Just Don't Make Me Laugh

"What am I going to do now at work?" June asked...

2006-03-13T09:38:00.000-05:00

i've gone undercover. If you're actually one of the few who was reading this before - then email me and I'll let you into my other private world. Though I can't promise anything more exciting...

on goodbyes

2006-03-02T16:48:00.000-05:00

I think it's official. I am done with my blogging days. Now for all those still interested in my life, you'll have to contact me. And I will hopefully still have lots of stories on love, hate, and misfortunes...who knows though. Maybe I'll find my way back.

a lullabye on love

2006-02-23T22:24:00.000-05:00

My life is chaos. But you always know you've found true love when its simple touch can make your life so much more meaningful and complete. When that soft, little hand reaches out to you and gently strokes your cheek to make sure you're still there by his side and that you haven't left in the night, your heart melts and you find yourself snuggling up to smell his sweet, sweet scent. That's when you know you've found it. And when he opens his eyes and smiles, you can't help but smile back - even when he begins to point and cry, "dog, dog, dog!" Despite your longing for his cries to scream, "emo, emo, emo!", true love is simply accepting that at the moment, you too are "dog".

good night, little andres. I can't wait till your vocabulary develops.

a date with two of my favorite boys

2006-02-18T16:11:00.000-05:00

People keep asking me about this boy I've been dating. Who he is. How we met. What he does. I've been getting phone calls from California to Chicago from questioning eyes at school. And I know that at the bottom of all their questions lies the most important one. Am I happy. I tell them who he is and how we met. And sometimes I'll tell a story of what he does that answers just how happy I am.

So we begin.

Thursday night. He wants to go to the Andy Warhol exhibit at the Children's Museum. "Is that weird?", he asks. No. We can bring my nephew along. "Ok." Pause. Then he asks, "Wait, does he walk yet?" No, but he's trying really hard. It's totally cute. You can finally meet him! "Ok." Pause. "So how does a kid who can barely walk and can't speak going to get from Brooklyn to the upper west side?" What do you mean? I'll go down and get him. Pause. "Oh." Pause. "Are you going to put him in some kind of bag or something?" He's a newbie with babies, but it's a bit endearing.

my nephew is simply scrumptious. that is, until he starts showing preferential treatment towards non-family members.

Anyway, after a long day of running by Andy Warhol photos and crawling through dark tunnels over and over again, my little guy was pooped and found rest in the tired arms of my other guy - all the way from the upper west side back to Brooklyn. No bag needed.

It was a lovely way to spend a Friday afternoon.

"i can see your belly button!"

2006-02-16T22:45:00.000-05:00

Come now. Wouldn't you be if you suddenly found yourself visiting with ms. mona lisa? Needless to say, it was a lovely surprise. The second I got my boarding pass, I called my sister and screamed, "&%$@%@-P-A-R-I-S-*%&#@#!!!"

I hadn't been to Paris in five years, and the city was as lovely as I last remembered her. Colder but just as lovely. If you were there last weekend, you would have seen one happy gal arm in arm with her boy as he sang, "i love paris in the winter. i love paris in the morning..."

Two days later, this is what i came back to. My poor car.

brr...

the apparent uninheritable

2006-02-08T12:11:00.000-05:00

Someone recently informed me that they dreamt about me reading poetry while topless. Their dreams are more exciting than my reality I guess.

I am wearing a suit right now. I don't like me very much in a suit. But I especially hate me in my DTA/waitress uniform. I had to quit that. The first time I put it on, I looked at my boss and said, "there is just no way to look sexy in this shirt. you're killing me in tips." He rolled his eyes and probably muttered some type of profanity in my direction. That big cuddly bear. So I'm done waiting tables and embracing an even poorer existence of student life, but I will embrace it fully. I've said this a million times before but with all my friends getting married, having babies, and buying houses in the suburbs I've often wondered if I've taken the right roads in life. My boy looks at me and says, "no - you're right where you belong. it'll all work out." But I disagree. I don't think this diva was ever meant to be so constrained by finances! Still life moves on and never waits for you to lament these petty grievances.

My mother came in for a visit. She has an uncanny knack for avoiding tickets. I have to learn this. She was pulled over for going 80 on 95. The cop demanded, "Do you know why I pulled you over ma'am?" She replies with equal authority and weight, "I go high speed!" He stutters, "That's right ma'am and you have unclear plates." Of course my mother doesn't grasp this until the third or fourth explanation and then it hits her, "oh! FINALLY, I got it! But that's not my fault. The dealer make it that way." In the end, she was let go with a warning. My sister professes it's because he was so exhausted that he didn't have the energy to write her a ticket.

This stands in start contrast to my police encounter a few days earlier. Pulled over for talking on the phone while driving. Damn it. Totally my fault. Twenty minutes later I know something is up. The cop comes over and says, "I'm giving you two summons." TWO? "Yup, one for talking on the phone..." Yeah, yeah, yeah. "And the other for an expired license." I snatched it right from his hands and sure enough - expired. There goes 225 dollars on top of my other bills. Maybe I shouldn't have quit my day job.

But my fortune cookie from lunch tells me, "Remember, after rain there is always sunshine."

loooong days

2006-01-31T19:47:00.000-05:00

I made up a song that goes something like this, "Loooong Day. It's been a long day. Looong day. It's been a long day." And somewhere in the back ground, Courtney laughs. Of course, it sounds much better than it reads.

I've been a delinquent blogger again, which means that classes have begun. I've got another semester of stats but a bio class as well. And in truth, when I'm not in class, I've been spending my time with the boy - who I think can now graduate to 'my' boy despite Courtney's pleading to "not rush into things so fast!" She hates to see her friends get hurt. oh well - the potential for that was there from the beginning. This foolish heart of mine has never listened to reason so well. But it's amazing what a dose of 'boy' can do. This past week, I've had half of my possessions "accidentally" thrown away (I think I've lost roughly a thousand dollars worth of stuff) and bills up the something not so good. And still. You can hear a little jingle about my "looong days..." and a giggle not so far behind.

on happier changes

2006-01-24T08:38:00.000-05:00

So I finally rolled myself out of bed to hop in a cab going uptown only to find myself downtown. After the cab driver and I exchanged a few harsh words, we were back on track and forty five minutes later, I reached my new home. I started unpacking and the amount of space I have to work with is unbelievable. I have two closets, which is a very big New York deal. And my roommate and I chatted for a few hours last night. She's very cool and very hip and cooler still for being able to give me fifty percent off of a ton of make-up and beauty supplies. She's an aspiring hair stylist with lots of suggestions for my hair. I already "earned" myself some fancy hair products.

changes and instabilities

2006-01-23T08:50:00.000-05:00

I'm lost and feeling rather ungrounded. I just want to lie in bed all day and listen to the rain fall from the sky. There are busy lives being lived outside these walls, but I'm fighting to keep from starting mine. Classes begin tomorrow. Reports are due and roughly a dozen externship applications need to be mailed by Thursday. And I feel homeless. Given my financial situation, I was forced to move out of my little upper west side studio and into a larger upper, upper west side apt with roommates. My life is lying somewhere up in harlem in boxes strewn around a foreign place.

It's funny. From the time I was born until my junior year in college, my mother moved 11 times. It has always been a running joke amongst family and friends. I think that in part, this is the reason why my siblings and I have always been able to pick up and move across country without much thought to reason or across the world to begin new lives. Home has always been a feeling that lingered somewhere in the suburbs of Philly rather than a specific location or address. But now I've lost my place - my specific address. And I'm sad. I just want to throw myself on the ground have a giant tantrum. But really - who has the energy these days?

The Carrie of the Group

2006-01-20T02:34:00.000-05:00

When all my friends started to get married, I freaked. It's not that I wanted to get married, but I didn't want to be left alone. I knew that I still had a few years of being single in me yet. It's been a couple of years now and I think I've gotten past most of my fears now. Still every once in a while you get one of those emails from a friend...This is a snippet from one of my friends for almost ten years. To clarify, no offense was taken. Raul and I both chuckled heartily, but I thought it might be fun to share.

"unha, i wish you and jeff the best even though you don't need it because you guys are perfect. and june i miss our married girl talks but now you can talk to unha and anna i really am sorry that i won't be there [for your wedding]. i feel like i am missing the biggest thing in our lives! and beccup, i envy your dating life. not the boy part but the going out part. i am proud of the carrie of our group."

I often get that. For some reason, my friends relate episodes of Sex and the City to my life. But I really am far from it - no fancy parties, no glamour filled job, and certainly no long line of men waiting to take me out. Just one. And truthfully, I find this "boy part" of my life rather exciting. I think it should be envied. No?

indicators of chaos

2006-01-19T12:46:00.000-05:00

1. I'm moving in four days and haven't even packed my stuff. And I just found out yesterday that my roommate to be is turning 21 this weekend. I think I stuttered something like, "What? I mean, uh - congratulations."

2. Tuesday while waiting in line at the post office to mail in the final portion of my fellowship application, my car was involved in a "hit n' run". While everyone was screaming, "Whose beige car is that?!?" I chose to close my eyes and ignore it - hoping that if I didn't acknowledge my misfortunate, it didn't actually happen. I may have reacted too casually but the police gave the man enough words to speak for the both of us. So I saved my energy. Besides I needed those words for some others.

3. Wed morning 4 am, my apt buzzer starts going crazy again - for the third time in the past four months. I left tired, cranky messages for my landlord and two supers, who were less than super. The ringing stopped sometime around 7 am, but somehow I still managed to fall asleep with the help of three thick pillows surrounding my head.

4. And I can't seem to remember if I'm a supposed to be studying something. I am a student, right?

5. It's been five days since I have had toilet paper in my apt. I keep forgetting to pick some up. Now I'm out of kleenex as well.

6. Yesterday, I "found" an old Startbucks latte sitting on my desk from last week. It had turned into some sort of espresso flavored cheese. It smelled really bad and I gagged while pouring out the contents into my toilet.

7. I'm afraid to look at the milk sitting in my fridge.

But the really, really odd part is - that I still feel strangely grounded. And well, happy.

the way to a man's heart

2006-01-17T12:07:00.000-05:00

For me, the way to a man's heart is not through his tummy. I woke up in the morning and very sweetly said, "Shall I cook dinner tonight?" The offer should have been refused but the boy naively responded, "That would be nice." Two burnt pans, four smoke alarm screams, and one ruined kitchen towel later, dinner was served. I woke up with sore arms from having waved a towel underneath the smoke alarm for thirty minutes. I fear that as he gets to know me little by little, I become less and less impressive. Good thing he has a sense of humor that can match my own and a politeness that is beyond polite. He even had seconds.

two stories of the men in my life

2006-01-10T18:32:00.000-05:00

I haven’t heard from a male friend for a while. A male friend who is also considered an ‘x’ I guess. A few days ago, I went over to drop off some flowers to recognize an important day for him. And as I rang the buzzer, I had a funny feeling. I had called a little earlier and got no response. I figured he was at work and I would just leave the flowers at his door. When he answered with an, “oh hi….” You know - with a greeting that was drawn out, almost intentionally as if to stall for time, that funny feeling became a bit greater. When he took an extra minute “fussing” with the lock, I should have run. But I panicked and stayed. And there we were – two old ‘lovers’, one with a bouquet of flowers in hand and unfortunately looking awful since she decided to forgo a shower for the third day in a row and another with that disheveled look of just having thrown on whatever pair of pants that just happened to be lying around from the previous night of somethin’somethin’. Oh, and lets not forget the third party – his partner of somethin’somethin’ tucked away under the covers less than two feet away. I don’t know what my mouth was saying but my head was screaming, “Awkward!” And within thirty seconds, I was down the stairs repeating, “Don’t fall. Please don’t fall – that would be worse!” And when I got home, my friend said, “hm. I wonder if she thought you were trying to get back together with him.” Great.

So old lovers find new ones.

On Sunday night, I had my first date with the boy. I guess he’s not really a boy but I haven’t figured out a nickname for him. Maybe I can get a little help after this entry. Anyway, it was simple and sweet. He was away for the weekend, snowboarding with a friend, and took me out for a late latte when he got back. It was fantastic filled with one long four-hour conversation. By one am, he walked me home and I was enamored. Scared out of my wits as I so often am these days, but pleasantly charmed. A few minutes later, he texted me about not wanting to leave and despite myself, I giggled like a schoolgirl. We had our second date the following night. He called after work just wondering what I was up to. I frantically called my sister and together we decided on an outfit, which no matter what, I hated...(edit, edit, edit) Later in the evening, we sat by the Henry Hudson and began to chat like we did the night before. And as he drove me home, he quietly said, “I like you.”

wedding wonders

2006-01-08T13:13:00.000-05:00

I hadn’t seen Sam in almost five years. He looks at me and says, “God, you’re still the same girl as you were in high school!” I laughed and lamely replied, “Oh Sam, just call me by my first name. You don’t have to be so formal.” The same GIRL I was in high school? Just last week I was writing about feeling like the oldest 27 year old in New York. And as I was looking through the pictures from last night, I still can’t help but wonder – what the hell is that boy talking about?

And so another one of my girls has gotten married.

It was a lovely wedding, complete with blushing bride, weeping maid of honor, dancing Korean ah-guh-mahs, and a very hip little Japanese girl named Anna from London, who kept saying “bloody this” and “bloody that”. I wanted to be her. Instead, I sat next to her making one social blunder after another. I even introduced myself to the guy sitting next to her and gushed about his toast. After a few second of blinks and blank stares, it hit me. I had asked the only other white guy at the party if he was the best man. Of course I had to announce this to the table immediately after and suffered the consequences, which were only a few pokes and jabs. “See that guy? He’s the waiter. That’s not the best man either.” You know. That sort of thing. Oh and I caught the bouquet again.

Beneath this demure exterior lies a vicious tigress. roar.

All and all, it was a great night and I was thrilled to see old friends and make new ones. Except that when I got home sometime around 1, I dropped into bed and sighed. Yup, tomorrow morning (today that it is), I would need a true beccup day. I’ve been feeling so over worked and burnt out lately, always needing to be “on”. Time to turn off for a while. Oh lordy – with that joke…I’ve been off for a while now.

**by the way, for those interested and haven’t yet figured it out. If you want to see other pictures, click on one above and it’ll take you straight to the “set” I’ve created for this night.

bye bye bellybutton blues

2006-01-05T09:31:00.000-05:00

Did I forget to mention that after seven years, my mother finally found my belly button ring? This also included the time she jumped in the shower with me last summer while away in the Hamptoms. Koreans. No sense of boundaries.

It was a few weeks ago, during my nephews Dol. Jenn kept telling me to be careful because my sweater didn't quite cover myself so well, but I shrugged her warnings off. And right there, amongst all her guests and celebrations my mother gets all big eyed, stares at my little ring and says, "daughter, what have you done?" Nervously, I laugh and say, "Well - Raul needs a ride back home. Gotta go!" When I got home, I declared to my sister, "I'm 27. I'm not going to let mom get all crazy on me just because she thinks the devil's got a hold of my soul through this damn thing." Of course, I make these declarations as I rapidly yank out the ring. And for all of you secretly judging my wusiness. I would have told her about it earlier except that when I asked to get a second ear piercing in high school, she screamed, "If you get a piercing there, you will get one everywhere and your spirit will leave your body!" Honestly, how do you argue that?

Anyway, she was strangely mum for a few days. I expected a major blowout and when none came, I expected the worst when I got back to New York. So far though, we've only had one phone conversation that went something like this:

"When did you get it?"

"A few years ago."

"A FEW YEARS! You were my number one, bestest, most spiritual daughter. Mommy is so disappoint!"

"Mom, I'm so sorry but it's not a big deal. I bet half the girls in your church have one!"

"It is a big deal. YOU MIGHT AS WELL BE GAY! It is the way to becoming lesbian. How many earing you have? Do you have tattoos? I will never look at your sister's tattoo. Mommy is so disappoint! You better pray hard. Hang up right now and pray to God." Click.

Actually, over the holidays, I made a joke about marrying my bellybutton. She got pissed and yelled, "Cancel!" I laughed and said - ok, ok, I married Jesus.

oh momsarama.

comments that make me question my hetero-sexuality

2006-01-04T13:53:00.000-05:00

I eavesdrop. If you are sitting next to me on the subway or chatting on your cell phone in passing on the streets of Manhatten, chances are I will be listening. Pay no attention to my averted eyes or the headphones I'm wearing. I simply can't help it. I'm nosy. These are a few comments I've overheard pass through a few guys' lips. Statements which I say again - make me question how it is that I keep from being a lesbian.

"dude, so I started hooking up with this girl at the party last night (it was new years eve). she was kind of big though - you know. big. but then brian told me to just take what I can get so I did."

"YEAH! so I was like acting like a bitch, but not an asshole type. Just a bitch."

"she was all legs but no face. good thing I'm a leg man."

What planet are these guys from? But a bit of saving grace for that 'species' - for the time being that is. I had a lovely conversation with the boy I met on new years day night. And he sent me a very sweet email this morning...

A new years weekend

2006-01-02T09:20:00.000-05:00

I am no longer going to act so childish. This is my New Years Resolution. I am now 27 - late twenties. It has been confirmed by one of my fellow NYeve revelers. As he was telling a tale about roommates, he scrunched his face and said, "you know though - they're LATE twenties." The scrunch told it all. Still, I think I was the exception and for a brief moment, we were in love. My young gay lova and I.

We started out with a few drinks at a friends place, then rang in the New Year at my friend's good friend's boyfriend's best friend's rooftop party in the lower east side. We were a nutty group of seven amongst an older crowd of couples. The space was great and the drinks were plenty. A movie screen was set up on the roof deck and the copulating bugs being played made for great conversation. And when the lady bugs made it, we naturally cheered and hollered. We also developed friends with other revelers on neighboring rooftops. Sometime around midnight, we celebrated the new year with four different countdowns.

Ok. I only met this (above) couple that night but I think the picture is super funny.

The above picture is the famous Leah pose, who manages to close her eyes in 98 percent of the photo's. Ironically, her eyes are opened when we all agreed to close them. She's even failed many coaching sessions from friends on how to keep your eyes open in photo's. Then we made fun of the "crab dip" that managed to find it's way on Leah's glass.

Sometime around 1, we head over to start the new year with a bit of singing at a local bar. Somewhere in between, my left boob decides to pop out for a quick hello and I fall down the stairs. Sorry no pictures. But here's a few of our singing sensations.

Despite the Kareoke DJ Master's (whatever it is you call them) pleading for me to stay a little longer, I rubbed his little belly and said, "My love. I'm getting too old for this shit. It's near 4 am and I'm going home." But I did stay to sing one more song. Like a Virgin. The next day, I met Jay for lunch in Soho then headed back home, still hungover, still tired, and feeling old. Later that night, I had some friends over for more drinks and a few finger foods. We were all exhausted but laughed our little hearts out. And I met a boy.

All in all, it was a nice weekend filled with surprises that began with two of my best friends who suddenly popped in for dinner at the restaurant where I work on Friday...I need a nap.

new favorite drink

2005-12-27T21:07:00.000-05:00

every morning my grandfather makes me carrot, spinach, and broccoli juice. don't knock it. the broccoli actually creates for a nice, nutty flavor.

mmmm...

I'm heading back up to New York in the morning. I'm going to miss grandpa's special.

merry, merry Christmas!

2005-12-25T23:16:00.000-05:00

This was the first year my family was not together on Christmas. Paul was in Korea. Jenn, Raul, and Andres were in Brooklyn with Raul's family. And mom and I were home in Philly doing a special dance my mother made for me when I began lamenting how Christmas felt less like Christmas without the whole family together. As soon as the words came out of my mouth, my mother grabbed my arms and began twirling me around singing, "Merry, Merry Christmas time! It's happy time!" Our dance soon turned into big bounces - like a mini mosh pit in our living room. Later that night, she accompanied me to a movie. She hadn't been to a theater since the Joy Luck Club. I think I laughed a good ten minutes when she tried to return the stale pretzel bites we ordered. She said, "Excuse me. I ordered soft pretzel - not hard!" Then when the movie played their little commercial bit about turning off cell phones and used a fake documentary interrupted by that famous nokia ring, she looked around and exclaimed, "that's not me! I didn't bring my phone." Oh the laughter that always seems to come with mom.

So Christmas comes to a close and I leave you all with a few of my favorite text messages that I received throughout the day:

"Merry Christmas! Hope your day is filled with peace and love"
"R U calling me an alcoholic? That's not very nice. Hope you get lots of crappy gifts. Luv ya!"
"Merry X-mas! Hope your new year is a prosperous one. Be good, motivate, have safe sex, and smoke weed to stay sane."
and finally,
"da schmiggle is like krimizzle, HOLLA!"

hard labor

2005-12-22T22:47:00.000-05:00

My aunts both had gas today. It was quite unfortunate for me since I spent the entire day with them, "working" in the family jewelry store. I put the quotes in because I was deemed the official door buzzer and during "slow" periods, I wrote the words LAY AWAY on three hundred receipts because my aunts are growing older and keep forgetting to write it down when they are taking the orders. I put the quotes in again because in truth, the entire day was slow for me. I hid two receipt books because I couldn't bear the idea of having to write the words LAY AWAY two hundred more times. At one point, I realized I started writing LAW AWAY but decided it was okay since both my aunts and their customers spoke limited English. The best is watching my Korean aunts speak to their mostly Latino clients. What comes out is a strange game of charades and Sporean (My clever way of mixing Spanish and Korean).

My two aunts calling out with their almost uniform greeting - "ola! como estas! What you buy today?" always makes me giggle. Although my favorite auntie quote of the day was when I finally couldn't take it any longer and said - my goodness, it smells like fart everywhere! And my oldest aunt laughed at me and said, "I know. Last man complained and said - it smell like a shit!"

Giggling turned into doubled over laughter while my other aunt got all anxious and worried that she was chasing away her customers. She kept asking, "Should I go outside and fart?" YES!

for incomplete souls

2005-12-22T00:45:00.000-05:00

Leah hates the Jay Leno face. She calls and says, “I’m sick of looking at that thing for the past two weeks.”

I’m a delinquent blogger. Life’s been too tiresome to have to put forth energy into creating something witty out of my misery. Finals. The bane of a student’s existence.

Anyway, I just dragged my tired self home to Philly and am about to roll into bed, but I will leave you with a few things that fell out of my mouth this week…Sometimes I startle myself. Leah, my love, if you get bored, play a game of seeing if you can guess what context they were in.

“Frontal Wedgies.”

“So, do you think those guys were gay or just Japanese?”

“Wait, you hook up with girls but don’t like masturbating?...What do you mean 'why don't I get it?' It's like an IQ test. When you look at the results, you want the scores to all hang together a certain way in order to make sense.”

“I know I’ve said this before, but I’m never buying Target underwear again.” This one’s easy if you figured out #1.

“Excuse me. Do you have that book entitled, Orgasms!? Oh no, not that one. This one had pictures…excuse me? I can’t hear you when you whisper like that.”

“Hey mister. Oh, I’m sorry Ma’am.”

“I think I caught some stomach virus. I lost my appetite for two days. Except for the nausea and cramping, it’s a pretty good way to diet.”

But this was the best - "Remember that time we picked up those French guys?...No, not that time. They were Italian...No, a different time...NO! These guys were French Canadian." Ouch. She replied, "Ooh - you always know it's a bad sign when you have to go through so many possibilities to that one question." There was a time when life didn't revolve around sleeping and studying.

jenn's suprise

2005-12-10T20:10:00.000-05:00

a birthday suprise

a very suprised birthday gal

a spread that only jenn can put together

presents (my favorite part)

and a yummy cake with trick candles

make for the best way to spend your 27th birthday.

thank you!

birthday blues

2005-12-05T13:56:00.000-05:00

It's my birthday this weekend. People keep asking me what I want to do. "Nothing", I reply. I'm showing one of the classic signs of depression: loss of pleasure or motivation in activities I once found pleasurable. Look it up in the DSM-IV-R. I used to be a huge birthday person too - loved throwing parties and never needed a reason to whip up a good get-together of sorts. Now, it's just another year gone by with nothing new to celebrate. I feel like Eeyore. Pin the tail on this donkey.

Ok, I don't really know what that means but the statement made me laugh - except that I think I might have called myself a donkey. Wait. When people read that just now, did it feel like I just called myself a donkey? Great. Happy birthday to me.

Just kidding, just kidding. I've got a couple dinner plans already. Jenn and Raul made reservations for a fancy birthday dinner at a fancy restuarant. I already picked out my dress. It's a simple black, backless piece I bought two years ago and never had the chance to wear just yet. I get to finally snip the tags off. Other than that, a quiet toast with a few friends sounds nice...there's nothing quite like drinking those birthday blues away. And here's the best part, I can use my short hospital stay to guilt people into coming out. Anyone want to come?

Boredom spurs more updates

2005-11-30T20:19:00.000-05:00

I came down with sudden chills and fever on Monday afternoon, followed by a bit of abdominal cramping and backaches. By Monday night I was in the ER on physician’s orders. I was discharged a little after midnight. As soon as I got there, I felt a bit out of place. Everyone was sick there…really sick! One poor guy had a bump on his forehead the size of a golf ball! It was like another little head. Plus New York City ER’s are also filled with lots of homeless street people. I pushed to get discharged and the doctor on call thought it’d be fine with some antibiotics. Tuesday morning, I had a higher fever and more cramping. 8:30 am I called my doctor who told me to go to the hospital again. Soon after, I called Hunie in tears. I’m not a good sick person. Actually, I’m a bit of a wus. An hour later, I held his hand and soothed his discomfort while the doctors drew blood and inserted an iv. He looked blue – like a smurf. It made me laugh. He’s a bit of a wus too but the kind of wus that will stay with you through sick times despite his wusiness. These are the obligations of friendship.

Jenn came by a little later and stayed through the afternoon. She made me laugh more and comforted me the way only an older sister can. With lots of candy, love, and even more candy. She knows the not so secrets of my heart. An apple martini would have been the cherry on top, but a gal can only ask for so much.

Anyway, my phone has been ringing non-stop from sweet and caring souls. And it’s really been wonderful speaking with everyone. One good thing about being trapped in a hospital is that I have all this time to catch up with old friends. The bad thing is that I feel trapped. My doctor came in this morning and despite my pleading, refused to discharge me until tomorrow. I even gave her my bambi eyes. People – I said BAMBI EYES and she still said, “no”

All in all, I have no idea what’s wrong with me and I don’t think the doctor’s here really know either. There seem to be two sides – doctors who think I didn’t need to be admitted and my own physician and her team who seemed to think it was absolutely necessary. I mentioned that to my physician and she scrunched her nose and said, “They don’t really know what they’re talking about. Just listen to us. We do.” Oh. Last night, another resident told me that “chances are, we’ll probably just fix you up, send you home, and never know what’s wrong with you.” Oh. Again.

Anyway, for those in close contact with my mother. Please keep mum of this incident. I don’t feel the need to alarm her and besides, who really needs another two hour lecture on God’s “way” of telling me that I don’t pray or read my Bible enough?

hospital ho-down

2005-11-30T11:33:00.000-05:00

The dance: I finally feel like a normal person. But tell me, how normal is it for a patient to be walking around in a hospital gown, her little behind exposed to the world - so uncaring (both me and my little butt), trailing an IV unit attached to one arm, and holding both my phone and laptown in the other hand looking with wide eyes for a possible internet connection? I ran into one of my doctors in the hall way. She asked me what I was doing. Sheepishly I replied that I was looking to check my email so that I can get some work done. Earlier she came into my room and I had reports lying all around my bed. She looked at me, blinked, and laughed, "You do realize you're in a hopsital right? Work on getting better."

2 white gals in a Korean bath house

2005-11-26T00:18:00.000-05:00

The last time my sister and I went to the bath house, we asked our dae-scrubbing ladies if white people can be dae-mi-luhed (a super, duper exfoliation - Korean style). She looked at us in mild amusement and replied, "Of course." I brought two friends from work to see. They stand above in their pink, King Suana jams as my living proof that indeed, white people can be dae-mi-luhed.

My day began with a six am wake up call to finish a report. I rolled over and hit snooze for the fifth time that morning. Lately, I've been having a really diffacult time getting motivated to go through yet another day in my life. I dragged myself up, made a cup of coffee, and sat down to write my report. By noon, I actually moaned thinking about having to meet my friends at King Sauna for their first Korean bath house experience. I just wanted to crawl back into bed until my appointments later that evening. Regardless, I went. In fact, I was excited about it just days before.

As I was driving over the George Washington Bridge, I started thinking, "hmmm...Carla and Carly are two girls I waitress with. We're not that close and - we're going to be naked together. I wonder if that'll be wierd?" And for the first few moments, it was a bit strange. We took off our clothes and did that whole pretending we're not naked thing by looking straight into each other's faces, never looking down. Fortunately, we're naked people. We got over it pretty quick and soon started commenting about the different tattoos everyone had - well, minus me. And when they decided the first hot tub was simply too hot, I laughed at their rosy butts as they scurried away to the next herbal bath. Then it came for the body scrub and massage. We lined up on our matts as our bath attendents began scrubbing us down. For those who have never experienced a Korean dae-mi-luh...well, it's diffacult to describe. It's an intense exfoliation where layers of skin literally roll off your body leaving you softer than you've ever been before. I kept hearing Carla exclaim, "Is that my skin?" then quietly mutter, "wow, I was really dirty before. I feel gross." This caused me to giggle.

All in all, it was a day much needed. We went into every stone suana room and came out laughing, having burned our feet by not stepping on the appropriate mats. I came to school glowing. A co-worker looked at me and said, "You're happier than I expected you to be." I know. I just had another King Sauna experience. Any other takers?

gobble, gobble goo

2005-11-24T15:38:00.000-05:00

As we passed the turkey with its pear and cranberry chutney, Raul looked at me and asked, "Did your family have Thanksgiving dinner?" I took another giant swig of wine - a yummy, yummy Moscato wine from California - and replied "Of course. Jennifer always cooked it". I looked around at all the food: the sausage stuffing made with a fresh sour dough loaf my sister cut and toasted over night, mashed potatos, organic corn and string beans, beets she roasted just a few minutes before dinner, and the yummiest apple and pumkin pies - complete with that slightly lopsided crust that screamed made with homemade lovin'. It's amazing how much my life has transformed from my childhood days of Hungry Jack spuds and extra helpings of Stove Top stuffing. I laughed and told Raul, "Thanksgiving dinners were just like our Mexican dinners. Straight out of a box and can. mmm. I've had some great memories with Taco Bell or Ortega family dinners." Raul made his stink face.

I am an avid complainer of life. People often mistake this for my complete and utter misery. Okay, it's true. This year, I have felt caged in with one obligation after another, but in truth - somewhere deep down, I still hold on to that little part of me that still gives so freely to living or at least still wants to. And that's important. I've recently changed my mind about one thing - no way in hell am I going after a professorship when I'm finished with school. I'm just not built to be so career oriented anymore. Earlier this year, I questioned whether I wanted a family or children even. Jenn scoffed. Raul raised his eyebrows. But older sis' know best. As Andres and I made our way through Soho yesterday, he gave me eyes that read, "how can you not want a me of your own one day?" And I kissed him all over his pudgy belly as he screamed and grabbed at my ears. I think the people sitting next to us were less amused.

Over dinner today, Raul commented that the day I have them over for Thanksgiving dinner will be Jenn's happiest day. And for the first time, I could actually picture little beccups running around with even more little Guttierez's. And in this silly heart of mine, I really wanted it. Of course, it will all have to wait a few more years. I have some partying in me yet - Not to mention another three years of complaining about student life. Poor Jenn and Raul. Thanksgiving hosts for another few years. And for this and all their never-ending support, I am most grateful for. Without all the loving ears of my family and friends, my complaints would sit with me and turn my soul into an icky mess. Thanks.

Lunch with two lovely dates

2005-11-23T19:44:00.000-05:00

smallish sort of world

2005-11-21T17:13:00.000-05:00

Yesterday I ran into a girl I thought I knew. Right before I was about to jump up and say, "hey!" I realized she was an actress I saw in a play a few weeks ago. She wouldn't know me the same way. I'm just audience. So I just walked by. Still, the world felt small.

On Saturday night, Hunie and I went to his friend's wedding. Dave was getting married. And as I stood there after the ceremony - smiling and congratulating everyone (like the pro that I am now) I saw Sharon, my freshmen year bible study teacher. We went over to each other, politely hugged, and smiled. She asked if I was with the bride and when I replied "no" - she looked suprise and asked, "how do you know my brother?" Weird. I vaguely remember her telling us about her two older brothers. I never thought I'd be out drinking with them into the wee hours of a Manhatten morning. She is exactly as I remember her. I wonder what she thought about me. See? The world is small.

Since all things come in three's, so my sister says, here's another one. Courtney called me in the morning with that i'm-so-hungover-only-slept-three-hours voice and said, "I have a story that you'll definately appreciate". It began with a glass of champagne in mid-town and progressed through a quick rush uptown to meet up with friends. In a sheepish voice, she said, "I wasn't drunk or anything but for some reason, I got flustered and took a left - heading south on Amsterdam." I replied, "That's funny, since Amsterdam runs uptown." She screamed, "I didn't know what to do so I started inching my way up to the next block facing all this traffic and then all of a sudden, the cops turned on their speakers and asked me to step out of the vehicle!" And as she readied herself with tears (a gal's best aliby against a big burly policeman), she heard, "Courtney? What the hell are you doing?" The cop was a guy she was hooking up with this past summer. Actually, that was her best aliby. My favorite part of the story - she was truly confused when the cops first turned their sirens on. She thought, "Who me?" That's my chica living in our little world.

a dream weaver's mind games

2005-11-20T14:45:00.000-05:00

When Grace gets stressed, she has nightmares. She calls, "I had a dream that a monkey was chasing me naked through the jungle! What does it mean?!?!" And I always reply with a laugh, "You're stressed." I gave up twenty billion nightmares ago trying to intrepret them for her. On the other hand, I don't often remember my dreams. Especially lately. But I've figured that one out. I have to actually sleep in order to have dreams. And sleep has not come so easily for me. But when I do dream, I have these vivid dreams that always freak people out. The next time you see me, remind me to tell you about the dream I had about my mother and her talking face.

So, I had three dreams last night and here they are in chronological order, but first a little pre-note. Sometimes I play a character in my dreams, which are scripted. I know I'm not really this character but feel everything that happens to her (sometimes him) and I know what I'm supposed to do and what is going to happen. And no matter how horrible the ending, I never fight it. I just follow exactly what I'm supposed to do. I'm afraid but strangely ambivalent at the same time. And this is where the first dream begins.

I'm a Latino transvestite running through this school, which is built like a warehouse. There are a few other students running around as well and we're all looking for a hiding place because this gang has come in making violent threats. I know they're here to kill some older, white man and that I'm supposed to witness it. I come to an empty room with four bare, white walls. And against one wall is a single cabinet, which I run into. The second I close the door, the gang comes in dragging the older, white man they're here to kill. They sit him down and taunt him, occassionally hitting him in the face. Then the leader of the gang bends over and bites him in the neck, ripping out his flesh. And as he's bleeding, they open the cabinet and throw him on top of me. After a little while, they open the door to make sure he's dead and instead of the man, they find me. But they don't realize it's me because I'm covered in the older, white man's blood. I stare at them as they start laughing and poking me to make sure that I'm dead. After they leave, I run to the bathroom and wash up. There I make a friend with a blond girl.

Cut to dream number 2 where I'm on a bus heading home from a church retreat, staring off into a field. I'm in highschool at the time. I notice a cheetah and gasp. A cheetah! Then comes a big black bear and they start to fight. Cheetah and Bear fighting. Out jumps a lion and the three start rolling around gnarling at each other, and snapping big scary teeth. The next thing I know, they stumble onto a child's playground filled with people. And right there, man, child, cheetah, bear, and lion fall into a big giant mess of fighting. I scream and call my pastor, who merely shrugs his shoulders.

And the only thing I can say about dream number 3 - well, x-rated material should be kept off this blog.

So what does it mean...what does it mean??? I wonder if it has anything to do with the phone call I received at 2:17 am from Eric calling me because "I just have to go dancing. I just have to!" or from Courtney and Lara who called thirty minutes later screeching into the phone, "Wake up - come out!" I believe my exact words were, "I'm hanging up now. I will call you both in the morning." Who the hell knows.

Post Party Pictures

2005-11-14T11:46:00.000-05:00

Weddings are an obvious reason to celebrate. I have a few photo's from Unha's bridal shower. A bit late, a bit bad, and a bit blurry. I think there was a point in the evening when I didn't even notice how blurry they got. Isn't that a good indication of a good time?

gripes

2005-11-11T14:12:00.000-05:00

I called my sister in tears – yet again. This year is slowly killing me and I keep telling myself that it will get better. I have the most fascinating patients but not the most supportive supervisors. Yesterday, I got ‘yelled’ at for a report turned in late – yet for the life of me, I can’t figure out how it was late. I know I put the report in his box on Thursday. He knows he received it on Monday. I didn’t come to school on Friday or Monday. No matter. I’m wrong even when I know I’m right and there is simply no room for debate. I keep making mental lists in my head of what not to do when I am a supervisor one very long day from now: Leave room for debate – our field is open to so much ambiguity, there can never be one right way, smile, don’t sleep with cute interns, never call someone a failure, make jokes but not too many because it can get annoying, sleep with cute interns, - wait no, don’t sleep with cute interns, don’t make a habit of canceling appointments, and don’t blame students for my missed appointments.

my continued struggle with the little critters

2005-11-08T15:51:00.000-05:00

It's been almost a month and nothing - no droppings, no sounds, just silence. The exterminator came by and did his routine thing on Saturday, but I didn't worry. So you can imagine my suprise when Mr. Mouse #2 came out to say hello. I immediately went out and bought myself six glue traps, which I strategically placed around my apt. Since my place is so small, I was able to pin point exactly where the mouse would need to pass to get to where it wanted. I also think they are coming into my place through a little hole by the radiator. 3 am: Squeels and struggle. I roll over - so desensitized to the idea of mice by now. 4 am. Another squeel and more struggle. Great - two mice. I put a pillow over my head and dream of six brown mice and a kitten that likes to bite me.

In the morning, I walk over to the traps and find two glued to one trap. One baby - and one adult. The baby is plastered and not moving anyway. Then the damn adult starts running around like crazy and shakes himself loose - which starts me running around like crazy. So there we are - mouse and human running around like crazy in my kitchen. But he has a tail stuck to the trap and is unable to leave. I've often heard that mice (and humans) in desperate situations will chew through body parts for freedoms sake. That thing start gnawing at his tail despite all my objections and pleading. I ran over, got a trash can, put it over the two mice, placed a heavy book on top of it...and fell over in exhaustion. Later, I called my super and immediatey demanded further assistance.

Urban living on a graduate student budget...it's got to get better than this.

quick post

2005-11-04T09:00:00.000-05:00

Lately, I realize that I hold my breath when tense. I don't intentionally do it. It just happens. I've noticed that I've been holding my breath a lot this week.

I'm tired of school - asked to work twelve hour days, expected to know a lot more than is taught, anxious to know more than is taught, and frequently criticized for almost everything we do. I get it - students learn from mistakes. But just once, I would like someone to say something positive. We work our asses off only to be told the millions of things we do wrong. I had one doctor tell me that my work with a particular client was a failed case. So far, almost every case that has been presented in his class has been failed or even more harmful to the client. He is brilliant, never wrong, contradicts himself frequnetly, and a bit of an ass. Running on four hours of sleep and with my car ordeal looming in my head, the rest of my energy went into stopping me from saying some smart remark, sticking out my lower lip, and throwing a tantrum right there in his class. I just looked at him and let him talk, which is really what he wanted to do anyway.

Other than that, I got my car fixed- again. I was tired of people saying, "hey - do you know your window is broken?" Of course, I'm driving in it. It was a bit embarressing though. It was like walking around with a tooth missing. And since I had to park in Brooklyn again, I put a giant sign with bold, red letters - NOTHING HERE! PLEASE DON'T BREAK MY WINDOW! Then I put signs up and down the street stating the police have leads...blah, blah, I'm expecting to go out to my car and find all my windows broken but that one.

My New BFF

2005-11-03T11:52:00.000-05:00

Mr Kim from Sun's Auto Body Shop is my new BFF though if that were true, he wouldn't charge me to replace my window. But we just seem to be spending so much time together these days...

My car was broken into for a second time this week. Same window broken with glass shattered all over the back seat. But this time, the bastard didn't even leave me a rock. I don't get it. So far, I've heard two guesses: one from dear ol' mom, who screams, "God is punishing you!" to my sister's more reasonable hypothesis of "I bet it's some druggie who felt like he scored the first time and decided to come back for more". This makes more sense to me. My car hasn't been parked there in over a week. In fact, I've left it at school while away in California. The first night back, it's broken into. The only thing left out was a few sticky mouse traps and a sheet of paper - ironically, it was a copy of the police report from the first incident. Nothing was taken because there was nothing to be taken. So, any other guesses?

the inner alcoholic

2005-10-30T11:35:00.000-05:00

At what point of the night did we cross into dangerous hangover territory?

It starts out innocently enough.

but then...

Maybe the turning point came in the night when gracie met her favorite celebrities.

bowling, beer, and fun

2005-10-28T01:49:00.000-04:00

well, that's what I did tonight. bowled, drank beer, and had fun. now it's 1:50 am and I am off to bed. in three hours, I will be heading off to California to visit Gracie.

The List

2005-10-27T08:46:00.000-04:00

Throughout my day, it hit me: The Bad Man stole my black linen, strapless sundress. That was cute. Shit, the Bad Man also stole my other sundress with the bold flower prints. That sucks. And twice in the middle of the night, I woke up with a start - that little fucker took my favorite pair of linen pants with the wrap around belt that I bought at Anthropolgie four months ago and the dress that everyone keeps telling me I looked like a librarian in and I would respond, "yeah - but a cute librarian?" And the white Benetton dress pants that were so great because you could just throw them in the washer! And the skirt I bought in Korea and the cocktail dress I got in Paris...the list goes on and on.

So far, I've calculated the costs of just seven items which comes to near five hundred dollars...and that's not to mention all the t-shirts and shorts and tank tops and bathing suits.

And all I can say is - he may have stolen my clothes, but he didn't steal my smile. he he he.

But if I see some little fuck trying to pawn off the cut offs my sister just bought me from BCBG, there is going to be a beccup beatdown. I'm kicking Bad Man's ass.

morning suprises

2005-10-26T08:48:00.000-04:00

8 am. I go outside to my car. I'm about to take Jenn and Raul to the airport and notice my doors are unlocked. And as I'm thinking to myself - how I could have left my doors unlocked since I am so obsessive about checking them, I notice the big rock sitting in a pile of glass on the backseat. Again. This is the third time. The first time, I was in New York and my friend had left his bag in the back seat. I didn't think to check before leaving the car. All my books and classnotes were stolen from the trunk. It was right before finals. I was 21. The second time was in the Mission in San Francisco, I was 24. I had left a wire to my CD player showing. It was a fifty dollar disc man. That's the only thing they took. Each time I feel as if I get smarter about what I leave out. This time - there was nothing. And then it hit me, I had just packed a giant suitcase of virtually ALL my summer clothes and left it in my trunk two days ago. I intended to give it to my mom when she came up next weekend. ALL my summer clothes are gone. Clothes I bought in Korea years ago to great pants I bought this past summer.

All I have left is this fucking rock. Oh and my mother bitching to me about how God is punishing me, yet again. And now I keep asking God - my clothes??? Did you have to take my clothes? Why not an arm or a leg? If you know anything about me - even remotely, this incident has cost me hundreds of dollars. I feel a little post traumatic stress coming on.

Fuck. I'm so pissed.

realizations and updates

2005-10-24T18:19:00.000-04:00

I just realized that I have no clue what it is that I want out of life. This scares the shit out of me. I used to think that I was pretty self-confident and had my goals nicely laid out for me. All of course - so "easily" attainable. Now I feel lost. And as my family and friends know, I hate feeling lost. I will talk their ears off about all the what-if's in life and analyze myself to death in hopes to find some sense of control. Some sense of meaning. Sorry guys. he he he...

And on to other updates.

So whoever asked me to please date Noel, my apologeeze. I blew both of them off this past weekend. And Noel is the sweetest guy and called me earlier today to go see some show tonight. But weekdays are generally reserved for school and weekends for sulking about school work. But here's a fun story. So the investment banker - lord, I can't even remember his name at the moment - was really intent on getting a second date. Here's the trick though: women like a little mystery in men and a bit of aloofness. Everything else just looks too desperate. This guy called me almost every day, texted me, and occasionally emailed. I wasn't even that nice to him on the phone, which may have worked against me. So I sent him an email yesterday - a polite email stating that I was too busy to be really dating anyone and that it wasn't fair to have someone constantly waiting on my schedule. I recieved two emails. At 2:30, he wrote that he didn't want anything serious and that meeting sporadically would be fine. I guess by 3:30, he changed his mind and wrote me this nasty little email about how he wasn't going to waste his time for a flake. And for those who don't get it. I'm the flake! I started laughing and almost sent him another email but didn't want to fuel the fire. No mystery here.

But while I'm in this self-analyzing moment in life, I will admit this is the second "nasty" email I recieved from a guy. The first one came this past summer from this lawyer I met on the subway. He had just moved back from giving a series of lectures in Europe. We went out on two dates - two fairly decent dates, but again, I just wasn't in the mood. After I cancelled our third date, he wrote me this email about how rude it was that I kept blowing him off. Maybe I cancelled more than that third date, I can't remember. I believe he wrote something about how very not-nice my behaviors were. I replied that his frustrations were being directed at me when in reality they're probably more about other things...and I listed a few examples. In truth, I'm sure I was being frustrating and maybe wanted to be more so. I never heard back from him again. I didn't expect to.

hmm....I wonder if there is a link between my complaints about the lack of men in my life and what these guys have been telling me. Though Raul tells me that I keep dating beneath me and that's why I keep giving guys the big 'ol boot. ah, Raul's nice.

Halloween suggestions?

2005-10-23T01:19:00.000-04:00

People keep asking me what I'm going to be for Halloween. I have no idea. So far, I've heard strange things from friends. For instance: an undressing cowgirl, Jem, a baby or a bum, and some kind of abortion rights activist wearing all white except for a stain of red between her legs (I couldnt' follow this one - mostly because I tuned this chick out ten minutes before when she started talking about how watching fat people eat made her sick. Listening to her speak made me want to shoot myself).

But looking at photos of other people's costumes didn't help either - though they made me chuckle.

I remember when my brother called me from Wallgreens raving about this awesome idea he had. And the best part, it was so cheap! As you can see - his idea didn't carry into reality so well. All night, he kept asking me if he looked like a beggar while Ryan kept rapping Big Pumpkin - P U M P. Even with a beer in each hand, he just couldn't feel like his hip little self.

Then there was Dan who called from work telling me all about this great pinata he found. He was going to be Pinata Man. I believe my exact words were, "hunh?" But he did it. He cut out a hole, put that giant thing on his head, and became Pinata Man.

The funniest thing was that everyone recognized him while walking down Castro. Pinata Man was a hit. But like all great hits, it must come to an end. Dan's last statement of the night summed up Pinata Man's fate pretty well. "You know, you could really tell that people were getting drunker throughout the night because people kept taking swings at my head. It was really annoying after a while." And somewhere along the Muni tracks, he threw his helmet down and said goodbye. The next day, my roommate went for a run and found pieces of Pinata Man strewn all over the Mission District.

My relationship with Dr. Shu

2005-10-19T21:42:00.000-04:00

So I got my Stats exam back today. Ranges were between 17-98. And despite my predictions, I actually didn't get the lowest score and it also turns out that I won't be dropping the class either. I received a 76 - mind you, it was a C that I didn't quite deserve. Though my professor didn't curve, he was very generous with the points. And I'm curious how someone was able to obtain a 17. In fact, I'm actually impressed. For instance, Question #6 asked me to predict the power of a particular study. Though I did this correctly for a previous question, I couldn't quite seem to make it work and time was ticking away...so I plugged in a few numbers to a couple random formula's and then said out loud in my head - fuck it, I'll give the study the benefit of the doubt. Power is .80 - good job study. Dr. Shu, our infamous stats professor, put a giant red question mark next to my answer and I think had a similar thought process. I think he also said - fuck it, I'll give her the benefit of the doubt. 7 out of ten points. But I'm sure it wasn't followed by a good job.

I don't think Dr. Shu likes me very much. And to be honest, I'm not a huge fan of Dr. Shu as my stats professor. Today, I went to ask his opinion on a few analyses that I was running for a study. He looked at me blankly then began by telling me various ways to calculate significant findings. He started by telling me to assign weighted coefficients to the means of the twelve factors in my study. ie: 0, 0, 0, -1, -1, -1 or -1/3, -1/3, -1/3....if you're eyes are starting to glaze over even now, mine already had. In the end, I stared at him blankly and said, "so you're telling me to run an ANOVA on spss?" And he replies, "Sure or you could calculate it by hand." Now I know the words that were coming out of his mouth were English but still, it was incomprehensible to me. Why would I calculate by hand agazillion calculations when SPSS could spit it out in thirty seconds? I wish he would stop speaking in code.

So I have two theories as to why this man may not like me very much. One maybe because I represent the reason why that Asian stereotype of being geniuses in math and science is deteriorating. I am a shame to my people. Or secondly, maybe he doesn't appreciate the "snide" comments I make in class - especially when he says things like, "Okay, two minutes left. Let's start by introducing..." And this is no exaggeration. It's how he both introduced "?" and how he ended class for me. I've also caught myself rolling my eyes every so blatantly in his direction...yeah, maybe he doesn't like that.

the men you meet in the big apple

2005-10-18T08:14:00.000-04:00

A couple nights ago, I met a guy, an investment banker working in mid-town who happens to live two blocks down from me. 32, born on April 10 in Detroit Michigan, from a rather large family with over fifty first cousins – two of whom were pregnant by age 19. Funny, sweet, kind of dorky, and apparently really good at giving toasts at weddings. Not your stereotypical high-powered investment banker though you could tell underneath all the nervous jokes was a bit of that guy there. Numbers were exchanged and soon after I got a very sweet little invitation from him for dinner sometime this week….But I think I might just let this one pass. He wasn’t my “type”. It’s funny that for someone who truly doesn’t seem to have A type, I certainly seem to know who isn’t. Although I guess I always start out this way with almost every guy I’ve ever dated. I begin with all the negatives, setting my standards way too high and eventually working my way down. It must be some weird twisted sort of defense mechanism that doesn’t seem to be defending me from the relationships I should be staying clear of.

Anyway, last night, I met Noel at a café down the street from my apartment. One look and you could tell that we came from different worlds. He in his hip-hop gear and me in my non-hip hop wear. On any given day this past week, I was probably buried in report writing and research while he was out promoting shows and making his own versions of rap artist documentaries. He sat down very casually and starting making conversation freely. I felt self-conscience, too aware of our differences. I’ve noticed that the older I’ve gotten and the deeper I get into academia, the more out of place I feel with people…well not like me sadly enough. I think it would be missing the point to chalk it up to snootiness though from an outsider’s point of view, especially from someone who didn’t know me, I guess I can see it. Pretty soon it became evident that Noel was the smartest, least educated person I knew and I was probably the dumbest, most educated person he knew. He never went to high school but was well read on all areas ranging from Freud’s biography to carbon dating in Archaeology. When he found out I was Korean, his eyes lit up and told me about the nine movies he went to see at the Korean film festival last month. He raved about the up and coming Korean movie industry and asked my opinion of the various directors. I pretended to lose something on the floor. He’s 27, German, and recently moved here six months ago to “get things going”. He’s put together shows with artists featuring Jay Z, 50 cent (I’m so embarrassed to ask this – but do you spell out this guy’s name like this?), Ludicrous and a bunch of others I of course have never heard of. Naturally, I had to mention my run in with Foxy Brown but he didn’t seem all that impressed. I think he mumbled something like, “Yeah, she’s bitchy. Too young for so much money and fame.” I felt like I was in some movie where the two most unlikely characters are paired together for laughs. In the end, he asked if we could kick it sometime this weekend. I don’t know – what do you think ladies - too different?

Seven things you need to catch a mouse

2005-10-14T11:06:00.000-04:00

I know there are so many of the few people who read this blog that might stop and say, "I can't believe she blogged this - yet again" (and in my defense - someone had asked about my 'avocado skin'!). Well, you wanted a glimpse into this girl's life and as of 11:15 pm last night, this was it. Urban living - especially living in New York with a meager graduate student income means that every so often, you have critters. I've been living in my apt for over a year now and this is my first encounter with a mouse. Three nights ago, I woke up to sounds in my cabinets...cute little squeeks behind cages but deathly frightening, make your hair stand straight up sounds when five feet away from you. I kept praying that I was somehow still sleeping and nightmaring. Space is always an issue in NYC, so sometimes you are simply sleeping in your kitchen.

So I put out traps. Three days later: nothing. Then last night, out comes a little mouse hobbling to the middle of the apt. And for about twelve minutes, we just sat there staring at each other. He finally got bored and hobbled to the corner of my room. I screamed, jumped on a chair, called Raul and aimed a friend. What was I supposed to do? Through chuckles, Raul told me that since he's hurt, he's more likely to bite. Was that supposed to calm me? My friend aimed - throw a boot at it. I like my boots! Then Raul and I devised a plan to get my sticky traps and try to broom the dying mouse unto it. I repeat DYING to relieve guilt. I hate killing things unless they are gray moths, but that's another entry. A whole hour later, it worked. But not without the seven essential elements you see pictured. Ah, let's not forget the most important factor: the screaming, little Korean girl jumping up and down the chair.

hibernations

2005-10-12T17:49:00.000-04:00

The nice thing about being absent from this blog is that people actually get in touch with me to see how I'm doing. I even got an email from someone I knew from way back when. I think he might have said he was my brother...Paul was it?

Anyway, I have not slept more than a few hours these past couple of nights. Stats exam. While everyone else was busy living life, I was learning how to conduct power analyses, confidence intervals, and ANOVA's by hand. My favorite type of problems began by stating: To conduct such and such test, most researchers will use a statistical software such as...or you can go through each painful step by an even more painful step. The thing is that by 5:30 am, I really thought I had my information together. And yesterday, I even rocked out to MC Hammer's Can't Touch This while driving back home from school. I secretly thought he was singing about me too. But apparently you can touch "this" - smash - no crush "this". Whatever "this" is, I've certainly lost it. God, I hope it wasn't important.

Usually, after an exam I am filled with relief but tonight, I have a report to finish up and - well need to run a few stats on a study I'm working on. go figure.

the big squeeze

2005-10-05T09:49:00.000-04:00

This morning I watched a man get arrested for peeing on the street. He replied to the officer in a sweet, bunny voice, "Oh, is that not allowed?" I thought to myself - that's right. Put all those men in their place. I also saw a little autistic boy try to pick up a midget. (Wait - am I allowed to say that?) He went right over, put his arms around her, and squeezed upwards. Horrified, his father went over and began scolding him. The woman politely excused herself saying that it wasn't a big deal. I think his father might have made the situation worse by trying to make it better. I chuckled.

Friday's past post

2005-10-03T09:44:00.000-04:00

Kurt and I had it out on Friday. He’s my boss at the restaurant and can be a complete ass at times. For the most part, he leaves me alone and I generally take his shit. But having just gotten over a flu of sorts and being faced with a party of forty plus other diners, I decided that no, I’m not taking his shit today. I think it started when he said, “You know, you’re really making my life difficult” and I cleverly responded with, “Your life? Let’s talk about my life –“ and we had a screaming match about whose life was more difficult. It ended with Nelson, one of my favorite line cooks, pushing me out of the kitchen while still foaming at the mouth. But Kurt and I got over it. Neither of us really holds grudges and Kurt usually has it out with at least one of his employees a day. Friday – it just so happened to be me. He doesn’t know it but later that night he ended up buying me a couple of martinis. I figured it was his way of apologizing.

Anyway, the night ended as all nights should – with a tranny show.

Those who have been to my restaurant know that in general, we’re a family place with brick walls, warm lighting, and black and white photo’s of old Brooklyn. So when Kurt told me to stick around for the fifth annual Transvestite Show, I had to stay. Apparently, two of our regular customers rent out the place and host this show featuring Hedda Lettuce and Porche. Incredibly funny. Come on – Hedda Lettuce? And the crowd was great. Despite my better judgment, I ended up getting home well past my bedtime and well past being sober. Besides, like Raul always says, “Beccup loves the gays.” I do. I really do.

family suga'

2005-09-29T08:49:00.000-04:00

I'm sick. I hate being sick. Yesterday, I was told that a fever helps fight the viruses plaguing my poor body. So I decided to forgo the tylenol and let my natural immune responses flow all the while chanting, "Go body, Go!". By 7pm I thought I was going to die. My fever had gotten to 102, which Raul quickly prompted, "Take your medicine". And I did. I hadn't eaten, felt too nauseated. I hadn't been drinking enough fluids, my throat hurt too much. And so I just layed in bed and moaned every once in a while. Then my door bell rang and there stood a little man holding some grocery goods: Pepto (for my belly), soup, a sandwich, ginger ale, and POPSICLES!!!! Jenn and Raul called up the corner grocer and had them deliver all their love. It was so sweet and I immediately felt better.

That's the thing about New York. You can get almost anything delivered at any time. And that's the thing about family. Even boroughs away, they can still nuture you back to health.

on colds and friendship

2005-09-27T12:12:00.000-04:00

Mr. Scientist wants to be friends. And truthfully, I am grateful for the gesture. It makes the hurt a little less and our fling feel more meaningful. But it’s something I have to consider a while longer. I’m not in the habit of maintaining friends with guys I’ve dated. It just feels too weird – too many left over emotions just hanging around.

But I have to ask, why friendship? I just don’t get it. The last guy I dated was the same way after we broke up. In some ways, he fought me tooth and nail for my friendship and now, we’re actually good friends. But why does it hurt more when I withhold my friendship than the actual breakup? It’s so strange to me.

In truth, Mr Scientist and I only dated for a couple months and I doubt any strong emotional ties really formed. In this way, I think friendship is a possibility. But for now, while I still harbor a bit of anger and hurt, I wait. The worst is repeated history because while the first time is an experience, the second and third become more painful mistakes. I just don’t want any left over emotions getting in the way of a real friendship - if that is a true possibility.

So that’s my answer. Like all things, we wait and see. I will admit though, it was nice chatting with him in our limited ways of communication yesterday. He does have a way of making me laugh.

But now on to my complaints. I’m getting sick. Sore throat. Hot and cold chills. Headache. Achy joints and muscles. Okay. Maybe I am sick and getting worse. I’m sitting here at school debating whether I should go home and ditch my last five hours of classes and cancel my 6:30 appointment. I just want to crawl into bed with some hot soup and rent sappy movies…

a summer fling with a scientist

2005-09-23T23:44:00.000-04:00

My summer fling officially ended at 10pm last night. It was only fitting that this 'break up' fall on the first day of autumn. And can you believe I never once mentioned it? It seems unfair somehow as if I kept some of my juiciest secrets to myself, but he was an avid reader of this silly blog of mine and I felt compelled to keep mum. Fortunately, I no longer feel so compelled. Unfortunately, I can't really think of any juicy stories to tell. The really odd thing about the whole affair was that he was a guy I went to highschool with, but can't really remember ever having a conversation with. And if anyone told us then that we would be dating almost seven years later, we'd probably say "who's that?" Just goshing. I remember a tall, skinny, goofy kid who often made jokes in class - whether funny or not. It was as if he simply couldn't help himself. Same guy only seven years older and not as goofy.

But for those who may intend on dating a future scientist - two stories for "warning" or amusement:

The first time we kissed, we played that silly game of "well, I can give you a ride to your car which happens to be parked half a block away and maybe spend the next two hours just talking, as we sit in my car which will now be parked right next to yours" - you know, that sort of thing. And when my kiss hadn't yet arrived by 1:30 am, I was forced to ask for it. Of course I got the whole, "I'm sorry - I've never been good at reading signs and I thought I saw the signs, but told myself that I wasn't good at reading signs and so, I didn't make any moves..." By 2:00 am, I had to ask for it again, but this time was successful. Lab guys are good at reading the most minute details of an HIV cell, but not so great at reading women. In truth, I thought the whole thing was kind of cute.

Ok, but don't expect to get swept away by romance and poetry. I remember the one time I asked him if he thought I was fat, I got a "ummm, not so much". Silence. What does that mean? So you think I'm chubby? Of course there's backtracking of sorts. "No I mean I don't THINK about you being fat so much." Oh. Well do you think I'm even pretty? "Of course! What you think I'm dating you for your personality?" Ahh, I see and for his sake, I ended the conversation. Again, lab guys...when it comes to reading or perhaps, wooing women all I can say is - "Ummm, not so much".

It was a fun summer fling nonetheless though admittedly very frustrating at times. I was a bit sad to say goodbye, but summer is over and there's a new season to attend to...

Dreams I should have followed

2005-09-21T13:56:00.000-04:00

In college, I took a physics class for students not majoring in the "hard" sciences. Our first lab pretty much went like this: Four of us stood around with our science goggles, one with a tape measure, another with a pad and paper, and a third with a ball. That was me. I think the fourth person was there for moral support. I tossed the ball. Four heads went up and watched its trajectory. And in unison we all said, "gravity!" That was my kind of physics. Sad, but true. I got the top grade in the class, but I'm not convinced that really says much of anything. I just like to mention whenever it is I come out on top since it so rarely happens these days.

Like today. I have never been so lost in my doctorate career thus far. Terms were being thrown around: sigma j, beta i, full models, restricted models, error this, error that and then Magic! That's how my professor ended stats class. After solving some formula taught at the beginning of the semester and relating it to a formula we learned today, he turned around with bright eyes and said, "It's almost like magic since it fits so nicely together!" All we saw were symbols upon symbols, and crossed out variables, and squared roots of squares (which yes, I realize is just the number...), but still, it was aweful. Truthfully, I believed him. I think it is some kind of magic but I have a feeling he won't like that answer on our next exam.

But this I have to throw aside because I've now shifted my focus on another statistical dilema. One that relates to the paper that was accepted for publication, which I should have first stated - pending revisions. They are not major revisions, mostly problems with wording and organization, but one reviewer had questions regarding my analyses. Unfortunately, my data set is misbehaving at the moment and has decided to do away with some of my important variables. But enough about things that make even my eyes glaze over.

I'm off to go read up on the clinical implications of testing regarding executive functioning...damn, when I was in highschool, I had dreams of becoming an American Gladiator.

struggles of my day

2005-09-21T11:32:00.000-04:00

Break time in a too long lecture in statistics. My brain just hiccupped. I have no clue what's going on today. Oops, I think it just hiccupped again. There are just some brains not meant for this kind of thinking.

random meetings with the X

2005-09-19T13:11:00.000-04:00

Yesterday, I ran into Tomur. I was about to jump on the subway when he came up to me with a sort of awkward greeting – as if he was not really sure if he should say hello but almost compelled to since it’s really been years and years. Tomur was the guy I’d like to believe every girl had in her past. The one that broke your heart, the one every part of you knew you shouldn’t be dating but did anyway, the one that you either look back on with complete regret or in amusement as you think about how ‘silly’ and ‘young’ you were.

It’s funny. There was a time when I envisioned this chance encounter, maybe almost hoped for it. In it, I would look absolutely gorgeous and my life would be in perfect order. All this, I would throw into his face. And time would just slow down for him as he thought about what a giant ass he had been for hurting me. Needless to say, it didn’t happen that way. Instead, I met him un-showered, having spent an entire day walking around New York’s hot city and my life – well in perfect disarray. And in the subway ride from midtown to the upper west side, we chatted about the past six years. And when my stop came, I smiled, said a quick goodbye, jumped out of the train, and it was over. It’s funny how many transformations your heart can take. In the end, he was just a fun story to tell a friend that started with a – hey you’ll never guess who I just ran into...

Since then, there have been other men, other chance encounters and so forth. With every dating experience you hope that it becomes like this one - something you learn from and grow past. It would have sucked to have met Tomur and to realize that life hadn't really changed all that much for me or that the same dysfunctions I was dealing with then permeated my life today. I'd like to think that my dysfunctions are more developed today.

spider nightmares

2005-09-16T09:27:00.000-04:00

2 am. I got out of bed. I have no idea why. I walked over to the door, touched the knob, turned around, crawled right back into bed. But as I sat there adjusting the sheets, I noticed a giant spider on the wall next to me. The spider was the size of my hand. I jumped out of bed, twisted my ankle, and virtually fell fully body on the floor. But the pain had to wait and I scrambled safely to the other side of the room. As I stood there, panting, bruised but safe...I got to thinking. How did such a big spider get into the house? Are there really spiders that big in Brooklyn? It looked like a Tarantula. Was it a Tarantula? And then, wait, am I still sleeping? Logic slowly crept its way back into my reality, but fear was still pervasive. I turned on the light, checked the sheets, looked under the bed, and cautiously went to sleep making sure that I lay as far from the wall as possible.

This morning Raul looked at me and commented, "I thought a tree had fallen on the house"

last night's musings

2005-09-15T08:43:00.000-04:00

I am exhausted and yet can't really afford to be. I have another long day ahead of me that pretty much started at 7 this morning. These nine-nine days at school are killing me and the only thing I keep thinking about is: coffee. And for that one giant anti-coffee monger who might be reading this and rolling his anti-coffee eyes, put it somewhere not nice nor comfortable. I'm tired.

Okay, I have a confession though. Part of this exhaustion is not soley due to work or school. I went to the Jack Johnson concert last night. And while the show was good, the people watching was even more spectacular. I watched one guy run over to another and grab his fluffy hair and scream, "I want to nap in it!" And somewhere in the middle of Jack's set, four high school girls managed to stumble in front of me - completely stoned, completely drunk - and dance all over people's belongings. I wanted to smack them. But the best came when two guys came over to work their "magic". Let's face it though - men rarely have any real magic. These girls tightened up their little dancing circle - kind of like sheep do when wolves attack (did I make this up?) and then it was over. The guys walked away with beers in hand and slightly redder than when they first came.

blah, blah, blah - I've made one decision though. I'm not much of a concert goer and attend by invitation only. But I've decided never to buy lawn seats again. As amusing as they can be, the high school girls annoy me and truthfully, I felt like I was at a giant drive-in movie where I had to stand for two hours.

Family

2005-09-12T17:27:00.000-04:00

My mother called me this morning to update me on my love life. Yes, to update ME on MY lovelife. Apparently, this man's parents (the one who my mother wanted to set me up with a couple weeks ago, the one who lives in Korea) are really excited about the prospects of our marriage. In my 14 year old whine, I said, "mom, you said I didn't have to marry him!" Previously, she told me that she wasn't going to pursue this meeting because he wants to marry right away. And I guess the 'reality' of my getting married and moving to Korea frightened her - but obviously not enough. As she kept persuading me to send one picture, make one phone, etc - my sister could be heard in the background, "Mom, I think it's a good idea!" She laughed. I flashed her my fifth grade poison dart look.

Family.

I moved back to the East Coast for school, but truthfully I wanted to be closer to my family. I certainly am. And despite all the craziness it brings to be back within my mother's reach and to be within such close proximity to my family, I love it. We have our ups and downs. For instance, tonight, on our ten minute walk to the movie theater, Jenn and I managed to get into a shouting match on the street. For those dining out on Court Street, we provided the best entertainment and the start of a potentially intriguing conversation with: "You can be so dark and manipulative at times!", "On an unconcious level, you know exactly how to attack people at the most sensitive areas", "Must you always paint people in such extreme black and white terms?", "You never really allow enough room for a real apology!" And then, just as quickly as the shouting began so did the laughter. My sister called a truce and I couldn't help but giggle. I looked at her and asked if she noticed the homeless man pointing and laughing at us. We've never been a family to hold grudges. In fact, I would say nine out of ten fights with my brother ended with an, "hey, wanna grab a beer?" or maybe at that time, my favorite, "let's pray". Regardless, tempers flair but love prevailed. Cheese. I know. I'm so tired I can't even tell if it makes sense.

I've had two days off and while I've managed to do some work here and there, I've never felt so tired. It's time for bed and to prepare myself for an incredibly long day tomorrow. But before I leave, I just want to say -

My first study was just accepted for publication! It will be my first, first authorship. Exciting times for an academic and probably not much for others. Ok, bedtime.

the trials of an 8 month child

2005-09-09T08:40:00.000-04:00

It's amazing how fast little men can grow. Since school has started, my days begin around nine and don't often end till after 8. And somewhere in between, my nephew gets a little older. This morning I had a little break in my day and decided to poke my head into his room. And there was my angel sitting in his crib. As soon as he saw me, he reaches out for the rail and pulls himself up. Amazing. Simply amazing. I think I have that effect on people - to push them to greatness.

However, he still has yet to master the art of crawling. I on the other hand have been particularly adept in this skill for quite some time now and realize that I forget how hard it really is when first starting out. But I think he's getting there.

He begins. (Isn't this the cutest face? We often tell him how unfair it is for him to have stolen so much cuteness. Truthfully, who needs crawling when you can just flash a smile and be picked up and taken wherever...kidding.) So we begin.

notice the strain...

but he's almost there

and with one giant scream, he moves!

Now we just have to get him to move foward.

Afterwards, I picked up my pumpkin and together, we danced the rest of the morning away. Well, until nap time. We are the perfect dancing team.

labor day bbq

2005-09-05T22:54:00.000-04:00

So Hunie and I had our little labor day bbq - made complete with an assortment of friends, food, drinks and a hookah with rose flavored tobacco. And oh - I finally met Mr 1A, the man whose apt never fails to wreak of pot no matter what time of day I walk by his door. Before he even told me, I knew by the look in his eyes and the way he introduced himself to me, "hey, want some weed?" But alas, I was too busy with the "bottle" and now I have a massive headache. No more writing for me, but here's a few snipets of the day:

smoking the hookah. (I know - random).

Melissa and Courtney (Hunie and I worked on different pieces of BBQ planning. Courtney pretty much pulled it all together. I always feel guilty when a guest ends up doing more work than she should. She rocked my world today.)

Gracie and Hunie frying my burgers. Yes, Frying! Oh the shame.

I hate the stupid "grill" he bought.

But I think we all had fun anyway...

a bit more about those experiences

2005-09-05T10:24:00.000-04:00

There is something truly beautiful about both the spiritual and cultural traditions in Judaism. The religion I grew up with (some bizaar mix of an evangelical/presbyterian/Korean world) didn't really have that. Early on, I was swept away by the festivities of the night. The groom dancing out in an entourage of friends and family to greet his wife before the ceremonies. The bride walking around the groom seven times in a promise of love and support. And the blessings sung to the happy couple thoughout the night. And people danced, surrounding the bride and the groom in giant circles and occasionaly, they would be lifted unto chairs and celebrated around the room. The night was filled with perfect moments of bliss...

head banger

2005-09-03T08:47:00.000-04:00

Last night, Hammee saw her thirty year old self in the mirror. Now a wife and a mother and also trying to create a new life in Korea, she wrote that for the first time, she looked different from the face she remembered. Her words were different - older. tired, and reflective. No one ever expected this transition to be easy for her but we always hoped nevertheless.

I, on the hand, must be losing my mind - as evidenced by my slightly swollen left eye and minor, but very noticable cut on the eyelid. Again, I banged my head into an open cabinet door. And that was even more excruciating than the head banging experience I had earlier this week. I need to wear a freaking helmet.

First Day of Classes

2005-08-31T20:54:00.000-04:00

8:43 am: I started my first day of school with a bang. A very real, very loud, very excruciating bang. In a last minute rush to get ready for school despite having given myself an hour to prepare, I ran my forehead straight into the handle of a metal pot in the pantry which was sitting on a shelf two feet from the floor. Only I could figure out a way to do this. The same woman who always "forgets" to bring a notebook to the first day of class. So far, I got another mini-lecture from Dana whose exact words were something like, "You still forgot after my lecture from last semester? Well, at least you weren't late this time." Last year, on our first day of school ever, I showed up to class more than fifteen minutes late despite having gotten to school two hours early. I was sweaty and miserable and shot my professor a dirty look when she reminded me the time class actually began. She and I would battle over my tardiness and her inflexibility for the next two semesters. My first exam I obtained a perfect score and felt justified - though deep down, I always knew the truth. I am a chronic late comer. It's in the blood of my people.

But today, I happened to arrive fifteen minutes early - just enough time to borrow some paper and a pen from a fellow classmate. I fear though, that no amount of note taking will save me from this class: the dreaded Statistics with Dr. Shu. Two years ago, he told a student, "Trying to teach you Stats is like trying to teach a blind person to read." Of course, she burst into tears though I doubt Dr. Shu meant it to be more than a joke. He's intimidating but seems nice enough. Just one of those brilliant statisticians who assumes the general principals of his world to be a given part of everyone else's. Twenty minutes into class, I hear all this giggling behind me and I turn to find K pointing at me. He whispers, "You can't start day dreaming already!" And then he does a quick imitation of me - wide eyed and wide mouthed as well. I turn around slightly embarressed that my "smart face" wasn't working. Then Lara looks over and mouths, "what the-" and before she can finish, I just nod and finish, "I know - Fuck."

and into student life once again

2005-08-31T00:09:00.000-04:00

I am actually excited about classes beginning tomorrow. Not necessarily the idea of having to take Statistics, but I'm drawn to the possibility of having more structure in my life. This summer was a mess of waitressing, babysitting, testing, and of course - going out.

It's a new year. A fresh start supposedly. Well we'll see.

blissful mornings

2005-08-29T10:03:00.000-04:00

I forget how much I loved my mornings. Especially after a good, hearty sleep. I used to start almost every weekend morning with a quick eye flutter or two to take in the sunlight streaming in through the windows and then roll over in bed a couple of times to make sure I didn't have a little sleep in me yet. And with one giant cat stretch, I'd slither off my bed and make myself a cup of coffee. And as I listened to the coffee brewing, I'd go peak at my little herb garden out on my little stoop - a garden that consisted of only a few things like parsely, mint, cilantro, thyme, and basil but it was mine and I tended to each plant so lovingly. Afterwards, I'd take my coffee right to bed and write. Lord I used to write a lot. I'd go through three - sometimes, four journals a year. Eventually, my sister would call to chat about mom or my roommate would come softly knocking on my door and I'd smile as she jumped on my bed to share stories of our nights out. And oftentimes, we'd end that perfect morning with a homecooked breakfast or with some friends at a local restaurant.

I can't remember the last time I wrote in my journal or actually allotted some alone time. It's strange - since moving to New York, I'm not sure if I ever even wanted any alone time. Unwinding was redefined as meeting up with friends and having a few drinks. And going out always meant coming in after 2 and mornings can often be slept away. Maybe these are the differences between my San Francisco and New York life, but now I'm in Philly and just spent a lovely morning reading and writing while my friend slept happily in the next room. And I've realized that I have to find a way back to those San Francisco mornings. My life this past year has become one whirlwind of obligations, parties, and a million other things listed on my Top Things to Do by such and such date. I know I have to re-learn to relax and enjoy time apart from everything and everyone else - just time enough to enjoy myself for a little while...

......(insert a little beccup sigh here)...how nice.

ok. That's enough time. Now I have to prepare my famous Peak family cat jump. It's time for Patrick to wake up and feed me.

The happy couple

2005-08-26T16:42:00.000-04:00

The happy couple

Maid of Honor

2005-08-26T09:06:00.000-04:00

It's official. Okay, it has been official for a few weeks now but grace and dan are engaged and I have been asked to be the maid of honor. I'm not sure exactly what that means but it's got to be better than being called the 'worst bridesmaid in the world' - Seriously, the whole world? It's true that in previous weddings, while most bridal parties were tending to that woman in white (just kidding, just kidding - the bride), I was often found at the bar chatting it up with the rest of the single's scene. And yes, I never knew where I was supposed to be in pictures or how to pose for them. Although I think the photographer just liked holding my hand and positioning me. Oh and there was that one incident when I forgot to bring my dress, but I brought pastries and COFFEE - the essentials! I guess some girls seem borned to play this role. I am biologically predestined to throw giant bashes with cocktails of every kind, shape, and color. And to shop. Who else but the Maid of Honor should help decide what the bridal party wears? Those other girls? Merely maids.

wednesday

2005-08-24T22:41:00.000-04:00

My mother called me this morning to set me up with a man my aunt knows in Korea. IN KOREA. She called me twice today to see if he's contacted me. I haven't returned her calls. Meanwhile as I was apartment searching tonight, the one guy who I may have considered living with hit on me. I figured that set the stage for an uncomfortable living situation. It's too bad because the location was perfect. Although I do wonder if I really want to live with a boy. Sometimes I feel like boys can be a bit smelly. Anyway, between these two exciting events, I attended a picnic to welcome the new first year students. They seemed cool enough and I even interviewed one of the girls. There was one cute guy who all the girls in my class already called dips on.

ok.

marks of change

2005-08-22T09:02:00.000-04:00

Hammee leaves for Korea on Tuesday. She will be gone for three years but will probably come home once or twice between then. I met Hammee on a bus in 8th grade. It’s been thirteen years. And as I watched her last night at our little farewell dinner, it amazes me to think that this chick once got suspended from school for calling our 9th grade English teacher a bitch. Now she’s running after her two year old making sure that everything he touches stays intact and moving to Korea to help follow her husband’s dreams of becoming a film director. Real obligations. The funny thing was – saying goodbye to her felt so normal, like she’ll always be there when I come home. Even though I know in my head she won’t be, my silly little heart just doesn’t want to admit it.

And I’m meeting up with Leah tonight who is already back from her archaeological dig in Turkey. She’s in New York for a week before she moves to Michigan for school. She called gushing about a man she met – and I mean a real man, 30 years older. She giggled about a possible future complete with wedding and kids. All very nice I suppose. Last week, I had lunch with my sister and wondered whether I really want to have kids anymore.

Friday, Marsha’s grandmother died. She was 94.

School starts in a week and this time, there will be more responsibilities for me. I’ve already been working directly with clients and providing information that could very well be ‘life changing’ for some. I’m not sure when my opinion became worth the 600 dollars some people pay for it. But I’m hoping in the future, others will be willing to pay more since my school loans keep building as well.

These are all the subtle markers of change I woke up thinking about. And I’m feeling a bit blue about it because I wish I could just hold on to the past forever. And though I would never want to go back in time, sometimes being an adult just sucks.

But then again, when you go out with a boy and you’re mother calls and leaves 15 voicemail messages demanding where you are and you have to lie for fear of being “grounded”, then you wonder how much change time brings. My sister laughs and says 26 in Korean years is really 12. All my Korean friends agree.

Ms Foxy F$%@ing Brown part II

2005-08-20T02:11:00.000-04:00

It's late and maybe I've had too much to drink but all I want to say is: Ms. Foxy Brown is a dirty fX#4!ing, cheap bit@#$c who left me a zero tip on a 70 dollar tab and whose "man" was so F$%@ing high, it was probably the only way he'd spend time with her. She told my bus boy that I cocked an attitude. If I did, she deserved it and probably should be thanking me for even recognizing her existance in the first place after the way she treated me the last time. I even argued with my manager and questioned why we even took in her business. Do we really need to put up with her shit for 70 fucking dollars?

I'm so pissed. I need a popsicle. A cherry one.

call me scrabble master

2005-08-19T09:54:00.000-04:00

My nephew bit my twice this morning. My arm still bares his teeth marks from over two hours ago and as I backpacked him around the house to get him asleep, he fought back and bit me under my right shoulder blade. You never realize how fleshy that part is until you have a little guy chomping down on you there.

And I got angry with him because he just wouldn't sit by himself and insisted on being held. So I held him while doing the dishes with my one free hand, folding the laundry while bouncing him on my hip, and trying to eat breakfast without his hands all in my food. When my sister came in from grocery shopping I looked at her and said, "I don't know why but your son is crabby." And she says, "There doesn't always need to be a reason. He just woke up cranky!" As frustrated as I was, I couldn't argue with them because there are times when I just wake up with a bit of crank in me for no reason other than the world feels blue.

Oh, last night I kicked my sister's ass in scrabble by more than a hundred points. The best moment came when I laid the smack-down with a seven letter word as she was busy going through another one of her trash-talking rampages. We are a competative bunch in this household. It always feels good to win. Besides, I'm still annoyed that she actually scared me with a simple "boo!" while sitting across the dinner table. That was shameful.

a quick glimpse into my life at 5:26 pm

2005-08-17T17:26:00.000-04:00

I just made a desperate coffee run and am trying to absorb the caffeine as quickly as possible. If I could smoke this coffee, I would. I'm pretty sure smoking is the fastest way to get the effects I need since my next appointment is in 7 minutes. Two more hours to go and then I'm off to veg out with a friend in front of a giant movie screen. Two more long hours to go...

Ok. This is the reason for the lack of posts this week. There just isn't many exciting things going on.

Two stories from our last day in the Hamptons

2005-08-11T20:37:00.000-04:00

Pictures tell it all.

Story #1:
My mother doesn't know how to swim. We have tried so many different ways to teach her, but still she sinks like a rock. I've even watched her sink in water two feet deep. So when she decided to brave the ocean waves, I immediately took her hand. You can't tell from this picture, but the waves here are really rough.

And despite my best attempts to save her, we almost lost her.

But no worries. This story has a happy ending. As you can see, she's even wearing her lucky hat.

Story #2:

Raul-Andres meets his first lady friend on the beach. Little, curly haired Megan. And like his uncle, seems to go for the older gals. He's a charming lad, isn't he? Look at that smile!

And like his aunt, doesn't take no for an answer. He's a charming, yet aggressive little guy. It's in his blood.

If only he could stand, he might have had a better chance. Though she's 8 months older - notice the height difference?

A Wednesday at the Beach.

2005-08-10T20:06:00.000-04:00

I sat on the beach in my little tent so happy, so free, so relaxed and just watched everyone else bake in the hot, hot sun. Everyone here is lobster red. It kind of grosses me out thinking about it - human flesh cooking in the sun like that. Ick. Two words: sun-screen. Oh, here's another: beach tent. Due to my nephew's fair skin and my wierd sun allergy, my sister bought us a beach tent. It's the best thing ever. I don't know how I functioned before. I have to get a picture of it but forgot. But here's a couple others.

From our morning walk.

My mother barely leaves my nephew's side. Poor guy has been sick and has barely enough energy to shoo my mother's worries away. I am the worst emo allowing him to bear the brunt of my mother's anxieties just so that I don't have to hear more complaints about my lack of spirituality. But hey, god and I are going to have a moment over some drinks right after this post...I might go buy a couple beers and sit on the beach for a while. By the time I get back, I'm hoping my mom will be fast asleep. Last night, I took a walk and there were bon fires up and down the shore. I wonder if I can get myself invited to one.

This kid is all smiles for me - despite his cold.

Caught in a very wierd moment.

And that's the end of the day...well, we'll see.

my first hamptons tale

2005-08-08T19:45:00.000-04:00

We're here. Three hours and twenty three minutes after we left Brooklyn, we arrived in the Hamptons. And it's finally hit me, I am going to spend an entire week with my mother and her crazy antics - although at the moment, it's sort of endearing. So far, our conversations have gone like this: "Li-bah-kah, why you wear that shirt and show everything?" Mind you, I'm wearing a simple, baby-blue, linen tank top with a long beaded necklace draped twice around my neck. I reply with a - Because mom, it's comfortable and it's too hot for anything else. Besides, we're just driving. "You shouldn't follow what's comfortable. You should follow morals. The only men you'll get are 'party' men." Of course, my sister has to jump in and complement my mother on her advancing English vocab. In the same breath, my mother reaches over and pinches my cheek sighing, "Boys must be so blind. You so cute!"

So we roll into our hotel room around 4:30, drop off our fifty small plastic bags because no one thought early enough to pack one large and convenient suitcase, and head over to the beach. Andres is sick and the waves quickly lull him to sleep. It's his first trip to the ocean but he seems less than impressed. I on the other hand love the ocean and everything about it. Pretty soon, I can't help but kick off my sandals and jump into the waves, still stupidly trying to keep my clothes from getting too wet. Linen is dry-clean only. The waves seemed pretty mild but out of no where, one builds determined to drench me. And it succeeded. I have never encountered a wave to build up to five feet high only a few inches away. My sister laughed as she watched it come crashing over my screeching little head. I crawled out dazed and wondering how I got so wet standing in knee deep waters. Of course my mother starts running around screaming about her hat that she bought for a dollar earlier that week. The thing had washed off my head. I have to say though - watching my mother chase it around was worth the long, wet walk back to our room. She did manage to save it and now I'll have a hat for tomorrow.

weed under the shadow

2005-08-08T10:31:00.000-04:00

Over breakfast this morning, my mother tells me that my nickname as a child was "weed under the shadow". I look at my sister and we burst out laughing. I was a skinny kid and not very tall. Unfortunately the later remains true but I'm not as skinny as I used to be. In fact, whenever friends of my mother's past come to visit they always comment about how huge I've gotten. It's always prefaced with a wide-eyed, "whaaaa!" If you know any Korean immigrant parents, that's the sound of true amazement. My mother continues, "Even though Paul younger, you always make him do everything. Lift this, hold that. Ever since three years. So funny. Paul only drink milk. You only drink orange juice. That's why you so small and always sick girl." Although a few years back, my mother once lamented, "You so short because mommy always make you carry heavy bags. I'm sorry, daughter." She still makes me carry heavy bags.

So the Paek woman are going on a vacation to the Hamptons. I have been so busy this past week that even the idea of going away stressed me out. But as of 11:20 last night, I have put away my waitressing shoes, picked up my anti-bad-reaction-to-the-sun medication, and bought a shit load of trashy magazines. I still have to do a bit of school stuff while I'm gone but I think I can manage.

faceplant kisses

2005-08-06T14:17:00.000-04:00

My nephew likes to sit up now - especially since he's become such a pro at it. So he sits while I lay at his feet. And every once in a while he'll just fall foward and chomp down on whatever part of your body happens to find its way in between his six little teeth. You really have to be careful too because he's left a few bruises behind. And when you yelp, he looks up at you with startled eyes and you have to immediately start singing those ABC's despite your pain just to keep him from crying.

Well today, we learned a new game. During his usual routine of fall-foward-chomp, he happened to fall on my face and before he could chomp, I began to kiss him all over his cute, little forehead. He popped up and looked me straight in the eye. Then giggled. After a pause or two, he fell right back towards me nestling his head into my neck and this time, I kissed him all over his pudgy cheek. Again, he popped up and giggled right after looking me straight in the eye. Over and over he fell, and over and over I kissed him. After a while, I realized he wasn't even trying to chomp anymore. He was just falling foward for more and more smooches.

What a way to ask for a kiss. I don't think I will ever be able to resist a faceplant kiss again.

unfolding a very simple mystery

2005-08-05T00:22:00.000-04:00

A few months ago, my frient blogged "fifty things you didn't know about hunie". It was hesterical. My favorites were his private dance lessons in front of his mirror and his obsessive love affair with dental floss. I've always thought that would be fun: to reveal to the "world" all of my hidden mysteries. But as I sit here staring at a blank screen, I realize there really isn't all that much to be revealed. I wear my "mysteries" on my sleeve. My mother once told me, "You know - Paul and Jennifer were hard children and always so complicate. You, daughter, have simple mind." Though I might have fought it for a while, I think in a period where being so unique is the fad today, I don't mind being average. Simple's nice and at times, refreshing. Or I could just be trying to make myself feel better.

The first and most basic thing is that I love candy. If you don't know this, then you don't know me. I need a good gummy worm or two just like others need vitamin C and D. Popsicles: Orange, cherry, or grape - they are the answer to world peace. Or at least in this household. As soon as my sister buys a box, Raul and I are tearing through them as if they were the last popsicles on earth. I once found his stash hidden behind some frozen chickens. And poor Jennifer can't even compete with our sugar thirsty war tactics. She's lucky if she's left with a stick to lick. I think I might have seen her eyeing one in the trash the other day.

I live for a good practical joke. I still find woopy cushions to be a riot and on any given night, you can find a Paek, Yun, or Guttierrez on all fours ready to jump out of a hidden spot and scare you. We've been known to wait for hours. Apart from that, humor is the only thing that got my family through any of our trials. And chances are, the harder you make me laugh, the harder I'll fall in love with you.

Oh wait. My family is the other thing that got my family through any of our trials. We are insanely close. I talk about them so much you'll soon feel as if my mother's your best friend or wish she was. Okay, not really because my mother is a nut, but it's that quality you'll quickly learn to appreciate.

What else. I am painfully foward in love and relationships. Sometimes I wish that I had a greater fear of making a fool of myself. Instead, I take risks with my heart leaving it vulnerable to being broken but open to live freely. The downside is that while most men profess to respect my directness, few actually do. But really - if you can't take a few risks with your heart or in life, then we're really not meant to be together in the first place. The upside is that I'm pretty direct and abhor games. Usually, when I ask you to call, I'm simply saying - call. If not, oh well. Someone else's loss...

And don't worry, Jim B., I am picky.

I still want to believe in a God, but as I get older, it gets harder and harder. This makes me sad.

I stock up on stationary because every once in a while, I take the time to write a letter.

And I never forget a birthday. Your gift might come a day or four late though.

I have an inner diva, a secret soundtrack of songs to my life as if my life was one giant movie and I the star, an inner nerd, and an outer dork, a cutesy exterior, and en even cuter 'interior'...ok, this "list" is boring me. Like I said, there really isn't that much you don't know upon meeting me.

And no, I never did get that hug yesterday but got a lot of cute comments from the post - even an on-line squeeze. But that's okay, I had a great day. In fact, it was the perfect pony tail day. The little things in life matter most.

premenstrual philosphy

2005-08-03T21:24:00.000-04:00

This morning I rolled out of bed and could tell that today was going to be a hard day. I could just feel my hormone levels rising with each passing moment and by 8 am, I desperately needed a hug. It's funny that in those moments, I know that I have all the love in the world around me but no one to give me a hug. And its enough to make you feel incredibly alone. But life moves on and so did I, right into a day full of ups and downs. Truthfully, I think I secretly find a lot of comfort in that 'aloneness'. As I've gotten older, "wiser" I've noticed how much energy people put into running away from loneliness or the idea of being alone. I've watched friends settle down with men while still dreaming of their soulmates and have even known a few to just say fuck life altogether. Of course like everyone else, I struggle with it - fears of being abondoned, forgotten or misplaced perhaps - ultimately of being alone. But as much as I wish I could keep running from it, I'm simply too tired. So I just accept it. I hate it but hell, that's part of living, really living. Whatever that means. All I know is that every once in a while and sometimes more than that, I have a tendency to fall back into myself to simply be alone.

In college, I used to believe that we should all try to live life out to the "fullest", which to me meant facing all your fears and pushing the limits of your insecurities. Its how I defined my own search for truths. Now I find myself wondering if there really is a right or wrong way to live, just as long as you have strong enough defense mechanisms to sustain your lifestyle (ok, that was a bad Freudian joke). Or maybe that's just my own justifications for wanting a future with comfort and ease and lots of vacations to exotic lands. I come from a background of working in non-profit with "at-risk" youth which doesn't mix well with my giant guilt complex. And now, I'm forced to reckon with my own "demons" since half my day is spent fighting with everyone else's.

Well, I think I shall take myself to bed. I just spent the past hour singing my nephew to sleep. I wish someone would sing me my ABC's because I've had another long day. I have finally realized that once again, I've found myself dictated by too many obligations, all of which I put on myself. I'm actually looking foward to classes starting up again. All I know is that tomorrow morning, there better be a good hug by my bedside or maybe I'll just get my period.

confessions

2005-08-02T23:59:00.000-04:00

Someone scheduled a 12 pm appointment into my phone for Thursday. It read: "shave legs?" Who did it? I've already called my friends who I suspect would have done it and so far, just got a couple howls of laughter and an "I'll take credit for it, but didn't do it." I haven't shaved in six years now. Apart from my one "man-hair", which keeps me in touch with my masculinity, I don't really feel the need to.

small glimpse into wedding ceremonies

2005-08-02T10:35:00.000-04:00

I've put a few pictures up of the various weddings I've been to in the past year and half of so. I think you can access them somewhere on this site. This year I have six more to attend. woah.

a post from tibet and beyond

2005-07-31T08:11:00.000-04:00

My younger brother, Paul, and Raul are travelling through Tibet right about now. This is an email I just got from Paul this morning. He's so cute.

"hey! this is the only chance for me to email so here it is. I'm
really enjoying myself out here!

My impression is that its the old wild west out here. China is trying
to promote tourism out here and so in the more touristy areas it feels
like visiting the pennsylvania dutch. However, they are much more old
school american indian style. Nomadic herders who live out of tents.
They are completely self-sufficient, living off of the yak and each
other. They love cowboy hats and have wonderful jewelry. They
definitely have a sense of style and could almost be straight out of
an old west j. crew ad. some tibetans (just b/c there are so many
different sub groups) have these gorgeous old stone houses. These
houses would be fit for kings anywhere else. They're simple,
beautifully decorated with pigs, yak and horses roaming about in these
green, green valleys. So idyllic really that you'd think it was some
old silly hollywood romanticization. The people make it real though.
They are kind, but of course don't wash much and live very much with
the land--which didn't mean much to me until now). Sad really,
because the average tibetan child faces a tough life ahead with
hanification, poverty and disease rampant out here.

o, fashion sense. Raul brought a polaroid out here. The tibetans
love it because so few of them have really seen their own image and
fewer still have photographs. They love to pose, run and get their
most cherished possessions and worry about not having their best
clothes on for the picture. these pictures often times end up as
family folk lore for some of these people.

i did get very ill last night. between the altitude (i'm in the
himalayas where some of the passes we go over approach 20,000 ft-- the
tallest peak in the continental us is under 14,000 ft--consider also
that everest is 29,000 ft.) and the level of sanitation, its hard not
too. i'm feeling much better now though."

James and Annie

2005-07-30T08:09:00.000-04:00

I used to have a younger step sister and an older step brother. Raul always gets freaked out when I talk about them. My mother got remarried when I was in sixth grade and it only lasted until I was in 9th grade. They were Korean in a way that we were not. Paul and I were unruly kids running around like little savages. I remember when James (my step brother) got in trouble, my stepfather would make him kneel with his head bowed and say, "yes sir" as he was lectured to for hours. And every once in a while, he'd get a good whack across the head and would barely be allowed to wince. Needless to say, James was always sullen and incredibly angry. We didn't really get along all that much. Annie (my step sister) was five years younger than me. Paul and I terrorized her the way any youngest child should be. I loved her and lavished attention on her - though not all of it was nice. I once invented a game called, "shooting the monkey in the tree" and shot her in the butt with a bee bee gun. I still can't believe I played that game. I'm aweful. I know. After the seperation, they just fell out of our lives. My step dad moved to Korea and left Annie with James in Philly. I ran into her once when I was in highschool. She must have been 12. I felt bad for her because it was obvious there wasn't really anyone taking care of her or even to help brush her hair. The last time I saw James, I think he may have hit on me.

All these memories came back to me as I drove by the place my mother's old grocery store was while at home this past week: Best Food Market. They opened the store together in '91 but eventually, my mother obtained full ownership and changed the name to S & H Food Market. I remember when my sister tried to explain to her that the '&' didn't make sense since it was one person, one name. She responded, "Right. That's my name - S & H for Shin-Hee." I guess it was fitting.

S&H Food Market is now the Fruit of the Spirit fruits and vegatables store. But before the change, it was where I spent most my weekends and holidays working, the place where I witnessed my first shoot out, and got my first real glimpse into the racial mess between Koreans and Black-Americans. It was also the place where I got that little scar on my right leg, four inches above my knee when a sparrow had flown in through the door and knocked himself out while trying to fly out the window behind my head. It fell by my foot and in one frantic motion, I ran right into a rusted nail. Ouch.

critters in da' pool!

2005-07-29T14:48:00.000-04:00

oh to be young again when everything you did was simply "darling"!

And if you don't see the perfection that is this child, then something is wrong with your vision.

July 27.

2005-07-28T22:36:00.000-04:00

Today marks the second anniversary of my grandmother's death and I miss her. I remember awkward hugs with bigs smiles and lots of food - yummy, yummy food.

We are all hers. This picture was taken at her funeral, the last time we were all together.

Baby Distractions

2005-07-27T07:56:00.000-04:00

My mom's visiting again. She keeps asking me where my Bible is and I keep distracting her with the baby. I don't have the heart to tell her that I haven't owned a Bible since freshmen year in college. Last night during prayer, she stopped me and said, "you have to shout Jesus name like this 'JESUS CHRIST!'" and she pounded her chest with a giant fist. Having spent the past hour trying to put the baby down to sleep, I immediately shushed her. And she curled up as if she did something wrong and said, "oh, you right." People like to talk about the power of the cross, have you ever encountered the power of this baby?

32 years in the making of Jenn

2005-07-26T21:30:00.000-04:00

Today is my sister's 32nd birthday. Exactly one year ago, I accompanied Jenn and Raul to the doctor to find out the sex of their first baby. "It's a girl!" My eyes almost teared when I laid eyes on my nephew for the first time; his cute little face poking out from the weird black and white mess on the screen. I think he even waved at me and whispered, "hi emo. i love you." We always laugh when we think about that day. The doctor assured us that she was 99.9% right in determining gender. Well I guess her accuracy went down a little because Andres came out with a vengeance - all ten pounds, ten ounces of him. Later that night, we went out for a nice birthday dinner and gushed about a future with a little "olivia" running around. There were smiles everywhere and Jenn of course, looked radiant in the white shawl I knitted for her.

That must have been a good birthday. Today was stinky in comparison. Raul had to leave on a 10 am flight to China and I pretty much had to work all day. Of course we tried to make it up to her. Raul bought her gifts galore and took her dinner last night. I got up extra early to cook a birthday brunch, but still we held our heads in shame because Jenn has always been so giving, so unbeatable when it comes to celebrations.

Ever since I was little, Jenn organized our family birthday parties. We had cakes and games and candy and fun. For my 13th birthday, she threw me a giant suprise party, which of course my mother almost ruined by bringing me an hour and a half late. And on my 16th, she treated me and my friends to a whole weekend of activities in New York. God - little Andres is going to be one lucky kid. She's already started planning for his first birthday. All I know is she wants bubbles, lots and lot of bubbles. And that boy loves his bubbles.

Still, she didn't once complain about the lack of festivities today. She is incredibly forgiving and generous. And somehow, with each passing year, becomes even more so. If it were me, the world would have been doomed to listen to my sorrows till the next birthday came around.

Well Jenn...happy birthday to the best sister a bad sister could ask for.

posts after naps

2005-07-24T19:08:00.000-04:00

Naps always catch me off gaurd. Mostly because I'm not a napper. I've never been one to fall asleep at will no matter how tired I am. The last thing I remember is snatching a nickel out of the back of my nephew's mouth and falling back into bed with an elevated heartbeat while he looked for something else to chew on. The next thing I know, my sister's screaming, "we're back!" and my phone's ringing by my head. I rolled over wondering where Jenn went off to and picked up the phone to listen to my friend tell me a story about a very annoying dingleberry lingering around his backside as he made his way through a sweaty Chinatown. Gross. And in the same breath, he asks, "yo, why are you so tired?"

I have no idea really but I think my six day workweeks have something to do with it. I've pulled a couple double shifts at the restaurant this week, babysat a little, was at school on other days, and tonight I have a couple hours of transcribing interviews and preparing for a workshop I'm running on Tuesday. It's almost 8 and now there are less hours in my evening. "oh. Are you pmsing?" Yes. So on top of it all, I have raging hormones flowing violently throughout my little body. Thank you for pointing that out. But he's used to it by now. In fact, I think our last conversation ended with my hanging up on him. We laughed out the remaining crank in me and soon after, I began to gush out long stories about my weekend activities.

Last night Joe, Jay, and I went to see a couple local bands play at Sin-e, somewhere in the lower east side. The music was decent enough but the bartender was the most fabulous entertainment. She had a giant, curly mohawk that seemed to stand a foot tall. Her tattoos were all dark and dreary running up and down her arm and she wore a black mesh shirt with a skimpy black bra underneath. And she was a sturdy woman to say the least. She could have eaten me up in one bite. She glared at all the girls there with their shiny gold bags and sparkling earings ordering their amstel lights instead of the blood she drank behind the bar. I even saw her pick up a piece of trash and flick it at this guy's head when he didn't leave her a tip. It was fantastic. I sat at the bar wide eyed and pretending not to secretly love some of those gold bags and earings...and then the best thing happened. The bartender bought my friends and I a round of drinks on the house. It was so random but apparently, we were the "nicest people who came in all day". Shucks, she made me blush. Of course, I ordered a 'blood' on the rocks - now that we were best friends and all.

ode to Frankie.

2005-07-21T23:38:00.000-04:00

I had a shit day today. Worked about 15 tables my lunch shift and still only made close to sixty in tips. Strangely, I had four tables my night shift and somehow made about as much. And through it all, I had a raging headache. Not the best day of my life. But Frankie - Frankie makes it all better. He's the manager that works the Thursday night shift. Underneath that big meat head exterior, he's a big softy - and best of all, a massive lush who has no clue how to run a restaurant. It's the only night where the kitchen staff gets wasted by nine and little 'ol me gets to have as many apple martini's as her heart desires. yumm....I love Frankie. shouldn't u?

From star struck to something else...

2005-07-19T23:10:00.000-04:00

Ms. Foxy Brown.

Picture this. 9:12 pm. A woman walks in, sits down, and barks out an order to me as I hand her a menu. Half of which, I might add, are not even on the menu. She ends with, "I have a plane to catch so please hurry." Sure, no problem. I flash her a waitress smile. I've already been on my feet for about eleven hours and so far, the tips aren't really worth that sharp pain running up and down my back. I go and put her order into the computer and head back to take another table's dessert order. As I'm standing there charming the other patrons, she begins to bitch and bark about needing her salad. "Excuse me, I need to eat!" I turn around in utter shock and the customers around me look at her with wide eyes. What did she expect - for me to hold up the entire kitchen and demand her food in that second? Fuck that. Instead, she got an "uh - I put your order in. You'll have to wait your turn." And a nice cold shoulder to chew on for a few minutes. I guess my manager didn't like that too much because she went into the computer and gave her an appetizer on the house. Well, I didn't like that so much, so I went back into the computer and priced the dish for more than the original cost. This woman was so bitchy and I really saw no reason to reward her for it. Unfortunately, my manager found out and I had to play up my bambi eyes with an, "oh, I totally didn't even realize I put that back on. And for that much!?!?! I must have accidentally added an extra zero or two." Well, apparently Ms. Foxy Brown is some rap artist. I googled her as soon as I got home. I'm usually a starstruck pawn drooling over celebrities. I almost smacked the shit out of this woman.

And tonight, no one can comment about the cursing in this entry. I deserve it.

congratulations to Gina and Gina's now husband

2005-07-19T08:27:00.000-04:00

I love when emails begin with an "oh, by the way, did I mention that I got married last May?" I admit that at times, I skim through emails picking up the gist of the message along the way. But when you start off like that, my eyes are glued to the screen and sometimes, I'll even read the email a couple times over. This is one of my favorites next to -"oh yeah, I lost my virginity on that church missions trip to Mexico. Right on the lake while you were all praying for lost souls..."

So Gina and Gina's now husband (whose name I think is...Joe?) are married. Congratulations. It sounded like a cozy day of happy celebration with family and friends. Well, Gina. I better be invited to the post-post reception you're having next spring...

I met Gina six summers ago while studying abroad in Korea. She was my roommate amongst other things. As my running buddy, she helped absorb all the stares and sneers we got while running through Seoul's packed streets. The best were her "gardening" skills. While lamenting the woes of our single life, she helped cultivate a whole garden of men on the outside of our room door. I think she put the first picture of Mr. Cute up, followed by Mr. Even-Cuter. At the end of the summer, we had a whole door full. I almost cried when we had to take them down... I'm glad Gina's married now. The best thing I loved about her was her outright boldness. Not only could she rock any dance floor, she had no qualms about pulling over to the side of the road for a quick bowel movement while running. She'd just look up at you with unblinking eyes and just say, "what?"

enigma

2005-07-18T10:12:00.000-04:00

Yesterday was Dana's bridal shower. She's getting married to Joe this September and it'll be my first Jewish Orthodox wedding. I'm really excited. Not only have I watched and listened while this couple went back and forth on wedding dates and details, but I've heard that these weddings can get well, really 'celebratory' despite the relatively conservative nature of the religion. Which quickly brought the topic of conversation at my table to Appropriate Attire. While stuffing our faces with an assortment of pastries, quish, pastas, and bagels, Courtney looks at me and says, "So when are we going dress shopping for Dana's wedding?" oooh, shopping??? For a brief moment, my eyes lit up. But remembering that the bulk of my waitressing tips went out while shopping in Soho with Grace and Jenn on Thursday, I stammered something about already having a dress but could help look for her. I don't mind shopping vicariously through others. She stared at me with that incredulous smile of hers and chuckled, "If I don't have anything appropriate to wear, honey, you certainly don't." And everyone at the table laughed.

What was that about? For the life of me, I can't figure it out. I think Lara mumbled something like, "why don't you wear the dress you wore at Shannon's party?" If I remember correctly, the slit may have been high but I wore appropriate undergarments. It's simply one giant mystery to me.

Anyway, so I'm back. miss me much?

?!?!?

2005-07-16T08:56:00.000-04:00

woah. has a week already gone by?

Ok.

A night of bowling and arcade fun.

2005-07-11T10:05:00.000-04:00

We started the evening with six Koreans and a couple martini's at a giant suburban, Italian restaurant. Of course, I came late because I got lost. I think I was daydreaming again while driving - a dangerous combination for my family who has been known to drive three hours in the wrong direction without realizing it or to take lefts when directions call for a right. Maps don't help all that much either.

Anyway, at the end of the night, nine Koreans were seen finishing up a third game of bowling. And in between, we hit the arcades. It was fun.

See?

ahhh (that's a sigh). I don't see my girls nearly enough. These feet, I see lots. My lucky bowling feet, these are.

dancing mommy

2005-07-10T18:43:00.000-04:00

dancing mommy

momisms

2005-07-10T18:01:00.000-04:00

Being at home has inspired me to list my top ten favorite 'mom' moments. And here they are in no particular order. Siblings and all others who have experienced these various momisms, feel free to add to the list.

1. Yesterday, my mother says to me, "You don't know how much I cha-mo (endure quietly) when I go to work. I close my eyes, mouth, and ears and just do what they tell me to do. I no fighting." Really?!?!? Why? "Because they send mommy warning. They say if I keep fighting, they fire!" She looks at me with wide eyes then bursts into laughter. "Can you believe it?" Hell yeah. Then she puts her finger to her lips then tightly blinks three times, which is my mother's way of winking once. "It's secret. Don't tell anyone."

2. I once asked my mother what animal she would be if she could be anything else for one day. She sits reflectively for a mere moment and says, "I know. Poodle." What - why? "Because no one is mean to poodle. They give good food and brush hair and put ribbon in. It's nice."

3. When I was in sixth grade, I walked into the living room while my mother was watching a movie. She looks at me horrified and says, "What kind of movie is this?" I picked up the box. It's Godfather - mom, this movie is really violent. It's about gangsters. "It's not about God?" No mom, that's God the Father, this is the Godfather.

4. That same year, my mother chased a neighborhood bully for five blocks in her royal blue nightgown with pink buttons. When my brother finally befriended that kid, Mike, he said he'd never been so afraid in his life.

5. My mother bitched out my sister's cheerleading coach when she didn't make the team. Even in her broken English, the words, "You stupid!" were clearly heard over and over again.

6. Last year, while I was still living in San Francisco, my whole family had come out for my cousin's wedding. My mother, grandfather, and I had just arrived at the hotel where they were all staying. My mother and grandfather went inside while I stayed behind to gather all the bags. I get up to the elevator and press the button. The doors open and there's my mother and grandfather just standing there. She looks at me and says, "Oh. Where are we? You tricking us!" I laughed and denied her accusations. They had apparently forgotten to press the button inside and had been standing in an unmoving elevator.

7. Another elevator story. When I was home from college, my mother and I entered the elevator of our apt building. In a low grumble she says, "When this door closes, you are going to die." What? "I said, when this door closes, you are going down!" Whatever mom. Sure enough, as soon as the door closes my mother lunges at me and tries to knock me over. I'm sure our loud cackling could be heard through the doors.

8. This morning my mother told me that I needed to dress 'less' to church and walk with a bit of a sway. As she demonstrated this to me, she says, "This is the only way to get a man!" This occurred after an hour of sitting with my aunt and mother at breakfast discussing their concerns about my very single life.

9. My mother invents her own words like "wrinkle-jinkle". I remember the moment when she learned that "wrinkle-jinkle" wasn't a real word and that she had herself, added the "jinkle".

10. Everytime my mother has a bowel movement, she thanks God.

Margi

2005-07-09T14:28:00.000-04:00

i just walked into my mother's house fifteen minutes ago with happy anticipation of spending some quality time with family and old high school friends. But before then, I just want to give a "shout-out" to my new friend Margi, the toll collector on the New Jersey Turnpike at the Pennsylvania turnpike exit. She works in booth number 6, looks about middle-aged (I would say about 50ish), slightly round around the hips, blond hair that falls about chin length, and has the voice of a dying hyena.

I pull up. Three dollars and ten cents was my fee and three dollars and ten cents is exactly what I gave her. She looks at me and screeches, "I don't want your pennies!!!" in that dying hyena voice of hers. I was a little taken back and stammered out an, "excuse me?" She yelps again, "I don't want your pennies!!!" And in the most reasonable manner (because I am a reasonable and well-mannered woman by nature), I explain to her that by law she has to take my money because ten pennies are still a valid form of American currency and the last time I checked, Pennsylvania was still part of the America I know and love. "Well I don't care what the law says. I'm not taking your pennies. No one wants pennies!!! And if you don't have more money, I can write you a slip that says you didn't have enough money." And in perfect compusure I responded, "Look #$%@^$#W%, this is #$@#$#@%# rediculus. I have the right amount! I!@#!@$!@ and !@##%@#$." And at this point, I'm so angry that my pigtails are flapping all over the place.

In the end, I'm afraid I lost and ended up driving away with ninety cents in my pocket. Margi, you may have won this time but I drive down to Philly quite often and I'm saving up my pennies. dun dun duuunnnn....

little diva

2005-07-07T23:58:00.000-04:00

I sat next to a little diva on the subway tonight. I was coming back to Brooklyn after having met a friend for happy hour mohito's where the hot topic was the 600 dollar pair of glasses sitting on his face. How does a guy with no job and no job lined up afford this? I have to crack this mystery because suddenly my face feels a bit naked.

Anyway, so it's close to midnight and I have a mild headache from the happy mohito's. I'm sitting on the slowest express train back to brooklyn and my leg is throbbing because some man had just accidentally sat on me. And this little girl keeps shouting in my ear, "10! 11! 12! 13!" and before I know it, she is singing her head off and rockin' out to her reflection in the window - dancing so hard that her little pig tails keep whipping me in the face. I can't remember the song very well but I believe the chorus went like this, "blue, blue, blue - please don't shoot!" And despite her mother's pleading, she gets louder and louder. I look over at her and I have to bite my lip from laughing. Within seconds, I burst into giggles and then three others around us begin to laugh. And she just keeps on singing to herself. It was the cutest thing ever. And for a little while, I forgot about my headache.

For my #1 Fan who asked for it...

2005-07-06T23:32:00.000-04:00

A picture of my avocado skin and an update to a previous posting:

The first day of my trip, I thought the rash was a reaction to bad sunscreen. When my avocado skin came back a second time, I freaked. I had become allergic to the sun! In a matter of seconds, I was hesterical - ran into the room and tried to wash the hives down the shower drain. When that didn't work, I went on-line and looked up every scary story I could find about sun allergies. They're real and out there. And I may be one of those rare people who has it. Though I can't be sure just yet. I guess I should make an appointment with a real doctor.

Random pictures from the Catskills

2005-07-06T10:06:00.000-04:00

I realize I didn't take that many pictures out there...lots of home-made videos of my nephew's first experience with creeks, pools, and grass. urban babies. I have to ask Raul if there's a way to put video's up here. But here's a brief glimpse of our trip:

walks by the creek

frog searching

urban girls frolicking by the lake

throwing money away at impossible carnival games

being scrumptious

and finally, fireworks. I love fireworks and can watch them for hours.

God's wrathful hand

2005-07-04T09:39:00.000-04:00

After lunch yesterday, I came back to our room and like an excited little girl, put on my bathing suit and rushed off to the pool. The weather was perfect. And despite my brief annoyance at not being able to find my ipod, I found a happy spot to myself. It would have been much nicer with music to drown out the noises of all the children, but oh well. The sun was warm and I was content. And as I stood there slathering on sun screen, I heard some familiar words from my own childhood.

"Son, if ever in doubt, just go to the scriptures." Wise words from a father. My mother used to say the same thing. That and "Obey mommy". Still does actually.

Anyway, wise father continues, "And the scriptures say though shalt not have any piercings or images drawn on your body." After his son asks what a piercing is, he replies,"Well earings are a form - but that's okay because you see..." I replaced his own attempts at logic here with dots as you can see. But the best came when I turned around and took off my shorts revealing a shiny, sinful little object coming out of my bellybutton. I got my belly button ring so long ago that sometimes I forget I even have it. But there it was, shimmering in the sun.

His father looks up and stammers, "Son, the problem with you is that you ask too many questions and just don't take I what say for what it is. Go swim while I finish my cigarette."

And though I cant be sure - Isn't the 10th commandment, "Thou shalt not smoke"?

Although a half hour later, I was running inside with the worst hives of my life. Covered from my chest down to my knees from a horrible allergic reaction to Hawaiian Tropic's sunscreen. Raul said I looked like an avocado. Dry and wrinkly and super swollen. It got me thinking that maybe I should have read my scriptures more thoroughly, but I'll probably just stay away from Hawaiian Tropic's sunscreen in the future.

happy 4th

2005-07-02T09:50:00.000-04:00

I'm heading to the mountains...