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31March | my forgotten passion
I have several trends of procrastinatory failure in life. (Doesn't everyone?) One of those, which is probably my biggest frustration, is the act of writing. Or should I say, the non-act of writing. Before the age of 22 I was a considerably prolific writer - short stories, lovelorn poetry, plays, screenplays, even a couple novels. My senior year of high school I would obsess about characters I'd created and entangled plots I wove around them, and I would spend hours writing pages and pages of prose. In college, as a Creative Writing concentrator, I took several writing classes and my undergraduate thesis was a novella. I wrote - a lot. After my first breakup I wrote deep, bleeding-heart free verse poetry that I've never been able to recreate. But then something terrible happened. I graduated. And I started working and living in New York City. And my flow of ideas, my ability to develop characters and execute interesting, thrilling plots, took a nosedive. Oh, it hurts just to think about it. Every time I met someone who considered themselves a writer and I felt somewhat connected to them, I would casually suggest a writing club. Don't writing clubs sound fun and exclusive? The club almost always consisted of just me and the other person. Sometimes it masqueraded under a different name, but it was definitely just a two-person writing club. What happened with those clubs? Well... One of them was carried on completely over the internet during huge transition phases in both our lives, and it fizzled after a story and a half. Another was truncated by flakiness, a jealous boyfriend, and several intense makeout sessions. Whoops! The next was only theorized, but never carried out mostly because I was too busy being miserable and sick of New York City and all that it symbolized for me. And finally... last week, my friend Hilary and I decided to give 'writing club' a shot. We had dinner in the city and talk led to our writing - she was a Creative Writing concentrator at Haverford as well, and last summer her play was produced as part of the Fringe Festival in New York City. We both bemoaned our writers' block and I had the brilliant idea of writing with each other, with weekly deadlines and feedback. We joked about the frequent failure of such projects because of the lack of strict deadlines and consequence for not writing (as opposed to school, which forces you to write by threatening you with BAD GRADES) and decided to really give this a shot. So, this week's topic is: airports. Pretty broad topic, which is both great and terrible. With a broad topic, you can write whatever you want, but without specifics it's very easy to have no idea where to begin. I've already begun, mostly because I had a great character in mind and placing him in an airport led me to build a plot around him. But I guess the hardest part about this, and the roadblock that has always inevitably, well, blocked me, is self-doubt. I wonder if he's a compelling enough character. I wonder if the story isn't completely uninteresting to a reader. I wonder if the ending, as I've imagined it so far, isn't too far-fetched or just plain stupid. I wonder if my writing sucks now. Well, I have until Friday and I'm only working one day until then (sigh), so I guess I have some time to continue with this self-torture. Hope it turns out well. :)
30March | silly brian
I talked to Brian today and apparently he tried to comment on my TV character relationship post but it didn't go through. This is a paraphrase of what he tried to say: 'I'm all of those wrapped up into one package. And I don't have kids yet, but I'll be an awesome father.' For real, people! Also, today marks six months. Here's how he feels about it:
29March | i finally saw enchanted
And I know this will upset several people but I did not particularly like it. It feels almost blasphemous to say, but I can't lie. It is pretty cool the way it integrated so many different elements of classic Disney movies, and it makes New York City seem so wondrous... But Patrick Dempsey is in a FIVE-YEAR RELATIONSHIP AND FALLS IN LOVE WITH A NAIVE FAIRY TALE PRINCESS. It is a girlfriend's worst nightmare! And we're supposed to root for them? What about Nancy? And Prince Edward? Didn't anyone feel bad for them? Also, I found Princess Giselle to be extremely irritating in her naivete and propensity for destroying linens. Does this make me a party pooper? A mean person? A *gasp* stuffy grownup??
28March | i hope you don't think i'm (even) weirder
Michelle posed a fascinating question: If I could be a relationship with any TV character, who would it be? In an attempt to accurately answer the question, I have put a lot of thought into it. And I've had to break it down into several categories: 1. Sheer attraction and sexual chemistry factor: Special Agent Seeley Booth, Bones. Come on! He's hot, strong, diligent, smart, and has a soft side for things like Christmas and geeky comic books. He's loyal and knows how to fight and work a gun. And did I mention hot? 2. Intelligence and bread-winning factor: James Wilson, House. Okay, so he has a reputation for feeding on needy women and then dropping them. But I bet I can break him. And I am like, so much better than Cutthroat Bitch. He can spend $150 on dinner with me anytime. 3. Sense of humor, pragmatism, and paternal instinct factor: Jon Gosselin, Jon and Kate Plus Eight. Let it be known that I don't actually have a crush on Jon, and I'm aware that this is a bit strange because he's a real person, and married to boot. (And has eight children... yeah yeah) But it is the sheer fact that he has eight children, he's dedicated to his family, and drives that ridiculous family bus that led me to pick him. He has a great sense of humor about it all, clearly loves his children, and is also a great partner to Kate, both in marriage and parenthood. And he's an IT geek. And part Asian! Okay maybe I do have a little crush on him. Sue me, he reminds me of Brian. Didn't you see the episode where he built all six little beds for the sextuplets? Rawr. 4. Feeding my own Oedipal maternal instinct factor: Zack Addy, Bones. Erm... so apparently I have this need to take care of and 'mother' the guys I'm with. In the past this has subconsciously led to them losing all sexual attraction to me but still feeling emotionally attached. (I realized this during my chart reading last June) I've since learned to curb it a bit, but when I see just how helplessly awkward and esoteric Zack is, and how badly he wants to fit in, I just want to scoop him up and save him. And tell him that he's just looking the wrong place. He should really be looking through the television screen into an alternate world. 5. Free fashion advice and witty banter in exchange for a sexless existence forever factor: Clinton Kelly, What Not to Wear. It'd be like having my own clever, classy, sarcastic, and extremely well-dressed personal shopper/fashion consultant available at all times!! Who cares if he's gay? He wears pocket squares. Teeheehee. Oh, hi Brian. :)
27March | oh, dammit
I can't keep up with my life!! I had a great post forming in my head today but then I got home from the city and had to take care of some stuff for tomorrow so it will have to wait, my dears. Sorry sorry. But I hope to have somewhat exciting news soon!
26March | losing steam
I don't really know what to write about these days. I just watched five episodes of Bones. Haha! And now I'm watching reruns of Jon and Kate Plus Eight. Tomorrow I'm going into the city to visit with some friends :) So I may not have a lot to write tomorrow either. I need some prompts! Give me a prompt! Ask me a compelling question. I know you are reading this!!
25March | my stomach is churning
As I recline on my couch with the Style Network playing in the background and mindlessly surf the internet and anxiously wait for my boyfriend to call me back so I can tell him that I don't know why I'm feeling so anxious, I stumbled upon this site: Suicide Food. It is a blog that features any meat-related imagery that portrays the animal in a light that implies it is happy to be slaughtered and served. You know what I'm talking about. This is so wrong that it wins the wrongest of the wrong award. Just thought you'd like to share in my gag-inducing experience. You're welcome!
24March | i think i'm mary anne
Today I joined a real live Baby-Sitters Club. Only it's much more organized, it's online, and the sitters are not 6th and 8th graders perpetually frozen in their tween and preteen years. I'm thinking that this is probably a better way to make money than sending my resume to obscure, nameless companies posting on Craigslist... maybe? We'll see what happens. Okay I'm off to write my March 22nd post. Haha!
23March | i owe you the 22nd
But, as mushy as this is, whenever Brian leaves my brain kind of shuts off for the rest of the day. We made some good headway in our plans for the summer which is of course great but has just made me more impatient and anxious for my time here to just pass. I'd like to channel my energy into a few projects from now until then, because the likelihood of me finding a job seems to be diminishing by the week and I might as well make some productive use of my time: 1. Write a short story I'm going to have to figure out a way to track this on here so I'm held accountable. Stay tuned...
22March | what i'm most proud of
Yael was the only responder to my March 18th post (ahem ahem people!) - she asked that I write about what in life I'm most proud of... I'm sitting here trying to decide what that is. A Short List of Things of Which I am Proud Those are all things to be proud of, for sure. But I think what I'm going to go with is something a little less... pinpointable. To comb back to my daily existence since... hm... well, kindergarten, I have always been preoccupied with boys. I was your textbook example of boy-crazy - at least on the inside. On the outside I was a chubby, awkward, bespectacled dork. But that didn't stop me from having at times multiple crushes, being so bold as asking boys to dance at school dances or even to 'go out with me,' flirting with them, and restorting to all sorts of other acts of puppy-love desperation. A peek at my diaries starting from 5th grade reveals a girl who progresses through her awkward childhood into an equally awkward puberty, fights an ongoing struggle with food and her steadily increasing weight, is continually misunderstood by her parents, and really, really, really just wants a boyfriend. It was sort of a hopeless want for most of my teenage life because of my weight and my lack of awareness of my physical presence, but after I lost those 50 pounds in college I discovered a new world, in which guys found me attractive and wanted to hold me, kiss me, and do all sorts of other things to me. Having missed out on all of that for 19 years, I was addicted to the attention, and for the next five years I would make a consecutive series of poor decisions in pursuit of that attention. I compromised my principles, my dignity, my friends, my sanity, my emotional and physical health in pursuit of that attention. I mean, some of it was funny. Hilarious, even. Quality fodder for my memoir. But it wore me out and I hit a point where I couldn't let myself continue in that pattern anymore. I didn't like the way guys affected me and the way they could completely strip away my sense of confidence, strength, and independence. I began to channel my energy into other things, and focus primarily on them. I stopped going out most nights and became more discretionary about the people I let get to know me, and I was more honest with myself about what I wanted at that point in my life, and who I wanted it from. This didn't mean that I didn't date, or that I didn't allow guys to hold me, kiss me, or... whatever - but that I chose to let these things happen. I didn't submit to pressure, or the need to keep someone around. It wasn't easy, and I definitely slipped back into old habits from time to time - but I really think that this new state of mind in 2007 prepared me to meet Brian when I did and be able to so easily fall in love with him. Through knowing him, I feel like I've gained incredible perspective on who I am in relation to a partner, what a relationship should be, and what it was that I had been truly looking for all those years while thinking I was finding it in superficial affirmation from self-absorbed and self-serving men. To sum it up, I suppose I am most proud of realizing what it really means to love and to be in love, and to be able to do so without compromising what's most important - myself.
21March | life is grand
So in our attempt to minimize the spendage of money, Brian and I have played Guitar Hero, gone exploring through the woods around here and taken pictures of animals, made dinner, and watched a movie. He also spent a little while working on getting his new car insured while I made dinner. It was pretty domestic. After this weekend I won't see him for a month! :( I'll try to have something of more substance to write soon...
20March | thoughts on the first day of spring
1. Waking up at 9:00am is exponentially more productive and results-yielding than waking up at 12:00pm or later. 2. Does no one make a face lotion moisture-rich enough for my parched, flaky face?! 3. Radiohead is pretty cool. 4. Brian is visiting this weekend and has asked that we do things that don't cost money. Any suggestions? Keep in mind that I live here. 5. Watching Bones online has given me a new appreciation for David Boreanaz... but I still can't stand the Buffy series and offshoots. They and 7th Heaven tie for Grand Prize of worst telescripting ever to horrify my ears. 7. Spring is officially here... now just waiting for that spring-like weather!!
19March | SCORE!mares
Lately I've been having strange dreams about SCORE!. It is very obviously because I'm back in the environment, but I'm wondering if my deep subconscious is in a state of regret. I hate the word regret. It's probably because it's a very culturally Chinese state of mind - my mother has a history of being unable to get past things that have happened, either to her or to her children (although to be particular, anything that happens to her children happens to her) - but I guess through all of the 'mistakes' I've made I've realized that everything you experience teaches you something - the tougher the experience, the deeper the lesson - and that dwelling on things that have happened and the choices you've made does nothing but torture you. I mean, rationally, what is the point of considering all of the 'what-if's? So I've long abided by a rule of never regretting anything. The things that I have to admit I do regret number in low single digits. I'll save the specifics for another post. (Ha!) Anyway, my latest SCORE! dream took place back in my center in Chinatown. I showed up as present-day me, and my friend Sabena who took over the center shortly after I left, was still a director there, but she was the only one. (Each center has at least three directors to be fully staffed.) The Academic Coaches (part time kids... half of what I do now) were all there, and Sabena was telling me how hard it was running the center on her own, and how she wished I would come back. I MEAN. SERIOUSLY. Subconscious, could you be any more obvious? The thing is, the center I'm in now is a suburban center with a very different market focus than my inner-city center was. Because of the bilingual aspect of my center, it sometimes felt like a Mom and Pop shop, and because of the large membership (around 300 students enrolled) it sometimes felt like a zoo. Yet with our tiny, overflowing center, packed hours, and chaotic Saturdays, we were still pushed to find leads with an almost desperation that I found off-putting. Our Academic Coaches usually came and left to a full center, and we as directors never had nothing to do. But now, at my new center, the enrollment is probably half of what my old center's was, and yesterday I spent the latter two hours of my shift with a grand total of five kids. The pace and atmosphere is much more mellow, which has led me to wonder if I would have stuck around longer if I hadn't been at the Chinatown center. But the thing is, I'm not sure I would have wanted any other experience. It was crazy, it was chaotic, it compromised my values, and it made me hate New York. But I also pushed my limits, learned how to communicate with many different kinds of people, and changed many children's lives. To be a director at a center like mine and have any sort of success is an accomplishment, no matter how long I stayed. I wonder if, had I been at a more mellow suburban center, I might have looked at the inner-city centers with envy because their directors had a 'tougher' job. I don't want to regret my decision to leave SCORE!. My experiences after that, and the events that culminated from all of my actions since then, have been too valuable. I am not unhappy with where I am now, per se - and that's enough to tell me that I should be comfortable with all of the tough decisions I've made. Now I just have to convince my subconscious of the same.
18March | calling all lurkers and/or faithful readers
Found this from Yael: Everyone has things they blog about. Everyone has things they don't blog about. Challenge me out of my comfort zone by telling me something I don't blog about, but you'd like to hear about, and I'll write a post about it. Ask for anything: latest movie watched, last book read, political leanings, favorite type of underwear etc. Repost this challenge in your own blog if you want to! I promise I will honor each request, no matter how intimate. This is your chance.
17March | six months ago we were writing emails like this
karel: bedtime. i was up late last night on the phone with this cute boy from somewhere up in the northeast. not complaining... but i am sleepy now. brian: also I am going to kill you because you just called me cute. daisies and squirrels are cute but not me. you can call me most anything else and i won't care so much. you're in trouble karel chan. karel: okay. no more cute. here is a list of adjectives that i can use alternatively. feel free to cross out any others that you feel are inappropriate: -sweet brian: [subject: important message] ok, first before i even read the letter i recently got from you I need to make one thing clear... I promise i won't kill you. I apologize for such a terrible comment. Not very nice from me. ok, now i'm going to read your message brian: if all those descriptions you gave for me is what you really believe, then I am doing something right because that is one fucking kick ass profile. I feel as though I owe you a list of my own concerning Karel Chan. I don't need to get out of control though. I find Karel.. karel: your list of adjectives made me smile. i can't wait to hear the others. well, i can't wait to see you in general. :) ok this is evidence that i need to sleep. i've been hyperactively rambling all day. -k
16March | he used the word 'weaponry'
I called Brian earlier tonight and as soon as he answered I could tell something was off. His voice was at a higher, tenser pitch than usual and he sounded a bit winded. I asked him what he was doing. 'I'm in the woods looking for the dog. She ran away at like two o'clock.' It was 9:00 when I called him. He's been looking for her for about six hours, and he and his dad are in the depths of the woods, his dad with a shotgun and him with a knife. You know, as protection against coyotes and other such dangerous woodland predators. I really hate the distance between us right now.
[UPDATE] He just called (12:30am) and after heading out on a borrowed 4-wheeler to venture deeper into the woods to find her, he received a phone call from his house telling him that she had showed up in the driveway. I'm sorry, but if dogs ever knew just how much shit they put their owners through... [/UPDATE]
15March | i'm free!
I took the PRAXIS this morning, which required me to be up at 6:00am. I really shouldn't make it sound so awful, considering that around this time last year I was waking up at around 5:30am to run two or three miles on the eves of dawn before work. Anyway.... The test was all right. I should get my scores in about a month and I am not even going to think about it until I get them. I hope I pass. Hehe. Next up? Cleaning my room, finding a second job, and putting myself on track to finish a writing project by the end of April. Also can we talk about how spring is so, so, SO close?! I CAN'T WAIT!
14March | my almost moon
To tear apart the stone walls that envelope my parents' house - isolated from its immediate neighbors, from the surrounding development, from the richly upper middle class American community whose heart in which it sits - is to reveal a boiling, fiery pot of bitterness, guilt, unspoken resentment, and a twisted love so strong that it fuels the most intimate hatred. There is pain in these walls, masked by a facade of feigned normalcy, covered by pointed humor about multiculturalism, but pain all the same. It is the pain of negligence, of avoidance. Of too much implicit love and not enough spoken love, encouragement, and recognition. It is the private, torturous pain of a boy who recognized his own perceived ugliness at too young an age, and hid his secret self from the world until he turned to the very people who were meant to nurture and support and they saw him to be a monster, a deviation. It is the indulgent, self-destructive pain of the only girl, the spoiled princess who is yet marked to hate and scar her mind and body forever because she wasn't loved the way she needed. It is the escapist pain of the youngest who only ever yearned to flee a world in which he was never good enough and veil himself behind layers of materialism, anything to place an impenetrable divide between him and home. Most of all, it is the pain of cultures - old world, new world, and the tricky in-between world in which no one speaks the same language, no one body governs, and olive branches are continually lost on the imparted because we are all so shriveled and shrouded in the calloused folds of our own hurt that we cannot allow penetration for the irreconcilable fear that we will be forever lost, our insides spilling out for each other to see in a way that is simultaneously premature and long overdue. It is the pain of two aged dreamers who have come too far to return but not quite far enough to belong, and they don't recognize the children who have sprung forth from their labor and their implicit love, because these children beg for the explicit, they plead for some acknowledgment that they are worth something, they are too much, they are selfish rather than selfless, they are foreigners. Inside the walls of my parents' house, indictments fly, hearts break. Tears fall but only surreptitiously and only after our throats are raw and lungs are spent exchanging violences, and a man who was subjected to endless rites of discipline training in youth feels so much impatience and rage that he has never learned to properly channel that spoons buckle from the force at which they hit the floor. Chopsticks snap like brittle twigs. The innocent and helpless kitchen drawers, cabinet doors, dishwasher latch bear the brunt of his adrenaline. His wife has since retreated to the bedroom, a room whose furnishings and walls have perhaps seen the most private pain of all. The lone foreigner watches her father in his assault, his glasses slipping down his nose, ratty flannel shirt hanging open at the tails, and is frozen in place. Her body knows no other instinct but to damage itself now but for fear of acting on it she stands, immobile, brain numbed as guilt, regret, and finally surrender wave through her. I surrender to these walls, and the invisible fortress that surrounds them. I am a foreigner in my own house and in the eyes of my parents, whom I love so fiercely that its magnitude escapes my conscious comprehension, whose approval I so doggedly crave that I resent them when I fail myself, who will never fully appreciate the words I long to dedicate to them because we speak wholly different languages. We have been taught to maintain a pretense of tranquility, of functionality on an outside face, to tuck away our secrets and lock them up so tightly in hopes that they will vanish into a vacuum no bigger than a speck - but these stone walls know the sutured truth. They speak louder than all of us can possibly scream, cry the saltiest of salt tears. I am the product of all they have encapsulated, and as long as I live here I will never conquer them.
13March | eek!
Someone from the UK found my site by searching 'too busy for a relationship, but just wants sex.' Now... what exactly were they looking for? And, by the summary that Google captured from my entry, it looks like I'm talking about ME!!! Wah!!
12March | the almost moon
I recently finished The Almost Moon, by Alice Sebold. I wish I could say that I had read it, but I didn't. I got it on audiobook. Lest you think I am actually a. that lazy and/or b. that afraid of library books that I chose the non-tactile route, I should explain that I got it in preparation for my drive to and from New Hampshire last weekend. That, and it's not available in paperback yet, and for some reason hardcovers from libraries freak me out much more than paperbacks of comparable age. Must be the plastic slipcovers. Shudder. Anyway, the novel opens with the line: When all is said and done, killing my mother came easily. It certainly doesn't beat around the bush the rest of the time, either - the story is about a middle-aged woman and her relationship with her mentally ill mother, whom she ends up, yes, killing. Helen, the protagonist and killer, spends the 24 hours after killing her mother slowly unraveling and engaging in various irrational activities. The narration weaves back and forth between past and present and we gradually learn about her childhood, adolescence, failed marriage, and dysfunctional family. I was about halfway through when I started reading customer reviews on Amazon and quickly learned that the general opinion was very mixed. Some lauded her grim, steady depiction of the at times ugliness of humanity. Others were completely appalled that a novel's protagonist could kill her mother, no matter how riddled with dementia the mother was by that time. For example: "I started to read the first few pages of this book and was nauseated at what I was reading. This book is inhumane. I would not recommend any one read it." "The book is mostly about mental illness and I have to wonder if Alice Sebold had a momentary lapse into psychosis while writing this." "I hated Helen's character, and it wasn't just because she killed her own mother. The things she did with Clair's corpse were absolutely ridiculous and disgusting, and her behavior directly following the murder was also completely unbelievable. This entire book is just way too bizarre and weird for my taste, and I was very put off by the whole thing. Do not even bother with it." I have to admit that I never once felt disgusted by Helen's actions. (Although at one point I thought she was going to poke out her dead mother's eyes with scissors and had to turn it off for a good 30 minutes before I was brave enough to turn it back on.) Somehow, even though the words I was hearing were startling, they made sense in a dark, macabre sort of way. And I found the stark honesty to be beautiful. I found Helen's erratic behavior somehow understandable, maybe even forgivable, from an objective standpoint. I found her demented, innermost thoughts about chopping her mother into little bits... fantastical but sympathetic. (Oh, and - she didn't poke her eyes out. She just cut off her braid and stuck it in a ziploc bag and took it home in her purse.) My undergraduate thesis was a novella called 'Paper Money,' a piece of fiction based on very real and very accurate details about my family. The narrative opens with: “She’s dead, Jen.” The phone slipped on the sweat around my ear. I closed my eyes and leaned against the bed. It is about my mother's death - though, as I always disclaim when telling people about it, my mother is very much alive. When thinking about the ideas I wanted to explore in my senior thesis, my relationship with my family, specifically my mother, came to mind. I wanted to explore the cultural divide that has existed the moment I was born on American soil, and how a catastrophic event might force me to face that divide head on in ways that I'd never imagined I might have to. So, in fiction, I killed my mother. No one has actually outright told me that this was a morbid or cruel thing to do, but I already know that it is. And I know that people think it is, and were politely refraining from pointing it out to me. The way I thought about it, it was a cruelty in the name of art. I still think about it that way - I have plans to expand the novella into a full-length piece that explores not only the cultural divide in America, but to bring it back to Taiwan and really give my protagonist a chance to tackle her dual heritage in a place that is wholly unfamiliar to her. But in the four years that have passed since I wrote the original piece, my relationship with my mother has changed such that it makes me that much more heavy-hearted to think about going back to the place in which I need to imagine that she's dead. 'Reading' The Almost Moon, though, has renewed my faith that my ideas were in the right place. That a story like this is worth telling, because it touches on emotions that, though unorthodox and painful, are universal and exist just beyond our painted public faces, behind closed doors, our secret shame. While reactions to stories like this are mixed, that very dichotomy makes the readers whom the writer does penetrate that much more valuable, and the connection between them is that much stronger. One of the positive reviews said this: "Alice Sebold is one that writes from a place of true dysfunction with honest, detailed accounts. If you are uncomfortable with her voice either you have never been hurt deeply to your core or [as we in the past have been taught to do] brush your experiences under the rug as if nothing ever happened... If you hated this novel, I suggest you need to re-read it through someone else's perspective. Pick a family member or a friend who might seem distant and keeps you at arms length. You might 'see' them, gain a glimpse of understanding about them, maybe even help them." If I look into my core I know that I have stories that yearn to be told. I wish that I could put the rest of life on hold while I tell them.
11March | my favorite part of him
One of the very first things I noticed as I flung his video game t-shirt over his head during our first encounter (romantic, huh?) was the smattering of freckles across his shoulders. This struck me, as his face was absent of such markings. Also, his back was surprisingly broad. It continues to surprise me every time we see each other, as if I'm not quite used to his relative size because so much time passes between meetings.
10March | his favorite part of me
Yeah, he likes my calves. What a freak! Also, pardon the hair follicles. My leg hair grows super fast in the winter.
09March | guest blog time!
soooooooo........ while Karel sets up the MahJong set so we can play later, I, the great and apparantly super awesome Brian write this blog to all of the noble readers. Excuse the total absence of proper grammar due to the fact that I write how I talk, and it would be quite improper indeed!! It has so far been a great weekend spent with my special Karel and unfortunately there has been a massive downpour from the sky, and much of that liquid water has worked it's annoying way into our crack riddled basement. So with that comes the constant shop-vac sucking of this wonderful life creating molecule out of our crummy basement. But this is only the second time ever that this has ever happened in 10 years so indeed it's not a common occurance. yup it's spelled wrong, big whoop wanna' fight?? And on top of Karel gracing myself with her wonderful presence for only a couple days the alternator on my mothers car decided to lose it's awesomeness and be a total shithead and decide to squeal, which meant the bearings were taking a vacation and I needed to replace it ASAP or her car could become non functional. so that chewed up another 2 hours. super fantastic there for sure. I wanted to take Karel out to a local lake and go ice fishing which would have been great because catching trout and eating them is super fun. of course the previous weather eliminated the chance of that happening. we got a foot of snow, followed by 2 inches of rain and then 3 days of very warm weather and then another couple of inches of rain yesterday and to finish the garbage off a day of high damaging winds. so we ended up playing video games and taking odd pictures of each other which was good indeed and also doing some necessary easter candy shopping for Karel's mother so for when the time comes upon my visiting their house of Chan. and then some food shopping was done for my mom while we were out because she didn't get potatoes and cheese. So if you're still reading this at this point congratulations because this isn't exactly interestingly stimulating and anybody spending their time here must be in need of stimulating experiences. ha! i'm going to get hit for that last one!!! but I digress, (ooh fancy pants word) and say that Karel is awesome and the best and of course asian, so anybody thinking anything other than that deserves the pleasant experience of fire ants slowly eating and stinging their lame bodies until they lose consciousness and continue to be eaten without their knowing of it. THE END <:l>
08March | i don't think i need to specify that it's raining
What a day it's been already. I woke up to Brian shoving his cold hands up and down my shirt, in my face, kissing me with his cold lips, tickling and freezing me until I screamed. I think I was upset for about 32 seconds but after I came down from the shower he asked me if I was still upset. 'No!' I exclaimed incredulously. 'I'm fine.' Then we went by his office briefly so he could pick up a car part for his mother, and he decided to vacuum his truck. This meant I had to get out of the truck, and stand in the rain while he vacuumed. He probably didn't think of this because he is, as I described him once, 'the kind of person who just gets rained on,' but I was annoyed that he hadn't bothered to think of a place that I could stand and not be wet while he vacuumed. Well. I let it pass, mostly because he really is the kind of person who just gets rained on. Then we went to the dump. And as he dumped the trash I started crying. No, seriously! I had started to think about how vastly our lives differ, and how my life, from childhood, has been a life of ignorant luxury. I've never been given much opportunity to realize just how much I had then, how much I have now, because to some degree my parents either don't know or will never tell me just how much money or privilege I actually have. I've never taken trash to the dump. We have a trash man. And it never occurred to me, until that moment I sat in Brian's truck as he stood in the back tossing bag after bag into the dumpster, that we pay for this service. I always thought it was free, like the mailman. I couldn't really figure out how to articulate this to Brian when he got back in the car and asked me why I was crying. So I said it was nothing and that I was fine, and he held my hand and I touched his cheek and ear as we drove quietly to get brunch. As we sat at the pancake house I asked him if he was okay and he said no. 'Why?' I wanted to know. 'You won't talk to me,' he said simply. I sighed. 'I didn't know what to say. I'm not mad at you.' 'Well, I don't know. I thought maybe you were still mad about my cold hands this morning.' 'I got over that in about five minutes!' 'Then why were you crying at the dump?' So, I told him. It's really difficult for me to explain things like this to him because I don't want him to think that I look down on his and his family's lifestyle or class. I didn't know how to say 'I'm humbled every day that I'm with you' without sounding like a pretentious spoiled upper middle class princess. But that's the truth - I am. I grew up with certain standards of life and people that I would surround myself with, and being with him somehow both breaks and keeps those standards. Yes, in some ways his life is simpler than mine. He doesn't need much to be happy. Just the outdoors and a good pair of shoes. In other ways I feel like I don't measure up - that I'm perpetually losing in the 'better person' competition. My private liberal arts college education holds nothing over his practical knowledge, physical agility and mechanical repertoire. He carries so much responsibility in his household, whereas I feel superbly accomplished if I wash the dishes without my mother hinting that I should. We played Guitar Hero this afternoon and I quickly realized that I couldn't keep up with the notes. The game frustrates me for several reasons that I can't quite pinpoint, but I think a part of me feels like I'm better than it because I've played real music in the past. But no matter how much I tried to find patterns in the random strains of notes, or time my fingers to conquer my intuition, I inevitably became overwhelmed and - you guessed it - began to cry. This confounded Brian. 'Why are you so upset?' 'Because I SUCK!!!' I think it has more to do with the fact that I'm sucking at something in front of him, and he's obviously had more practice and is probably more inclined to be good at video games because of the afore-mentioned agility and mechanically-driven brain. He doesn't quite understand why this upsets me so much - but how can I help him understand that I spent the first 21 years of my life being at the top of the class in almost every way? And that despite that, I also spent those years trying to 'catch up' with my older brother who was better than me in almost every common talent? So in essence I always won but never won? And that now, after a lifetime of being socialized to believe that a better education and better social status equals a better person, I'm feeling inadequate next to someone, (albeit someone I love) who I find to be better than me in so many ways, yet not in the ways that I had always been taught mattered? How do I explain that a video game made me feel this way?
07March | an update on my health
So, something is out of whack here. I've known for about 8 or 9 months that I have lower than normal blood pressure, but apparently it keeps dropping. Over the summer when I had a series of fainting spells and an ensuing series of doctor's appointments to try and figure out what was wrong with me, I found out that my blood pressure was 92/72. (Normal BP is 120/80. If your BP is lower than 90/70 you are considered hypotense.) Over the past couple weeks I've been taking my blood pressure at home - my mom has a handy dandy wristband device - and three weeks ago it was 98/63. The other day it was 92/58. Both my doctor last summer, and WebMD recommend caffeine in the mornings, standing up slowly, more salt, and more fluids. (WebMD also says to avoid straining on the toilet. Noted.) When I've fainted on the subway in the past I've been told to keep hard candies in my purse to get sugar into my blood. Well, I haven't fainted in a while, but in the past two days I've been getting flowery vision at certain points of the day. Like right now. (And yet I'm still blogging!) It can't be a lack of sugar - I just had a chai latte and a cookie. I've had plenty of salt today, and I had coffee this morning. I have neither stood up quickly nor strained on the toilet. I'm drinking water now in hopes that it will right itself... but I'm not liking how this is going. I'm a freak!!
07March | not only is it overpriced, it's overrated too
Well, I am safe and sound in New Hampshire. The drive was pretty straightforward - it was a beautiful day yesterday, sunny and unseasonably warm. (Though maybe not. It is March after all.) Too warm, in fact - there were several stretches of slow traffic on I-95 during which I felt like I might faint from the stuffy warmth in my car. I hesitate to turn the air on anymore because I think the dust from my ventilation system directly contributes to my eye irritation. And we all know how sensitive my eyes are. Bleh. Anyway, I got in around 5:00pm and had the pleasure of accompanying Brian and his mother to bowling night. They bowl in a league that plays every Thursday and apparently Brian is one of the best bowlers in town. Naturally, as that kid is good at everything that requires physical activity - except dancing. Oh well. I can't ask for everything. Today Brian's working so I woke up at around 8:30 and was out the door by 9:15 to get some studying done. I've spent both breakfast and lunch at Panera, which is where I am now. Given the choice I would have gone somewhere else for lunch but after thinking long and hard about the options around here that I know how to get to, and my Weight Watchers program, I ended up just going with a silly overpriced salad here. Sigh. And yes I have done some studying... I did take a break to go to Target (oh come on! It's so close by and big and CLEAN) but refrained from buying anything in the anticipation that I would probably have to spend money on a silly overpriced salad. Speaking of Weight Watchers, it is going swimmingly. I'm trying not to freak out about points as much as the last time around, mostly because I started at a lower weight, but also because I'm not sure what my end goal is. The first goal in the program if you don't already have a set target (whether self- or doctor-ordained) is 10% of your body weight. I achieved that and more last time, but also gained about 12 pounds back after I stopped. (Thanksgiving, holidays, and the month of January at work did me in) I think I would be happy with 10% of my weight this time around too and I'm already halfway there so I'm relaxing a little. Also I can't afford a new wardrobe at this point so I need to not shrink to the point of needing a whole new set of pants. This is kind of a boring post. But honestly, it's hard to follow 'worst daters 101,' don't you think?
06March | worst daters 101
Here is something that I haven't talked about in at least six months... dating. In case you don't remember or are new to my blog, last year (and the year before, actually) was quite the year of dating for little old me. I went on 14 first dates last year. I counted, because I was going to do my next 'zine on all of the first dates of 2007 - but I'm starting to think that I might rather just do a feature on the best (and worst) first dates I've ever had. Because there were some pretty classic ones in 2006 and even 2005. I can't say I miss dating too much, and I think I'm allowed to say that for the reasons mentioned above. I put my time in, okay? My fair freakin' share. And now I'm quite content to not be single, even though my other half is far away from me most of the time. However, recent events in the lives of my loved ones have forced me to revisit some very unpleasant memories of singledom, and the utter frustration that is dating in the twenty-first century. (Okay, it probably wasn't much easier in previous centuries either. Especially that whole marrying-girls-off-in-their-teens-or-prepubescence thing) Let's break it down into some distinct categories: 1. I just want sex. All the time. I don't care how, or who, or where. Bearers of this mentality, try as they might to pass it off as nonchalance, chauvinism, or free-spiritedness, often exude a thinly (or not at all) veiled air of desperation. They might... let's see... wolf your face down at a bar on your first date and then beg to take you home because 'it's so cold outside.' 'We won't do anything you don't want to do.' (My response? 'Okay. I don't want to go home with you.') Then the next day, even though you already made plans for the day after, they might IM you and try to get you to come over and 'watch a movie' with them. Then the day after when you go on the actual date you had planned, about five minutes into the movie they might start suggesting that you just skip the movie and go back to their place and make out. Once they get you back to their place (after the entire movie, thanks) they might get really upset when you tell them you don't want to sleep with them and in the morning tell you that they're 'not really looking for a relationship.' Okay, hi, second date. No one said anything about a relationship. Get the fuck over yourself, all right? I should also mention that others of these indiscriminate seducers might even go as far as watching you get drunk at your own party while they stay completely sober, and then take you home with them and 'accidentally' try to sleep with you even though you've made it clear on previous occasions that you don't want to sleep with them, because it messes you up emotionally. 2. I'm too busy for a relationship. Actually, I'm too busy for dating. Actually, I'm too busy to talk to you except for a couple IMs every few days. But wait! I like you! I really like you. These types are just egomaniacs who think the world should revolve around them and their needs, and no one else's, because duh, no one else matters. Because they're single and most likely a bit lonely (but perhaps unaware of their loneliness), they fill their lives with tons of activities to detract from that lonely feeling. Totally understandable. But, shocker! They're still lonely. All of the burgeoning startup ventures, networking events, bar runs, weekend trips, and nights on the town that turn into mornings, don't fill the void that another human being should. So they attempt to meet people anyway - whether it is during a night out, on an online dating site, on several online dating sites, at work, what have you. And because other people who are out trying to meet people are actually looking for a genuine intellectual and emotional connection, they engage in long conversations with these ego-lonelies. They go to dinners with them and get the requisite drinks afterward (or vice versa). After a few of these ambiguously directed dates, the genuine-connector will inevitably wonder where this is all going. The ego-lonely will not initiate any such clarifying conversation, because they know where it is going and since that's all they need to know and they're egomaniacs, they don't think they need to inform anyone else of the doomed nature of this arrangement. Sometimes, this conversation never actually happens because the genuine-connector figures it's not going anywhere and just stops contacting the ego-lonely. Other times, the ego-lonely is forced to sit down and explain that 'I really like you and I think you're great, but I just don't have time for a relationship right now. I have [loneliness-staving activity A], [busywork B to keep my mind off my solo status], and [bullshit obligation C that sure beats the mind-numbing prospect of actually sharing myself with a real live person] so it just wouldn't be fair to you. But let's be friends because I can never have enough [sporadic contacts so I don't feel guilty about having led them on for X number of dates without telling them it wasn't going anywhere]!' I think I've said enough here. Onward to number 3! 3. You're gorgeous and wonderful and sexy and funny and I like to kiss you and hold you and call you every day and IM you and email you and come over whenever I want and - whoa. Hold up. HOLD THE PHONE. We are most certainly not in a relationship! These people can't seem to pull their self-pitying heads out of their even more self-pitying asses to realize that their new squeeze may not be their ex, incarnate. So rather than keep their own baggage where it belongs - inside of them - they take it out on whoever new comes along who is nice and perhaps naive enough to want to give them a wholehearted chance. But they are inherently self-pitying, so they don't respect naive newcomer enough to cut them loose from their insane mind games. They need and insomuch as crave that attention from the naive newcomer so they keep that glimmering hope that it may, one day, in the somewhat foreseeable future, turn into a relationship, but in real time steadfastly insist that it is NOT a relationship. But they also forbid the naive newcomer from dating other people, and when they finally drive naive newcomer off the deep end and naive newcomer cuts them out of their lives, they whimper and whine and stalk them and then get angry that they are being ignored. Self-pitiers never completely vanish from your life - they merely appear to vanish for a length of time, only to pop up after a long absence as if that absence might have erased all the manipulative bullshit they inflicted during the relationship. Oh, shit, I just called it the R-word. 4. Do I want to hang out? Sure! Do I want to IM you every day and talk about anything and everything? Sure! Do I want to be super nice guy to you? Sure! Do I like you? Sure! Do I want to date you? Um, no. These are, simply put, ball-less wonders. They're charming in their own right, but endearingly dorky - the dorky part is key, because otherwise they would fall into another one of the categories above. These dorky ball-less wonders have been burned before, and are so badly scarred from the experience that their testicles have gone missing. So if you, say, ask them to a movie, they'll say yes because deep down inside they do like you, but you'll have to make all the plans and look up movie times and suggest days of the week to them while they ignore you on IM and text and even neglect to tell you day of that they can't actually make it. But the absence of testicles makes it so that they can't even muster up a decent apology for their avoidant and downright rude behavior. Then, when you just can't stand it any more and finally ask them if they actually like you or are just super nice, they tell you that yes! they do actually like you! but they can't date you because... well... because...? Because they have no testicles and will not venture back into the waters of dating for fear that it will end badly. My friends, there is no love without risk. Ball-less wonders, you do not deserve a great lady if you don't have the balls to go out on a limb for her. 5. I'm possibly homeless, and definitely a liar. Okay, I'm not sure this is a universally shared experience, but I had to throw that in there. Whew! Needless to say, I am very appreciative of my relatively normal, straightforward, no nonsense boyfriend. I am also very appreciative of the fact that I am going to see him tonight!! Enjoy this long post - I'm with him all weekend and not sure how much I'll be writing there. And please, feel free to add any categories I may have missed.
05March | housekeeping
Okay. Guess what: I've just recovered a section of blog posts from my senior year in college. That's right. 2004. Possibly late 2003 as well. Fun fun fun! Now I can do 'four years ago today' posts! Exciting. Also, I've been getting a bunch of spam comments lately... they are on really old entries so they're not showing up visibly, but it's still clogging up my comments listings. I'm considering switching to a new blogging interface (I currently use Movable Type) but I'm so rusty on installing and configuring new programs that I'm scared of losing my formatting/archives. The other alternative is making my comments acceptable only from authenticated users... which means that anyone who comments needs to have a TypeKey account. It's free, but... I guess my question to my lovely group of readers is... would you be willing to sign up for TypeKey so you can comment? Will it deter you from commenting? Will it deter you any more than the current strange loading problems on the comments page? Thoughts? Or... advice on how to maneuver Movable Type?
04March | almost makes me miss my pedestrian days
That, my friends, is a traffic circle, a.k.a. the bane of my driving existence. For those of you who are unfamiliar with such a phenomenon, a. bless your fortunate heart and b. wikipeducate yourself. Yes, I just made up that word. Wikipeducate™! Anyway. I first encountered these during my college years, in Loudonville, NY where I did my first year of CTY. The basic idea behind traffic circles is to control the flow of traffic at high-density intersections, so that people aren't speeding through them dangerously, or sitting in a gridlock with their turn signals and unsure if the person to their left is aware that the person to the right has the right of way. (I really hope I'm right about this rule, otherwise I'll have to cede defeat to the traffic circle gods and that does not make me happy in the least) I found them to be silly, and somewhat nerve-wracking as you drive around in circles, unsure if the person next to you will be exiting at the next ramp or if they are continuing the circular pattern. See the futility here? Here is another diagram so you can fully understand how ridiculous this is:
The burning question is: why are there even two lanes? Is anyone really going to use the inner lane then they are soon going to exit the circle anyway? Isn't that just there to create more of a possibility for a horrible accident? Apparently, New Jersey is obsessed with traffic circles. I have encountered too many of them, especially the further north I've been. Tatiana and I once got horrifically lost in Northern Jersey trying to find our way back to her (short-lived) home in Berkeley Heights. What threw us off? You guessed it.
Traffic circles have thrown me off course in the following states: New Jersey According to Wikipedia, New Jersey is famous for its traffic circles. In fact, there is even a separate page dedicated to a list of traffic circles that have ever existed in New Jersey! Please note the Brookdale Circle, which just opened in August 2007. This circle is about five miles from my house. They are encroaching upon me!! And for no good reason either... as quoted from the top of the traffic circle list page: 'For a long time, the New Jersey Department of Transportation has been eliminating circles, either cutting traffic through the middle, building overpasses to carry traffic over, or completely replacing them with interchanges or jughandles.' Why are they building new ones if they're eliminating them?! The answer, of course, is simple: traffic circles are closing in on me, to ensure my demise. I'm sure of it. Here I leave you with the most bizarre entry I found while Google image searching 'traffic circle.'
03March | posted under the proviso that
RE: fortune cookies I made him me: did you eat more cookies?
02March | okay, this is a cheater post
My weekend in DC is coming to an end and I am exhausted. I have to get up early tomorrow for my drive back to Jersey, and then I have training at SCORE! in the afternoon. I have a number of post topics forming in my head but I can't seem to bring myself to write tonight. So, I leave you with one year ago today. It's a good one. :)
01March | humbling
I've finished three days of training at SCORE! and have, I think, one more session before I full on start working. I've been training on the Personal Academic Training program, which we didn't have at my old center - so I've had to learn all of the information and processes from scratch. We had the Advantage Program which is the computer-based curriculum, and on which I'll be coaching as well. Training has been... overwhelming. There's a lot of information there, and I'm reading it from a binder mostly - which isn't really the best way that I learn. The funny thing is that during my interview I was asked what my biggest challenge is in a job, and I said that I'm sometimes overly eager to just jump right into things and learn everything I can as quickly as possible. And that's exactly what I'm going through. Apart from that, though, I'm also dealing with a lot of memories and nostalgia that's brewing just from being back in the environment, and hearing the language that used to be a part of my every day. I had a lot of responsibility as a Director back then, and owned a lot of my own projects, relationships with families and children, and had a lot of knowledge about the business. While I still understand the reasons I left, it's just really startling to be back there, but learning something new, but still seeing very familiar things. And also working in a position where I don't have the authority that I used to, and don't have to think about students in the way that I used to... but I can't just turn that part of my brain off. I'm excited to just be a month into it, when the newness/oldness has worn off, and my training is over, and I'm just there to do my job. I'm feeling an intense pressure to be really, really great at it... and trying to get over that hump and realize that I don't always need to be the best.
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