Tuesday, May 31, 2005

mission mac gangsta's

I'm sitting in this little cafe in the Mission. There are nine of us working on our little power books and one ibook. I feel like I'm part of some mac gang and can't help looking around to catch someone's eye. Why am I the only one even remotely amused by this? It's really all I can do to keep my little thumbs from flying up in the air and giving everyone the thumbs up sign. This is the second time this week that my inner dork has come out. I think she's overriding my inner diva. Good thing I have about four other inner diva's in hiding.

So today is my last day in San Francisco. I just spent a leisurly morning having breakfast with a friend and walking through the city by myself. I'm trying to soak up as much of this slower paced, happy-hippy feel. My body can already sense my return back to New York. Last night, I woke up at 4 am and couldn't shake the stress for another two hours.

Later on, I promised to make dinner for my friends for a "final" farewell. It's been a nice trip so far - simply to catch up with people and hear the latest in the gossip. It's amazing how much can happen in a single year. People coming out, getting fired, moving away, being diagnosed with and overcoming cancer, finding and losing love...but through it all, it's nice to know that even with all these changes, our friendships have still remained in tact.

Monday, May 30, 2005

Cyber Love Triangles.

I swear - sometimes the comments are better than the blog. To Jenny K. Lee and Raymond Yee, I wish you the best of luck as roommates, lovers, and friends. Thanks for the giggles...

California Cruisin'

Cruising down the California coast is always a fabulous experience especially in a little convertible. But I have one question, how do I get that cali-girl look with her hair flowing so fantastically in the wind - and out of her face? I could barely keep my eyes open with all that wind.

Sunday, May 29, 2005

singles bar scene

At some point in her life, the single gal (and guy) will one day inevitably say, "I am so over the whole meeting men at bar scene" - or at least something along those lines. Last night I went to Little Baobab, this small dive bar I used to frequent in San Francisco for its great South African vibe n' music and for all the yummy, and most importantly free cocktails. I just so happen to have a bartender friend there...not to mention an owner whose little crush on me I like to flirt with at times. But as I watched people around me slowly drink their inhibitions away and couple off on the dance floor, I couldn’t help but want to build a wall around me with a giant sign that read, “keep off”. It’s become a pet peeve of mine when men I don’t know feel as if they can touch me – even the innocent hand on the small of my back feels a bit presumptuous.

Don’t get me wrong. I love a good flirtation and flattery can go a long way, but please do so appropriately.

Maybe it’s just me or perhaps I’ve become too sensitive, but these scenes appear a bit too oversexed. It seems that every guy and now woman has this one thing on their minds. And yes, this “one thing” happens to be a fantastic “thing”, but it would be nice to meet a guy and not have to feel as if a simple greeting was some ploy to get you into bed.

Yes, I realize that a lot of my friends will probably laugh and make jokes since I am certainly no prude, but still. This gal is so over the whole meeting men at the bar scene. For now.

Saturday, May 28, 2005

A small glimpse into my trip.

Delores Park - where I spent many afternoons knitting, running, grilling, and lounging with friends.

It's always so disconcerting when roads just disappear like this...

A picture of a perfect hostess. The second I walked through the door, I already had a ton of plans. The best was all the stored up gossip she had waiting for me over drinks at a new bar in our old neighborhood.

Thursday, May 26, 2005

A random walk down memory lane...

I'm neurotic. My sister and I re-established this fact recently during my crazed three day job search. Although, while I like to call my neurosis a more endearing, cutesy sort of quality, Jenn simply calls it "neurotic". I remember when I first decided to move out to San Francisco. I had just finished college with what felt like a useless degree in Latin (I only majored in Latin because I felt a certain pride whenever the mere mention of it raised many an eyebrow - truthfully, I was the worst student in my class of six and can't even tell you anything more about Caesar than his name). I hadn't ever been to SF but for some reason, felt a strong urge to get out there. So I packed up my car and forced my brother to accompany me on a long trip out west. But I gloss over the two weeks prior where I spent almost every waking moment agonizing about all the "what if's" that simply couldn't be answered until I got there. And there were many. But as I was packing up and moving back east three years later, I realized that I had built a really good life out there. And I just can't wait to revisit some of those memories...

This picture was taken on Venice Beach in LA. My grandmother had just passed away and my mother brought my grandfather out for a visit to get away for a while. For some reason, we decided to get a mini-bust of him done.

And then there are those buffalo in the middle of Golden Gate Park...Discovering buffalo living within miles of your apt is always a bit of a shocker.

And have you ever had fresh abalone straight from the ocean?
PICT0070
But the best thing to go back to is all those friends you can't believe you left...
Heather and Dana

And of course, those sexy men.

lord - I can't wait to get down there!

Airplane Views

Right now, I’m a thousand miles above you all, flying across acres and acres of farmland. It seems like such a different world down there. All the plots of land neatly planned out. When I was growing up, I used to fantasize about owning my own farm and filling it with lots of orphaned children. We would all run around and be happy and play with our horses, cows, pigs, chickens. And the best part of it all was that in my dreams, it only smelled of roses and the chores were magically done by strong, hunky farmers who always gave hunky smiles whenever you walked by. Ok – that last part I just added, but what’s a fantasy without the strong, hunky farmers?

I obviously have little clue about farm living. Ok…three more hours to kill before I reach LA.

Tuesday, May 24, 2005

P.S.

Someone just left me a really sweet comment about how my time might be better spent elsewhere, instead of waitressing. And I think he/she is right. I would be much better suited for The Boss. That's it. I'm looking for a summer job as The Boss. wow, I like that. a little too much actually! Now I feel like I need people to start calling me The Boss.

saying goodbye

I'm in the process of moving out of my apt. I've had all week to pack up my stuff but somehow managed to put it all off to now - two days before someone else moves in. It's not even that much stuff since I don't officially move out until the end of July. Just my clothes, my shoes, my personals, my spirit.

There was always something else that needed to be done: books to read, people to talk to, coffee to drink, blogs to write. Of course all this boils down to the simple fact that I don't want to give up my cute, little studio nestled in so sweetly between Central Park and the rest of the world.

Now, I have to find (pause here for a "damn it") - roommates. And that can be so hit or miss. My last roommate was amazing and we're still close friends. But the one before that hated me and yes, scared the shit out of me. I never forgot to lock my door at night. Who knows though...once a roommate turned out to be a long term relationship. Maybe I'll find a husband out of this.

Well, at least I can put this ordeal off for a couple of months. My sister and brother in law have graciously allowed me to stay with them in Brooklyn for the summer so that this poor student can save some money up for the school year. Did I mention that I got a waitressing job?

Monday, May 23, 2005

violations against neighbors

I stepped in dog shit and it got all over the bottem of my pants. I feel so violated.

Sunday, May 22, 2005

The ex factor.

I don't usually make it a habit to maintain relationships with ex-boyfriends. The whole "ex" aspect is usually too big of a factor. I don't know how people really do it - manage to take all that intensity and mold it into something else...like friendship. It seems so hard to keep yourself from falling into old habits. The familiarity of the past just can feel so safe. And that's where the "danger" lies. I guess after time apart, friendship becomes more feasible, but by then lives move foward and other people move in. It's not necessarily a bad thing. It just sort of happens.

But every once in a while I manage to become briefly re-acquainted with an old flame and it becomes a subtle marker for how much time has passed and sometimes, how much we've both grown. I just happened to get off the phone with my last boyfriend. We were together for a little over two years and were really happy for most of it. I can't really say what exactly broke us up, but like all break-ups, there are probably a million reasons we can both come up with. He was and is an incredibly sweet guy - and probably the most sincere person I have yet to meet. It's been roughly a year and a half since we broke up, and it was really nice catching up and hearing about the little joys in his life.

After all these encounters with the ex's, it always astounds me how little of our past intimacies are left. How have our deepest moments become so easily replaced by these awkward moments in a quick phone call? People always say you have your memories, but that's not necessarily true either. Studies have shown countless times just how inaccurate and distorted our memories actually are. These are the silly things I've learned through the years. The hardest part though - was to simply accept life...with all it's felt inconsistencies, heartaches and joys, even if it might not last forever.

I know I've broken a few hearts out there (and for that I am always sorry). I've also had my own heart broken a few times, but I always manage to get up and going again. That's the thing about love, you can never really give it up. I imagine to do so would be sort of like being dead to life. My sister once said that she felt all of the world's problems fell to a failure of love. That statement has always stuck with me. Maybe she's right.

baby giggles...

Tonight we had a little farewell party for a close friend of mine who will be leaving this Tuesday for an archaeological dig in Turkey and then off to grad school in Michigan. I always tell Leah that after she leaves, half my friends will be gone. I'm really going to miss her. There's a wild woman "hidden" not so deep beneath that cute, girl-next-door exterior. It drives the men a little nutty and gives my life a little more flava'. Archaeologists beware...she's a fiery spirit, that one.

And now, I'm off to bed to put these tired feets to rest. It's not so terribly late but I feel exhausted. I spent a wonderful day with my nephew walking through Brooklyn and lying out by the water. We discovered a little game that seems to drive Andres crazy with happy joy and fits of baby giggles. I hold him out at arms length and bounce him closer and closer, singing "bulump, bulump, bump, bump, bump, bump, bump!" - just until he gets about an inch away, then I lift him up and rub my face into his pudgy little belly. It's all fun and games though until he pulls a chunk of my hair out. But he's still so cute sitting there - even with my hair in his little fingers...that I'll play over and over again. I'm probably going to be bald by the end of the summer, but I love hearing his little laugh. If we could bottle it up - Prozac would be out of business. Baby giggles. hmmm....

Wednesday, May 18, 2005

hire me.

Today I had my first interview for a cocktail waitress position. It basically went like this. "You don't speak Japanese (Japanese restaurant) and don't have any experience." I flash a becky smile. "Ok then, someone will call you in a week or two. Let me just take a picture." Yes, yes, yes. Everyone's already told me - I need to come up with a better story, one that includes years of waitressing experience. But why a picture?

god I hate job hunting.

Monday, May 16, 2005

Dancing Queen

Some people visit New York and immediately fall in love with the city. I hated it. Growing up, I came here often to visit my sister who lived on Mott Street in soho - just about when soho became what it is now. I was always afraid something bad would happen to me: I was going to get mugged or I would get lost for an hour and a half on the subway - again. My sister still teases me about how much of an 'urban princess' I've become. Ten years ago, I was always afraid of New York and it's messiness. Now like everyone else, I can't seem to do without that fast pace, everything right there at your finger tips sort of deal - no matter how messy it is.

But sometimes I get caught up in the whole NY image thing - whether it's trying to look 'hard' or 'coy and sexy', it seems that everyone has an image to protect. And it gets tiring after a while. This past weekend, I met a true dancing super star. Not only could he hit every high note that Prince was famous for - he just rocked the dance floor as if no one else was on it. Then, he did the best thing. He shimmied his way across the room to dance with himself in the mirror. I've never seen someone have so much fun. And he turned around and shouted something like, "I don't care what you guys think..." Then I think he might have given himself a high five. I might have added that last bit because the idea of it makes me giggle. But still...what a rock star.

Friday, May 13, 2005

hot pink ladies...

This morning, I decided to spend the entire day sulking and moping in bed. Fortunately, my apartment gets very little light and so, if I shut my blinds and close my curtains, I can pretend that the sun never came up. I've turned off my phone and hidden it somewhere deep in my covers. And soon, I'm going to shut the rest of the world out and put my little mac to rest. No tv. no phone. no radio. no internet. just me and my mood. It's funny. I always thought that the weekend after all my finals were due, I would be one giant party. But I'm too tired - so drained. And my Andres is gone with his parents to Mexico. I think I'd feel much better if I had one of those chubby little toes in my mouth right now.

But this city somehow finds it's way in to tickle my curiousity. The construction on the building across the street, the taxi drivers cursing out some biker on the side of the road, the dogs doing their business on my sidewalk, and the long walks the kids and their nannies take - all happening just outside my apt. And despite myself, I keep peeking out behind my curtain and asking, "what, who, where, when, can I come?" And truthfully, I haven't really turned off my phone. It's just on silence so that when I check my phone every fifteen minutes, I know who called and can call them back IF I so choose. That IF is the important part.

And so I've been sitting here, trying to muster up all the therapeutic words of advice...and it hits me - PEDICURES!!! hot pink toes always put a smile on my face.

Wednesday, May 11, 2005

Question for those more sciency folk.

I am officially the worst student. It's midnight. I've had more than a gal should drink - especially when she has an exam the next day. But I had a slice of pizza before coming home. Shouldn't that somehow neutralize the last two martini's? And what's with all the ringing in my ears...?

I hope you like your grilled cheese burnt.

I've been feeling a bit down lately. Somewhere in between boredom and blah. Maybe it's because I've been running on high energy for the past couple of weeks - focussed and driven, pumping out papers and exams like a crazed monkey. And now that it's come to an end (I only have one exam left tomorrow), I just don't know what to do with myself anymore. I should look foward to this summer - with very little responsibilities and plenty of sun (and too much humidity - living in San Francisco has definately spoiled me), but I feel a little anxious - concerned about how productive I'll be. I know. It's weird. It's caught me off gaurd too. Then again...maybe this fogginess in my mood is because I just can't seem to make a damn grilled cheese sandwich.
take 2

Sunday, May 08, 2005

My mum's funny...

The best thing I inherited from my mother was the ability to never lose touch with my inner child - although hers seems to be younger than mine. This picture was taken last summer when my mother insisted that my sister and I take her to Disney Land. This was right before her first 3-D experience where she fervently dodged cartoon bugs flying towards her face, and screamed whenever a snake seemed "so real - almost biting me!" I remember the second we stepped out of the theater, she looked at us and said, "oh my, America is Amazing. They can do so much!" What's hesterical is when I took her to Mt. Rushmore, I believe her first words were, "That's it?"

I will forever be devoted to my mom, a woman who raised three kids on her own and in many ways, continues to do so even today. Every letter she sends me, she always closes with "God blessing you 1000000 times 1000000!" And I guess he really did.

drinks and hot topics.

After a long day of studying, eating junk, and making up dances to various Tom Petty songs, the girls and I went for a drink. And that's when Leah said the funniest thing. "We are now entering into that age when guys start having the Baggage." The Baggage??? "Yes, they might carry a light load now, but just give it a couple more years." Dun, dun, dun.

But truthfully, I guess I don't care all that much about baggage - just as long as there's room for mine as well.

Friday, May 06, 2005

When things go bad

I always know when something is a little off when...

...I'm sitting on the subway reminding myself to calm down, relax, breath through my anxieties and I hear the person next to me say, "Who - me?". Fuck, was I really saying that out loud?

...I have a fitfull night of rest and dream that I am sitting in class, fall off my chair, and actually squat down and poop - right there, on the floor as my professor is giving a lecture on ethics. The rest of the dream, I spend blaming the poo on Kevin, a class mate of mine who everyone easily believes has done it - and probably would have even if I didn't point my finger at him.

...I feel as if making this dream public is okay and won't damage the glorious image of grace and poise I try so hard to maintain.

...I'm making enemies of friends. There are just too many unanswered phone calls and emails in my inbox. This has been especially hard because I really value being there for my friends - and being present in their lives even when I'm barely living in mine.

...I want to run around all of New York screaming, "WE HAVE TEETH!" just because my nephew has suddenly sprouted two teeth. But come now, look at this precious little guy. He's so proud of himself - as he should be.
cute head
He's the reason I haven't found a bridge to jump off of yet. That and I have this little secret: despite all the exams, papers, research, etc...I love what I'm doing.

Tuesday, May 03, 2005

An excercise in Gestalt psychology

Choose an inanimate object to project our feelings unto. Some of the responses given were:

- I am like the ceiling tile and worn out.
- I am a pair of glasses because I'm in this program to help change perceptions of life.
- I am the curtain going whichever way the wind blows.
- I am a box waiting to be opened.
- I am the little black hole in the wall because I feel like an ass doing this.

Deep. Can you guess which was mine?

Sunday, May 01, 2005

field hockey underdogs - grrr!

I scored my first goal of the season!!! We have four wins so far and apparently, that's four more than we've had in the past couple of years. I've dubbed us the official underdog team. I think the secret is in the beers they drink before the game, at halftime, and definately after each win.

This is my 16th year playing field hockey. With each year, I notice little changes. I don't move as fast - I actually CAN'T move as fast. My lungs are wheezy after each game. I pass more than dribble with the ball. And sometimes, passing takes too much energy. When I was in highschool, I was rarely subbed. Now, I beg for them. What's happening to me?

In the league I played on in San Francsisco, the oldest player was 65. My hero.

I wonder what condition my body will be in when I'm 65. Till then - I play. "Field hockey underdogs - GRRR!" grrr with me!