Thursday, March 31, 2005

The Question of the Day

My friendster page says that since the first of this month, I have had 100 people visit my site. I can't help but wonder who all these people are and whether they just accidentaly stumbled unto my page looking for another becky, perhaps a bigger and better becky. And so then the big question is - what does a bigger and better becky look like?!?!


I'm tired. I had an exam due today and obviously had no sleep.


bye bye.

On being a student again...

I am one month away from finishing my first year in graduate school. One down, six more to go. And as I sit here thinking about it - I can't help but repeat what everyone always says - time goes by so fucking fast. In April of last year, I was still in San Francisco waiting to hear back from schools - freaking out while partying my last few months in CA away. I loved California and miss my friends, the weather, the views, the beaches, and even those crazy SF hills. And no matter how much my sister makes fun of those Berkeley hippies...it's what made the Bay Area exactly what it is. And on those particularly icy New York mornings, I'd often find myself thinking about my little Mission apt...located in the sunniest spot in San Francisco. But the moment I drove into New York, I quickly discovered that this gal is simply an east coast chick at heart.


I've had an interesting transition into my NYC student life. After a gruelling period of apt searching, I found a very cozy little studio on the upper west side. Despite what all those downtown 'snobs' might say - it's a great location. The best thing is that I'm only a half a block from happy, care-free central park. Unfortunately, I didn't get any of the fellowships I needed to maintain my lifestyle and so the apt must go. Apts come and go when you're a student at my age. And I think boys do too. Date boy, break up with boy. Just like money, love and relationships are diffacult to maintain - maybe this is specific to me though I doubt it. That's why friendships are key. Since moving back, I've become re-acquanted with old friends and made some new ones that will without a doubt continue to grow. I remember the first day I walked into class - late with sweat dripping down my face (I hadn't yet gotten used to the humidity). I looked around me and never would have suspected how close we all would have become in a matter of weeks.


And now I'm sitting here - tired from a long two-week period of exams, papers, and emotional ups n' downs. And frankly, I'm bored just trying to figure out a way to end this blog without making it seem so abrupt. Somewhere along the way I lost my train of thought - and obviously my stamina.

Monday, March 28, 2005

emo!

Last night I had trouble sleeping. I couldn't stop thinking about a certain boy whose smile makes you smile, whose laughter fills you with complete joy, and whose crying just makes everyone around him do all sorts of crazy stunts and facial expressions just to see him smile again. And when he starts staring off into space or becomes suddenly intrigued by a simple light fixture, you can't help wonder if he's brilliant as well - somehow understanding something no one else does...yes, yes I give this boy so much credit. But, if you have no clue what I'm talking about, then maybe you're not an 'emo' just yet. I became an aunt three months ago and the experience has been absolutely fabulous.


He's the obvious offspring to Jenn and Raul: beautiful, joyful, and very advanced. But sometimes I see a litle bit of beccup in him as well. The other day, we sat face to face. I on my back, Andres on my belly. He was telling me a most animated story, bobbing his head back and forth, and waving his pudgy little hands around trying to get his point across - all the while cracking himself up. He had no care in the world whether anyone around him understood his story...all he knew was that there was something very funny going on in his head. I've always been told that I tell terrible stories at times - barely being able to get a full sentence out without laughing. I laughed with Andres and felt all warm inside - my nephew tell stories just like his emo!


I've created a little photo-album of little Andres - I think you can access it on my friendster page. If you talk to me even a little, you'd know that I'm the worst kind of aunt...one who brags and brags, and who truly believes that her nephew is the cutest in the world.

Sunday, March 27, 2005

texas hold-em blues...

Have you ever had one of those drunken nights where you find yourself in front of your computer at 3 in the morning with a big tub of kimchee sitting beside you wondering why you keep getting emails for "Christian dating in NYC"? Maybe it's just me then...


Tonight was my third night dealing poker. It has taken me almost six months to realize that my meager grad school "income" can barely support the lifestyle I would like to lead. My family has long ago nick-named me "the princess" and for the first time, I'm beginning to see why. Even before being fired (or rather, "put on reserve") from my nanny position last Thursday, I realized that I just couldn't be a baby-sitter - especially for these too wealthy, overly controlling new york type mothers. It's just too hard kissing ass when you're also doing intakes and running groups for parents who look to you for answers for problems with their kids. So dealing poker was what I was left with. Almost.


I made my first mistake: I dropped the river card assuming that everyone had called. This assumption of mine quickly became the cause of a fight that felt only a few seconds short of people getting punched and thrown around. I of course freaked in the best way I knew how, went into my bosses office, and quit. The whole thing was settled, people apologized, and I was asked to continue dealing. I was assured more than the five minutes of training that I originally received (I actually had my first "session" last night with a professional dealer - it was kind of fun learning all the different shuffles. I think I even said, "neato!" - god, I must look so out of place there.) With the hundred sitting in my pocket after my first two and a half hours of dealing, I said - oh what the hell, I'll stick with it a bit longer. Apparently no other dealer has thus far made as much as I have during the first few hours of the evening. Then again, I am the first female dealer to attend these nights.


Afterwards I met up with some friends of mine for few needed drinks and of course the topic of conversation quickly became "is beccup going to one day become a *** with a criminal record?". Lord I hope this thing is legit...