Nothingless

Nothing helps on a night like this.

Drinking doesn't help. You fade fast but nothing gets resolved.

You talk to your ex who is the only person in the world who understands you almost completely, but he calls your psychotic anyway.

Which i am but did he have to be so blunt?

And talking to anybody else doesn't help. They don't get me.

It's exhausting.

There's nothing to build on, nothing to hold on to. Left to stew in my own juice.

Just waiting for the tipsiness to pass so i can at least watch some tv to take my mind off the mundane.

I've got nothing clever to say.

My Pillow, My Life

I have chronic neck pain that I believe stemmed from an untreated injury in a car accident in 1993. Probably whiplash - soft-tissue injury that's hard to prove or disprove (learned from an episode of Law & Order, hee hee.) Over the years the pain has become more and more pronounced, frequent, and plaguing. And through the years I've had to switch pillows every 3-6 months, depending on the pillow. It's a cost that gets irritating. I've tried everything from polyester to buckwheat to NASA-techonology "memory" foam... It's not a matter of doling out cash like clockwork - I would gladly bend over and take it if something would just work that didn't require a replacement at least twice a year.

When a pillow starts to fail me, I would not get restful sleep. I'd wake up at 2 or 3 in the morning, try to fluff the sucker in vain, unable to fall back asleep, and finally have to take ibuprofen. I would get up in the morning feeling stiff, and take more ibuprofen.

When a pillow loses its loftiness, you can fluff all you want, and it will never resume the form in its prime.

Sorta like a relationship. Sorta like life.

My current pillow has passed its prime. It's 5 months old, and lopsided. We're talking major disfigurement. On some days my pain extends down to my shoulders, arms and chest. I can't go through a night without flipping it twice or thrice.

Then last night, I was able to get a relatively good night's sleep - by staying on my pillow's good side. I didn't think it could be done, but there I got it. It takes some tricky maneuvering to make the most out of imperfection.

... Sorta like life.

That's OK, Sigmund, I Got It

This morning I awoke from a strange and vivid dream.

Death comes for my parents as they are walking down the street. I know it's the Ripper when I spot him but they can't hear my warning. My Dad throws some punches, and for a moment there the Ripper appears to be exhausted. I can tell it's a trick! Sure enough, just as my Dad lets his guard down, the Ripper extracts the breath out of him, then does the same with my Mom.

Something transpires...

My daughter has just passed away. My son-in-law, who's Jewish, is taking my granddaughter to a synagogue to attend service and has invited me along. The architecture is grand and majestic and in blue and white.

As I approach the building I see all these people protesting in chaos. Something about their religion and oppression. Signs and posters and handouts everywhere. I can hardly make my way through the crowd.

I catch up with my son-in-law, barely catching my breath. I have this feeling he's keeping my granddaughter from me lest I snatch her away.

I plead, "Don't you see she doesn't belong here?"

Indignant, he replies in tears, "Your daughter and I belonged together."

I am so overwhelmed with emotion I start sobbing uncontrollably.

The emotions were so intense I woke up.

I don't think I need Freud for this one!

Things to Come

Today I saw for the second time this week a billboard with a simplistic design of white text on black that read:

6 + 6 + 06
The signs are all around you.

Oooh... ominous.

Should we panic because:

A) The Prince of Darkness incarnate will be born into this world on June 6 this year? Lemme guess, at 6:06 a.m., right? (I'm sure no one thought of this in 1906. Or 1806, for that matter. Shall I go on?)

or

B) On June 6 this year, darkness will befall us, the earth will split open and swallow all sinners whole, who will suffer eternal damnation in excruciating pain?

If the latter is the case, do let me know, will ya? So I can save myself some anguish of trying to land a job by the end of May. I can instead just kick back and chill in the midst of fellow sinners. Thanks!

Size Matters

It's hard to see, as i didn't have my camera on me so i had to resort to my handheld device, but the license plate reads "AKA HUGE". I literally cracked up. The candor and egotism is quite remarkable. Kinda refreshing actually. (OK they probably just meant the truck. Cool humor nonetheless!)

Most of us are so intent in staying politically correct that we walk on egg shells. Why can't we just speak our minds? If someone doesn't like it, tough! Can't please everyone anyway. No matter how hard you try.

This morning as i came out of the shower i examined in the mirror my pear-shaped body that, only last fall, was bikini-ready. What the *bleep* happened? I'm definitely looking at a Before photo now, i thought.

Is there gonna be an After picture? Hmm... Don't you wish everything was nice when humongous?

Good Thoughts

So... my site has been viewed 90 times as of yesterday. Not too shabby for someone who's only been blogging for 2 months, ay?

NS my beautiful friend offered to take me to her yoga class when she heard I'd been meaning to try it for the longest time. She just couldn't be sweeter. I can count on one hand the number of people I've met in my lifetime who are beautiful, smart, kind, and cool, all at the same time. She's one of those rare beauties. Not only is she all those things, she has character, and courage, and a positive outlook on life. I can use some of that positive energy.

In the beginning of the semester, she was the one who initiated a conversation. She was so beautiful, I was just speechless. And she knew me? Lil old me! What gives??! The stars must've been aligned a certain way that day. (Hey, before you trivialize and dismiss astrology, keep in mind: astrology and astronomy used to be so intertwined, both were legit sciences.)

A random act of kindness always moves me to tears. (Of course, the low self-esteem is a huge factor in this; let's not kid ourselves here.) What have i got to lose? I can stand to do something that's actually good for me for a change. And Lord knows i can use a friend.

And not just any friend! NS, the absolutely breath-taking gem. I tell ya, if i was a lesbian... well, i still wouldn't stand a chance with her. LOL!...

But now i've got my first yoga lesson to look forward to this Friday. Can't wait!

Sanctuary

In case there have been vehement disputes and bloody feuds over the symbolism of my last post [LOL!] I'll make it real easy on ya folks. The stinky crock is moi. I am ridden with flaws, prone to cracking under pressure, and no man in their right mind should come in my proximity. Get it? Got it? Good.

When I started blogging I knew it would be my sanctuary because all my life I'd felt no one really understood me fully. I've always enjoyed writing because of the silent-audience factor. And even more now, because when you blab in cyberspace, rejection risk is virtually zero. You just post and assume someone is reading it and feeling your pain. Easy camaraderie. Enjoy the anonymity to the max!

Then one drunken night (ha!) I gave JD the URL cos he asked.

Now, don't get me wrong, I guess deep down I wanted him to be reading this from time to time. We shared a lot... it was hard to stop... and still is. But since then I have wondered if perhaps we are crossing boundaries that weren't meant to be crossed. Even though, I didn't get to where I am today by staying off boundaries.

That's Ms. Crocker to You!

You are a beautiful piece of pottery. Functional, even. From afar your admirers can appreciate the subtleness of your color variation and the natural appeal of the unevenness of your glaze. But as they approach they can't help but notice you are covered with tiny cracks. Will you burst at the seams if i pour hot liquid in you? They wonder. And what's that stench?

Take heed, my beautiful piece of art. It doesn't pay to open up if you're a crock encasing a stockpile... Keep it bottled up. Keep it all inside. Keep it to yourself, and for the love of God, keep your distance.

How I Know I'm Not Normal

I know i'm not normal. Normal people don't listen to the Little Mermaid soundtrack and bawl like a baby. OK, i don't listen to the entire soundtrack. That would be sick. Just that one song Part of Your World. That longing! OMG... Especially that verse about the other realm (the land) "where they don't reprimand their daughters"... gets me every time. Even as a child i was really touched by that story, especially the tragic ending. Of course Disney had to go and ruin it by inserting a happy ending instead. Kinda takes away the romance of it all.

It's Good to Be Alive!

I woke up this morning feeling pretty fine and dandy except for the fact that my slumber ended with a weird dream that reminded me a lot of What Dreams May Come, an obscure film that, in my opinion, is extraordinary and impactful (not to mention visually stunning.) But i digress. The point is that i had an excellent night's sleep - i hardly recall waking up during the 7.5 hours of bliss. And i got up without neck pain, which was a miracle in itself. I don't remember the last time i went through a night pain-free. Course, that comes as no surprise, since depression does have physical symptoms as modern science tells us. And by modern science i mean the makers of Cymbalta™. Yep, check it out yourself: depression hurts.

So as i was saying, i woke up listing all the things i would like to do today, as i often do, and even though that list, as always, is over-ambitious (more like bordering on fantastic,) instead of feeling overwhelmed, i felt alive! Like i was ready to take the world by storm! So what did i do? Without duress, i cleaned the bathroom. Shocking, i know. Trivilaize not this activity. We're talking bathtub included. This is huge!

But i always leave something unfinished. I'm a firm believer that if you approach perfection, that's blasphemy, and the gods will strike you down.

Next up: Yoga lessons!! Breathe...

At the Bookstore

I had some time to kill today, so of course i went straight to the self-help aisle at Barnes & Noble. OK, i had other interests as well, but mostly i browse - literally. Mostly i cannot bring myself to pick up a book - i literally panic and have an anxiety attack. Rather i just scan the titles, spine by spine. But self-help, that's different. I have some motivation left yet, i've realized.

Anyway, this book titled "Bad Childhood, Good Life" caught my eye. But look, it's by Dr. Laura! To which i say, Ppbbbtt! I thought to myself, I wish there was a book called "Good Childhood, Bad Life". That would be more relevant. That would probably give me some insights.

But when i stepped back into the sunlight, life was not so bad. Not bad at all. I dread moments like this, because it's like i cannot even fathom what it's like to be unhappy. It's surreal. A little unsettling, like i'm losing footing. But such is the club that is Bipolar Disorder, which, needless to say, is members only.

Blues, Be Gone!

Today was the best I've felt about being single in ages. I had a horrid weekend. I guess somewhere in there i made a plea bargain with God, or whoever it is up there pointing and laughing. It might've been the weather - the incessant gloominess, to be precise. Most people suffer from S.A.D. (Seasonal Affective Disorder, more commonly known as the winter blues) and don't know it. Of course, in my case, that's only one out of an array of disorders I happen to possess. It's probably amongst the least of my worries.

And today the sun came out, and i had some intelligent conversations with actual human beings, and all of a sudden being alive was not a pointless chore.

"Loneliness" is such a dirty word. You can't help but associate "lonely" with "pathetic" - that value is deeply embedded in our culture. When you see someone dining all alone, for example, you can't help but wonder, What is wrong with them? Or someone unmarried in their 30's and beyond. But what bugs me is my inability to be OK alone at times. Is there something wrong with me? You bet. But all i want is to be okay regardless. I am my own person. We enter this world alone and shall depart alone, whether you like it or not. Sure, it's nice to have someone to share your life with. But does it mean my life is incomplete in itself if that person doesn't exist, and probably never will? I'd like to respond with an emphatic "No!"

Homage to Queen

Last week Kelly Pickler's rendition of Bohemian Rhapsody on American Idol made me cry. I didn't know quite what it was. There was just something about those lyrics.

Today i decided to really listen. No wonder! It reads like a Greek tragedy:

Is this the real life?
Is this just fantasy?
Caught in a landslide
No escape from reality

Anyway the wind blows
Doesn't really matter to me

Mama...
Didn't mean to make you cry
If I'm not back again this time tomorrow
Carry on, carry on
as if nothing really matters

I don't want to die
I sometimes wish I'd never been born at all

Spare him his life from this monstrosity

So you think you can stone me and spit in my eye
So you think you can love me and leave me to die
Oh baby - can't do this to me baby

Anyone can see
Nothing really matters -
nothing really matters to me

All i can say is: Works well for a suicidal alchoholic with issues with her Mom. Oh, and ex-lover.

Further Deliberation

The two of you out there who have read "There's a Reason I'm Fat" may wonder, "What's a yak?" (Two? That might be high-balling.) I didn't know either until i read with AC my nephew. Apparently, Y is for Yak. According to Fisher Price anyway. i did NOT know that.

Learning with a child is a humbling experience. Their sense of wonder is contagious.

BTW AC and i have a song now. It's "Everyday is a Winding Road" by Sheryl Crow. I tell ya, that kid has good taste.

AC loves to dance. He dances like he means it. No inhibition, no self-consciousness. He swings his arms and really puts his hips into it. He gotz rhythm, man.

I think that is the feeling i'm seeking when i drink. I want to forget all that weighs me down and holds me back. I wanna be free.

My Nephew The Hero

My nephew AC is at that adorable age where he's genuine in every way. If he likes you, if he dislikes you, if he couldn't care less, he wouldn't hide that emotion from you. I make a point to visit him at least once a week to capture this precious stage. Cos once it's over, it's over.

AC is turning 17 months old next week. He can make all sort of sounds. His favorite are that of the elephant and that of the lion respectively. He can't quite address me yet, so he calls me Mama. Sometimes when i surprise him, his face lights up and he grins from ear to ear. He's truly delighted to see me.

There was a time when i was convinced dogs were better than people. Dogs are also authentic like kids. But today i realized: most of the time dogs still want something from you. If they don't get it they get disgruntled. It's not free love. It's not unconditional like i thought.

Unlike AC because at those rare moments, he's simply happy to see me. I don't have anything to offer.

I shall forever cherish this memory for as long as i live. For before i know it, my nephew wouldn't care less if i existed or not. But for now, he gives me a reason to stay alive. Seeing him is something to look forward to.

There's a Reason I'm Fat

I woke up this morning making a mental list of things to do when i realized it was Saturday. I realized: i'll be doing a number of things, but i won't be going to that place with a big red bird as a mascot. There'll be no Target trip with JD either. And no drinking and talking with JD again.

A part of me still itches to go back and have those drunken conversations. Last night I was on the 280N on my way home from visiting my brother. There was a light shower on and off, giving my windshield a sheen like glitter. I remembered those drunken nights of driving up on this very freeway to see JD, and I had this urge to pass my exit and just take the damned freeway all the way up.

But i didn't. Because i'm fat.

There is a very profound reason i've grown and stayed fat. It's my shield from repeating a pernicious pattern. In fact i have now developed a mild phobia of losing weight. The fat is my armor, my security blanket. As long as i have the layers of fat i'm insulated from hurt.

There are nights when i have dumb fantasies of JD showing up at my door. Sometimes i imagine coming home late and finding his Explorer in my parking lot. I have the self-esteem of a yak. No, lower. Yaks probably feel pretty good about themselves. : )

I took a silly quiz on blogthings yesterday. It was called "What Kind of Drunk Are You?" #4 totally cracked me up. It said, "When you drink, you also like to..." And choice #3 is "Drink more". LOL! Of course, for me it's choice #4 - Dance.

Turned out i was an alcoholic anyhow. What enlightenment!

Lame Movie, Good Quote

The only time in my life I failed miserably was the most fun I'd ever had.

- Elizabeth, Just Like Heaven

Ode to Friendship

I never quite know how to answer when a close friend asks how I'm doing. To be all cheery would be a lie. But I'm also reluctant to be a downer all the time. It's quite a dilemma.

Today one of my best friends JM surprised me with a call. Friends like JM don't come around often. We are so alike. We can share and never have to worry about judgment. We both know we're not phone people, so there's no guilt. We're not your typical chatty chicks, but it doesn't mean we care any less. When we do talk, it's effortless, cathartic and awesome.

She actually managed to brighten my day without even trying. Before i knew it i was laughing whole-heartedly. Unapologetically.

JM and i now have a long-distance friendship. In a few months she's moving even further away, which depresses me when i think about it. I miss having friends around. They keep me sane and in perspective.

When a good friend comes along, it's a blessing. I wish there were websites to match you up with potentially great friends. Not just a forum or a chat room, but a service that takes into consideration personalities, social styles, the intellect and mutual interests. You know, back it up with science, like those boastful dating services.

Lately, when i think about the whole online dating thing, i feel dismayed with the knowledge that compatibility doesn't necessarily mean a happy ending. You may have ten million things in common. But what it comes down to is: Do you really want to date yourself? Not to mention there are things that cannot be quantified or qualified.

Maybe i should put some energy into a search for new friends. Maybe there are already afore-mentioned services out there. I just have to wake up and smell the tall soy Chai.

The View Out My Patio Door

A few evenings ago, I stared out my patio door into the sky framed by palm tree silhouttes. The branches danced leisurely to the silent beat that was the spring breeze. The clouds looked amazing. It was quite visually pleasing indeed. I was suddenly taken back to my very first apartment in Chico. I didn't have much of a view then either. But a few trees and a peek of the sky was all I needed. It made me feel connected to the universe. Like i was part of something grander.

If you asked me back then if i was happy, i probably would've said no. But thinking back, i think i was happy. (My memories may have been filtered by now, but let's not overanalyze, shall we?) I was single. I was ridden with depression just the same, but happy. That is not an oxymoron. Because i had peace. I wanted nothing. Contentment. That's the word.

Staring out my patio door, I caught a moment of that peace that hadn't graced me in ages. That was equivalent to a glimpse of hope. I haven't forgotten what it feels like to have peace after all. I was enough. Just me.

I've watched raindrops hitting my fence, making tiny splashes that sparkled in the night. On a glorious day i've caught sight of a rainbow. I've been gratified by many a full moon.

That's all i need. A glimpse of hope. A sense of adequacy. That's a killer view.

Who's Impaired?

I glanced at a directory column on campus today. It had a campus map, legends, and more text than I could possibly want to read. At the foot of the column, underneath all that text, said in a font that was not particularly large, "If you are visually impaired, call 408-92X-XXXX for assistance."

If I couldn't see well, I would have to crouch and really cock my head to read that.

That's a little pointless. Not to mention humiliating and inconsiderate. That's like making an announcement on the PA, "If you are deaf, dial XXXX on any courtesy phone near you for assistance."

I took an ASL (American Sign Language) class when I was still living in SoCal. Fascinating stuff. Just being exposed to the deaf culture for the first time was eye-opening and humbling. The deaf prefer to be referred to as Deaf. Not hearing-impaired. They are not incomplete in any way. And definitely not deaf-mute. I actually intuitively made that distinction early on. I was about 7 when my Mom, expressing sympathy, informed me that most deaf people were mute. I was like, "Being deaf does not necessarily entail non-functioning vocal cords, right?" OK, not in those exact words. But that was the gist.

This also reminds me: Last week I saw a commercial/preview of Conviction (I believe,) which I've never watched. The only witness to a crime is deaf. The voiceover asked in a grave tone, "What do you do... when your only witness... cannot speak?" My God! Just because they don't speak your language doesn't mean they can't communicate!! How dumb was that!

Sign language is amazing also because it's a completely different platform, it's got its own grammatical rules and such, but it is indubitably a language in every sense. For example, instead of spelling out names all the time, users will develop unique gestures that symbolize different names of those close to them. A hearing person cannot just make up a gesture for him/herself just by virtue of hanging out with a deaf person. It has to come from the community in time. Sort of like when you are adopted by a Native American clan, you can't just go calling yourself "Sits with Cayotes", or whatever your heart desires. Can't force it, or rush it. And when you are named, can't negotiate, can't make suggestions. Can't shake it. It is yours. Forever.

My Lesbianism

I've always been emotional and touchy-feely. That's just my nature.

Gender was never an issue. When I was about 12, I really connected with CC. We had the same tutor. Once I was so enamored, I held her hand close and kissed it.

After all, I kissed my parents, and my cousin JC, who was also my best friend, who was like a sister to me.

I just felt we were such kindred spirits. That's all I knew and that was all that mattered at the time.

My tutor freaked out in disgust and called me a lesbian.

I appreciated all beauty, in all shapes and sizes and forms.

JD said i had lesbian tendencies.

Again, gender was never an issue. Beauty was beauty.

To this day when my very attractive classmate NS (OMG - beautiful inside and out) asks me, "v., how do you find variance?" I get a little choked up.

It Sucked for Moses

I saw the conclusion of the TV version of The Ten Commandments last night. I went to Christian/Catholic schools all my life and thought I knew plenty about Moses. Now, I'm not sure how true to the Old Testament the screenplay was, but man, did it suck for Moses!

I never stopped to think about what it meant to wander in the desert for 40 years. That number might have been symbolic, but still. I even laughed along with Jewish comedians on Moses' reluctance to ask for directions. As a child i failed to comprehend what it meant for a people to not have a nation. Never did it occur to me they had nowhere to go. For a tribe to be liberated after having been enslaved for 400 years only to have nowhere to go!

At the end the narrator says, "God did not permit Moses to enter the promised land, but He did allow him to see it before he died."

Small consolation! That just seems wrong to me.

Lepidopterology

I listened to the lyrics to Sheryl Crow's "Always on Your Side" today. I was blown away. The title doesn't do it justice, the lyrics are so profound.

Butterflies are free to fly
Why do they fly away
Leaving me to carry on
I wonder why
Was it you that kept me wandering
Through this life
When you know that I was always on your side

OK, so maybe the chorus ain't so profound. But you should listen to the rest of it.

Sheryl is not the only who has been metamorphosis-inspired. Take Mariah:

Spread your wings and prepare to fly
You will become a butterfly...
... You'll never be mine
Until you know the way it feels
To fly

She also mentions wild horses.

And of course there's my Tori with "Sleeps with Butterflies":

You say the word
You know I will find you
Or if you need some time I don't mind
I don't hold on to the tail of your kite
I'm not like the girls that you've known
But I believe I'm worth coming home to...

This girl only sleeps with Butterflies...
So go on and fly, boy

Heartbreaking stuff!

Gee i wonder how the butterfly has come to symbolize the one who got away.

Healthcare Hell

I've been dealing with Kaiser Permanente for a few years now. I don't recall the last pleasant experience with them. Don't get me started.

Last Sunday I tried to schedule an appointment online. It kept saying I was not a member. I had to call in the request. Finally, today, I called website support to report the problem. Cos there's no online tech support, of course. The lady on the other end spoke loudly and slowly as if I was stupid. Sure, I have a foreign last name. I must be incapable of understanding English. First she doubted I logged onto the correct website.

Not know the URL? When they practically remind you of it nine times when you're navigating through nine menus on the phone to get to speak to a human being? When you're on the phone in the first place because THE WEBSITE DOESN'T WORK?!

So when that possibility was busted, she said I didn't show as registered. I explained to her I was able to log on, so apparently i was registered. Yeah, like KP is such a master at database management they couldn't possibly have a glitch! Actually, most likely, it was a human error, as usual, but let's humor each other and call it a technical difficulty.

"You need to log on to the website and register," she insisted.

"You mean log on first, then register?" I asked.

You see, when i say log on, i mean to punch in your user name and password. Apparently, the dope used "log on" and "go on a website" interchangeably.

Then she went on to explain the process of receiving a temporary password and changing it to a custom one. All the while suppressing the impatience in her voice. Ineffectively.

Like i'm an idiot.

Hello! i HAVE a custom password. So apparently, i've done it all before.

But i didn't have the fight in me. i let her finish.

God why can't i stand up for myself for once?!

To chat, or not to chat

That is the question.

The first six times JD and i broke up, i'd still look forward to that online chat with him at the end of the day. No matter what happens, there is just something about knowing that someone out there understands you perfectly, and will not judge you (for the most part.) Let's face it, someone you can be completely open and honest with is hard to come by, no matter how you cut it.

I guess the seventh time is different. Not a charm, that's for sure.

At times keeping in touch is like turning up hellfire. You seek a little warmth and get a third-degree burn. But you do it, cos it still beats the cold.

In Playing Mona Lisa, an older Jewish female characters says (and I'm paraphrasing), "When my husband left me for a younger woman, I was devastated. But look at me now! In time the sharp, excruciating, stabbing pain has turned into a dull, nagging ache. Just give it time, honey."

Whew! Can't wait.

What JD's Dad calls "The Dumbing of America"

I had a dream this morning in which every page I visited, I had to reset my security level to low or medium in order to enable cookies or I couldn't log on or view the page. I remember the good old days when a frustration-embodied dream would be about not being able to dial a phone number - it'd be too long and I'd keep messing up, and I would never get through. There was always a pre-recorded message.

I remember when my best friend started mailing me word-processed letters, placing colons and a right parenthesis at the end of a sentence and I had no idea what it meant. Oh the innocent times! I have no issue with not capitalizing the I. It fits my ego (or the absence thereof.) Then people stop punctuating altogether. Now, punctuation has never been my strong suit. But when you remove the apostrophe from I'm, it's just im. As in, "IMpossibly lazy".

And people also go crazy abbreviating. Even while IM-ing, typing out h-a-v-e seems tedious now, with the extra .367 seconds it takes rather than "hv". That's Half Vital.

You can also substitute 2 for everything from "too" to "to" to "two". (See how ridiculous this sentence would've been without quotation marks?) People can't spell anyway. I say, what you stink at, stay away from. And i don't blame them either. Our education system has failed us. Miserably. I never perfected the art of punctuation because, quite frankly, I don't recall being taught it. Same goes for factorials! (The exclamation point is, of course, mandatory.) Nobody believes me when I tell them I never learned factorials in junior high (or 11th grade, whichever it should've been.) Trust me, I was not an excellent student back then, but I retained information. I would not have mastered the skill, but I would've remembered.

Unless i was out sick all that week they taught factorials. Must've been the same week they taught how to be a well-adjusted adult.

Burnt Out

Last August, when I moved in this place, JD gave me a fragrant candle. He called them smelly candles. I used to find candles a stupid idea - it's practically burning money. But I got hooked on the scent. None would do it but this one scent. It's magical.

But for months I couldn't bring myself to burn the candle often. It just seemed so decadent.

And today I decided it was time. The glass walls had already blackened with smoke. The flame was waning. Yet reluctant to extinguish. There was still so much wax left all around the crater though, it just seemed wrong that it was nearing its demise.

And poof! There goes it.

Just like Tori Amos croons, "Girl you got to know... when it's time to turn the page." And let's face it, Tori knows best.

The Little Things I Do

Last Sunday I made tortellini myself for the first time. I even added sautéed mushrooms with a dash of cilantro and parsley flakes. I wrote my Mom about my little achievement, calling tortellini "Italian wontons".

I've shopped at the Stanford Mall again, dodging rain. On the previous Monday. After my first interview in a very long time.

Today, to commemorate the anniversary of our Reno trip, I had lobster. A whole year I didn't have lobster. How the time flew!

All this as a constant on-going effort to prove to myself I'm okay. I'm BETTER than okay.

Then why do I feel so miserable?

Perhaps, when I have my own IKEA couch with a little swivel table... when I have my own washer and dryer... when I can afford to go to a goddamned musical all by myself (Gypsy or Cabaret for starters!) (Lord knows I do everything else alone)... when I finally drive myself up to Mendocino, the Spring Break that never was, cos Lord knows no man will take me as promised, so I might as well do it myself...

Or perhaps, just perhaps, I need to be happy NOW. I just don't know how.

Last Day of Spring Break

Last year, on the Sunday at the end of Spring Break, JD & I were coming back from Reno. As we approached Sacramento, it was raining cats and dogs, and traffic was hellish. It was only mid-afternoon, but it was so dark out with low-hanging charcoal grey clouds that it looked like doomsday. When traffic would come to a standstill, it was as if time itself had stopped, and we were stuck in the twilight for eternity. With the clock sprung forward, and us delirious from exhaustion and consecutive days of around-the-clock drinking, we couldn't tell at the end of the day how long it'd taken us to get back.

Today I'm staring out my window at the sky in Sunnyvale where it ain't so sunny. JD & I aren't talking any more. I've lost a friend. Trust me, it's a lonely spot to be in. But at least out there it doesn't look like the end of the world.

I wonder what I'll be doing same time next year.