Snippet 16

(At Monica's 30th birthday party)

Chandler:
Here's the thing: Monica's a little drunk.

Phoebe:
(Elated) Yay! I love drunk Monica!

(Chandler stares, speechless.)

Phoebe:
She's so much more fun than regular Monica!

- Friends

Snippet 15

Older man:
You're not old enough to be a chaperone.

Fran:
You don't have to be old to be a chaperone. You just have to a loser. (Laughs)

- The Nanny

All In a Day's Work (Or Lack Thereof)

JD says he heard somewhere that even when unemployed, one should rise at seven anyway, and tackle one's job search as if it were a full-time job.

My neighbors woke me at seven this morning. They usually do, like clockwork. I did rise, to take a shit. And i blogged. Then i went back to bed.

Fucked up a phone interview at 14:00 today. It's one of those things that could only happen on Seinfeld. At 14:00 sharp, some delivery guy knocked on my door. I answered only because i thought it might be the super coming to examine the leak in my bathroom ceiling again. The guy had a heavy accent and wasn't the most courteous person i'd encountered. Amidst the turmoil, just when he asked to use my phone, my cell rang - the phone interview!

I was braless, scantily clad in my short shorts, totally self-conscious, and already sick with anticipation of the phone interview. Normally i would turn the stranger away, but in all the commotion I just shoved him my home phone, told him to leave it once done cos i had another call, and rushed off to answer my cell.

I generally stink on the phone anyway, but today i've really outdone myself. With the guy speaking loudly in my doorway, I could hardly concentrate on the interviewer's voice. I was mortified. My brain turned to mush.

"I'm calling to find out why this position interests you and why you think you're a good match," opens the interviewer.

I said something to the effect of "sure, go ahead, ask me," and she repeated her question.

Shit, is right.

I heard the guy dial 4 or 5 times, talk to 2 or 3 individuals, trying to clear up matters. It felt like an eternity. At the end he tried to get my attention by yelling, "Miss! Miss! I'm done with your phone now!" And when i couldn't answer, he repeated himself, like, 11 times. What part of "just leave it when you're done" didn't he understand?!!

Just one of those nightmarish incidents you simply can't make up. After it all ended, i noticed he had called at least one out-of-area number. This goes to show: No good deed goes unpunished. Talk about bad judgment on my part!

Knowing that i had blown it, i spent the rest of the afternoon sending out more résumés. All in all i spent a good 5 hours job-hunting today. Not exactly the "full-time job" JD recommends to the unemployed, but it's the closest i've been.

Snippet 14

Bryce:
Wow. I've never seen you like this - unable to get up... unable to do anything.

Emily:
Once you've reneged on your pledge I've shriveled up like a prune - no, a raisin! (Softly) Cuz a raisin is smaller. (Faintly smiles)

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Georgy:
Wait... So Bryce is me... and Emily is you?

Marin:
Maybe. To a writer, real and fictitious characters are intertwined. And besides, this is proof that blatant melodrama, a.k.a. being pathetic, can be funny. (Faintly smiles)

Revelation 13

I told JD over the weekend that you know you're depressed when you cry to something like Bruce Almighty.

In the film, when God asks brokenhearted Bruce if he wants Grace back, his gut instinct is to say yes, but he thinks for a second and replies, "I want her to be happy. I want her to meet someone who makes her happy, someone who always sees her the way I see her now."

It takes a strong person to say that and really mean it.

Something for me to learn. I think I may graduate soon. Well, someday.

During the night when i'm sleepless, attacked by pangs of angst, I curl up like an earthworm that's been sprinkled with salt. And i think my visceras are gonna implode and collapse, but when that happens i wanna be standing on my feet, so that i may be a hollow shell but still remain defiantly erect.

Depression is very psychosomatic. It's like the body sympathizes with the mind by firing obligatory signals to materialize intangible pains and sufferings. Today i wake up feeling like someone has punched me all over. I'm sure the fact i haven't eaten since Friday afternoon is not helping matters.

But it's true: you just breathe one breath at a time. Cos there's nothing else you can do, but breathe. And breathe you must, for yourself.

Quote 10

I've watched you... How can you smile... as if your life hasn't capsized?

- The English Patient

And You May Quote Me 2

Last night JD informs me he has made his decision: He's moving to Florida.

It's not easy for me to see him go, even though we agree that our relationship has been tumultuous. He calls it "volcanic".

If our relationship is a volcano, it's going from active to dormant soon. And sooner or later it's gonna be extinct.

Quote 9

Another stage is bare
And i'm standing there
With emptiness
All around me

- Are You Lonesome Tonight, Elvis

Quote 8

Rebecca:
(Sobs) I married a plumber!

Woody:
Oh... i think Don is gonna make a pretty good husband.

Rebecca:
Of course he is. And until he finds out how screwed up I am, we're gonna have the most perfect marriage!

- Cheers

Revelation 12

In psychoanalysis, it is a known fact that we recreate in adulthood what we experienced in childhood. We do not distinguish "good" from "bad", if such a distinction can be readily made.

So maybe i recreate pain. All i want is for someone to acknowledge by saying, "There, there, i know i caused you pain, and i'm sorry." What i don't need is for someone to say, "So what does that say about you?" when i'm already reeling from an open wound.

I have enough guilt. I don't need to be reminded of it. To be reminded that i go back for more.

But of course, it's not gonna happen, when the other party is suffering from tremendous guilt as well. There's not enough consolation in the world.

And You May Quote Me

JD often informs me i sound sad on the phone and inquires why, which is silly really. I always sound a little sad cos i always am a little sad. My therapist has asked me to plot my mood on a weekly chart to monitor swings, and to me, "normal" as indicated with a zero in the middle is arbitrary. For me, normal is a -1 (-5 being utterly depressed).

But tonight is different kind of -1. If JD were to ask me why i'm sad tonight, i'd say:

I'm sad i'm not a variable in the equation with which you formulate your life.

Revelation 11

To combat this ungodly heat i lounge around in my slightly dingy white crochet bikini all day and blast all the fans in my possesion. I would get a portable air conditioner, but the dozen of places i called today are all sold out. Ah, hindsight, how i'm familiar. Celebrating both creativity and desperation i fill a bowl with water, dump several ice cubes in it, and dab myself with a paper towel soaked in the solution every now and then.

Even in my inebriated state i catch one of my cups shifting off askew once in a while, and i nonchalantly adjust it to return it to its appropriate state.

Having wiped the diaper rash ointment with toner off my neck, i slide down and rest my head on the couch. That simplistic gesture exorcises all my anxiety away.

I'm gonna be okay after all, even if JD moves to Florida, even if "[I'm] the only person who truly understands." Even if, if i can bring myself to comb below the surface, i don't know how i can make this work. We can't laugh without at least 6 fluid ounzes in our veins.

I'm OK as long as i can lie languidly on my couch, strutting my gut, not giving a hoot. As long as no one is spying with a telescope in my vicinity. And no one in their right mind should. There are fresher crops.

Revelation 10

I visited my friends in SoCal over the weekend and saw Something's Gotta Give. Seeing a parallel between the characters Erica and Harry and the reality of me and JD, i was awash with emotions.

Erica and Harry get each other like they've never experienced before. Down the line, Harry withdraws.

"The life I lived before you... I could do that forever," says Erica, referring to how Harry has changed her life irreversibly.

"I just don't know how to be a boyfriend," Harry attempts to explain.

The difference is: Erica and Harry are not depressives. At the despicable end of an otherwise endearing film (albeit improbable), they meet in Paris and reconcile. Come on!

How i hate to be affected by sugar-coated motion pictures. I've never been a big fan of the genre "romantic comedy". They're usually neither romantic nor funny. And so i especially despise having been saddened by said film.

JD and i are depressives. JD being more advanced than i am. (Advanced is, of course, an euphemism.)

Having issues of unattainable love in childhood, i strive to make my guy happy in every relationship. Enters JD, the ultimate challenge, a man profoundly stricken with depression.

It was 110° in Los Angeles on Saturday. I developed heat rash.

The itchy, prickly sensation drove me crazy. I endured it for two days, then did some research, and discovered that heat rash is simply plugged pores from extensive heat and moisture. Not unlike diaper rash.

Couldn't hurt to try a diaper rash ointment, in my innovative spirit i thought.

Tonight JD goes on about yearning to be "normal" again. I point out that he has one definition of normal and doesn't allow himself any slack.

"You don't acknowledge yourself for small achivements," i tell JD. "Meanwhile, i give myself credit for buying diaper rash treatment."

Indeed it tingles. It relieves. It works. Ahhhhh...

Revelation 9

These two words i learned over the weekend:

Enophile: one that likes wine.

Orchidectomy: derived from "orchid", this means the removal of one or both testes. (Ouch!)

I also learned: (1) i like wine now even though i used to consider the whole ritual and related activities pretentious. (2) An orchid in bloom is perceived to visually resemble the male genitalia. Did NOT know that. Would've never made the association. Yuck!

Could this be why JD gave me 2 orchid plants in the past 22 months? And is this why i've never had any success sustaining one?

Who Was That Greek God With the Bolt?

Courtesy of Lane Sarasohn.

This is the kind of thunderstorm that's gonna lure JD away to Florida...

Frigid I'm Not

This is the international corner of my fridge. There are mementos from The Netherlands, Belgium, Macau, Los Angeles and San Francisco...

And last but not least, Fort Myers, Florida, which of course, makes the cultured-ness complete. : )

Blessed Art Thou, Sofa 2

Today i find myself picking up a book i've been meaning to read forever, The Kiss by Kathryn Harrison. I have the hard cover version - i must've rushed to Barnes & Noble before the paperback came out in 1998, before my Amazon days. I know this is true because I made the purchase shortly after I read The End of Alice by A.M. Holmes, the paperback version of which was published in 1997.

I can't believe it's been that long! As i sit down to read and find myself engrossed in no time, i think maybe it's been 5 years, tops, since i read a book for pleasure. [Note the 2 remotes sans the 1 beverage i mentioned in my last blog. : ) ]

I think, heck, i can sit and read all day. All of a sudden i notice how beautiful my light-infused living room is. Man, i have a living room! Wasn't much of a living room before... I'm not even concerned about lunch at the moment, and it's past noon - very unlike me. Who would've thought a mere sofa could engender so much sanity and tranquility? Therapy, schmerapy. My sofa will anchor and sustain me.

On the other hand, singing praises for a piece of furniture - yeah, that's normal.

Blessed Art Thou, Sofa

Here it is. My dream almost 12 months in the making.

Yes, it's only a couch. But it stands for so much more. It makes a studio apartment a home. It'll allow me to stay up AND fall asleep without excruciating pain in my neck and shoulders - no more self-pity. I can get up on a Sunday and crawl right on it before i even wash my face, and NOT feel like a complete loser. I could live on this couch. It symbolizes my independence from everyone and everything - except a job. Still need that. But right now i'm so euphoric, i don't sense any anxiety. Sure, i'm already starting to ache dully from spending 3 hours assembling the damned thing and the cleanup after, but i'm happy as a clam. I don't even feel the need to binge-eat or drink! The contentment is so unfamiliar, i'm almost scared.

And the icing on the cake: I got it for $50 off! AND it came with a little sleek swivel table perfect for my two remotes and one cocktail (not shown). I don't recall the last time i felt so blissed out.

Yes, it's only a couch. But for now it is better than love, ten-fold. In fact, technically, it's a loveseat. How aptly named! It's very roomy, BTW, wink wink, for when some real love comes my way.

Gee, This Sounds Familiar...

Quote 7

Carter:
Dan, you seem to have the perfect marriage. How do you do it?

Dan:
You just pick the right one to be in the foxhole with, and then when you're outside of the foxhole, you keep your dick in your pants.

- In Good Company

Lamentation on Lifetime

I just watched the worst acting in The Obsession, a Lifetime original. Now, i've seen my share of B movies, but this really was bad.

Given, Elise Gatien is quite lovely, but her appeal doesn't make up for how the the cast stinks. Daphne Zuniga, i know there's life after Melrose Place, but by the grace of God, take an acting class. The plot is transparent, the emotions contrived. If you saw the preview you've pretty much seen the movie.

Just another predictable made-for-TV movie on stalking - an over-simplified version of it.

On one hand, I applaud Lifetime for having created "television for women". But this little network is imprisonment in itself. Reel after reel, it's all about single moms and/or their daughter(s) being stalked/abused/raped and/or trouble conceiving/kid-smuggling. And mind you, there's always, but always, deception.

If you're gonna create a network for female viewers, bust out of these definitions of mother/daughter/victim for once. Women are people after all. And we have issues above and beyond those intertwined with men and procreation, darn it.

The commercials offer no solace, either. Rheumatoid arthritis, osteoporosis, menopause... Gee, Lifetime, thanks for the constant reminder of what a joy and blessing it is to be a woman!

Tale Of a Cheese Cracker

This is a Japanese rice cracker. Most people hear rice cake and the like and go, "Blegh!" But truth is, there are many kinds, quite a number of which are plenty delish. This happens to be the exact kind my cousin Jojo and i used to share as teenagers.

Jojo and i grew up together. She always looked out for me. I loved her like a sister. In summer, we used to stay up watching TV, chatting, giggling, and having late-night snacks such the one shown above. She'd twist the almond off and let me have the cheese-topped cracker, rich and smooth and crunchy all at once but without the nutty distraction - just the way i liked 'em.

Then she discovered boys and the rest was history.

When my best friend IA was in town recently, she attempted to solve the mystery of my abandonment issues, and had the insights to crack the code. Jojo was the trigger, IA concluded. I'd had no idea. I'd felt perplexed all along.

I'd spent years looking for this almond cheese cracker, in a futile attempt to recreate my youth and its pleasant memories. The cracker was nowhere to be found. I had assumed that it was out of style and out of production.

Then one day, 20 years later, there it was at a local Japanese store, coyly and humbly on display. It couldn't have been more inconspicuous. I could've walked right by.

Sinking my teeth in this perfect blend of dairy and soy, the world is right again. It's OK Jojo and i have grown apart. It's OK she doesn't know who i am any more.

Trust me, food is never just food.

What Happens In Heaven, Stays In Heaven

Caught a glimpse of this painting called "The Promised Land" by De La Nuez at the Connoisseurs' Marketplace in Menlo Park this past weekend. JD and i cracked up instantly. Just brilliant!

It reminds me of these lyrics of The Eagles: "This could be heaven, or this could be hell..."

If only every crossroads were so clear-cut!

What's It All About, Alfie?

Clark*, JD's 47-year-old friend, has been known to admit to chasing skirts half his age or younger. An attractive 18-year-old has purportedly come on to him. (To which i roll my eyes.) Recently divorced, he has started dating a 23-year-old who used to cut his hair. (Not setting the bar too high, are we, Clark?)

When i learned this piece of information, i became insanely enraged. JD doesn't get it.

"If the guy can get away with it, maybe he deserves it," says JD in Clark's defense. Which just fuels my indignance even more.

Perhaps JD is uncomfortable because he sees himself in Clark, as perhaps most men do. Or perhaps i don't get it because i don't see Clark as a person - just a poster child of men who happen to be sleazebags. Now, i acknowledge that what two consenting adults do in their bedroom (or on the kitchen counter, or the back of a Ford pickup) is their business. But the gal is barely 4 years older than the guy's college-age son! Tell me that's not disgusting!!

The fury took me by storm and startled me. I can psychoanalyze all i want, but the core may just be jealousy, plain and simple. I ain't 23 no more. And not like i have anything going for me at present.

Or maybe it's the knowledge that i ain't ever gonna score a 23-year-old myself.


* Not his real name

Dog Days of Summer

*Pant*

Courtesy of Dogpile, my favorite search engine. Don't you just love them animated gifs?

But I Thought Cum Was a Dirty Word 2

W:
Hey. You got "summa cum laude". Isn't that the highest "cum laude" there is?

Me:
Indeed.

W:
Yeah, so it's either "Cum louder" or "Shoot Me! Cum Louder".

Me:
Ah, indeed those the 2 options!

W:
That's not entirely correct. In addition to "cum louder" and
"shoot-me! cum louder", you have "magnum! cum louder", too, no?

Me:
Only if you use a condom! LOL.

(Uncertain, I look up the term.)

Me:
It's magna. So the order would be summa, magna, cum louder, or no cum at all.

Circumlocution

Circumlocution: Using excessive words to express an idea. [You brainiacs out there might hate me for including the definition here. Plus, any word that begins with "circum" is just nasty. : ) ]

In my last post, I used "dismayed", "disillusioned", and "discredit" in ONE sentense. That's a lot of disses.

My father has an innate inability to be concise. I'm my father's daughter.

Incidentally, a few days ago, York was spilling the beans again, and he felt the need to type "Prednisone: a powerful steroid", to which i replied, rolling my eyes, "Yes, yes, i've taken it." Within a minute, he had the nerve to type "congenital" and then put in parentheses "genetic". Umm, i've only been coining the adjective since 11th grade? Fucker. I hate when someone slights my intelligence like that. If i don't know what a word means, i'll look it up, OK? No need to be condescending.

And just now, i realize, i'm guilty of the same.

But I Thought Cum Was a Dirty Word

I received my BS certificate yesterday. I had such a full day (rare, i know) that i didn't open the envelope until 11 p.m. First of all, the presentation was a lot prettier than i had expected. After all, this is only a state-funded university. Graduates are a dime a dozen. As i gingerly lifted the acrylic and parchment, the certificate itself took my breath away.

You see, by the end of this second round of my academic career, i had become so dismayed and disillusioned that i pretty much discredited everything and everyone, included myself. That's not a novel idea BTW, if you know me. Toward the end i was practically counting the days, much like an inmate awaiting parole. "Are you going to commencement?" Beaming twenty-year-old classmates would ask me. I'd brush it off, when what i really wanted to do was to spit.

And then there it was, the manifestation of my toil coming to fruition. A surreal vision. It never even crossed my mind I'd see my name and summa cum laude in the same sentence (well, it's not technically a sentence there.) Someone noticed I had worked very hard after all. (Well, they do have computers to keep track of grades and things.) It did not all go to waste! I became choked up. Who would've thought a piece of paper with ink on it could be so affective?

In my mind i hear my name called for me to go on stage, the announcer's voice echoing in the hall, then followed by "summa cum laude". The crowd would applaud.

Maybe i should've gone to commencement.

I've Found My Anthem

Pretty is as pretty does,
But pretty's not my thing.

This is what you get.
This is who I am.

Scratched and bruised,
a little used,
But baby I work fine.
You might call me
Damaged goods
But I'm one of a kind.

This is what you get.
This is who I am.

And if you're thinking about changing my direction,
Don't mess with imperfection.

- "Imperfection", Girl Next Door, Saving Jane

Reality Check on Motivation

Pork chops and rice casserole with diced tomatoes in basil and oregano. JD's Mom's recipe. Genius, isn't it?

I'm way more motivated when i'm with JD than at any other time. I'm able - hell, delighted - to do things that are normally a drag to me. A little codependent, you say? I've found this fact troubling myself, i admit. But what harm is there if, collectively, more gets done? This could be a path to feeling better about myself independent of company. It'd take time. But it's a possibility.

Today my aunt sent me money again. I'd implore that she refrain from financial aid, especially when i didn't even need it. I had enough to last me through the end of August.

"Besides," I wrote. "A full wallet may obliterate the sense of urgency of finding a job."

She went ahead anway, ignoring my request.

Now, i can't say i abhor her action. There's plenty of ambivalence. Not unlike other episodes of my life.

JD and i have had our share of jokes poking fun at the situation, us being both depressives and being all too familiar with the inexplicable lack of motivation we experience at times. It's not something you can verbalize. And today the transaction was finalized.

"Fret not," i IM'd JD, referring to my job search. "The money is not gonna make me feel less motivated."

JD was very understanding.

I continued, "I'm gonna be every bit as unmotivated as before. No more, no less."

Snippet 12

In a heated argument over Grace, Karen mouths off at Val.

Val:
(scoffs) That's just your drink talking.

Karen:
(raising her martini glass) Yes, and it's saying, "Drink me!"

- Will & Grace

Act Your Age

Today I learned to my delight that, in An Unfinished Life, Jennifer Lopez plays Robert Redford's daughter. Thank God she doesn't play his love interest. It's about time. Case in point: Shopgirl. Nothing against Steve Martin. And i'm sure the film is probably witty. But come on, Hollywood, can we spell "gross"? Claire Danes could be his granddaughter for all we know. Meanwhile, actresses start scrouching roles of obscure mothers of teenyboppers, two and a half decades before they hit menopause.

Men don't see this. It's perfectly naturally to want to hump a young'un, right? Roseanne once said, "When a man is 16, he wants a twenty-year-old. When he's 30, he wants a twenty-year-old. And when he turns 60, he wants a twenty-year-old."

Don't get me wrong. I can relate. Many mornings i wake up and feel 14. (At least i've matured since two years ago, when i used to feel 9.) But do i fantasize about boinking the likes of Ivan Shaw? Well... yes. But do i go blasting the imagery on a big screen? No.

Snippet 11

Joanna takes a drag on her cig.

Samantha:
I thought your Mom had emphysema.

Joanna:
(Smiles ambivalently) It's a bad habit I've taken up to deal with my other bad habits. (Glances over at boyfriend who has just sneered, "What, no beer?")

- Without a Trace

Quote 6

I stayed with you 'cause i loved you. You cured me of that.

- Alice, The Truth About Love

Independence Day Ponderance

It’s quite ironic that it’s Independence Day today.

Over the weekend York texted me cos he needed to talk. His GF was “late”.

Today the predicament is confirmed. The FOB is preggie. I didn’t even know they were doing it. Yeah, naïve, I know.

He’s been known to say she gets on his nerves. She’s crowding him. She shows up unannounced, and she started talking about marriage like a week into the relationship.

“I suspect she just wants to marry an American to stay in the country,” he confided.

I get sucked into someone else’s drama so i don’t need to deal with the open-endedness of my own life. There's a chance i hate her because her neediness sounds a bit familiar.

“Text me or something”, he pleads today.

I’m such a sucker for someone who “needs” me, it’s not even funny. It almost doesn’t even matter who it is.

“Would you like to IM?” I text back.

“She’s here,” he replies. “Can’t chat.” Then he makes that sad face.

Of course she’s there. "Normal" couples spend their day off together. In stark contrast, JD plans his life without me.

How appropriate that i watched Match Point today, which happens to discuss the age-old mind-boggler of lust vs. love. Men will tell lies on tops of lies to get some action with hot stuff, but settle for some nice girl who’s sweet but doesn’t quite incite that kind of passion. The minute Hot Stuff gets knocked up, Man gets panicky.

“I don’t see a future,” York concluded, referring to the GF. Weeks before "the incident".

And yet he continues to see her, and continues to fuck her. All because she was nice enough to make chicken soup when he was sick?

Perhaps we are all living a lie. A web of lies we can’t quite distill life from.

And perhaps i'm miffed by neither York nor JD. The mixed emotions are far more profound than i can possibly start to detangle or decipher.