip again