On Uprooting

My parents live in Asia. I've been living in the States for almost 20 years now. My Dad is turning 70 next January.

Even when i was still dating JD, my Mom would hint with every chance she got that it would be nice if i would move back home. She would tout the benefits such as low living costs and low tax rate, and observe how so-and-so's kid had found a great job in Asia after having gotten a degree in the U.S.

My Dad liked JD. He told me, "If you're happy, don't come back. Ignore your mother." I thought i saw tears in his eyes. I was choked up.

Now that's love. Just like Jesus told his Father in Heaven upon facing great suffering, "Yet not what I want, but what You want."

Whoa, my father is godlike.

You see, i love my Dad. It's my mother i can't stand. Last time i visited, i sunk into such severe depression, i could hardly get out of bed, and i couldn't wait to leave. Sometimes just talking to her on Skype turns me suicidal. It's no joke.

Home is where the heart is. I can't imagine living anywhere else but here.

A few days ago, my Mom emailed a classified ad of employment opportunities in my hometown to me, and cc'd W my brother and Elsie my sis-in-law.

I had to say something. But i could never confront my Mom. So i wrote to W and Elsie instead, joking that my Mom was not very subtle, "I feel guilty, but i don't wanna move back." We'd had this discussion before. I cannot imagine living there. Especially not around my Mom. I'm sorry.

Elsie's response included, "I wish I had spent more time with my Mom." Her Mom passed away several years ago.

Oh, great, more guilt. I don't need this.

W chimed in, "They're aging, and I worry about the fact that they won't have someone around in their time of need."

Well, if you're so worried, why don't you move? Cos you're married with children, and have an important job, whereas i'm single, unattached, and rootless, so my wants don't count??!

I graduated from college in 1995. In 2006, i graduated from college again. The degree is no better. I'm virtually making the same money ten years ago as now, inflation-adjusted.

If this thought alone doesn't depress me, i don't know what does.

Parents, Put a Cork In It

This morning i saw one of those "my child is wonderful" bumper stickers again. This one says:

My child was student of the month at
Cardinal Elementary School*
The place where miracles happen

Congrats on the fact that it takes a miracle for your child to be student of the month!


*Not its real name

Ode to Ashley*

On Thursday, Ashley* came in from another store to help out with filing at my office. I had only met her the Tuesday before. She's eighteen and has just graduated from high school. She looks fourteen. Very petite (about five foot one), has a killer smile, and infectious positive energy.

The guys were all smitten. They took turns stopping by to say hi and introduced themselves, asking all sorts of questions. Our store is has a male-dominant staff, so that was quite a scene. Greg**, one of the assistant managers, who was probably six foot two, practically blushed in Ashley's presence. Cute. And disgusting.

I guess i can relate to the rush of picturing an appendage not fitting in a tight space.

Ashley is very ambitious. She's gonna major in accounting. I wanted to tell her that our job, sadly, didn't require a degree, as i'd noticed shortly after hire.

She was also very eager to prove herself and please our boss (the district supervisor who wasn't around on most days.) I can't remember what it's like. I guess i did feel that way at my first real job as well. She claimed to like us and promised to be back the next day.

But on Friday she took off at two after having finished all the tasks at her store. Not so much as a phone call. She probably has a life. It's Friday, for Christ's sakes. And she's young.


*Not her real name
**Not his real name

Dear Neighbor

A neighbor left a hate note on my windshield last night. It said that i was "rude to wake people up so early in the morning with [my] car alarm." Uh, it's not my car alarm that goes off, dumbass. It's the disabling. I listened to it again and it was really not that loud! I never thought it'd be an issue. Besides, most people are up by seven on weekdays, aren't they? The coward who wrote the note had very poor penmanship, BTW.

So, neighbor, sorry that i've got a job to go to at seven in the morning. You probably have the luxury to mosie on in to work close to lunch time, don't you. Or perhaps you're bitterly unemployed and mope around all day. Either way, i don't give a damn what you think you're entitled to!*

That said, i'd rather not have my tires slashed, so i need to look into disabling the sound on the sucker. Sure, not a problem. Just one more thing on my list. Thanks a lot, neighborly person!


*This is a line from A Few Good Men

Dear Diary 3

Depression sets in like fog over the Northern Californian coast, encouraging moss, mildew, and other despicable lowlives to foster and prosper.

When it rains, it pours. The new system at work is going live on October 4, and we just had our first official training session today. Everybody feels overwhelmed and stressed out. It's been 3 weeks since i've been to the gym, and 5 since i've gone grocery shopping. My bedsheets are ridiculously dingy since i've been unable to do laundry. Meanwhile, my weekly group therapy was cancelled today.

I go unraveled.

How quickly novelty wears off, i ponder. For a couple of weeks, York II called practically everyday. Sometimes more than once a day. I thought he'd make the kind of boyfriend i'd always wanted: attentive, available, affectionalte. Even though he wasn't my boyfriend yet. He'd made it very clear he wasn't ready to be someone's boyfriend.

He knew what time i got off from work, and he'd call five minutes after. Just enough time for me to use the facilities and head out to my car. How frigging considerate! One time, he wandered off campus during his only break, just to leave me a message, because he didn't get any signal on campus. Later on, I called him sweet, and he blushed.

Then the phone calls stopped.

Of course, for a depressive like myself, it's typical to start mind-reading. I prepared myself for "the talk". He's probably lost interest and doesn't wanna see me any more. Let's face it, we really aren't a very good match. A blind person would've caught on.

I mean, he doesn't even wanna IM. I have this void that cannot be filled.

I think of all the reasons why i don't wanna be with him either. But it doesn't help.

Today, after what feels like 2 months, i catch York I on Yahoo Messenger. I hardly go on anymore cos no one is ever on. I was glad to have someone to converse with for a change, but he was busy sharing his problems. I barely got a word in on my predicament.

It's a lonely, lonely world.

Yesterday i mailed back to JD the John Irving book i'd borrowed from him just a week before our last breakup. That would be the eighth. He wasn't counting.

It saddens me tremendously because i still feel JD understands me best out of every one i know. And mailing him that book was like finalizing a chapter. At last. But it felt like a weight off at the same time.

El fin, it'd say.

At least with JD the novelty factor went on for more than 3 weeks. But who was counting?

Dear Diary 2

Sometimes i turn on Task Manager just to see the ever-changing numbers... and i get in a trance.

My near-obsolete desktop computer was low in cache to begin with when it was built on a low budget 5 years ago, and even with the RAM add-on's thru the years, it gets pathetically slow.

All this language would elude York II and my trainer JF alike.

I am so misunderstood!!! Lordie Lord Lord!

Dear Diary

For two years now, dating means not having to be alone on Friday night. Newsflash: Not necessarily.

For three weeks now, there've been moments when i've felt resentful toward York II because i can't drink to my heart's content around him. Not since that second date.

There's this dive bar JD and i used to go to once in a while. There i discovered this drink with Midori, vodka and pineapple juice. After weeks of wine lately, it's nice to get a taste of hard liquor again (especially nice on an empty stomach!) It might just become my comfort drink.

I'm working tomorrow, after having put in overtime all week already. York II is working on Sunday. Tonight he has a rotary club type thing with his students. Then he might actually drive out to the city to see his best friend Roland*, whom he hasn't seen since we hooked up.

Whatever happened to taking me with him to introduce me to Roland, like he said two weeks ago?!!!

I guess he realizes he has a life outside of me. Hello, abandonment issues!

Once again, as if i'm nobody unless i'm someone's girl. *sigh*

I could distract myself by going over to see my brother and nephew, but the prospect of working tomorrow with my very difficult district supervisor is putting a damper on any desire to socialize (excuses, excuses.)

And so i stay home and drink instead.

Both my one-on-one therapist and group session therapist say that, to find out who i really am, i need to try different activities to discern what i like and dislike. Then i won't repeat over and over the pattern of revolving around the guy i happen to be with.

What i like is having a guy to talk to while getting drunk. Can't see past that for now. Not gonna happen, and not very healthy, i see. Meanwhile, October is just around the corner, and what am i gonna do with those Chicago tickets??!!! (*Panic*)

(The name on everybody's lips is gonna be... Roxie!)

York II doesn't like musicals. (What?!) He prefers opera. : ( (Figaro Figaro Figaro...)

I'm about 30 pages from finishing John Irving's The Water Method Man, which i borrowed from JD. I'm sure he's not missing it, but i'd like to finish it before the end of the month so i can mail it back to him, in case he really moves like he said. Aarrgghhhhh!!!... It's, like, a week from the end of the month!

Is there a point, or theme, to this entry, you wonder? I'm afraid not.


*Not his real name

An Analogy 2

I've had food issues since prepubescence.

Whenever i'm nibbling on something that has pieces that are prone to fall off (e.g. pizza) and/or sauce that drips (e.g. chili burger), i get anxious about containing the mess.

I'll keep eyeing the things on the loose, and can't rest until i scoop them up, instead of concentrating on the main item presently in my grasp, and tasting what's already in my mouth.

That's how i live. I constantly keep an eye on the little imperfections, the things that are not in my hands, instead of focusing on what i do have, and savoring it.

Now i consciously let the damned pieces fall, and enjoy my meal better. Well, i still scoop them up at the end. But it's a start.

Idle tete-a-tete 3

I started a new therapy group today. I desperately needed support, as i'd started reeling.

I read my horoscope just now. I hadn't read my horoscope since high school. Before you roll your eyes, note that astrology used to be considered a science, and was very intertwined with astronomy. (I'm too tired to defend it right now. Let's just say we'll keep an open mind.)

It said: "You may be concerned today with repairing something that has broken down."

Yeah, that thing that has broken down is I.

I'm Just Saying...

I'm my site's 666th visitor. How appropriate.

Psychotic? Who, Me?

York II wanted to come over tonight. When i saw the email, i thought it was really sweet. Talk about a delayed response. Five minutes after i texted him with an implied yes, i started to panick.

I had just ordered Maui Zaui from Round Table. He hates pineapple on pizza.

After giving the dusty and mildewy spots around the house a once-over, anxiety set in. I just sat there. I didn't know what to do next.

What if he wants to make out? I'm not sure i'm ready to do that in my house with a new guy. I had just taken a shower. I would hate to sweat.

He'll probably notice my big box of BevMo stock and be curious, to say the least. Try to explain that one. I don't exactly have a mini bar.

Not to mention i have a mild case of cold sores coming on (i'm really prone to them due to a slew of conditions too boring to explore at this juncture.) I had pasta for lunch and pizza for dinner. My house smells like ham instead of perfume. I'm not feeling the least bit sexy.

And so i continued sitting. What do i do? What do i do? What do i normally do? Ha! "Normal"! What a joke!

Normally i'd be sitting at my computer, sipping on drinks, until it's time to go to bed.

He had to go to H&R Block first. He forgot his check book, then he forgot his wallet. So he had to keep going back home to retrieve stuff. The clock kept on ticking. Ah, shit, so i won't get to drink tonight? He knows i like to drink, but on a weeknight? No sober person would understand that and take it in stride.

I said, "Maybe it's a sign that tonight's not the night."

I could tell the disappointment in his voice, but he agreed it was getting late.

"Maybe tomorrow night would be a better night," he suggested.

I replied that tomorrow was therapy night, and on therapy night i have dinner with my brother.

He retreated in defeat. I felt bad, so i said Wednesday maybe. He said Wednesday would probably work.

Seeing another easy out, i added, "Don't worry if you can't make it Wednesday night."

I feel ginormously relieved as i screwed open a bottle of plum wine and poured it over ice.

Yeah... i'm probably not in the most emotionally or mentally healthy state. You think?

Quote 15

Lord i feel so small sometimes
In this big old place
And i know there's more important things
But don't forget to remember me.

- Carrie Underwood

Shakira and Alanis

There's seldom such a thing as an original thought.

When we hurt, we think nobody else in the world (or in history) has hurt as bad. Guess what, we share many human experiences even when we think we're all alone.

Perhaps our ego needs to believe our experience is unique and never repeated.

I've been listening to Shakira's Oral Fixation, Vol. 2 lately. I loved her voice and rendition even before she went Anglo (that's right, i'm talking Donde Estan Los Ladrones?). There's something raw about her. And boy, is she hot.

Anyway, not surprisingly, track #2, "Illegal" really grabs me.

You said you would love me until you die
But as far as i know you're still alive

I was surprised to be reminded of "You Oughta Know" by Alanis Morissette.

Does she know how you told me you'd hold me
until you die
But you're still alive

Hmm... A universal theme to wish someone ill if they didn't love you. Interesting.

I tell ya. Human emotions sure are complex. As you might suspect, "You Oughta Know" has been one of my favorites, since before i had a reason to relate to it.

I remember hearing "And every time i scratch my nails down someone else's back i hope you feel it. Why can't you feel it?" and thinking, how romantic!

Strangely, all lyrics i've admired, somewhere down the road, i've been able to live. Be careful what you wish for, i guess.

BTW, after i typed in the title to this piece, i read it and thought, Shakira and Alanis... That would be hot!

Quote 14

You and I never shared all that much
When i leave i'll be alright
I'll keep in touch

- "Great Provider", Maybe You Should Drive, Barenaked Ladies

I'm Tired of Thinking Up a Title, So Bite Me

I'm listening to "Intermittently" by Barenaked Ladies now. Couldn't bear it if i wasn't drunk.

Earlier this evening, a scene in Seinfeld cracked me up. Well, kind of.

Kramer wants to move to Miami, Florida. I don't know what the arrangement is, but he seems to be in Seinfeld's parents' apartment a lot.

Disclaimer: i'm not a big fan of Seinfeld, even though i do appreciate the writers' sense of humor most of the time.

Anyway, when Kramer tells Jerry he wants to stay in Florida, Jerry goes:

"You can't live here! This is where people come to die!"

His parents gawk, of course.

OMG, precious.

No one puts "intermittently" and "proxy" in their lyrics, JD used to say.

Revelation 16

Murphy's law. Just when i think JD is never gonna read this blog again, he does. And of course, right after i blog about having sex with someone else.

JD probably doesn't give a hoot.

This is odd. Even before i came home and read my visitor log, i was already feeling a strange wave of sadness coming on. Something quite familiar, of course.

Yesterday i went to my last CBT group session. (See my last post on CBT.) The therapist handed out relapse prevention literature to those who weren't continuing (it was a four-week thing, but you could move on to other CBT groups.)

Even though i had learned a lot about "mood management" during the past 5 weeks (we skipped a week) and i was feeling pretty good about myself in general yesterday, i knew better than to believe depression would never hit again.

Pulling yourself out of an attack can be draining. Sometimes you don't even know what sets it off (probably nothing you can pinpoint), and it's just easier to let it ride than to fight it.

I've been thinking all week that i should stopping seeing York II. The more we talk, the more i feel he just doesn't get me. And that's kinda the cornerstone of everything.

It makes me miss the fact that JD gets me. I hate to admit it.

And i'm not saying this because JD might read my blog again.

This bugs me, cos York II is nice to me. He's a good person. Highly intelligent, almost in an annoying way. And good in bed. You would think a girl couldn't ask for more.

All of a sudden i understand how JD feels about me. You take things apart and you'll think the whole should be pretty damned perfect. But it's... just... not.

Feelings. What a bitch.

York II

I feel bad i haven't posted anything for a while. There's so much i wanna say, i don't know where to begin.

My ex Creative Writing professor Kate AND writer Natalie Goldman would say, "Just start writing and let it flow."

JD doesn't read my blog any more. Which liberates me from having to refrain from candor, i guess.

There's York II now. What were the chances I would meet two Yorks*, both from Charleston**?

So yeah, York II is the guy who's Buddhist and very into tea. (See my last post on him.) When I wrote that, i was hurt because he had just informed me he wanted to see other people. But turned out he just didn't wanna be boxed in. And truth be told, i'm not ready to be someone's girlfriend. That's so definitive and so much responsibility right now! And... you can't really define someone with their religion and choice of beverage. People are complex, you know?

I feel kinda ambivalent about him, and the whole dating experience, since I haven't done a lot of dating in my lifetime. It's sort of traumatic for me.

For one thing, it's been really physical. And in my experience, carnal pleasures cloud judgment. One readily mistakes lust for deep feelings. It's a very common mistake, for both sexes.

And he seems to be on such a higher plane, spiritually speaking. I can't possibly play catch-up.

And we don't have a lot in common, it seems.

Elsie my sis-in-law chimes in, "Two people don't need a ton of common interests to make things work." And my good friend JM just emailed me with her verdict all the way from Minnesota: She agrees with Elsie.

Really? I never thought of it that way.

Did you know that a woman seeks a girlfriend's advice only when she needs them to give her a go? Otherwise she turns a deaf ear. I've learned this to be true.

The other night, while sitting on York II's john, I was sure that, if someone was to run a rape kit on me, they'd find vaginal contusions and cervical brusing. (Yes, i've watched too many Law & Order episodes! Hee hee...) i bear down and release some of his swimmers, clouding the water below. I thought of that Kleenex commercial in which a Buddhist monk unwittingly blows his nose into an anti-bacterial tissue, after having saved snails and bugs and other little critters in his path. That expression is priceless!... My Buddha! Does this mean it's bad karma for moi to have drowned potential life-givers?!!!

BTW i'll have to find something more concise than "York II", for my future entries. If we continue seeing each other after this weekend, that is. : )


*Not their real name
** Not the real city

Carolina and Me

In Carolina, Julia Stiles' character Carolina's grandmother, played by Shirley MacLaine, dies in a car accident. Carolina loses her composure when attempting to reclaim her grandma's things at the pound.

"I never got to say goodbye!" She cries.

I never got to say goodbye to my grandma either. I remember opening her closet a year later, taking mental inventory of her things, taking in the scent, longing for her presence. Incredulous that she was gone.

And so i also cry.

Revelation 15

I've always sympathized with Maggie, the protagonist in Runaway Bride.

She never knows who she really is, and she becomes the person she's with in every relationship, and never questions if she's really happy.

Tonight my date questioned whether i knew what rapport was, and whether i needed the subtitles on during a movie on DVD.

All because i had an accent?!!

I felt so far from being understood, i didn't even have the energy to explain myself.

His apartment had a distinct scent, just like JD's had, which i had failed to detect after a while.

If i would've stuck by him, i would've taken on bike riding and organic grocery shopping. And chado too, to boot. And who needs to switch teapots between different kinds of tea? Freak.