Revelation 1

As i gently patted my tears dry with a lotion-infused Kleenex™ i was amazed by the intense heat that seeped through the triple layers. Not unlike if you're a guy fucking a gal with a 105° fever, i'm sure. There's nothing like it. Or so i've been told. : )

A Word to the Wise

Minor injuries are inevitable. Remember that, little soldier, next time you fall on your face.

This Long Weekend...

Curry with prawns, made fresh by yours truly. I wish you could smell it. : )

Long weekends mean "shop till you drop" to some folks, but not me.

It's an irony that exercise tires you and energizes you at the same time. Yesterday was Yoga Day Two. I was really amazed to see how much more i was able to do even though i was physically tired. If you know me, you'll know this is quite a list:

1. Showered

2. Mushroom Mardi Gras in Morgan Hill

3. Yoga in extreme heat

4. Chatted with dance instructor from the university, who happens to practice Bikram Yoga at the same studio

5. Showered again

6. Made dinner (spaghetti al dente with mushrooms and cilantro... yum!)

And today i went grocery shopping and actually made a meal from scratch (see pic above), which i haven't done in ages.

But there've been drawbacks:

1. 5 minutes into the Mushroom Mardi Gras, i thought, this is no fun. I'm never coming back!

2. Halfway thru yoga, i thought, drinking is way more fun. I'm never coming back!

3. After a meal is made, i think, now what? (That is the problem. After cooking i'm not even interested in eating it.)

Not like i didn't enjoy any of it. Happiness is brief as usual. Bottom line: i still wish there's someone to share these things with. I wish i didn't wish this... When you're twenty-something, being alone symbolizes independence that can be readily glorified, and it was easy to say i didn't need anybody. In your thirties it's just pathetic. But still, i put my heart and soul in Dhanurasana! : ) Feeling sore today...

Quote 1

And the day came
when the risk to remain
tight in a bud
was more painful
than the risk it took
to blossom

- Anaïs Nin, "The Diary of Anaïs Nin, 1934-1939"

Fun and Games... and Pizza

Tonight i played the fun and timeless game of "Match your loose CD's to each case" and i can't find my Crossfade case. : ( Where can it be? i remember seeing it last October.. haha, yeah, that helps : ) Not like i live in a mansion, and i've failed to look in the West Wing ... I hate when i misplace something...

With an abrupt change in topic, OMG i had the BEST pizza in my life today... just unbelievable! Given i've never been an unconditionally huge fan of pizza in general, this is HUGE!! The 15% premium they charge over other franchises is worth it. i mean i thought Round Table was pretty damned good, but this Premier Pizza just blows their competition in the dust! I mean i practically had tears streaming down my cheeks sinking my teeth in those precious slices from heaven... but then i've been called melodramatic in my day.

OK, Round Table has its staples that cannot be replaced and i will continue patronizing... but that joint is something else... even though it's unlikely i'll drive 12 miles outta my way just to recreate that blissful moment of alimentary exquisiteness. But guys, if you're amist the lucky mass in their vicinity, for the love of Christ who bled in Calvary for you, have one today!!

La Tortura*

I'm sure you were all holding your breath till the next development in the fascinating saga that is the dysfunctional relationship of my Mom and me.

First she remarked that she heard from my cousin Jojo who heard from JY my other cousin that I had lunch with Aunt Evelyn on Monday. I chuckled, "That's kinda indirect!"

"Well! Not like you said anything about it," she replied.

Hmm... OK. Classic passive-aggressiveness. What are you gonna do. I did consider sending her a pic of me and Aunt Evelyn that we took at lunch, but i was convinced she'd just focus in on my double chin. Besides, i knew we'd be engaging in this delightful conversation in just a few days, when we went online. What's the rush, right? And of course, the fact that i managed to send her new pix of her grandson just a couple of days ago never got so much as a mention.

About 35 minutes into the net conference, my Mom lowers her voice in a covert way that signifies she's gonna switch to a shameful topic. "It's been a while since I've gotten a chance to ask about your condition..." she mutters.

She's referring to the immuno-disorder for which i need to be on medication for life. Turns out she's started associating my weight gain with the medication. Not that i've ever hinted at fatness being a possible side-effect.

"No, ma," i reassured her. "It's not the drug. I just eat a lot."

With a shriek she abruptly switched from a sigh of relief to scolding, "You worried me to death! For days! And it was nothing!"

Uh, sorry i was not really bloating with harmful chemicals with unknown side-effects, Mom. But, hey, ever thought to ask? And yeah, it makes a lot of sense for me to have been on the meds for two years and BAM! Only a couple of months ago it started to kick in and turn me into a fricking pig.

And she goes on, of course, "So do yourself a favor and do something about it!"

She turned me speechless at the moment but now when i think back, that's almost as funny as the times JD's Dad's told him to pull himself up by the bootstraps, referring to his depression. Sure, why didn't we think of that? You are brilliant! Thanks for the tip!

*it's only beautiful when Shakira sings it : )

Yogi, Day One

Today i went to my very first yoga class. Yay!! A yoga virgin no more!

I knew practically nothing about yoga except that you got into these challenging-looking poses... But i did know i wanted to stretch. The Bikram studio came highly recommended by my friend NS who explained that Bikram yoga (as opposed to other branches, none of which i can name) is different in that it is practiced in very high temperature. I was hesitant and apprehensive; i tend to sweat more profusely than your "normal" girl and i don't particularly enjoy dripping. NS assured me the heat was supposed to relax your muscles so you're less prone to injuries, and help your body rid itself of toxins. I wasn't sure i bought into the concept of sweating away toxins. And i thought even if i could sweat away toxins, i'd just ingest more at the end of the day anyway.

So... i had to get up early cos i'd rather get this out of the way than wait till late afternoon... and so i was hung over and cranky. When i got there I was a little wary of the New Agey vibe. But it sure was exciting to try something new. And now that i've had time to ponder, why is New Age associated with flakiness? i just don't get it.

Simple advice like "remember to breathe" really came in handy. We all take simple things for granted at one time or another, don't we? The class was actually quite fun and engaging, and the 90 minutes flew by. Well, the first 75 minutes flew by, but by the 76th minute i just wanted to lie there on my towel-draped mat and do nothing. Cos after baking at 475° for over an hour, i was done. Not until i walked out of the studio did i realize just how soaked i was. I don't think i ever perspired that much in my life! Now i know what they mean by "sweating buckets".

As i drove home i decided.. you know what? It does feel good to sweat. I was reminded of when i was much younger, when i didn't wear sunblock or lipstick or anything - just my naked face... back then i couldn't care less if sweat streamed down all over my face and dripped off my wisps of short hair and my shirt stuck to my back.

For a moment there on my way home, as my wet tee stuck to my chest and tummy, i was blissed out. I actually went 62 on 65. That's out of character.

You Wonder Why I Drive Like a Maniac

This is why i have road rage.

Because you have trampled on my heart after breaking it into irreparable pieces and you’re totally oblivious to what you’ve done. (Yes, that's a cliché. So bite me.) When i confront you, you shrug your shoulders, asking, “Did I do that? I don’t remember. Sorry.” Of course, knowing that you don’t remember only makes the wound fresh all over again. Perhaps even creates new ones. And i’ve never said anything. I’ve never confronted you before. I didn’t feel i was worth it. i was probably overreacting. It was probably not your fault. You couldn’t be held responsible. After all, Dr. Dyer said not to play victim. i couldn’t blame you. No way.

The same goes with oblivious drivers on the road. They’re in my way, hindering me, taking pleasure out of my cruise down the freeway. Do i have many pleasures in life? No. Perhaps i'm in a hurry but my time means nothing to them. I mean nothing to them. They’re totally unaware, going about their business. And is it my fault that i’m tailgating? Because these morons won’t wise up and see they’re hurting me?! I deserve better, you know.

So own up to the hurt you've caused, MoFo. Cos i'm done being nice. (Think Alanis.) And don't tell me to relax. And don't tell me i'm being ridiculous. And have i mentioned? Bite me!

I think that can be arranged...

Some people rearrange furniture when they're antsy. Me, i make CD sculptures in a trance, then find them the next morning, going whoa. Frigging Poltergeist is more like it. In which case it would be the spirits rearranging furniture...

OK, i wasn't making sculptures. i was just searching high and low for a CD. Yes, again. But kinda cool how the mess turned out, no?

And now i should turn that energy to my job search...

Make Me Pretty

At a nail salon this afternoon:

A woman and her pre-teen were getting a treat. The firm and tanned adolescent, who was getting a pedicure, when prompted for a couple of rhinestones to go on those little piggies who went wheeee all the say, said yes to the offer.

Then came the check.

"I'm sorry," exclaimed the woman. "Did you say Forty-five?"

The Vietnamese crew coyly acknowledged.

"Forty-five! " The woman whined. "Twenty-five for you alone! That's expensive for a twelve-year-old!"

That's certainly an episode that's gonna come up in psychotherapy, i'm sure. "My Mom/Stepmom practically announced to the world i wasn't worth twenty-five bucks!"

Yeah, woman! If you're gonna be stingy and hurtful, do your homework before the beauty session, will ya?

Snippet 4

V: I was thinking to go to this Mushroom Mardi Gras in Morgan Hill this weekend. I've never been to Morgan Hill.

JD: When are you going?

V: Probably Sunday. I would prefer Saturday, but i was thinking to join my brother in net conference with my Mom so she could call me fat again.

: )

No harm, no foul

So my Aunt Evelyn* was in town today, visiting from Texas. All the way from Richmond, TX 77469, man! Woo hoo! That's right! When i saw York online today, i said, "i shoulda asked her to bring me an armadillo, to barbeque later!" He practically rolled on the floor. Oh... that was just the emoticon.

As i drove out to the Hilton she's staying at to meet her and her hubby for lunch, i thought to myself, "If she comments on my weight gain or my adult acne condition, i'll scream!... i swear i will!" (If you're puzzled, see Afternoon Magic.)

But i saw her and we hugged and i was glad to see her and we had a nice time.

"Now that you've put on some weight you look like your Mom so much more than you did before!" Aunt Evelyn remarked.

And i took that as a compliment.

Ha! In your face, Ma! Looks like some folks find me lovely after all. And they remember you as fat!

(Hee hee.)


*her real name : )

A Little Subtlety Please?

I've been thinking since my last two posts... that if anyone actually reads this blog (ha, ha), the bipolarity should be just so frigging obvious! I mean we're talking a dash from "Nobody loves me, I wish I was dead" to "Man, it's good to be alive!" to "My Mom hates me" to "Teheeeeeee". OMG!! Talk about unstable! The only consistency is that you can count on me pendulating like a grandfather clock.

Good thing i didn't spend a fortune getting diagnosed, huh? This surely doesn't take Freud or Jung.

Who's Shirley and what's she got against Freud and Jung?

(OK, that joke never gets old with me.)

Snippet 3

Shiitake* the schnauzer** likes to ride on Elsie's lap in the Odyssey. Now that she's 5 months along she's becoming less accommodating.

W and i were in the front row when we heard:

"You can lick me all you want, i'm not gonna let you get on me."

I turned around to Elsie to inquire, "Is that what you tell W too when he's trying to mount you?"

(Roar... Roar... Guffaw...)



*Not his real name
**Not his real breed

Snippet 2

Sunday 20:06

W: So your final presentation is on Tuesday, huh?

V: No, tomorrow.

W: Ooh... Soon you can start drinking!

V: You think i stopped?

(Chuckle chuckle.)

(V glances over at Elsie. "Why is this funny?" is written all over her face.)

Afternoon Magic

Every Saturday my brother W has a video conference with my Mom who lives in Asia. It's more an obligation than anything else. And it's more about letting my Mom see AC my nephew on webcam than about adult interaction.

My Mom and i have this very awkward relationship. I've often thought that if we weren't mother and daughter, we'd never be friends.

Since i moved out of W's house last August, i haven't been religiously joining them in net conference.

Yesterday enough guilt propelled me, so i crankily drove to W's house.

W the wiseguy put the camera on me..

"Whoa!" My Mom exclaimed. "You're a beachball!"

Oh... that's... nice. I'm so glad i drove 17 miles to come over.

And she had to continue, she was so beside herself, "What happened? What happened to you? What.. are you trying to break a record or something? Seriously, you're a beachball!"

"OK..." i replied monotonously. "So?"

"So? So a beachball deserves to be kicked around a few times!" She responded wittily, expecting roaring laughter.

Silence befell us.

My Mom really knows how to work her magic, what can i say. All those nice pix of myself i sent her with my new haircut and things where i didn't look like a giant tub she had no comments on. No, no. But as soon as a flaw is detected she can never be too quick to shine a spotlight on it.

I remember self-psychoanalyzing during a recent chat with LC my sis-in-law in her afternoon-sun-infused living room. She was baffled by my various afflictions. Listing a few of my positive qualities, she asked rhetorically, "Why on earth would you have low self-esteem?"

I think her question has been answered.

Utter Chaos

This is the kind of mess i make when drunk. When i'm drunk i'm not averse to chaos. (I guess the same applies to my life by and large! haha.) Which is why i can't bring myself to look for anything while sober if the search entails creating a mess.

This kind of still life cannot be staged. This kind of symbolism cannot be made up.

Last night i was searching for Blues Traveler's 1994 album Four. I knew i had it and i'd been meaning to look for it for weeks. Sometimes music is my only instant gratification. JD and i saw Blues Traveler perform live last September at one of those festivals where you walk around feeling like a kid all day. It may sound totally pathetic, but it was probably one of the happiest days of my life.

Again, i wasn't gonna play "Hook" or "Run-Around" right then and there. But knowing the CD was in my possession - that knowledge was like a haven in itself.

You see, there's this damned art and wine festival coming up in my neck of the woods. I want to go, i don't want to go. I wanna go by myself, i don't wanna go by myself. Who knew a little event promoted by the local chamber of commerce could engender so much turmoil, stir up so many unresolved feelings?

"Who knew"? I should've known.

Where forth art thou?

Sometimes it's knowing something is available that anchors you.

Case in point: i just found out i had Sister Hazel's 1997 album "... somewhere more familiar". Who knew?

Not like i'm playing it any time soon. But knowing it's there is comforting.

Something to keep in mind when i think i miss JD miserably.

Say Goodnight, Gracie

NBC aired the finale of Will & Grace tonight.

It was never one of my absolute favorties, but when a series i once followed ends, i'm inevitably saddened.

Of course, when the time comes to wrap things up, writers are in a rush to nudge the main characters toward a happy ending. Both Will and Grace wind up with the love of their life.

For eight years they each struggled in the romance department. Eight long years. And now, all of a sudden, miraculously, everything works out.

Perhaps people like JD and i are not with the love of our lives because, well, our series is not nearly over yet.

Or perhaps our writers are just not mainstream enough to do happy endings.

A word on my oeuvre

Now that i've had time to ponder, i realize: you can't really say "from one archfiend to another", because "archfiend" means the main guy, the top dog, the head honcho. You can't have two in one hell.

Also note: I could've said clavicle instead of collar bone. But i didn't. Why? Cos i'm not so pretentious that i have to use big words whenever an opportunity presents itself... I mean, i'm not always that pretentious. Well, I did say oeuvre. Haha.

From one archfiend to another

Last night i had a lot to drink. I hadn't had a lot to drink in a while. Just hadn't been able to. When i went to bed i decided to sleep in the nude, just cuz i hadn't done that in a while. Then this morning i woke up a little chilly and nauseous. And i found these mysterious, menacing scratches on and below my collar bone that looked very demon-induced - totally Rosemary's Baby. Oh, what a genius classic! Rosemary's Baby... That's a dated reference, huh? You know you're getting old when you make references that make kids go, huh? The other night, on the Tonight Show, Jay Leno mocked George Michael who was recently in the news for sleeping at the wheel or something, with the punchline, "Hey, wake up before you go-go." The young folks in the front row were practically silent. I cracked up, of course.

This reminds me. Last week, on the shuttle, there was this really loud, obnoxiously girl who just wouldn't quit yapping. When George Michael's One More Try came on the radio, she giddily sang along. Her friend teased her, questioning her taste in music. "Hey, I like the oldies!" She proclaimed.

Oldies?!! Since when is 80's stuff oldies? When i was growing up, songs from the 50's were oldies. Oh, that's about right. I guess a twenty-year gap is the norm. Damn!

A Dry Martini, Dirty, Hold the Serotonin

Last night's episode of Law & Order SVU hit home. Can a girl be held responsible for her reckless behavior when she's been off anti-depressive drugs? Depression is a mental illness, they say. It is?

It hit me. It is.

But surely it is much more innocuous than, say, schizophrenia or social dissociative disorder! Am i right?

("It may be so. But don't call me Shirley!")

The episode also revolved around disclaiming psychiatry as a science and the controversy of weighing psychiatric drugs' unquantifiable benefits against unknown harm. I was suddenly reminded of this professor who casually mentioned SSRI one morning. "Serotonin something inhibitor, something..." he had mumbled. I don't even remember how he stumbled onto the subject.

SSRI stands for "selective serotonin reuptake inhibitor". It is the mechanism behind many anti-depressive drugs including Prozac, Zoloft, and Paxil. Apparently, therapists are not certain how it works.

Then comes along Cymbalta which adds norepinephrine to the equation. (I have to hand it to them. They've got a very effective, convincing ad campaign. Caught my attention!)

I would like to blame it all on chemical imbalance, i would. (Shifting blame on bloodline also works.) But then there are days when i'd like to believe I'm in charge... I can make a difference. Though those days are few and far between in recent memory. What can i say, carpe diem anyway!

You Look Like a "Milian" Bucks

Meet Christina Milian. This album released on May 16, 2006 is called So Amazin'. Yes you are, baby! Yes - You - Are. (I have not listened to her music, but LOOK AT HER!!!)

Self-Discovery

All my life i couldn't come up with a satisfactory nickname. York pressed me for it. I had nothing. I have one of those four-syllable prissy names that just refuse to be abbreviated. I've come up with a cool one that never caught on. There are a couple of boring options that I would've settled for, but no one went for anyway.

Today, while watching a recorded episode of Will & Grace, it hit me. Gin! Karen calls her sister Gin. It's perfect! And why not? It was the first drink in my teens, if you don't count beer. Thanks to my dear Dad. : ) I love that man.

In my singlehood i've discovered that i'm not crazy about Cabernet Sauvignon. White Zinfandel is fine, but i'm still exploring. Sangria just plain sucks.

One of the things i dread about living alone is opening a jar. You may laugh, but what good am i as a single woman if i can't be self-sufficient when it comes down to the nitty-gritty? After all, there's no one around to help or sympathize. JD knows the story of the jar of Southwest Salsa from Safeway that had me break down and cry after having wrestled with it for 27 minutes. I'm pretty determined, but stamina is not my strong suit. That jar broke my spirit, man.

Then, this afternoon, i successfully won the skirmish with a jar of pickled okra. It only took 4 minutes and 23 seconds. Words cannot express the joy of vindication.

Ahh... okra. There's this delicious okra stew that my ex [not JD] used to make on demand. It had to be okra season though. It was supreme. I never got the recipe.

I used to feel tinges of guilt when i was reminded of my ex. You know what, i bet i can look up that recipe online. Now that's something to look forward to.

Saturday Night Revelation

It's Saturday night, and everybody is doing something.

My brother and his wife are meeting friends for dinner.

JD is watching TV on his couch, perfectly happy. (OK, maybe "perfectly happy" is too strong a phrase, but he's certainly independently content.)

York is on a date.

NS, like myself, was working on an array of projects all day. But at least she took a break and went outside for an hour.

My parents are picking up JC my cousin at the harbor. She's the one being mistaken for their daughter these days. Then they're heading over to a grand opening of a friend's jewelry store.

My Mom is expecting five visitors this summer alone. From all around the globe. Five!

My existence means nothing. Everybody's got a life. And i'm not in it.

Shiny Happy People

This is a map of visitors to my site by city. Courtesy of sitemeter.com. Pretty impressive at first glance, isn't it? Don't let it fool ya. Some visits lasted 0 second. The hard data kinda makes me miss the good old days when global readership could be justifiably assumed. Haha.

Today is my brother W's birthday. He firstborn is turning 18 months old next week, and he's got another one on the way, who also happens to be a boy. Today i felt like i was surrounded by all these happy, together people who knew where they were going in life. A teammate of mine is expecting in August. She and her husband just had their 5th anniversary in April. They felt it was time to have a family, and boom! They've got a baby in the oven... Oh, i mean, bun in the oven. Same difference.

Then NS my beautiful almost-friend told this beautiful story of how she and her best friend found true love in each other through the tragedy of her father's recent passing. Just like the movies. I swear I was gonna bawl right then and there. (And yes, her best friend is a guy. Sorry, those of you who were just getting worked up by lesbian imagery.)

Whereas i, coming home at 20:00 with two boxes of spirits from BevMo, tried to be as inconspicuous as possible, only to be spotted by a neighbor smoking on his balcony. The cigarette's glow in the dark was as piercing as a cayote's stare deep in the woods - if the cayote had only one good eye, that is.

Blue on Blue

A blue chick. That's me. : )

This is from a campaign of "the sak" designed by Sloane Tanen by the way. When you have a cool name like Sloane, you just can't go wrong.

Today Carter's sent me a coupon by email, wishing me a happy Mother's Day. Umm, that's quite a presumption. Don't the good people at Carter's know that there are singles out here who will always be alone, but have other people's children to buy presents for? Hello! Wake up and smell the blue dye in my down!!

Snippet

Irma:
I'm such an idiot!

Gina:
Yes, you are. But do you have to go on and on about it?

Maxed Out

This evening i experienced depression to the max. All i could do was to lie in bed. Once i was down I just could not get up. There was absolutely no reason to. I had no desire, no motivation whatsoever. Not even to drink. That's when i knew something was really wrong. No joke.

I just lay there, extremely fatigued and devoid of emotions. I could literally hear the minutes tick by. Oh... that's because I have an alarm clock that ticks. But seriously, these are the minutes of my life, minutes I'm never getting back! Even as i found myself thinking that, i could not get up. There was utterly nothing, and no one, to get up for.

The first time i found myself staying in bed for 20 hours on end, i was 18. And no, it was not due to a sex-a-thron. Yeah, it's time to see a therapist, i realize. Just as soon as i get out of bed.

Wanted, Dead or Alive

Malfeasance.

I just wanted to say that. It's a good word. : )

Someone once told me that, whether you're a business mogel or a writer or an artist, you're only as good as your worst work. This post is gonna be how i shall be defined. : )

A project got postponed till next week. So of course i celebrate by drinking, which i haven't been able to do with all abandon in quite a while.

People keep calling me to interrupt.

You have to understand. I don't get calls. On most days it's like i live on a desert island with no phone lines and no smokestacks in sight. Occasionally i hear vultures squawking, impatiently awaiting my impending death.

Some wanted to talk about on-going projects.. then boundaries were crossed... conversations got a little more personal. People were... nice. Caring even. I'm not quite used to it.

Quite ironic that i'm only making friends during the last semester of my academic career.

Therefore, even though, while someone yaps away, i'm staring at my shaker filled with ice, strawberry purée and rum, wondering, OK, when do i get to shake the MoFo? I'm glad there were incessant interruptions tonight. My existence means something, even on a minuscule scale. Yeah, that's good for now.

Thai-ing It All Together

Today whilst lunching at a hole-in-the-wall Thai place which is my favorite in town (sometimes i get dyslexic and wanna say "wall-in-the-hole", which wouldn't make much sense, unless you deem it a Freudian slip,) i observed a fly trying to get it on with another. The target was uninterested - she kept wiggling him off and gliding away. After a couple of attempts, he gives up and leaves her alone.

There are 3 things to be said here:

1) Ain't it grand that, in the insect world, gender roles are so simplistic, there needs not be room for interpretation, nor revolution?

2) I wanted to yell out to the guy fly, "Rejection and unrequited love! Aww... I feel your pain, man!" (Hey, at least this act would be one step up from talking to inanimate objects.)

3) The male fly has enough sensibility and self-esteem to quit after two failures. I could learn a thing or two from him.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
I came upon an unidentifiable shellfish. It reminded me of a delicious type my Mom and i had a couple of times while traveling in China. Some Mainland restaurants are set up differently than what i'm used to. I remember finally getting seated, exhausted and starving, only to have to walk down two flights of stairs again with my Mom to pick out our seafood from the tanks - a process that i do not find very efficient. My Mom tried to explain that the Chinese like their food fresh. And they like to know what exactly they're getting.

There's something else wrong with that selection ritual to me. From a Buddhist point of view (even though i'm not one and i'm not going vegetarian any time soon,) it's bad enough to cause a living organism to die. I'm not comfortable with being the direct cause of death for one particular life. Let the kitchen pick. Let them ride the wheel of samsara with all that blood on their hands.

Perhaps i can just make like certain Native American tribes who apologize to a fellow creature before turning it into dinner. But that can't be sufficient either. Think about this: You're turning the l'il critter into poop, basically. No apology will do! This explains the historical practice of a victor cannibalizing on his enemies. Can you think of a greater insult?

My Good China?

I spotted this set in Macy's mailer of the week. I chuckled, "I'd be a grandma before i'd buy this shit!" Then it dawned on me. Since when is "grandma" synonymous with "conventional" and "bad taste"? It's such a youth culture we live with now, it makes me sick. No wonder aging women, percieved to be progressively less vital as their sexuality wanes, are easy targets. When films like Big Mama's House came on the scene, I was like, i thought we were living in the 21st century? Oh, pardon me, is 50's humor still in vogue?

So before you giggle at another gramster joke, just remember: Someone had to be a grandma for you to be here. Buster.

I Believe in Animism

Isn't this the most surprised look you'll see around the house?

Today i felt like i hadn't left the house in days. (It's not true. It just felt that way.) My brother's family came to pay me a visit, which was nice. It's nice to feel like someone cares if you're dead or alive. But as usual i could never live in the moment. I was busy trying to complete a task i promised a teammate. I couldn't just stop, breathe, and enjoy their company.

Before long, they were gone. And honestly it felt worse than having been alone all along. After walking them to their Odyssey, i looked up and was in awe - the sun was out, it's actually a nice day. If not for my brother i would've been oblivious. OK, that's not true. I did peek from behind the blinds and felt isolated... Undeserving.

If not for my brother, i wouldn't even have stepped outside. The last time i came in the door, i was so glad to be home, i actually semi-yelled, "Hello, people!" Yeah... i worry about me too. Hey, perhaps my carpet and my dining table did miss me. Who's the say otherwise?

Can't Help It

I'm jaded
And you're beautiful
I'm deluded
and envious of you
You're callous
That i'm hurting...

This is the way
God made me

No self-reliance
No social skills...
No invitation to the ball

No self-esteem
You're picture perfect...

This is the way
God made me...
This is just the way I'm meant to be

- Chantal Kreviazuk, "God Made Me", Under These Rocks and Stones

Food for Thought

My brother W calls and asks what i've been feeding myself. Ha, funny! I just saw that i'm a V and he's a W. No wonder he's always had an edge over me. Cos two v's are better than one.

Funny he should ask, because just a couple of nights ago i ordered pizza and wings, something i hadn't done since JD and i broke up. Come to think of it, i don't think i've ever ordered pizza when i'm alone. I wish it felt more like empowerment. Instead it just gave me gas.

Love Whore

For almost two decades now there have been people who pretend to be my friend just so they can copy my homework. I've never thought about how far i've let it go. Until this semester. I am such a love whore - this i've known since age 6 when I gazed adoringly at a performer on stage, hoping they'd glance my way and notice i loved them the most. Then maybe they'd love me the most out of the entire audience. I don't know why I have this innate, insatiable need.

This semester, a couple of girls have not only copied my homework, but also asked me to pick up handouts for them when they were cutting class. Not only that, i had to meet them some place to deliver the notes. Not only that, they'd be late. And i'd wait, the idiot that i am.

It finally hit me. i DON'T have to do this. i DON'T have to aim to please. These people don't give a hoot about me! What am i doing?!!

Today one of these girls with a sweet façade came to me 28 minutes before an assignment was due, and attempted to "borrow" my work. "Don't worry," she assured me with an innocent smile. "I'm not gonna copy it." I thought to myself, No More! I lent her the list of formulas and told her which ratios to compute. Her smile froze.

She didn't have a pen. I let her borrow one, knowing she wouldn't return it, just like all those other times. She didn't have a calculator either. Who comes to school without a pen or a calculator? I said it'd be easier just to let Excel do the math. She said she was not real familiar with Excel.

WHAT???!!!!!!!!! This coming from a graduating senior majoring in Business Administration?!

I was infuriated. I may not be well-rounded, but the few things i do i take seriously and do well. Society, however, doesn't value my type. They look for those who spread themselves too thin juggling 15 things at once. Never mind they just wanna look good on paper. Never mind they can't do a simple summation in Excel. As long as they are members of the Croquet Club, the IMA, the FMA, play basketball, run and bike, walk their dog, work at Macy's, and does volunteer work at the local shelter on Fridays. Yeah, let's go for the schizophrenic over-achiever instead of the intellectual who is actually good at something. Sure.

Just Be Your Own Marvelous Self

The other day my best friend IA and i had a little chat on depression. Course, when i say "chat", i mean email. She expressed frankly she understood little about it (even though her brother has been afflicted for quite some time); all she could do was to keep me in her prayers. I wrote back, saying, heck, sometimes when i'm high, i forget what it feels like to be down in the dumps - it's just impossible to fathom.

Her comment left me feeling a little unsettled and ambivalent. On one hand, IA is my best friend. I've known her forever, I love her like a sister, and being 3,000 miles away still leaves a void in me. But hey, i don't think too much about it. If i dwell on every little thing i'll blow my brains out before Christmas. On the other, it's painful to be reminded of the loneliness of being different. To top it all off there's this guilt of not being appreciative of the fact that at least i'm in her freaking prayers.

I've talked about this blog being my sanctuary. In real life you simply don't get to be uncensored. It's tough when that censorship comes from within. It's like playing tug-o-war with you two hands.

I've considered sharing this blog with a friend or two. But once i do that, more censorship kicks in auto-frigging-matically. So i don't think so. But in theory, i could. It's a blessing, i've come to realize, to at least have a couple of friends i didn't have to pretend with. That's something.

Window & Mirror

You’re so vain, you probably think this blog is about you
You’re so vain, I’ll bet you think this blog is about you
Don’t you? don’t you?

OK, that was just an obiter dictum. : D

I have this teammate. She's probably in her early forties. The more I get to know her the more chilling the knowledge becomes. She's obviously very bitter about something. I don't want to know but my guess is that it has to do with men.

I shudder to think, if i don't wise up, this is a forecast of what i shall become in less than 10 years.

I recently read an article on leadership by Jim Collins that was humorously and insightful at the same time. But what do i care about leadership anyway, you know? However, a point in there struck me. It's this concept of "Window and Mirror" as the author coins it. A level 5 leader (the highest in the hierarchy in Collins' research and assessment) credits external forces for success (looking out a window) and introspects on areas that need improvement (mirror). Instead of being petty and self-absorbed, a level 5 leader focuses on the long-term good for the company instead of making him/herself look good.

I thought, what a concept! Everyone can use that kind of humility and professional will. (Collins realizes it's a rare, paradoxical combo.) When shit happens, don't get busy blaming others. When something turns out right, don't take all the credit. And most important of all, keep your eye on the big picture.

Yeah, i know. Easier said than done. That's why out of the hundreds of firms researched, only 11 had such disciplined visionaries at the top. Not to mention, corporate culture usually categorizes these characters as mousy - they seldom make it to the top.

Who am I? Where am I? What year is it?

Today I finished reading an article by Kristin Armstrong titled "What I wish i had known about marriage" in the April issue of Glamour. (Yes, May the sneaky bastard has come around and I'm not done with my April issue of Glamour yet, OK? That is quite astute of you! And yes, I read Glamour. So bite me!)* It's her account of having lost her sense of identity in her marriage to Lance Armstrong, the renowned cyclist. I came upon a part that touched me profoundly:

"I became a prisoner to my own inability to say uncle when life squeezed me too hard. The warden was pride, and I remained in maximum security."

Wow. She has quite a way with words. And there's just something about that quote there. It resonates with me. We put undue pressure on ourselves to live up to someone's expectations all the time. But whose expectations are they? Now, an identity crisis I can certainly relate to. I've only had one since age 9.

To this day i never quite know who i am. In retrospect, being in a relationship definitely clouded my vision even more. When you're part of something, there can be this illusion of being whole, of being complete... happy even. I held on to illusory happiness time and again indeed.

*Hostile? Who, me?!