Deep Thoughts (Not By Jack Handey) 12

I recently wrote that I found my neck long and graceful. Since then i have thought it is avian at best.

And You May Quote Me 16

There is no more poetry in my soul.

Impertinence

You would think this was in reference to me - a sign i'd be wearing, perhaps. But no, it's just a box of toilet seat covers sitting on the floor.

Non-Scents-ical

Disney makes a Buzz Lightyear fragrance set that contains a 1.7 oz. eau de toilette spray and a metal lunchbox. WTF?

I wonder if the scent is citrusy and flirtatious, or musky and sensual.

No, Timmy, you won't be beaten up in the sandbox. Really, Mommy promises!

Goodwill

This morning i returned to work to find a note on my desk left by Matt who happened to have stopped by during my vacation. Just to say hi. And to hope things have been well.

Matt. That is certainly an unexpected blast from the past.

I wondered if he knew i was on leave. But it doesn't matter, does it.

I wrote back thanking Matt for the note. After all, it was a pleasant surprise and a spirit-booster on the first day back to work. And I wished him well, sincerely yet platonically. And had it hand-delivered in an intracompany envelope. How romantic.

Matt's note restored my faith in the goodness of mankind and left me with a tinge of sadness at the same time. It is almost Christmas again. To think that last Christmas we sang "Santa Baby" at the company bash, The Pussycat Dolls version, complete with can-can kicks. Within a month, he asked me out.

In the evening i found myself singing verses from the ridiculous tune. Like a whimper.

At Long Last

On Monday night i stepped on American soil again. I was giddy.

The immigration officer couldn't be friendlier. In fact, dare i say it was the most pleasant re-entry to date.

He asked me if i had "bird's nest" in my luggage. I laughed out loud.

At the end, he said, "Welcome home!"

Grinning from ear to ear, i thanked him, unable to hide delight.

I am home, indeed. It is good to be home.

Inarticulatable

Sunday, November 25, 2007

Today, for the first time in my life, i find myself pretty.

Not attractive, or sexy, or hot, but pretty. Genuinely, positively, without-a-doubt, pretty.

As in my face. How light bounces off the planes and illuminates the edges.
How my teary wide eyes seemingly sparkle with untold stories.
How my grown-out bangs brush over the corners of my eyes and grace my cheekbones, turning me mischievous and mysterious all at once.
My heart-shaped face. A defiant teardrop flowing up. My cute dumpling of a chin you just wanna chuck.
How my big, contentful head sits on my long, graceful neck.
The aerodynamic outline of my mouth, always suggesting a longing to speak, to kiss, or to munch.

How my otherwise quirky features fit together just perfectly.

I wouldn't change a thing. Not even my quasi frown.

Quote 66

With imminent death,
one's utterance is but kind.

- Chinese Proverb

Transience

Wednesday, November 21, 2007

Today i met a young man who was part Portuguese and part East Indian. He was cute as a button.

(In the futuristic world i envision, everyone is ethnically and culturally diverse. Course, you don't have to be ethnically diverse to be culturally diverse. That is my utopia.)

And this young man and my bro share the same alma mater. In addition, he speaks with a British accent as he lived in London for 5 years. How adorable is he?!? (Did i mention London is on the top of my list of places to visit before i die? Come to think of it, it's the only place on my list in a while.)

His jaw dropped when he learned that i spoke Farsi.

"My Dad is the only person I know who speaks Farsi!" He exclaimed.

"Don't be too impressed," i said. "My fluency is probably the equivalent of a six-year-old's."

"Like my Cantonese!" He said. We laughed in camaraderie.

Minutes later, he put me on his cell with his Dad, who had a perfect accent and intonation, as i have been told myself. He reminded me of my ex father-in-law with whom i hadn't spoken in years. Heck, i hadn't spoken Farsi in years. But i speak it in my head all the time. After all, you don't just forget your third language.

And yet i totally froze beyond the honorific "How do you do?". My mind completely blanked out. I couldn't even utter "It is my honor to have made your acquaintance." Lines i had memorized like a frigging script. Like the prayers i learned in Catholic school. Nothing. I couldn't even remember how to say goodbye.

Perhaps there is something poetic about not knowing how to say goodbye.

Late at night, after i'd replayed the scene in my head and had a moment to reflect, the words all came back to me like raindrops finally hitting the arid ground after having magically paused midair in a sci-fi moment.

I never thought i'd choke when required to speak Farsi again. It just never occurred to me. Who am i now? How special can i be if not pointlessly trilingual??

Deprivation

Day 5.

True to my forecast, i have not been getting my daily dose of internet access. And as i recently mentioned, neither have i been getting my daily allowance of vintage.

If not for the mellowing effects of the allergy meds i'm on, i'm pretty sure i'd be antsy as hell.

I've been contemplating: If i had to pick just one ration to tie me over till Day 12, i'd pick blogging, forgoing induced merriment. Without writing, i feel incomplete, adrift and scarcely alive.

Maybe i am not as irredeemable as i previously thought.

Irrelevance

According to a study with MRI's by anthropologist Helen E. Fisher, Ph.D. at Rutger University, antidepressants may severely interfere with one's sense of love by driving down dopamine, the chemical associated with romantic feelings.

The research team has since been inundated with correspondence that confirms their findings. One man who had been enamored with his girlfriend for three years allegedly fell out of love after getting on Prozac. Once he stopped taking the medication, his love for her returned.

Ms. Turner had it right. What's love... but a secondhand emotion?

Cessation

I took off from my continent late Tuesday night and arrived on my parents' bright and early on Thursday their time. It is now Saturday afternoon in the Eastern Hemisphere. I still haven't taken a shit. I am genuinely concerned. I might get fecal poisoning!

I guess i so don't wanna be here that even my poo refuses to land!

Course, i don't deny the other attribute of having gone cold turkey on alcoholic consumption. I mean, they don't call it "going dry" for nothing.

Gobbled

While reading my favorite magazine recently, i came across the classic question this time of year:

This Thanksgiving, what are you most grateful for?

My answer:
1. That i don't have to wait for Thanksgiving to be grateful.
2. That i don't have to be grateful. Period.

Jet Set...

Preparing for my trip. Have to have my cute journal (not pictured) on me as i won't have internet access at all times. *Sigh*. And that's only ONE reason i'm dreading this trip. Can you tell i'm electronically dependent? And this is only a subset.

That's a long-term parking permit under there. I'd show it to ya but then i'd hafta kill ya. : )

And You May Quote Me 15

Nothing that we think matters really matters. And that's all that matters.

No Caption Necessary... Almost 6

"Instant" Deviled Eggs.

It may not be the most visually enticing thing as presentation is not my forte : ) But trust me they will do. I mean who needs to carefully spoon out the yolk and mash it... It's all gonna wind up tasting the same! [That's sophisticated me talkin'.] All you need besides the obvious hard-boiled eggs:

- Kraft Miracle Whip
- Dijon mustard
- Salt
- Paprika (or, in my case, chili powder. Cuz when it comes to heat, bring it on, baby!!!)

Snippet 27

(July 29, 2007, the day of the Kite Festival in Berkeley)

Taylor:
It's such a beautiful day to be lonely. : )

V:
It's ok to be lonely, knowing you're not alone.

Quote 65

I am letting life flow over me like a garbage truck running over a pile of dung.

- Taylor, November 10, 2007

Wallower 2

I eliminated the moiré effect!!!!! Woohoo!!!

Tell me i'm not decent human being...

Projection

I just noticed that today is 11/11. In the year 2011 i'm definitely gonna make a remark.

If i live that long.

Advice 2

Once again i respond to previously paraphrased statement that it is in a woman's interest to always wear sexy nighties: Ha!

Melt

On Wednesday i told Taylor i'd bought way too much food the previous weekend cuz i was in denial i was taking a two-week leave to visit my parents.

"When you leaving?" Typed Taylor.

"Tue night," i replied.

"I may never see you again!" Exclaimed Taylor.

"Oh if my plane crashes you mean?" Was my natural response.

You see, i ponder that possibility every time i fly. I wasn't being snide.

"Just will be weeks and weeks," wrote Taylor. "Seems like forever."

Aww...

i'm such a sucka.

Later i mentioned that i'd like to see Ang Lee's new film Lust, Caution "before my plane crashes on Tuesday".

Taylor said he guaranteed my plane would not crash. And he knew this because he was a pretty lucky person in general.

"And i would like to see you again," he wrote. "And i usually get what i want."

"See"... "Fuck"... It's all semantics.

But i obviously don't seem to mind, since we are now planning to meet on Monday night. See, I thought about it long and hard today (as i was shaving my p***y, may i add): I'd be totally kicking myself, if my plane was to crash in 3 days, and i didn't get to do it one last time.

Yes, hit me baby one more time, before i ship out.

Course, if Taylor gets his wish, the crash-free guarantee is lifted. Hmm, lemme weigh the pros and cons... Get laid, and die, or live with celibacy. Hmm... This is a toughie.

Best Invention of the Century

Two-part martini glass to keep your poison chilled. No more racing with time to chug it before it gets warm. Premature drunken assness be gone!!!!!

Quote 64

It's terrible... Just wanna do my own thing... but then i'll just feel lonely... Good God just never satisfied!

- Denisse

Exempt

This morning, heading out with my laundry basket, a stranger standing RIGHT OUTSIDE my door totally startled me. I just kinda stared at her like a deer in headlights, dumbfounded.

She was all smiles and asked me how i was doing. I gave the standard answer. I'm sure "whaddaya want?" was written all over my face and in my voice.

Another woman and a little girl were in the party. The girl looked fearful. They were all holding what i assumed was The Scripture. And pamphlets and such.

"Uh oh," i thought.

I quickly closed the door behind me lest the lady, whom i towered over, force her way in.

"We are looking for Spanish-speaking residents," said the lady. "Do you know any neighbors who are Spanish-speaking?"

"I don't know any of my neighbors," i replied with a cynical smile, and felt satisfaction.

Call me Ebenezer*.


*The name incidentally means "stone of help"! How clever of Dickens...

Chocolate Jones

A few weeks ago i bought a variety pack of Ghirardelli Squares, the Dark Collection. (Mmmm...) The other weekend, when Cindy's fam were in town and they stopped by my place in the evening, i passed the bag around.

Take one down
Pass it around
98 Ghirardelli Squares on the wall...

- kept playing in my head. : )

Caramel was sought after by everyone. Trent*, Denisse's bro, peeked inside the bag and made a discovery.

"It's all raspberry!" Proclaimed Trent. He cackled.

"What?!?" Denisse responded in disbelief (and perhaps disgust, too), and grabbed the bag for inspection. "What the..."

"Must be the least popular flavor," I conjectured in a mellow tone. Then it was my turn to scrutinize the source of offense. It did appear that 90% of the squares were in pink wrappers. Dismay was in the air. Nobody spoke.

A couple of days later, i came home craving caramel. So i sat down on my couch with my Ghirardelli in natural light. When searching for the 60% cacao variety, i didn't see any.

Wait, what color is it even?

Turned out those were in red. And red sure looks a hell of a lot like pink in twilight. Kind of a packaging design faux pas if you ask me.

I wrote to Denisse:

Our assessment of the contents of the Ghirardelli variety pack was erroneous!!!

Then i read it and thought, "Sheet... This is the way i write?! I am such a dork!!"


*Not his real name

Wallower

The preview of my new profile picture has a moiré effect to it. But if you view the actual pic, it is fine.

For about 10 hours i felt i should know how to fix it, and was annoyed that i didn't.

Then i realized it was another lesson about life.

It Is Wrong When...

... as you get ready to work in the morning, the meteorologist announces that it is currently "partly starry".

On the Side Panel...

... of my box of Smoked Jalapeño Sourdough Crisps

I wish this applied to life.

Shrinkage 3

Today i had to head over to the district office for a day-long meeting. I arrived early, as usual.

As soon as i walked in, Dora*, one of the superviors in the region, remarked that i had lost weight. I confirmed.

"It's a lot, huh?" Said Dora. "I can really see it." And she gestured her own face.

Someone asked how much i had lost. Luckily Dora and Mildred my supervisor simultaneously asked in all keenness, "How do you do it?!"

I was quite self-conscious about being put on the spot. "I just..." i replied hesitantly. "Eat... less."

Then i laughed nervously, afraid to have offended someone. You never know. Someone might interpret that as "I'm just not a pig like you!"

Bewilderment ensued as everyone reacted. Amidst, Mildred looked me in the eye, almost sternly, and raised the question, "Why'd you do it?"

Thankfully someone talked over her in the wildfire of a discussion. I pretended not to have heard my boss and scurried away to get coffee.

I suck at impromptu lies. I would've come up with nothing but "Cuz i've been utterly depressed, and i kinda overdid it and turned anorexic?"

Would've been hilarious, now that i think about it.


*Not her real name

Deep Thoughts (Not By Jack Handey) 11

I think maybe i should blog less and live more. Like, talk to a live human being. With my real voice. (As opposed to fiddling with the keyboard, NOT as opposed to with my fake voice.)

Slot

There should be an option when you view a Blogger page to "show only posts with photos". Like with those online profiles. You know, for folks who don't like books with no pictures. : )

Signs Are Everywhere If You Look

With my last entry i now have 666 posts. How appropriate!

Sage 3

Two things i used to say about sex:

1. Life is short. Have sex often. After all, there are only so many carnal pleasures.

2. If you can't have love, have sex. Close enough.

I don't believe what i said any more. Sex is pointless. As life is pointless. And insignificant.

And so sadness is, too, insignificant. Therefore being sad is not sad. It means nothing.

Casting away a preexisting belief system certainly obliterates one's sense of identity. But then, perhaps we relinquish ideas in order to be truer to our core... which we may not even recognize.

So it's possible i never believed in the aforementioned bullets. I just believed that i believed.

What do i know? I used to say "Eat, drink, and be merry" too. Now i look below my chest and see the outline of my sternum. And i'm definitely not merry these days.

Well, at least i still drink. That's one consistency.

Introspection

I do things in lieu of living life.

(In reference to looking up marinated calamari recipes the night of November 2, after opting to flake on wharfing with Denisse the next day.)

Absurdity

I get unsought attention on myspace at times. Which is why i have turned my profile private recently.

The last message i got from a stranger was: You are very pretty.

Not to be a snob or anything, but if that's all that a person has got to say, i roll my eyes.

Which i did.

Weeks later. Today. I suddenly found myself thinking, "You know what? I should reply!"

And I would write:

Yes, i am.

One

My iridescent pebbles make me happy. (It's like gazing into contiguous yet integral universes.)

I knew they would when i first laid eyes on them. Some things you can count on in life.

Maybe someday i'll actually plop a lone flower in this vase. (No subliminal message there!)

Advice

I read in a women's magazine some years ago that one should always sleep in sexy little nothings (or, better yet, in the nude) just in case one gets rescued by a handsome (single) firefighter in the middle of the night.

To that i say, "Ha!"

Nonsensical

I've been wearing pink underwear all week (not the same pair - LOL!)

... cuz i feel vulnerable. Any other color would be a lie.

Hit

Last night, right after i orgasmed, Taylor came to mind, taking me by surprise.

The thought of his diligence overcame me. And i cried.

How to Save a Life

This morning, after stating on myspace that life was pointless, i saw that my friend Maverick had written. She was her cute self and made me smile. All of a sudden i was glad i was not dead yet.

The Cutest Thing

Tiny Polish shot glass that rolls around on a spheric base. Look, Ma! No spills!

Wanted

On my way into Crate & Barrel, I was right behind this older couple with silver hair. He opened the door for her.

As they idly chatted, he caressed her back continually, perhaps subconsciously, as if they were the only people in the room. There was affection in the touch and lust in the motion.

They may have been married for 45 years. Or maybe they just met last week and are having a whirlwind affair. It does not matter. The manifestation of desire choked me up.

Are We There Yet?

Denisse informs me this morning that her grandma, who's visiting for the weekend, has been getting on her nerves.

"She's so particular and whiny about shit it's annoying," writes Denisse. "She's like a child!"

I wrote back:

It is VERY true older folks become childlike again. It's like completing the cycle.

What i wanted to add but didn't:

And being buried under dirt is like returning to the womb.

Quote 63

No manure, no magic!

- Albert, i heart huckabees

Skipped

Two years ago i picked these up at a state beach somewhere north of Half Moon Bay. They were for my Dad, the nature enthusiast. I still haven't seen him.

No Caption Necessary... Almost 5

My 1st attempt at making an omelette. My omelette is broken - it is bleeding tomatoes.

Reisling-Soaked

Last night a bug fell in my half-full glass. (See? I'm an optimist.)

Fearful i would ingest the critter, i scooped it up with one finger and left it clinging on the inside wall of the stemware.

Seconds later, the mutha came alive! And proceeded to crawl upwards.

When i was ready to wash my vessel, i flicked the creature, and it landed in the sink. Once again it proceeded to crawl upwards. I did not want to blatantly drown it, so i left it alone.

This morning, i found the bug on my kitchen counter, all dried up. Dead.

I relate to the bug.

Food For Thought 6

@ Quizno's, on the Tuscan Turkey on Rosemary Parmesan, the Swiss is melt.

Taylor has commented that, in my writing, i have "a cool way of merging description with life".

Maybe that's why I can't have pepperjack straight out of the fridge any more.

I don't WRITE well.

I FEEL in excess.

Snippet 26

JD:
I hope you've been using my convection oven.

V:
I think i'm making toast with it this weekend, , cuz i need to eat my duck pâté before it rots.

I'm Old Enough to Know That

When they say they're trying to break patterns
One of the patterns is you

And when they say maybe they're not ready to settle down
They don't want to settle down with you

Cuz you're not right

Cuz i'm not right

I'm not right
I'm not right...
in the head