Interconnectivity

Crystal

2012-01-27T22:31:00.000-08:00

Returning from CP (Cat Patrol i.e. RJ's term of endearment for dog-walking duty), our regular elevator was jacked. Someone was monopolizing it to move a bunch of mattresses. At 9:52 p.m. Seriously?

We live on the top floor, corner unit. That's the "penthouse". After two flights of stairs, i'm gasping for air.

Have i mentioned i'm very out of shape.

"I'm gonna take the other elevator," i informed RJ.

"Really?" Responded RJ in good spirit and amusement.

And so i embark on my adventure, having exited on the 3rd floor. I see sights that I never would've otherwise, gestures of goodwill, humor (e.g. plant of unique texture and succulence, clay figurine of pig, friendly welcome mats, one of which reads "wipe your paws").

I rise to the top and i peer down to the unlit courtyard. I can make out the shapes of the vegetation and landscaping.

I breathe in the crisp air. It was a romantic moment. I was reminded of my first camping trip, connecting to nature and such, feeling lost and grounded all at once, exhilarated.

I noticed that i was high up. That perspective reminded me of when i also lived on the top floor from age 11 to 16.

I placed my palms on those metallic railings and i gripped.

The visual, the visceral. I wondered what it would be like to jump off right that moment.

Not that i would. No. That was not the kind of person that i was. But i wondered. As i'd wondered many times in the past, long before i knew the true cause of death of my grandpa.

And then, after I'd learned: if i'd obsessed, was it because of my grandfather? I never considered the connection. But it clicked.

I wanted to know what it felt like. That final moment of deciding. To want to know you were in control. You had that choice.

That grip on the railings. It felt real. Not something I'd felt constant in my life.

But i let go. Someone would miss me. RJ would miss me. I was not alone.

I started the "long" walk home.

An apparition appeared before me just like Madeleine before Scottie in Vertigo. It's RJ.

He'd come for me. Because he cared.

He wondered out loud what was on my mind. Before i had a chance to answer, he wondered if i was ready to go home. "Or would you like to look at the stars?" He asked.

I looked up and there the stars were. Brilliant and pensive. Clear sky. I hadn't noticed.

"I was pondering jumping off the railings," I would've replied. But now, warm and safe, i took his hand. We walked home.

Conversational

2012-01-25T21:43:00.000-08:00

In terms of ease of use (i.e. not having to think) (on an average day):

1. U.S. English
2. Cantonese
3. Farsi (equivalent to a first grader?)
4. British English (some version of it) (Laborious)
5. Spanish (often Farsi emerges instead) (So, really, NOT conversational)

Dabbles:

1. Tagalog (may still amuse/raise eyebrows at the right moment)
2. Japanese/Korean (1-2 phrases tops but I'd like to believe i've nailed the enunciation/intonation)
3. German (so harsh sounding, so fun)
4. French, Rosetta Stone. May the boy run and the girl eat.

In conclusion,

Identity crisis, anyone?

Quote 256

2012-01-22T15:34:00.000-08:00

Some decisions in life, it turns out, are made for you, leaving you an unwitting accomplice and spectator at once.

- Dean E. Murphy

Snippet 212

2012-01-19T21:34:00.000-08:00

V:
Do you mind if I play some music?

RJ:
No.

V:
You shore? Or you ocean?

RJ:
Both.

Undertaken

2012-01-15T18:30:00.000-08:00

This afternoon I was in the shower while RJ napped a few yards from me. His presence was comforting, reassuring. It filled me with peace and bliss. Pondering the wonder of how we got here rendered me quite emotional.

There are so many clichés about love, so much literary and musical material pertinent to the subject already, how could one possibly have anything to add? It's all been said and done. No insight could sprout.

I have resisted the phrase "true love" which I find redundant. Love is or isn't.

So what is love?

Love grows, as it should. Everything about this person delights you. They smile and your heart sings. If you remember how you loved as a child, unrelenting, unbridled, unabashed. If you've ever loved a child. It allows you to care deeply, with no reserve, transports you to a paradoxical state of vulnerability and strength. Instead of fearing the vulnerability, you embrace it. You celebrate it. You so want this person to be happy. If they need a kidney, cornea, stem cells, bone marrow. Take it, take it so that they may live, even if they outlive you, you gladly want this. May they live, and be fine, just as soon as they are done mourning the loss of you. But, wait, may my beloved never have to grieve so, to experience such pain - not when you won't be around to emolliate any.

My Dad has said that when you love someone, the unthinkably illogical wish is that they'll pass before you, so that you will suffer in lieu of the beloved.

As my thoughts race, I am choked up. I have not loved with such abandon in a long time. Probably not as an adult.

No matter what kind of day I'm having, I remember that I get to go home to RJ at the end of the day. It always brings joy.

I may not have illuminated the subject of love in a new way. Love has certainly illuminated and renewed me.

Doe

2012-01-02T19:35:00.000-08:00

This evening that ASPCA commercial came on again, playing "Angel" by Sarah McLachlan in the background, catching my attention, again. What a voice on that girl. I was reminded of another, earlier hit of hers, "Ice-Cream", from the 90's. Quite a catchy, cute tune.

Your love is better than ice-cream...

And in another verse, an analogy with chocolate.

I liked that song but I never fully connected. Any Joe Blow's love could readily beat those food items. I simply don't care for them. (I am cautious in sharing this sentiment lest i incite an angry mob.)

Now, if i serenaded you with "Your love is better than chow mein"? You'd know i meant business.

Can't Twitter Or Facebook 6

2012-01-02T10:37:00.000-08:00

Kids: once and for all, the duckface? It is STUPID.

Ultimate Purgatory

2011-12-19T22:36:00.000-08:00

Being smart enough to know that you could be better, but not smart enough to actually be better.

They Lie

2011-12-17T10:01:00.000-08:00

Am I the only one? I can't tell you how many times a vial of pills is supposed to come in an even number, and I swear I take two at a time, and I wind up with three at the bottom after days of whittling. Are they shorting me? Or is it an overage? (Speaking like a true bean counter.) I'll never know.

Can't Twitter Or Facebook 5

2011-12-15T22:45:00.000-08:00

I just need a few moments out of my day to be alone with my thoughts, not that they are so great, but so that I remember who I am, not that I am so great. Is that too much to ask?

Can't Twitter Or Facebook 4

2011-12-15T22:41:00.000-08:00

I'm hanging on to my last shred of humanity as best I can. How do others do it?

Up

2011-12-11T18:04:00.000-08:00

Dr. Terri D. Fisher has been conducting research on "sex on the brain": just how often men and women think about sex during the course of the day, and whether age and gender factor in the frequency.

When rounding up older Americans to complete the project, there weren't enough subjects following through for it to happen. However, more women did respond than men.

Why, you ask?

The men were DEAD.

Snippet 211

2011-12-11T14:18:00.000-08:00

V:
If we're going (to the park) we should go now (before it rains). Or would you rather stay put?

RJ:
I'd rather swing on a star and carry moonbeams home in a jar.

Snippet 210

2011-12-07T22:26:00.000-08:00

V:
[On her new job after a near-two-year hiatus]
There are worse things: cotton-picking and prostitution.

RJ:
At least you're not a cotton-picking prostitute.

21st

2011-11-29T20:39:00.000-08:00

A commercial of the film Tin Tin directed by Scorcese catches my attention. RJ and I have just seen him on an interview as of late. We are both captivated for a moment. Animation has come a long way. This looks promising.

"It's got a bunch of cool cars in it!" Exclaims RJ.

Something kicks in as I scrutinize. "Does it have an empowering female character in it?" I ask. A few seconds go by. "Doesn't look it." I said.

"For the record, I am disappointed as a feminist," I conclude.

Snippet 209

2011-11-20T21:25:00.000-08:00

RJ:
Why do [the English] say leftenant instead of lieutenant?

V:
They do? I didn't know. Isn't lieutenant a French word?

RJ:
Sounds French.

V:
Maybe they don't want to use a French word.

RJ:
Lieutenant: is that "l-e-u"?

V:
L-i-e-u. As in, "In lieu of flowers, please send donations to such and such."

RJ:
{Cackles}
How do you know these [adjective] things?

V:
I read obituaries.

Quote 255

2011-11-14T00:56:00.000-08:00

Mediocrity is consistent. Genius has a range.

- Mick LaSalle

Flux

2011-11-06T16:45:00.000-08:00

Got engaged yesterday. Was proposed to, on a beach, with a ring and everything. I was so giddy with the development I giggled for what seemed like minutes. And there is photographic proof of it.

I've never been engaged before. I've been married, but not engaged, or proposed to with a ring. How that was I couldn't tell ya.

All afternoon I wanted to Tweet to announce to the world I was spoken for. Isn't that a little conventional for supposedly quirky me? A little non-feminist? No, it is human to want to be wanted. And I need not my private life be advertised to strangers.

To further indulge in tradition, I had RJ get a bottle of bubbly to celebrate with a rack of lamb which I'm cooking tonight.

It has now been twenty hours since I wrote my mother with the news. I know, email = impersonal. But i just couldn't bear any awkward silence. Not on this matter. It was a fair assessment she wouldn't know what to say.

My brother, on the other hand, substitutes his go-to response "Copy." with a jolly note, warming my heart.

All afternoon I find myself glancing over to my system tray for new incoming mail notification. That is so like my mother to choke on this.

I kinda have the blues today, a deep drop from the cloud yesterday.

First day back to Standard Time and everything feels a little off. My internal clock has not adjusted.

As it gets dark, i notice for the umpteenth time under an unused desk my duffel bag that used to be my "overnight"* bag at RJ's, still with contents from the old house. This time, i see that it no longer belongs there, under the antique furniture in the corner of the room, out of sight.

I hurried and unpacked the blue devil and put it away in the closet with others bags and purses.

It's done.

The days of packing overnight bags for sleepovers are gone. I am home. Even if my mother doesn't write me back with unequivocal approval.

*A joke since i practically never left.

And You May Quote Me 64

2011-10-29T08:53:00.000-07:00

You know you have a dieting issue if, at any given point in time, you own many pairs of jeans, but only one fits.

Snippet 208

2011-10-25T21:04:00.001-07:00

V:
[Referring to Alley the German Shepherd]
You know, I'm really starting to resent her surveillance.

RJ:
Just now?

Quote 254

2011-10-25T13:00:00.000-07:00

It's like the Loch Ness Monster. There may be something there. There may be not. But it's fun creeping yourself out just thinking about it.*

- Leonard on Sheldon's relationship with Amy, The Big Bang Theory

*I may be misquoting

Lost and Found 2

2011-10-24T09:35:00.000-07:00

My relationship with food has changed.

I've been reading this book Food: the Good Girl's Drug by Sunny Sea Gold. As soon as I read an article about it I knew I had to read it. The rest of the title is How to Stop Using Food to Control Your Feelings.

Bottom line: it's about Emotional Eating. It's the most neglected eating disorder in existence. I identify right away.

Food has been a friend and a foe for so long and yet I've never really thought I could do anything about how it affects me. When I go through what I call a phase (I yo-yo but differently than most binge eaters), I just ride, knowing that it won't be forever.

In my adulthood, between my all-time high and all-time low in weight, there is just a hair short of 40 pounds. I've been close to a size 8 and a size 0.

Now, i know, a white woman would be like, "Oh, shut up, you tiny Asian!"

But it is the equivalent of struggling between a size 16 and a size 8. It is not insignificant. Same spectrum.

And all the while I was wearing the same size bra. It's been as loose as floating on me and as snug as flattening with spillage. Now that's denial.

The book has allowed me to see food in a different light. A concept as simple as not labeling food as "good" or "bad" has been a miracle.

Now, i've known i turn to food for comfort since about age 9. That's like a no-brainer. But to address it, and not fearing addressing it. Wow.

It's been a short journey yet, but already i'm hopeful. This morning, for no apparent reason (or so i thought), i was craving dim sum. These days, a craving can turn into anxiety. Should i go get this fix? Where? When? Better start planning NOW! And often one craving generates another and i'm just frazzled and immobilized by a plethora of desires and left with the irony of indecisiveness and powerlessness.

For it's not about the food. It's NEVER about the food.

But not this morning. I asked myself why dim sum. Images popped in my head. Sitting with family around a table. Chili sauce. Good times. I thought of my mother and my brother, neither of whom i see much of given our situation. Dare i say it? I miss them. I felt sad.

As soon as i felt sad, the craving was gone.

My old sarcastic self would've finished with, "Yeah, sadness. That's so much better!"

But really it is better to feel than drown.

The sadness remains. And there is nothing i can do about it. Not in my power. Not without entering a parallel universe. Not that i want to. And it's okay.

Serendipity

2011-10-22T20:25:00.000-07:00

I hop on Dictionary.com and the word of the day happens to be:

anomie: a sense of loneliness and anxiety

Touché, Dictionary.com. Touché.

Authentication

2011-10-16T16:40:00.000-07:00

I am not the same person I was two years ago.

Even though I'm a far cry from my mother who cannot boil water for her life ("How will i know when it comes to a boil?" She has said. Seriously. My mother is an intelligent woman, graduated top of her class. But one of the most sheltered persons you'll ever meet), I'm realistic - i'm no domestic goddess. I just recently shamelessly confessed to RJ that i don't avoid cleaning the tub out of laziness; i simply don't know how. Cooking is a hobby because it's just a nightmare for someone with OCD - i'm constantly wiping counters down, washing my hands and generally being counter-productive. The idea of entertaining paralyzes me, i don't dream of motherhood. Heck, a few years back i concluded that, even though i considered myself a dog person, i was pretty sure the trouble wasn't worth it.

The most free-spirited thing i ever did was to have walked on grass barefoot in my freshman year in college. I don't think i've done it since. I appreciate nature in a National Geographic way, from a distance. I don't like getting wet and i don't enjoy sweating. I think Amelia may have been on to something when she, in her early days of frustration and ambivalence coping with RJ's relationship with me, once called me his "Taiwanese princess". It's my favorite inside joke with RJ. I'm not Taiwanese. But maybe i'm a little against getting down and dirty.

This afternoon, in my second gardening attempt (my first was Thai basil, possibly my favorite herb of all time. Well, a close tie with cilantro. It's a toughie), i planted three herbs all at once in the new pot that RJ had purchased and prepped with a soil mix for me. I touched the dirt this time while i loosed the roots. I smelled the scent of the earth. I took in the sensations and didn't want to stop until it was all done, patted down, watered. My legs had fallen asleep then. The cockles of my heart were filled with satisfaction.

I thought, Wow, i like playing with dirt. Who knew? AND i've been feeding and walking Alley, picking up after her. Maybe i'm not such a princess after all.

Snippet 207

2011-10-14T07:26:00.000-07:00

V:
[Referring to being able to drive on freeways and cook "something real" again, after an approximate 10-month hiatus]
I've got my mojo back!

RJ:
You do! You're back!

V:
Why did i go away?

Stripped 3

2011-10-08T09:14:00.001-07:00

You know, the internet has come a long way. And the things you can do with a website these days to capture your audience: graphics, interactive interface, catchy phases and promos... The ideas are endless.

But this has happened to me more than once: i happily hop on a page, eager to learn more. And i'm left with the question:

Where?

Seriously. Location? That's kinda important, don't you think? Oh, yeah, ease of navigation and common sense. Think about it.

Provocation

2011-10-07T16:55:00.000-07:00

Just finished reading The Help. When the movie came out, i was intrigued. I knew i had to read the book. I didn't want any imagery laid out for me. My mind makes the best pictures.

The premise of the story resonates with me on several levels. Humanitarianism has been dear to my heart for years. Life is not fair and nobody ever said it was. The only fair thing we can do is to look at a situation from all angles. It's easy to hate. It's quick to hate. But to walk in someone's shoes, to try to understand. To me this enriches the human experience.

Not long ago, a friend on FB updated his status:

Just watched The Help. Now I want to beat up white people.

Man, was he missing the point. Of the entire book.

Then there's the childrearing aspect that rattles me viscerally. The fact that my mother was not my primary caretaker, either. She made the bucks. She provided. But a child remembers the person who tended to her needs when she was hungry; when she was sick. When she needed a maternal figure.

I remember when i was in grade school i used to wish that my father would divorce my mother and marry my Aunt Teresa so we could be a real family.

Now, i have struggled with that very simplified notion. The feminist in me keeps arguing if a woman is not good enough a mother unless she stays at home full-time, outside of the work force. I can't reconcile that.

My Aunt Teresa, under-educated and far from insightful, who happened to also have worked as a maid before she married my schizophrenic uncle she'd been caring for, did nothing inspiring like teach me self-respect or human intrinsic values. But the selflessness and the dedication i witnessed. And remember. And am grateful for.

I know it takes a village, but to this day i wonder what it would be like if all those good qualities could be one embodiment. Does this just mean i'm not very enlightened?

Speaking of feminism, I sure am delighted by the idea of a female character in that era who does not necessarily worry over being single in her early twenties when she is surrounded by friends with babies. Especially when the man she fell in love with does not get the importance of what she's doing, the greatness of it all. He does not get her. NEVER marry someone who does not get you.

While The Help is set in Jackson, Mississippi in the '60's, I am reminded, with disgust and sadness, that the subservient culture is still alive and well today in many parts of Asia (that I know of). Women from the Philippines and Indonesia, among other nations that chronically suffer a shortage in jobs, are exported into more well-to-do parts of the continent to work as live-in maids. College-educated women. Can you imagine the humiliation? And yes they are still expected to act meek, Yes-ma'am this, Yes-sir that. Miles and miles from home, they don't get a lot of days off. Their only family in a strange land are other maids. And the wealthy societies go and mock these women in so-called comedy, reinforcing stereotypes on what these women look and sound like. It's all a joke to them, as if they've chosen this.

Right now i have friends on FB, people i went to school with, who have posted statuses like, "I can't wait till my maid is back from vacation!" Seriously? That's your biggest problem? Makes me cringe.

Heck, i also recall, back in the '90's, when i was still living in the L.A. area and hanging out with Persian "friends". There was this particular family that had done well for themselves. They had this Hispanic woman who came in to help a couple of times a week. They called her Mexican then, cuz, you know, it was L.A. Now i'm not even sure that was her heritage. I will never forget the way she'd look around the house, tiptoeing, speaking softly, if speaking at all, rarely speaking unless spoken to. The family acted civil with her when they had company. But i swear there was fear in her eyes. When i would smile at her, thank her, etc. she could barely look me in the eye. She'd turn away, as if even smiling back would get her accused of slacking or something. I wondered time and again, what might someone have said to her in the past? To have broken her spirit? The last straw was when the matriach was the family would stress, in the presence of company, "We don't treat her like help." Really? From where i sat, that was all they'd ever done. At any rate, if you didn't see someone different than you, is there a need to mention the nonexistence of that difference?

I know the classes and the deep-seated mentality of "we're better than them" are not going away any time soon. I'm just glad, every now and then, someone writes a book to shake us up a little so some of us don't forget how ridiculous we can be and still are.

Scanned

2011-09-16T12:25:00.000-07:00

The other day I happened to glance at my grocery receipt that read: "Your cashier today was SELF". I cracked up. Guess i just never paid close attention before.

I've checked myself out at the store many times now. Glad to see that it's becoming a trend. Why not? Less manpower, minimum supervision. Customers prefer the paced control. Everyone is happy.

The way i see it, it's for impatient peeps who are not lazy. And with the 15-items-or-less stipulation, it is *usually* faster. Even when it's not, you don't notice it, cuz it's you. We notice when others are slow.

First World Problem*

2011-09-15T20:54:00.000-07:00

I am so tired from Bollywood class. And it was only the second session.

I recently took up Bollywood Dance For Beginners. I've been fascinated watching it on SYTYCD. I've noticed all these Bollywood Cardio classes sprouting up all over. The increasing popularity intrigues me. Plus it looks like fun.

But i didn't want to be taking a workout version at some gym. See, it's always been a problem of mine to be confined while exercising. It needs to be fun, engaging not only the body but the mind also. Exercise for me can't be stationary or repetitive. I get bored.

Now dance i can do. I dig rhythm. I dig grace and precision. I dig looking like i'm in the know.

Just the 10-minute warm-up in the beginning of class kills me. I lack the flexibility and the stamina to hold a position. I've let myself go for too long.

But i give it my all. Once i start moving, sweating, getting my heart pumping, hell, yeah, bring it on!

I'm reminded of when I was 16 when i didn't mind sweating. That seems so long ago. I had just moved to Brooklyn, NY, and, unaccustomed to being bused around and on a curfew compounded with having no friends, all I longed for was to sweat, to get my heart pumping, to be anywhere but inside. When the weather was nice I'd skip the bus and walked from school. It'd take me about 40 minutes. Piece of cake. I'd enjoy every minute of it. Wishing I'd never reach "home".

The beginning of not knowing where home is.

Tonight, in a mirrored studio, after a lesson even more strenuous than the last, i panted, soaked in perspiration, felt my chest heave.

I felt alive. I didn't remember the last time I'd felt that exhilarated.

There's gonna be a public group performance at the end of the quarter. I keep debating whether I should participate. I don't want to look like a fool. But something tells me if i don't, i'll be kicking myself for years to come.

Besides, as of tonight I'd already been selected to be in the front row on stage. So I'd better dance well!

(Later RJ would comment, "So you can't be that bad!")

After class, my paranoid self walked up to the primary instructor to make sure she'd be emailing us a video of tonight's series. Cuz there's no way in hell i'd remember otherwise.

Mariposa*assured me that she would as soon as Serena** the secondary instructor sent it to her.***

Then she smiled and added, "Good work, V."

I looked down at this petite young girl, probably half my age, whose smile had seemed timid just then. I felt like i was towering over her. I wondered if she wondered how old i was, what an Asian woman was doing in her majorly Indian (and neighboring nations? I'm ignorant) congregation. The only Asian there.

I don't know if she felt obliged for an utterance of encouragement, but i felt utterly approved.

When i came home, i felt filthy. My Nike True Dri top was sticking to my skin, not wicking away moisture as advertised. I complained to RJ about how hard it'd been, how i'd never manage to memorize every move, how beat i was.

Then i grinned widely and said, "But... It was fun!"

*A favorite hashtag between RJ and me
**Not her real name
***Oooh i just realized that together they're S&M!

Raw Silk 2

2011-09-15T09:59:00.000-07:00

Not too long ago, i sang praises for "Irreplaceable" by Beyoncé.

It came on the radio again the other day. I still enjoyed it tremendously. However, the lyrics didn't sound right anymore.

Telling me how I'll never ever find a man like you...
I could have another you in a minute

No, i wouldn't want another like "you". I want different. Better.

I've advocated in recent years that, if you're doing things right, every new relationship should (hopefully) be an upgrade. With every experience you should have learned something about yourself and what you need which explains what was lacking - the reason you had to move on.

I am reminded of Adele's new hit "Someone Like You". She is trés talented and I am impressed by her second album entirely. Her soulful voice blows me away. I've tweeted, "How does someone so young know so much (about pain)?" Pain, when expressed beautifully, can be highly enjoyable. It pierces your core being and resonates.

But after having listened to the lyrics repeatedly, i don't agree with the sentiment.

Never mind i'll find someone like you

Again, i don't want someone just like an ex. That's why he is an ex!

Epiphany 25

2011-09-05T22:11:00.000-07:00

You know what the one thing that bothers me the most about aging is?

It's not slower metabolism

sagging boobs

deteriorating brain cells.

It's the disappearing philtrum.

Snippet 206

2011-09-03T22:30:00.000-07:00

AC:
Gugu, are you married yet?

V:
No.

AC:
Why not?

V:
It's not the right time.

AC:
When is the right time?

V:
Do you want Gugu to be married?

AC:
Yeah. When?

Quote 253

2011-09-03T20:41:00.000-07:00

You just got to learn to talk to people who aren't like you. It's called empathy, man.

- Galvin*, "Niece", Louis C.K.

*I may be misspoken

Elm Street

2011-08-24T21:45:00.000-07:00

I went to a city hall meeting tonight. It wasn't my first. Last time I went, it was for a poli sci assignment. This day was by choice. Mr. Rowan* would be proud.

I rather enjoyed my first city hall meeting experience. All the formality and lingo of "motion" and "second" and aye's. I found it fascinating.

I attended this evening because there is a proposal to erect an 80-ft cell tower on my block, only yards away from my balcony. I needed to know more.

While I was excited to be exercising my citizen rights, I went in pretty detached. After all, we use cell phones everyday. Sure, there are precautions. I use the speaker whenever I can (my bluetooth earpiece sucks) and I am mindful not to keep the device close to my body for prolonged periods of time. Just in case.

I was surprised by the public response at the meeting. An outcry, really. Some came really prepared, with facts and print-outs to argue their point. Most spoke with difficulty and lack of succinctness, but you gotta respect their conviction. I was moved. I started to feel angry with these people. These neighbors of mine whom I'd never met.

I glanced at the engineer making the case for one service career. Who is he to be making these statements that affect us? He's from Jersey. He's not gonna be living with this day after day.

Again, that us-versus-them mentality? It's worked for hundreds of thousands of years. It's what makes war and bloodshed. It's what makes survival. It's what makes us human.

My heart beat faster and faster. Who are these people to tell us this is safe? I must say something.

I was the last one to go up to speak because I debated and I debated. I dread public speaking. But I decided i couldn't live with myself if i didn't make one point that was important that no one had addressed. So i stepped up.

I said "good evening" and "I'll be brief". Then I basically said:

Government guidelines are not hard science. Twenty years ago, margarine was good for us. Today it is not. RF levels of 1% or 2.6%** are not as good as ZERO.

I was shaking the whole time, probably far from appearing attractive. But i saw empathy on the panel's faces. You can't fake sincerity.

I was pleased to be concise and to have spoken my mind. I was proud to have overcome my fear. Okay, i didn't overcome it. But i did not let it stop me.

Unlike in Hollywood movies, at the end of the day, there was no victory. There was compromise. The tower was not to exceed 60 feet tall.

I don't blame the commissioners. It is tough. We love the cell phone technology but no one wants to live near a transmissive pole. Then we complain about poor coverage.

The community was outraged. One of the long-winded guys went up to the podium again (apparently he did not comprehend the rules. Hello, the meeting is over!) and started repeating, "You cannot approve this!" until he was told he was out of order.

Wow, high drama. More than what i'd bargained for. I was reminded of the old days when a town hall meeting could turn into a bawl. "What sayeth thou, brethren?" Then it's uproar and mayhem.

That might have been more cathartic. Instead we get to have the option to see the city clerk in daytime to inquire on a repeal. There may be a fee, I hear.

I may just do that.

*Not his real name
**Figures presented to the audience

Altruism 101

2011-08-22T22:44:00.000-07:00

RJ was getting all appreciative of my being kind and considerate when i sprung on him that age-old argument* that there is no such thing as a selfless act. Not when it makes us feel good.

Damn straight. Not until there's evidence Mother Theresa once sported an "I'd rather be fishin'" bumper sticker does anyone qualify to be a saint.

*As old as Phoebe in Friends :-)

Stay

2011-08-18T08:51:00.001-07:00

I haven't blogged in a while. I can see why everyone has migrated to FB and Twitter. They're easier. There, if i misspell something, i don't care. Nobody cares.

As expected, when i haven't done any "creative writing" in a while, i lose confidence i can do it again.

Some things you simply can't tweet. Well, you could, it would take 176 tweets to tell your story. And then everybody begs you to stop. Or they unfollow you.

I may have a smaller audience here, and in our share-everything-oh-look-at-me culture, this may make no sense. But, as Eddie tells Louis C.K., "You do it to tell the truth."

RJ and i are in the process of consolidating our lives and belongings. Downsizing is hard. Transitions are hard.

Of all things, i worry about Alley switching from a house to a 5th-floor condominium. The balcony is shit compared to the 1/4-acre (?) backyard. Off-leash time on carpet is not a dream. No more galloping or rolling on green. I picture walking her in the bitter winter cold of Northern California (ha, ha) and i wince.

Yesterday morning, for the first time since spending the night at the condo, RJ slept in. Alley had been restless and whining since 6:30. By 8:30, especially after a nightmare (mornmare?), i decided to walk her.

I was feeling pretty upbeat about it. It actually felt good to rise early. The morning air felt good. The sun felt good. I could see why rumor has it that peeps with pets tend to live longer.

Alley was greeted by friendly neighbors in the elevator singing praises of her fluffiness. They wanted to know her age. All exchanged information was met with approving nods and smiles. I tweeted later that scoring compliments just for being furry was not too shabby.

The internal clock is a funny thing. I had another mornmare today, and decided to walk Alley again.

When we strolled down the hallway, a door creaked open. I pulled Alley closer so as not to startle a neighbor. Not close enough. An older woman dressed in traditional ethnic costume, just emerging from her house, slightly jumped back at the sight of Alley. I smiled and said "good morning" and moved along, not waiting for a response.

As Alley and i were waiting for the elevator, said woman eventually approached with an older man whom i assumed to be her husband. I smiled and looked away.

Just as the elevator arrived, the woman frowned and asked, "Do they allow dogs in lifts?"

I was appalled. Who's "they"?

"Really?" I said. "I'll have to ask." I hadn't exactly read the entire owner's manual from the HOA.

Predictably, Alley and i entered the elevator, and the couple didn't follow suit.

I was furious. This was in stark contrast to the experience yesterday.

Why would an HOA not allow pets in elevators? Seriously? In what world would pet owners be asked nicely to take the stairs? I've lived in a lot of places, mostly apartments, and NEVER have i heard such an absurd suggestion. That's like saying parents with small children shouldn't be allowed on a plane. Which some may argue fervently is not a bad idea. But we can't bar 'em. This gets my blood boiling! Maybe they shouldn't allow dog-haters in elevators!

At the park we ran into the young woman across the hall from us who had always been nice in a meek way. She, too, on this day, was donning a traditional ethnic outfit. I'd never seen her in one before. She looked lovely.

We smiled and said "good morning".

I held Alley close again. She's a people-whore.

Just as neighbor was gonna pass us, Alley pulled on her leash, stopping neighbor on her tracks. Fear and hesitation was displayed.

"Can i go?" She asked timidly.

Holding on to the leash firmly, i replied, "Go ahead!"

Again i was irritated. Given, if i didn't know a dog's temperament, i wouldn't bet on it being well-trained without facts. However, it is true: if a small dog hops to greet you, it's cute and adorable. If a big dog makes a move, it's intimidating. Sounds like size profiling to me.

That's two for two. All of a sudden i understood perfectly why it's easy to consider everybody in a certain group all the same. No! I won't do that.

Long after coming home, i couldn't get over it. I hate when i feel this way. And, knowing me, i have to question why i'm so affected. Was it the disdain i felt as the older woman glared at us? The discrimination? The injustice? The alienation? Come on, wasn't i blowing things out of proportions?

Because I've been reading Sarah's Key? Persecution is everywhere. All the more reason not to judge, especially not by ethnic group.

RJ's Terms of Endearment For Me

2011-08-06T15:30:00.000-07:00

Cutie pie.

Baby cakes.

Mofo.

Snippet 205

2011-07-31T21:09:00.001-07:00

V:
Both Denisse and Elsie seem to think Alley has gained weight.

RJ:
I think she's gotten stupid.

V:
Well, not mutually exclusive events.

Lunch with Me Myself and I 6

2011-07-14T14:08:00.000-07:00

Cold udon in soy ginger sauce. I must be on a chilled noodle kick.

Lunch with Me Myself and I 5

2011-07-11T13:50:00.001-07:00

I've been curious about the hiyashi chuka for a long time. Finally got to try this chilled ramen for the first time today. Couldn't have been more perfect on this warm day. This tangy shoyu version (just can't beat the holy trinity of soy, vinegar and oil! ) has mustard on the side plus parsley sprinkled on top. I could've used a lot more of both!

About Town 18

2011-07-11T13:49:00.001-07:00

Well Played

2011-07-11T10:03:00.000-07:00

The 'rents left last night. Even after years of goodbyes, they are never easy. I felt numb though. I'm sure my subconscious has learned to block out those pesky emotions. It's like, Oh well, we just don't live in the same place, nothing we can do about it. However, there is that sense of loss. Boy, is there a sense of loss.

As I watched them wave goodbye through the glass wall of the restricted area, I couldn't help but wonder if that may be the last time. They're older now. And that's just life.

This morning, as I rose, as predicted, I thought, "OK, I'm up, but what for?" There is no one to run to, there is no reason to hurry and shower. (A job would've helped, I realize.) Incidentally, no RJ last night or today. That quietness takes some getting reacquainted with. I can't say it's not welcome, though.

Of course, too, there's the grocery issue. Where will I be "stationed" from this point on? Can't commit to fresh produce until I know. I feel very displaced and disoriented.

Apparently Elsie and the boys have grown used to and fond of having the grandparents around, too. Everyone is readjusting.

Denisse is going through a tough time. Crossroads, if you will, in a chapter of her love life. (I'm not sure I'm crazy about the expression "love life", but for lack of better terms...) I kinda thought it was a good night for us to have commiserated. She found that she was okay alone. I'm not surprised. I'm not surprised, either, that I still like being alone. That defense mechanism kicks in, man. It's engaged like on auto-pilot. Fuck if i should need anyone. No, siree bob, not this gal.

And i'm not crying either.

There's only one crucial matter at hand:

What's for lunch?

Eatz 12

2011-07-06T08:53:00.000-07:00

Duck rolls

Seafood

Pumpkin curry with pork

Sea bass

Porcine 32

2011-07-06T08:52:00.000-07:00

About Town 17

2011-07-06T08:51:00.000-07:00

Sweet Italian peppers

About Town 16

2011-07-06T08:49:00.000-07:00

RJ Makes Dinner 25

2011-07-06T08:46:00.000-07:00

Cuban Mojo halibut with mango kiwi salsa

Alter-scape 4

2011-07-06T08:44:00.000-07:00

Foot

2011-06-30T18:31:00.001-07:00

The last day of June means the last day of displaying my birthday cards. It's a miracle I still get real cards. Two of these 3 I received by mail, no less.

Turning 40 is quite symbolic on several levels. I feel like I care about my looks less, my comfort a lot more. In the past two days I caught myself sporting what I call the classic middle-aged Asian woman look: comfy tee, straight-leg capris and Skechers. I don't know what it is with middle-aged Asian women and Skechers. Perhaps a desperate cling to the remnants of youth. But why this brand in particular??

I went through a wild phase obsessed with said brand during my early 30's. The passion has since been long gone. But, like I said, comfort reigned, and I was not too ashamed to be caught dead in a shoe brand that was no longer glamorous to me.

Today, running one of my last errands in Japan town, I stopped for manju. Personally, I couldn't care less about these mochi-like dessert pieces, but Elsie loves them. Since I was in the neighborhood, I thought I'd delight her with a dozen.

The Japanese ladies at the store couldn't be friendlier. One was probably in her 50's, the other, early 60's. "Gift?" The former asked me. "Yes!" I replied, touched by her thoughtfulness. She proceeded to wrap the box up with rice paper and a pink ribbon tied in a bow.

As we were saying our goodbyes, the latter noticed my red Skechers. "I like your shoes!" She declared.

I thanked her. A conversation on the shoes ensued: where I got them, when I got them, speculation on whether the store still existed today.

Incidentally, Sherry had just complimented me on the shoes after our weekly lunch today.

"I don't really like Skechers per se anymore," I'd told Sherry after having explained my phase.

"I do!" Sherry had said. Sherry happened to be in her 50's.

Of course you all do, ladies. That's why the brand completes what I call the classic middle-aged Asian woman look!

Bunion Regulator

2011-06-30T18:27:00.000-07:00

Another first!

Taking after my late grandma, I have reached a point where the pain and discomfort caused by my bunion has prompted me to do something about it. Course, my grandma didn't have any corrective device back then. She could only resort to topical herbal remedies. I don't think those did her much good.

Let's hope this simple design works its magic.

Mezzalunas

2011-06-28T09:10:00.000-07:00

Literally "half moons". (Basil pesto filled.) Another first!

Remarkable because Mezzaluna was the name of the cafe RJ and I had our first date at.

RJ's Birthday Lunch

2011-06-28T09:07:00.000-07:00

French dip prime rib

The biggest ladle, ever!

The best soft-boiled egg I've ever had, simply the stuff that dreams are made of! (The grilled prawns and pork belly weren't to be downplayed, either.)

'Round the House 3

2011-06-28T09:06:00.001-07:00

Vintage 24

2011-06-28T09:05:00.001-07:00

A case of buying the bottle for it's a limited edition interpretation of the city I adore.

Porcine 31

2011-06-28T09:04:00.001-07:00

Lunch with the Fam 6

2011-06-28T08:59:00.000-07:00

Rock cod

A Day at the Farm

2011-06-28T08:58:00.000-07:00

The Family That Drink Together, Think Together

2011-06-18T19:18:00.000-07:00

Denisse and I haven't done the wine bar scene in a while. Today was the perfect weather for sipping al fresco. Plus she's been having some guy trouble lately, and some girlfriend time was in order.

Lunch with the Fam 5

2011-06-18T19:17:00.000-07:00

Cajun fettucine

Lunch with the Fam 4

2011-06-17T19:40:00.000-07:00

My 40th Birthday Lunch

2011-06-17T19:30:00.000-07:00

Salade d'oreille de cochons (salad with crispy pig ears and capers)

Escargot in Pernod garlic butter

Brasserie skirk steak frites Boudelaise

Rigatoni Printanier with chorizo and wild shrimp

My 40th Birthday Dinner

2011-06-17T19:26:00.001-07:00

Here goes: I'm officially middle-aged. And Elsie has done it again.

Vignette 27

2011-06-14T07:05:00.000-07:00

The 'rents are in town. Or, the parental units, as JD used to say. I thought it was cute.

AC is smitten with my Dad, his grandfather. He can't get enough of him. Everywhere we go he wants to hold his hand. He wants Ye Ye (Paternal Grandpa in Canto) to sit in the back row of the family van with him. "I like Ye Ye!" He would proudly proclaim randomly, cracking everyone up.

AC is six going on 7, that age when he's got a lot to share. But he's second-generation American, and my Dad is only visiting. It pains the little guy, I'm certain, as now, just as there's more to say, there's more he canNOT express in a common language.

Yesterday, AC was about to go off on a tangent/tell a tall tale, when he suddenly got quiet. Softly, he leaned over toward his grandfather and asked in Cantonese, "Ye Ye, do you not know English?" except for the word "English".

"No," my father replied in English.

Tickled pink, I couldn't help but cackle. I was reminded of this comedian who had this routine about touring in Europe, and, when approached by someone speaking their respective native tongue, he'd tell them, "Sorry, I don't speak German/French/or whatever." in German/French/or whatever, in the sincerest, sorriest tone.

And the European, dismayed, would yell, "But you just did!"

Snippet 204

2011-06-14T07:02:00.000-07:00

V:
[Checking out a faded, magenta-hued childhood photo of RJ sitting on the hood of a black-and-white Chevy]
You looked so happy.

RJ:
It was a new car!

V:
What were you, five or six?

RJ:
[Does the math in his head]
Yeah.

V:
From that age it's pretty much all downhill.

RJ:
Yep.

About Town 15

2011-06-11T18:48:00.000-07:00

Pretty phallic, huh?

A scavenger at a neighboring table

Prime rib

Swordfish with dijon sauce on polenta

Lunch with RJ 22

2011-06-09T18:31:00.000-07:00

'Round the House 2

2011-06-09T18:30:00.000-07:00

New espresso maker

A Barrel of Laughs

2011-06-05T19:27:00.000-07:00

Crusted chicken Asiago

Chipotle chicken with button mushrooms

At the Izakaya 4

2011-06-05T19:24:00.000-07:00

Firecracker balls

Pork neck with ponzu daikon purée

Beef tataki

Kakiage (fried oysters) laced with Japanese mayo and Tonkatsu sauce

Chicken with spicy cod roe

More Jook* Goodness

2011-06-05T19:23:00.001-07:00

*Congee

Snippet 203

2011-06-02T19:40:00.000-07:00

[RJ coughs with chest congestion, catching his breath]

V:
Please don't die.

RJ:
Only the good die young.

V:
So you have nothing to worry about.

Lunch with Sherry 3

2011-06-02T19:21:00.000-07:00

Royal prawn rolls

Sherry holds up a carrot garnish in the form of a butterfly.

Moo Yang prawns

Pad Gra Praw with fish and calamari

Reverberation

2011-06-02T17:58:00.000-07:00

I just noticed for the first time that my Yelp reviews have been voted on.

I don't write a lot of reviews, only when I feel it is important to have my voice heard - either when i am profoundly inspired or morbidly disappointed. Quite frankly, IMO a lot of Yelpers can fall flat in expressing themselves ("It was really good." How? Not the most articulate bunch, are we?) and misleading/unfair/illogical at times ("This would've been a 4 stars instead of 3 if i hadn't had to drive so far." Another case in point: someone had the nerve to rate a seafood restaurant when s/he's allergic and therefore cannot have any). Not to mention that superego factor. Just how narcissistic need we get?

Anyway, un-immune to narcissism, i was amused by the votes: 18 Useful, 2 Funny and 12 Cool. True to my Chinese heritage (a.k.a. goody-goody), it is more imperative to have helped than to have cracked a smile. And if i get to come across as cool? That's just a bonus.

RJ's Specialty 2

2011-05-30T18:16:00.000-07:00

RJ makes his famous burgers again.

A wondrous spread

So charred, so good.

I've decided that I do like cheddar; it doesn't always have to be Swiss for this girl anymore.

On onion Kaiser rolls.

Lunch with the Fam 3

2011-05-30T18:15:00.000-07:00

Fish tandoori

Garlic naan

RJ Makes Dinner 24

2011-05-30T18:13:00.000-07:00

Beer-battered scallops

The batter stuck to the pan and fell mostly apart. But it was delicious.

Eatz 11

2011-05-28T18:18:00.000-07:00

Murtabak (spicy beef-filled pastries) with curry dip

Garlic noodles

Garlic herb true cod

Maine lobstah roll

Comfort Food For The Sickie

2011-05-28T18:15:00.000-07:00

Omelette with Taiwanese sausage

Congee with Taiwanese sausage, salted duck egg and thousand-year egg

Eatz 10

2011-05-28T18:12:00.000-07:00

Veal Pizzaiola

Arrabiata

Alligator on a stick and Cajun stew

About Town 14

2011-05-28T18:11:00.001-07:00

Eatz 9

2011-05-28T18:02:00.000-07:00

Veal Oscar

Crab cake in Baltimore

Beef carpaccio

Carpaccio with bruschetta

Spring Jubilation

2011-05-28T18:00:00.000-07:00

Fly fishin'

About Town 13

2011-05-28T17:57:00.000-07:00

Eatz 8

2011-05-28T17:53:00.000-07:00

Veal liver and wild mushrooms crostinis

Prosciutto-wrapped monk fish on parsnip purée

Things I'm Going To Miss

2011-05-28T17:48:00.002-07:00

As fiery as it gets

Chive flowers

On this certain day, the setting sun hits my jaggy, post-lemonade ice-cube at just the right angle, creating iridescence only short of the aurora.

Fallen Arbor

2011-05-28T17:48:00.001-07:00

... and what Alley has to say about it.

Double Downsilog

2011-05-28T17:45:00.001-07:00

Spam and bangus (milk fish) on garlic rice. I'm totally in love with this Filipino phenomenon.

Modal

2011-05-27T17:07:00.000-07:00

About two weeks ago, one evening RJ caught me reading Why Suicide by Eric Marcus (after I had explained previously - some things don't register), he half-jokingly asked, "Should I be concerned?"

After smirking and remarking that it was probably not the best choice of reading material on one's commute, I reiterated that I was seeking to understand what drives a person like my late grandfather to suicide.

I've been fascinated by the subject for years. Sure, anyone can repeat the notions "the pain is too much" and "just want out", but it is just hard to fathom how desperate one must get to reach that point. Even for those of us who have been severely depressed and have entertained the idea at one point or another. And it was hard for me not to call my grandfather selfish. The hush-hush nature in my family regarding the matter has not helped.

Reading the book has. I am admittedly surprised because while all the statistics are news to me, a lot of things aren't. But somehow hearing the voices of the survivors has bridged some gaps in the process of "making sense" of such a tragedy for me. Hearing the voices of the victims pre-suicide paints a clearer picture of their mentality too. I can say I am not angry at my grandfather (whom I never met) anymore. I wish the stigma wasn't so stifling then as it still is now for my mother and those close to her.

I still have a few chapters left when I happen to have watched a season 5 episode of House titled "Simple Explanation" in the early part of which Kal Penn's character Kutner takes his life.

What?!

I liked Kutner! He was always bubbly and goofy. Optimistic. When challenged for his cheery ways, he once said, "When you came from the worst, things can only get better." He had such a positive outlook on life! He was the youngest of the group. The baby! He was the adorable cool nerd. I liked that he was ethnic and all-American* at the same time. You know, like me.

I know, i know. It's fiction. But still. In the story, of course all his colleagues and family are puzzled while grieving. All the classic reactions to a shock that most of us can easily name. Then there are those natural, nagging questions of "Why?" Why did he do this? Why did no one see it coming? Why would the universe allow this?

I didn't cry. But I was definitely stricken. It even pained me to recall Penn's character Kumar in White Castle. He was SO happy! What went wrong?

Yeah, i know. I was losing it. So I went on IMDB for the actor's proof of life. I needed it.

Turned out that Penn let the writers kill his character off in April 2009 because he was leaving the show for a greater good: work for President Obama.

For real. I read it twice and again to make sure that was a fact. And he hasn't completely left the business. A Very Harold and Kumar Christmas is post-production.

I breathed easier then. I knew suicide was a significant subject to me but, boy, that was excessive.

*For lack of better terms

Jumble 2

2011-05-23T18:51:00.000-07:00

To this day i have a hard time remembering "dilapidated" because I learned "depilatory" first.

Homeward Bound

2011-05-20T10:04:00.000-07:00

Home births in the U.S. has increased 20% between 2004 and 2008, according to a study at the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention. Home births had been declining from 1990 to 2004, and white women who embrace natural birth account for the recent increase.

Yeah, only white babies are free from the burden of proof of citizenship. Women of any other color would be like:

Rush me to the hospital. Now! I want witnesses. And make that cert long-form!

Ruff

2011-05-13T12:41:00.000-07:00

Dropped off Alley at boarding this morning. As soon as we exited the car we heard dozens of dog howling bloody hell. Foreboding.

Upon entering the building, I smelled urine. Before I was able to process the thought, "Oh, great...", Alley crouched down, advent to peeing on the welcome mat. (Quite a statement.) I yelled out of shock. I don't think she actually did it, but later I did spot an employee mopping up the area.

The waiting area was quite chaotic. It felt like no one was in charge. Though, before long, a young woman approached us, smiling as she said hi. Without asking names or anything else, she took the leash off my hand and proceeded to lead Alley back ways. I wasn't sure what I was supposed to do, so I blindly followed. Alley kept turning around to look at me quizzically. Just as the young woman was gonna disappear with Alley behind closed doors, I asked, "Am I supposed to follow you?"

Just then, a man seemingly out of nowhere who obviously worked there and had a sense of authority about him told me, "No, no. You wait there." And pointed to the waiting area by the entrance.

"I thought I was supposed to get her leash back..." I said.

"You'll get it," said the man, and again gestured me to back off.

I waited along with a few other humans, some with canines. A female employee appeared and asked, "Who's next?"

I absolutely hate when they do that. The customers are supposed to police themselves? We don't know what's going on. I sure as hell didn't. How about a system? How's that for an idea?

The young'un who had ushered Alley away returned then and handed me her leash. "Did you bring her food?" She asked.

I handed over the heavy grocery bag I had prepared the night before and gave instructions on quantity, feeding time and frequency.

She smiled and nodded without taking notes. Another customer was doing the same with another employee. How could they keep track? Kinda like when you're trying to count and someone throws some random numbers at you, messing you up?

Then the girl proceeded to dismiss me. In disbelief, I asked, "That's it? No paperwork?"

"There'll be paperwork when she's picked up," the girl informed me.

I felt traumatized. It was all so abrupt and rushed. I didn't get to say goodbye. And if I felt this way, i could only imagine how Alley felt. I thought I'd get a moment to say something along the lines of "Be good. Don't give these good people a hard time. We'll come and get you before you know it.", you know, to help her feel safe, not abandoned. But perhaps there was nothing I could've done to comfort her. Anything I might've said might have been futile.

I felt like I had gained Alley's trust just to betray it. To think that her last memory of me was my scolding her.

On the drive home, it felt weird that I was able to see in my rear view mirror since Alley's head wasn't blocking it. Her wide-eyed face haunted me.

Back at RJ's, I hung Alley's leash on the wall where it belonged. The house felt so quiet without her panting and the gentle clank of the metallic tags on her collar as she'd move about. On the other hand, i felt incredible peace without her playing shadow ALL the time, monitoring my every move. Oh, a true shepherd that one is.

Dog Day Afternoon

2011-05-11T13:47:00.000-07:00

RJ's out of town and I am once again Alley's sole caretaker. In the past occasions, when i'd feel bad about her being cooped up for days, the most i'd do was to walk her in the neighborhood. I'd refrain from taking her to the field, where RJ plays catch with her off leash, due to liability issues. I simply am not strong enough to restrain her. Nor am i fast enough.

Today i felt torn. Walk her? Or drive over to the field to scout it out? Alley has shown aggression lately when she perceives the threat of another dog approaching her ball. Otherwise she's harmless. She's quite a loner actually. I like that about her.

I would walk her to a less popular field (safer bet) even closer to us, but that's been recently riddled with ground squirrel poison.

This Friday I will have to drop Alley off at the boarding place. I figured I might as well get her used to being transported in my car which she'd never been in.

Yeah, that's a good excuse.

Alley couldn't be more excited. She probably remembered no master translated to no car-ride and no playing catch. Good things are better when you're not expecting them.

We got to the field and there was only one other person with two dogs at the far end away from us. Aces! And they soon left too.

I don't throw nearly as well as RJ. I'm a girl. But i try.

Within a minute i attempted a trick RJ had shown me. Whoops! The ball went over the fence into the water tower area.

Gotta get it back! I put a confused Alley back on leash and walked over to find a way in.

There was none. There were two gates. Both were padlocked.

Disappointed, we walked back to the field. Now what?

I stared at the ball which stared right back in contempt.

Damn it, it's right there! I gotta get it back!

I secured poor even more confused Alley and tried climbing over the fence. I got to the top kinda straddling there. And then i was stuck.

Damn these small diamonds of interlocked wires and my fat Ugg boots!

I wasn't sure i could keep my balance to get the other leg over. I could fall. That would make a funny story. Not laughing.

I backed down in dismay.

I released Alley and we just stood there. I fantasized about bribing some schoolboy into retrieving the ball for me for a whopping five bucks. They came after school to practice baseball and more. Only it was midday, and no schoolchildren in sight.

I imagined explaining this to RJ and apologizing, him laughing it off. I envisioned returning days later with RJ. Maybe he could climb over that damned fence.

Just then, a slender young woman walked in with what I guessed was a cocker spaniel. (I'd later find out that he was part that and part golden retriever.) She smiled and said hi. I did the same.

We got to talking. The usual convo between dog peeps who meet by chance, exchanging dog names, age, etc. Turned out both Tesla* and Alley were rescues.

Still, i couldn't take my eyes off the ball on the other side of the fence. The mockery was unbearable. I shared my predicament with this stranger.

"You wanna try again?" She asked. "I'll watch her for you."

"I'm chicken," I said.

"You can do it!" She egged me on.

So i did. And once again, once i got to the top, i couldn't proceed. I looked at my new friend helplessly.

"Just turn around like this," she said, and demonstrated where she stood.

"If only i could jump," i said.

She saw my concern. "If you're afraid, don't do it."

Arrgghhhhh... Fear! Hateful.

Once again i gave up, feeling like a failure.

"I'm not athletic," I told my temporary comrade.

"You think?" A voice in my head said. Another chuckled.

"You want me to try?" My friend volunteered.

"Are you sure?" I responded, overjoyed and touched.

"I can try," she said as she French-braided her light brown hair in a jiffy.

I watched her svelte self go up, weightless. Atop the fence, she was able to find footing easily on the other side in her black ballet flats. And landed effortless and gracefully. I marveled.

She picked up the ball and threw it over the fence.

After she returned and i thanked her profusely (I resorted to clichés such as "You're a saint!" and "God bless you!". I was simply delirious.), we introduced ourselves. Her name was Adriana*.

I'll never forget her.

*Not his real name
*Not her real name

Descension

2011-05-09T18:15:00.000-07:00

RJ finds a nestling on the ground out back by the bamboo he planted years ago.

When he brings it in to show me, i grimace, not recognizing what it is at first.

"He's not gonna survive, is he?" I ask.

RJ shakes his head.

I make a sad face.

On close examination, the birdie appears to have a deformity on his neck.

"Something is wrong," says RJ. "It's swollen."

It's more like severe goiter.

The little creature, eyes closed, continues to instinctively gasp, rhythmically extending its neck, hoping for a deposit of food. It's hard to watch.

RJ puts it down to rest under the bamboo in the raised potted area.

"Alley is gonna eat it!" I protest, worried.

"She's not gonna find it," RJ reassures me.

We walk away with heavy feet.

"Can't you see if you may find the nest and put it back?" I ask.

"Its mother probably notices it's not going to make it," muses RJ. "And kicks him out."

It comes as a shock to me. "Really?" I respond. A moment later, i conclude, "I guess that's what animals do, huh?"

Survival of the fittest, i get it. Why feed an ailing mouth when you can make the strong stronger instead? Wouldn't be efficient use of limited resources.

Still the notion chills me. Especially realizing humans are not immune to animal instincts.

By Yours Truly 33

2011-05-09T18:11:00.000-07:00

Finally cooked the lobster tails I received on Valentine's. 'Bout time!

Broiled lobstah dipped in buttah for lunch. Not shabby at all!

Like i said, i'm back!!!

By Yours Truly 32

2011-05-09T18:09:00.001-07:00

The long slab I was talking about.

Lunch with RJ 21

2011-05-09T18:05:00.001-07:00

Ahi tuna tartare with yucca chips

Spicy pork empanadas with cilantro aioli

Paella Clásica

Sunday Funday, So They Tell Me

2011-05-08T16:00:00.001-07:00

My theories on Cafe World were right. This morning, i poached an egg. The yolk broke on the slotted spoon and i didn't care. (Normally, i'd throw a fit. The yolk's the best part!) So silky, runny and yummy. BTW, poaching an egg - i've come to realize, is so easy, i should've been doing it for years.

And now i have baby back ribs slow-cookin' in the oven, the longest slab i've dealt with to date. It barely fit in the baking dish diagonally. I was so happy to be cooking (real food) again, as easy as this "recipe" is, i had to Tweet. It really is ridiculously easy. As the kids would say these days, it's stoopid. Season, put in oven, no flipping or basting required. You don't even have to check on it. (Unless you want to. It's kinda like watching a baby sleep.) 4 to 5 hours later, you're done. Easy breezy.

While i'm glad to be back to (semi-)normal, i have to admit this day is long without something mindless like Cafe World to keep me occupied. But the carpel tunnel syndrome in the making is not worth it. Besides, it turns my brain to mush. Me thinks mine brainz mushing just fine on its own, kind sir.

Sundays can feel dead anyway, but on this particular Sunday, it really feels like nothing is going on in cyberspace. Everybody must be out in the real world doing something real. RJ is at a performing arts event. I was ardently invited but i let my laid-back, don't-wanna-get-dressed Sunday self (a.k.a. the antisocial side) get the better of me and opted to stay behind. It's been years since i've been to one of those. This could've been a life-altering experience. But no, it's safer in the shell.

I thought i'd feel relieved once Mother's Day had passed in Asia, but stateside there are still reminders galore. It'll soon be over now. There are other things to dread.

Lode

2011-05-07T19:09:00.001-07:00

Today was one of those days i just woke up grumpy, a fact i hate since it is Saturday. I'm supposed to be happy.

Anhedonia. Sometimes that's how i feel. RJ could tell. He joked that i was getting weary of his charm and boyish good looks. The left corner of my mouth twitched in lieu of a smile.

It started with a conversation with Elsie two days ago. Apparently my mother is still asking her and my brother about me when they chat on their weekly video conference. And the couple have nothing to say because we simply have not been spending time together lately.

My mother assumes i'm alone and lonely.

"She doesn't know you have a beau," explained Elsie. "She never sees you on Skype. How is she to know you're fine?"

First off, alone doesn't mean lonely. I have told my mother time and again. I have friends. I go out with them. I have a life. And certainly having a boyfriend is not a bulletproof status, either. Basically, my mother's agreeing with the general masses: single = pathetic. These assumptions drive me nuts!

Second of all, ten years ago, before voice chat with video became common, we did fine. As if the phone isn't bad enough, what with uncomfortable long pauses and fake laughs, we have to witness each other in this sad act, too?

Third of all, if she doesn't see me and i tell her i'm fine, she can't just take my word for its face value?

Fourth of all, if W and Elsie and i never see each other anymore, is it automatically my fault or responsibility to fix it? If they are so dying to see me, they can certainly come down here, or meet me halfway. Where is that initiative?

And what pisses me off even more is that I know W and Elsie will not go out of their way to see me because, on that end of the spectating spectrum, they assume i don't care to see them since i've got a life companion. Even after months and months of my reaching out attempting to make an arrangement. In those early months, even when we did manage to occasionally meet, it'd be dine-and-run. Then it'd be my turn to round everyone up again. A year went by. I grew tired.

Meanwhile, an entire week of Mother's Day reminders everywhere i looked really annoyed me. I don't feel that way about my mother. Everybody just shut up!

Originally i was gonna go out of my way to head over to W's this afternoon and join them in net conference to wish my mother a happy Mother's Day (she's 15 hours ahead), as dreadful as that visit (everyone glued to the TV or a laptop) and convo would be (It's my mother!). But, the more i thought about it, the more the voice "Fuck it!" grew louder.

I am tired of caring about what everyone else thinks. Yeah, the woman gave birth to me. If this makes me a terrible person, so be it.

My mother has been spending her entire life worrying about what society thinks. I'm not even forty yet and i feel exhausted.

If i said, "Happy Mother's Day!" right now, it'd be an empty wish.

Played Out

2011-05-07T18:34:00.000-07:00

This evening i officially quit Cafe World, after approximately 4 months of playing. Over 120 consecutive days.

I'd never been addicted to a video game before. I'd never even cared much for video games. None holds my interest long enough, if it does at all. Most of them just make me question, "'What's the point?"

But with Cafe World, with all the instant approval and gratification of achieving goals and all the baby steps in each stage, got me hooked in no time flat. I started to schedule real life activities around what needed to be done in this virtual realm. Around the same time, i stopped cooking (real food) altogether. Even ceased reading recipes, a hobby of mine.

This is what happens when one didn't get a lot of atta-girl's in childhood. No only was i getting kudos from Zynga, i was also encouraged by my "neighbors" - fellow gamers, who mutually depended on this network to get what it takes to advance (unless you're crazy loaded and enjoy burning those greens). Lone effort was not enough. I hated that aspect actually. I wished to work alone, not needing anyone. But sometimes when i'd receive a gift, i'd think, "This world is not so bad if there is kindness around." On cynical days i'd be convinced that nobody cared; they just wanted something from me.

I took the game very seriously. I timed dishes right to avoid the mistake of spoiling food. I memorized those time intervals before one could ask a neighbor for a favor again. I'd be enraged when connection to the server would be lost, which was frequent, a known issue much lamented about by other gamers. I'm talking i'd feel deepy distraught, exasperated, as if my life was unjustly disrupted.

I realized i had a problem.

I'm no stranger to addiction. It can be very powerful. And ridiculous. Someone who is not addicted simply cannot fathom.

One day, the ridiculous aspect boiled over and overpowered the, uh, Power. Bottom line: the game was not making me happy. In fact it turned me miserable at times. Some days, instead of blissfully sleeping in, i'd be anxious to get up to tend to the cafe.

Look, V. This is not REAL!

With an upcoming trip to the East Coast, the timing couldn't have been more perfect to resign. While away from the mundane, i'm not gonna worry my pretty head over trivial matters such as email, Facebook, or stupid Cafe World. In fact i'm not gonna worry about that last one again, ever.

Buh-bye.

Black Magic

2011-05-02T16:08:00.000-07:00

Aptly named. I was mesmerized. The hue was so saturated, the petals appeared to be velvet.