Why Blond?

What is it about being blond?
No, no... I'm not being discontent when I asked that.
I'm just wondering.
There was an article that I read about 7 years ago in National Geographic. My dad subscribed National Geographic and made me realize that beauty magazines are really not 'all that'. Every month, the magazine came and I got the kind of thrill that no beauty magazine could ever provide me.
There was an article, 'Enigma of Beauty', which discussed the plethora of angles about beauty. It was a very interesting, strong article, to say the least. It made me realize why some girls can be the 'mean girls' in high-school. And some can just be some mean bully. Period. And why I had a friend in high school who had a nose job when she was 16.
I think my own beauty rituals too. My eyebrows have to be perfectly arched. My pedicure routine, my blush, my mascara, to name a view. I do limit myself though. believe it or not. I don't want the make up or fashion or trend to wear me. I have to be the one who wear them.

I was in Bali Ngurah Rai airport waiting for our chartered car to arrive, when my 4 year-old nephew staring far across the long hall and he said, amazed and in awe "Daddy, there's a girl over there with yellow hair. Isn't she pretty?" He said innocently.
I and my brother turned our heads and there she was, a little white girl about my nephew's age, with long hair flowing touched by the wind standing there with her family, holding hands with her mom. I could almost hear a Bossa song playing and people moves in slow motion. I guess that little girl gave the illusion of an goddess or something of the sort.
Made me think of a particular part of the article although I'm sure that the little girl's hair color is real:
" Hair-care product companies estimate that in the U.S. 40 percent of women who color their hair choose blond, a choice women also made in ancient Greece."

My nephew likes blond.

Like most men in modern world.

I was watching American Idol finale just now and Bette Middler was singing 'Wind Beneath my Wings'. Her hair has inspired me to finally write about this blond phenomenon. Her hair was so blond, she looked like she hasn't aged (well, I have to admit, maybe other enhancements took place too). Her hair shades reminded me of Marilyn Monroe's hair color. And talking about Marilyn, I can't can't can't imagine her as a brunette. Like that article said, maybe only the hairdresser knew the real hair color for sure.

I just asked my boyfriend when he called me if I should color my hair blond.
He said, uhm,... up to you.
But do you like me being blond?
Uhm,... it's up to you, I don't mind either way.
But, in general, do you prefer blonds?
Uhm, Actually, I like dark haired women. Short dark hair.

I smiled and thought: Well well well. What are the odds? I have a man in the minority pie. Men who prefer dark hair.
This works.
Because I like my hair black. Just the way it is. I'm thinking, if many people are coloring their hair blond, I will actually stand out in the crowd.

We got an email today that some creep was in the women's restroom in the next building. Then he got arrested and charged with disorderly conduct. I wonder what he was doing there. Because, if he got into the wrong restroom, he should have just simply gone back out.

Of course, the world is full with creeps. But this raises an alarm for the girls, because the building management now suggests that the ladies go to the restroom in groups. I mean... not colossally, but with a friend.
Imagine, now you can't even pee and make it your own privacy.
Darn those creeps!

It has been about more than a week ago that my best friend at work told me that she's separating with her husband. Do you know that you have to be separated for at least 6 month before you can actually file for a divorce?

She told me that she has gotten a full load of advise left and right. One girlfriend told her: You and your silly perception of how marriage works! Of course that you should not spend much time with your husband. You are supposed to get out there and have your own fun and not be with him all the time. You'll drive him crazy.
My girlfriend told me: I thought that's the reason why someone would get married. To be with each other. To bond. To be like a set of Siamese twin and finish each other's sentences.

This makes me think of my boyfriend and how he always welcome some time of solitude and I start to think that he might actually see too much of me. Which is funny because in the old days when we're not dating yet, he always tried to come by, and at that time I was 40 miles away in downtown. Now, it is only 9 miles away and I don't see any intensity of him coming to my place.

I don't know much about marriage because I'm not in one. Yet. But, since I'm heading that way, and all most of the people I know in marriages are in agony, I'm pretty discouraged. Well, shouldn't I be? And this theory about not being around your husband or you'll drive him away, I think is a load of crap.
I think I just don't see how that is considered a marriage. You might as well be single.

I think though, despite all that, marriage is about taking risk anyway.
I know someone who's been cheating on his wife even to the point that he was in bed with someone else when the wife gave labor.
I know someone who's into his secretary rather than his wife.
I know a girl who celebrated her bachelorette night with an ex-boyfriend.
I know a wife who gave birth to a son, who's not her husband's.
I know someone who ran away with some other woman, leaving the wife 3 months pregnant.
I know all sort of horror stories, real people. People that I know. Real lives.
And yet, I'm still hopeful that mine will work.

Stupid and naive?
I guess.
Because, if I don't give it a try, I'll wonder forever of the possibility that I pass on a happy life.
And that... that'll drive me crazy.

We're buying a house

I think I'm coming down with something. And I think I'm coming down with something because I'm all stressed out.

I & my boyfriend are buying a FREAKING HOUSE. I think all the tension has finally affected my immune system. I have been on the phone the whole day with my boyfriend, my mortgage broker, my lawyer, my Realtor, my mom, my dad, my house inspector,.... all in the office, balancing with the usual manic Monday.

Never in my life I can really feel my immune system starts failing on me by the hour. I need some sleep.

But on the lighter note,...
I am buying a freaking house.
I have a house.
With a fireplace.
And big kitchen.
With a balcony facing a golf course.
Oh how I love balconies.

This stress is totally worth it.

Party of One. Yes, One.

I went for Dim Sum by myself today. Shrimp dumpling, chicken feet, chives dumpling,... hm,...
So I took a shower, I drove & entered the restaurant.
The host asked: "How many?" Asking me, how many people will it be in my party.
I said: "One!"
Then she said: "Sorry?"
I said: "Just one."
Then she said: "I'm sorry, I don't understand that."

Uhm,..
So, I pointed my index finger up in front of her and tried again "One person only."
"Oh,..." (a very brief pause) " Please follow me" She said nicely.

Then I was escorted to a table and the waitress hurried up to my table and asked the hostess "How many?"
Then the hostess said "Just one."
"Just one?"
Man,... don't people go to eat just by themselves lately?
I do wonder if they really find it that odd? Because I couldn't care less. It is as simple as this: I had some craving for dim sum and my dim sum buddies are all gone, and my boyfriend doesn't eat pork or seafood. So,... party of one it is.
Just fabolous me.
But if it is easier for them to see, I will bring my ducky stuffed animal next time to sit next to me and claim party of two instead.

All of you who are the youngest in the family, raise you hand!
I betcha that you have felt the syndrome of the-baby-in-the-family treatment from your parents.
Isn't it crazy that even when you are fully capable, fully independent, fully grown they still try to make the decisions for you?
My dear old dad still needs reminder that he should kick back and relax and let me do my own thing. Last week, he just did something that realllly realllly tested my nerves. Like, approaching my boyfriend's extended families and formed a plan (or I should say, threw some ideas up in the air) on behalf of me and my boyfriend.
Yup, without consulting me.
And yup, without consulting my boyfriend.
I don't think he ever approached my sister-in-law or brother-in-law's directly like that.

Dear dad has this tendency to take care of me, since, forever. In the past, before I went here, to the US, I was driven around by him or whoever that has the time, and at a certain period of times had a designated driver to drive me around. Meanwhile my sister was jumping in and out of busses like a pro. I never wrote a check, never knew how to write it, never pay a bill, didn't know how to pay it anyway. So, when I got here, it was kind of embarrassing to consult someone on how to actually write a check.

So, I was mad, obviously, when he took matters to his own hand. MY matter. Although I know, dear dad... he's at the age when most men would start having this post-power syndrome, or whatever it is called, and this might be part of that doggone thing.
So, I talked to him letting him know, in a very nice way, that he needs to get through me for any brilliant ideas that he has, and let me talk to my boyfriend, and let my boyfriend talked it out with his family. But, that didn't work.
Well, dad,... you asked for it. So,... I talked to my mom and let her tell him. Mom is great. She gets the work done.

How mad can you be to your dad, though? Though you most definitely have your downs and disappointments and disagreement. I hated his guts at times. I hated the fact that he hated most of my boyfriends and gave them such a hard time. Hated that he never really have enough faith in me and my driving the car. Hated his paranoia when I went out with friends and hadn't been back past 10 freaking pm. Hated the fact that he was very short temper, and that I inherit it from him. I hate it that he never really taught me what it is that he is doing in the office.

But, these past years, every time I saw him, his aging process was very visible. Every time I saw him, he looked much more older than the last time I saw him.
And it broke my heart.
The bad-quality pictures that he sent still showed his gray hair, gray mustache, wrinkles and wattle.
I remember he said when I was like, 13 or 14, "Cil, find a guy that loves you. The one who loves you so much that he would give up everything for you." I remember thinking, ah,... piece of cake. And apparently, it wasn't a piece of cake.
I also remember he said when using knife for self-defense, stab hard....
And, another good one, don't let a guy buy you off with jewelry. Especially if you don't even like the guy.
Be a lady. Don't swear.
Or some of his fantabulous ideas like: "Do you want to learn how to golf? It might be useful one day when you are an adult and need to lobby some big shot VP". Yeah,... but I was only 16 or 17.

Dearest dad. I think I'm not mad at him anymore.
I actually kinda miss him.

I want my money... now, B****!

It went bankrupt

In the event of finding a better job, I searched for all the companies I can remember that had interviewed me in 2004 and turned me down because of my lack of experience. Hey, who knows that now they found me appealing enough to join the group.
I remember my first, ever, interview in the US to a company in the Chicago loop area. I was sooo nervous and I was desperately hopeful (finding a job when you are jobless and only given a limited amount of time to find it is no fun ride, you know). And they turned me down.

Hm,... which is fine coz at least I get a feel of what an interview is like and learn what I have missed & haven't nailed.

So, I search the website for that company and found out... just now... that they have gone bankrupt.

Thinking of that movie, sliding doors, and where I would be today if they had accepted me to the company and then they went bankrupt and ditch my ass to the curb.
Maybe I should feel lucky right now.

Warty no more

I need to scratch Warty out since it is brought to my attention that Warty also an ,.. uhm.. not so interesting Indonesian names (sorry for people named Warti, nothing personal).

So... let's the contest begin. Let's name her, so I can re-do the birth certificate.

Meet Warty - my new cactus plant

I bought a cactus plant in Ikea today. She's a red head with 3 warts.
I guess it's a good little distraction for me to take care of plant.
Uhm,.. maybe talk to it.
Like a friend, or shrink.
Just like Tom Hanks to that volleyball, Wilson.
(Wink)
I saw a spoof of the 'Cast Away' and the dude was talking to a basketball named 'Spalding' instead. I found it really funny.

Anyway... I guess, I have procrastinated enough. I desperately need to do my taxes.
Off I go.

Send In The Clowns

I got friends emailed or texted me left and right after my last blog entry,... which was really nice. I think there the compelling need from my side to say thanks. So, thank you.
Although, I didn't mean to make it sounded like a high octave drama when I madly typed it. So, so sorry if you guys think I was about to gulp down a glass of clorox or something stupid like that.

I guess, life is about ups and downs. Not that I don't know that, but I just have to prepare myself for more downs after some downs. I was mad. And, btw, I still am. And I don't know if it is more of the mad side or, actually, the frustrated side. Anyhow, I just read that meaning of the title 'Send in the clowns' the infamous sad suicidal song (Barb Streisand) was to refer to the fact that in the circus, traditionally, clowns are summoned to distract the audience attention, when disaster strikes.
That would be, the best song for me at the moment, although, the actual song seems to have something to do with a one sided love, which is not my case.

This past week, I've gone through the break down phase, then, mad phase, then now, the withdrawal phase. I guess?
I don't know anymore, but I know that I am mad. To fate.
I know. Dangerous huh? To be mad at fate, for all you know before I finish up this entry, I might have already been struck down by lightning or something, regardless the fact that I am indoor.
Karma comes instantly, right, Nad?
In the effort to bring me to see this from a better angle, my roommate presented me with the logic that if I am mad with fate, then since my fate is in my own hands, then it means that I'm mad at myself.
Then the bitter me answer that this is not something that I can hustle with my own hands, because it's not a fair game and I'm not in control of what I can do about it If it is something I can hustle, then I would and I'd deal with it.
I was pretty much determined to be bitter. But aside from the bitterness, when I am mad, I tend challenge back whatever it is that made me mad. So, my madness has gotten me saying to my fate that I refuse to be broken down like this. So,...
Bring it.
Bring it on.
Whatever that I need to go through, bring it.
And I'll survive it.
Let it pour since it is already raining anyway.
I'll be soaking wet, but I'll survive this. One way or another.

So, right now, my set of clowns are working hard out there with the bicycles, umbrella, balls, throwing pins up in the air. I think they're gonna have to be out there for quite a while. I'm even preparing my second shift of clowns.
So send in the clowns. Shift after shift after shift.

Disaster will end sooner or later. And full of bruises I might be by then, but I'll survive this.

It has been a long day.
I got some bad news and I was unprepared.
I wonder how would one react when getting bad news on the phone while one's co-workers left and right were chatting happily, laughing with you. Do you still laugh out of courtesy?
I did.
For 2 seconds.Then I thought, I had to go somewhere else, because two seconds were the maximum that I can fake it. And my two seconds was up.

What do you do when the dearest person in your whole world is down about the news? I thought to myself when I heard the news, I have to be the stronger one, I have to hold it together. Because if I break down, he would too. I have to give him encouragement.
Then what I did was to comfort him, while I felt like I could't breathe. I went out without my jacket and just sit outside the office building to get some air.

Then I went for a ride after work. I blasted the music so hard, I can bet that even if a police siren was right behind me, I wouldn't hear it anyway.

And I noticed that even when it's not raining, the world was pretty much dark when your heart is. Some cruel joke my life has played. It made me so mad that I want to throw. Speed. Slash. Slit. Push. Explode. Crush.
All sort of vandalism.
Instead, I went to the grocery store. I crossed the street from the parking lot without looking. Luckily the car stopped. I walked to the frozen section and felt all choked up. I had to stop to pull myself together, turned my face away from anyone who might see and stood there in front of the chicken section, staring at the lifeless pale meat.
Then I went to the cheese section. Grabbed a jar of blue cheese and went to the sales person there.
I meant to say "excuse me". But I stood in front of him, and he looked at me and I opened my mouth, and nothing came out.
No sh**.
I inhaled and forced out some voice.
"Excuse me, Could you check if you have any more of this inside? This is the last one".

In times like this, I, who are a believer of karma, can't stop thinking what I did wrong that made this happened?
All sort of events blinked in my head like 20 different occasions in a second.
My head is spinning. The time I was mad at my mom. Or dad. Or my sister. Or brother. Or people on the road. When I said things I shouldn't say or did what I shouldn't do.
But I wish that after some downtime, I will have some up time. Unlike this.
I'm down here already, and the light at the end of the tunnel seems dimmer than ever.

My chest hurts.

Porn

I heard from my mom that my nephew brought back news right after school to his dad that a friend of his was suspended from school for 2 weeks.
Why?
Because during computer class, in the comp lab, that little nine-year-old kid was surfing a porn site. And the teacher caught that.

My nephew is a very geeky smart kid. Very nice kid. Very naive. But, boy, I tell ya, with peer influence like that, I'm fearing for his innocence.
Now, of course, we all experienced this kind of discovery when we are much younger. Some maybe experienced a lot sooner than some others, some maybe exposed more than some others. A friend told me that her dad gathered the family and dropped a bunch of adult magazines and said "Here, if you have to see it behind me anyway, I'd rather you see it in front of me." My friend was only like 14-15 year old.
Wow.
More of it, my boyfriend mentioned like ages ago, that porn industry is one of the biggest internet industry, I don't think this industry is gonna die down. Ever. I just don't understand how it works, is it free for public? Don't you have to register & give your credit card number first to view them?
I don't know.
But the picture of a nine-year-old surfing it is pretty horrible.
El mundo loco.

And when my mom told me over the phone about that, I screamed "Aaaarrgghh..., seriously??"

Then the next thing I thought was, Oh Gosh, I can't even handle this news. It's not even my kid, and it's not him that got the suspension. I'm so gonna be a control freak mom, the type of mom that I do not want to be.

I love my mom, but one of the many things I learned from her is not to be as controlling as her. Sigh, And THEN, the next thing after the previous next thing that I did was giving my mom instruction to tell to my brother to buy parental control softwares to install in their PCs/laptops. I was horrified. From the news and for hearing myself behaved like that.

But anyways, 'nuff about this. People with kids... be aware, and good luck to y'all. God Speed.

I have this Bush quote generator from google & looovee it!
If only we have quote generators for those Indonesian officials too.

Anyway...
Something that I thought was hilarious:


"I've been talking to Vicente Fox, the new president of Mexico -- I know him -- to have gas and oil sent to the United States ... so we'll not depend on foreign oil."
- George W. Bush October 3, 2000

I was driving home from a dinner date with my boyfriend. The weather was nice, today we reached 63 freaking Fahrenheit degree, for crying out loud!!! Yeah!
Life is good, I cracked my windows open a bit, put on my swing out sister CD, belted out 'Am I the same girl?', then while I was trying to hit the high note, I was screaming, singing out loud, I saw a dead 'thing' on the road. right in front of my car.
That 'dead something' most probably was either a gigantic mouse, or squirrel, without the head. And it was too late for me to avoid it, so I had to run over it. I could feel the bump, first on my front left tire then the back left tire.
I was opening my mouth anyway (from singing), but my singing became a real scream.
Aaarrrggghhh...
Yuck yuck yuck YUCK!
AAAARRRGGHHHH.....
Aaarrghhh!!!

I have this OCD thing, where I can't touch even a picture of scary creatures like the ones in national geographic (perfect example would be: pictures of tape worms, or dust mites). And apparently, today I found out that I also can't ran over anything yucky with my car without feeling like I actually step them over with my bare foot.

I know. I'm weird.

Moral of the story: when singing in the car, keep your eyes locked on the road. Don't squint your eyes when hitting the high notes.

well = shop

In the past I would care about this, but not today. And not anymore.
I had set my priority straight, and that didn't make it to the top list.
Isn't it liberating when you throw away the pebbles in your shoes (Especially if your shoes happened to be a pair of knee high boots)?
Then you walk comfortably, you walk tall, you walk straight. No, you don't even walk anymore.
You glide.
I have started to be well and I feel calmer than I can remember.

I know I'm starting to be well once I gained my primal instinct back: shopping.
We're going to the big gigantic outlet mall this weekend.

I guess after doing some impromptu soul searching I found out I don't really miss home.
I just need to save myself from being this corporate bitch and gain my self respect back and get me a new job. I don't do well with office politics. I hate it.
Yeah...
That's it. It's a weird conclusion, I know, but I have the long explanation that you might not really care much about.
And don't ask me what I mean by it, I am too spiteful right now to even think about it.
It weird though how I started to gain my sanity back. It all started in Galena about a month ago when I went to some cute stores that sells cute useless stuff. I always thought that 99.99% of them are junks. But over there, I read a quote from Mary Anne Radmacher, whoever that lady is: "Live with intention. Walk to the edge. Listen hard. Practice wellness. Play with abandon. Laugh. Choose with no regret. Appreciate your friends. Continue to learn. Do what you love. Live as if this is all there is."

Let's see:
Live with intention. Checked.
Walk to the edge. Not checked. What does it means anyway? What if someone is afraid of height?
Listen Hard. Checked, at least I thought I tried.
Practice wellness. Not checked.
Play with abandon. Undecided. Again... what is it that we are talking here? Hm,... you know what. Unchecked.
Laugh. Checked, big time. I love comedy. I even laugh at past tragedy. Right roomie? Tragedy + time = comedy.
Choose with no regret. Checked. I don't do regrets.
Appreciate your friends. Checked. Someone doesn't think so? We'll talk.
Continue to learn. Checked!
Do what you love. UNCHECKED!!!!! That's when I realized. That's when it all began. Bitch slap to my sanity.
Live as if this is all there is. Well,... sigh... sadly unchecked.

And looking at the summary above.
I'm not well. I can't even check 'practice wellness'.
I looked back and thought that I would've checked that one in the past.
Being an adult changes you. Sometimes to the better, but sometimes... not really.

But I'm glad I introspected myself and saw my life in perspective again and start doing something about it. Thank God I haven't lost it.

"Seize the moment! Remember all those women on the Titanic who waved off the dessert cart." - Erma Bombeck

Bless youtube.com.
I can practically find everything there. I searched 'Jakarta banjir' and got a lot of clips of the flood back home.
Sad... really sad.
But, what does it mean when you look at those sad clips where people are half soaked and then all you think about is 'I want to go home'?
Sigh...
Indonesians are funny, they are walking in the depth of flood and then see a camera rolling, then they make the effort to smile, wave and even try to stick their faces to the lens.
Gotta love the spirit.
I'm sick of always having to hear bad news from home though, I wish there's a way to inject some sanity and conscience to the government that they need more open areas, more parks, less malls, better sewage system, better garbage disposal system. This flood happens every freaking year.
Hello?
You thought by now they would've been picking up the clues.
The slum areas are too much. Something needs to be done there. It is a massive effort, and maybe even impossible. But it just itches me so that not a single thing is being done.
It's like this: I saw the original DVD of An Inconvenient Truth in Walmart, many weeks ago. That dude, Al Gore includes a energy efficient light bulb in every DVD.
Now what are the odds that if I buy the DVD and use that one bulb, I will halt global warming? I think the chance is super slim to none.
But if I do my part, and a thousand other people do too, and maybe not a thousand, but a million or even 10 millions, then it'll finally make a different.
See my point?
Jakarta is a massive city. It's huuuge. But they should start somewhere. Start with an area with bad sewage system, and stop developing those freaking malls! I went home last year and every time I blinked in the car on my way to somewhere, I see yet another mall. It's unbelievable.

I'm an idealist. My boyfriend would've killed my idealistic idea (he's a compulsive realist).
But, do something. Start somewhere.
It's just like doing my laundry. It seems bottomless, but you have got to start somewhere. Right?

You would thought that dating someone for more than 4.5 years would be enough to know the person entirely in and out.

Wrong.

My boyfriend had a crappy day yesterday. It's just one of those days that really just ridiculously unpleasant. See his blog & him rant about it.
People handle anger in many different ways. My boyfriend's way of coping is apparently to totally shut out the rest of the world and withdrawn from everybody. That includes me, his better half.
I ain't no 'better half' yesterday.

I didn't understand this at first since I happen to be the kind of person that would look for a friend to share, dissect, discuss, or even bitch out instead of sulking in my little dim corner. So we are totally in the opposite sides of the pond. And I was pissed because he isolated me, but then I couldn't be, because, heck... his day was so bad, even as I felt pissed, I still felt bad for him.

But anyway, my smart self finally figure out that it was not about me. I guess the extreme analogy is like this: that day, I would have burnt the whole city down, while, he would have closed the business, hung a 'Gone Fishing' sign and been gone for a whole week, which in a smaller scale, he actually did.
Mentally.

So, I told him eventually that it's not really okay. I'd like some warning if he wants to 'go fishing'. I don't want to see the sign while he left already. And he big heartedly said sorry.

In retrospect though, I have dealt in the past with men with anger management issues, who would yell and belittle people when he's mad. Heck, I have had encountered childish men who would punch a microwave and throw stuff to the wall.

So this 'gone fishing' thing. I'll take it anytime, I'll work it out. I'll learn to fish.

Oh... the Bears lost in the Superbowl. My boyfriend was so fed up that he refused to see the last minutes and start karaoke-ing instead.
I must say, his karaoke-ing was more fun then watching Rex Grossman made yet another mistake.
I didn't sing though. I need much more booze then that to be able to hear myself sing with an echo effect.

Just chatted with an old friend this weekend.
In the spirit of concealing the detail & preventing giving out too much information, I will just make this case a little something about me, instead of her.

I have a lot of philosophy, one of them is the rule of thumb of not giving advise. If it doesn't concern me, then, I will not have a say in it.
My boyfriend at times would say to me that I should give advice, especially the constructive ones.
But. I don't give advice, unless asked.
Does that make me an ignorant person?
Where do we draw the line?
For example, a dear friend is marrying a prick, chauvinistic pig that she adoooores like mad. Do you tell her what you think?
Or another example, if someone tells me that I should just go home and be with my parents because they won't live forever and it's better that they spend their old days with me close to them.
And yet another example, if someone tell a mother to quit her job because now she has kids.

My opinion? I won't say my 0.02$.

Why?
Because it doesn't concern me.
Ignorant?
No.
I just don't think I can just invade someone's privacy trying to be this righteous person with a neon halo above my head.
It is amazing how your mind overlook the big errors you made, yet being able to spot others.
Human nature, I guess.
I remember I gave another friend an advise, like 5-6 years ago about her other friend: You don't have to tell her that what she did was wrong. She's fully aware of it. She knows already that she shouldn't date him. What you can do is be there for her, because when she falls it is going to be painful.

Hence, because of my point of view, I neither like giving unasked advise nor I like being told about what I should do. There are only very few people in my life that can freely give advise. One of them is, of course, my mom.
And, uhm,.. sure, Hunny, you too.
;)

So, if you need a piece of advise, ask.
If you need someone to talk to without being afraid of judgment, talk.
If you don't feel like talking, don't. I won't ask.
If it doesn't concern you, then just mind you own.

Sigh... if only that is being applied in real life.


Confusius - "Fellow-feeling . . . Do not do unto others what thou wouldst not they should do unto thee."

It is sooo cold these days. It's so cold up to the point where I think this is exactly what the total opposite of hell feels.
But yet again, every day I wake up to an even colder day.
And I every day I told my boyfriend: I stand corrected! Today is the total opposite of hell, not yesterday.
I wonder what are the people in Siberia are doing right now.

Anti-socialite tried to find solitude

So, I went to my cousin's baby shower in Philly last weekend, right. I flew there for a few days. And as you might know, I don't like flying and I don't like airport. And if you have to make things worse, I don't like my flight being delayed.
On my way back here, my flight was delayed, thanks to the snow in Minnesota. I was sleepy from all the fun I had there. Then add the three things I dislike from above, then you got a very crabby me.
So I had chosen the aisle seat, been waiting to get on board so I can sleep, or think or do whatever in silence.
I think, one of the few good things about traveling is that you can have the time for yourself, read a book or magazine, listen to the music, or just empty out your mind from everything.
Alas, the guy sitting across the aisle from the is a chatty guy, who chatted away with anyone he can initiate conversation with.
He first asked if he can borrow my mp3 player to test out his headphone.
Then, I handed him the thing.
Then he started asking me questions, like how much it cost, where's this and that buttons, how big is the memory, how many songs you can get for that memory.
Then he started using his big giant headphone with my mp3 player.
Then he said: Here,... try this.
Uhm,... what the... what I would want to share headphones with a stranger, I don't know. But in the spirit of being civilized, I tried it out, for like 2 seconds. And gave it back to him just saying: "Ah..."
Then he said: This is much better right?
I said: you got batteries in it? Of course it's much better.
Then he started explaining that he's a audio engineer, and if i keep on using my headphones that I stick into my earlobes,... my ear drums will be damaged forever. Because... "What are you doing for a living?"
"I'm an IT consultant" (I was thinking, why do I even have this conversation?).
"So, oh good if you are, then I can speak technical. So the ear drums is sending out different frequencies to the hairs behind it. Those hairs catch the different frequencies that it relays,... blah blah blah". If I keep on using my earphones, soon enough I'll be buying hearing aids because the damage would be permanent.
Then he asked me where I'm from, originally.
Oh? Indonesia? I've been there, it's a massive city. Very hot. And the pollution, oh my God...
Are you happy you moved out out of there?

Sigh...
Why is this kind of thing happens to me?
Do I have a sign on my forehead that said: Talk to me even though I looked bothered and I look like I can use some sleep?

Really.

Is having a conversation with strangers like that is considered normal?
Can someone enlighten me?
Because, for me, the 'have a nice day' or 'good morning' kind of interaction is enough. It's nice, simple, polite and that's all that's necessary.

So I finally just answered his question by saying: well, home is home. Then I shrugged and stick my so damaging earphones back to my ear drums.
I'll take the chance... at least until we landed in Chicago.

I need some chatty stranger repellent, but I just can't find it on Ebay.

I went to see the Departed and sneaked in to see Pan's Labyrinth since we still have like an hour to spare before the Departed started.
Pan's Labyrinth scared the HECK out of me.
The horror is not the kind that makes you jump from your seats but the kind with constant eeriness throughout the movie.
Just wish me luck that I don't get any spooky dreams tonight.
I don't like weird creatures with curled horns and freaky legs. If you call those legs. I also don't like faceless creatures with eyes on their palm of hands.
Sigh but anyway...
My boyfriend doesn't like the Departed. Me? I think it's not bad, but I saw Little Miss Sunshine the day before, and Blood Diamonds a few weeks ago. I think I would switch the Departed with Blood Diamonds for Oscar nomination. Besides, it conveys more important message. Hey, I like a little bling bling here and there, but it really opens up & broaden my point of view on diamonds, and of how much protected our knowledge here, in our little lala land immaculate bubble where the most important thing right now is ... the Superbowl.

So,... again wish me luck tonight. I know I'll have a dream tonight, let's hope it's not about the creepy creatures. Or Jack Nicholson.

Newest Hugh's Girlfriend

Have I ever mentioned that every time I sleep, I dream?
I can't remember a night when I don't dream.
I once dreamed being forced to sing happy birthday in front of the class.
Or I dreamed that I could fly, but only for about 5 foot high.
Or, I dreamed that Matt Lauer was following me around with a mic in his hand, trying to read me the news and forced me to listen to him.
I'm nuts. I know. Do any of you know why I always dreamed? I always wonder if I am sane in that department.
Anyway,... I had another dream a few days ago (another weird one, of course) and I told my boyfriend about it...

Me: I had a bad dream.
BF (Boyfriend): Was it a bad dream or a nightmare?
Me: Hm,... Nightmare then.
BF: Wanna tell me?
Me: But.. You'll laugh.
BF: Well, if it's funny then I might laugh.
Me: ("Smart ass answer...") Hm,... I had a nightmare that I was one of Hugh Hefner's girlfriends.
*Silent*
I looked at him, he smiled. It's more like a grin actually.
Me: Don't tell me I have this secret ambition to be one. It was disgusting.
Boyfriend kept on grinning.
Me: I had my own little bungalow connected to the house. And then that wrinkly old butt came for a visit and wanted go get fresh with me.
Smiling BF: Then what?
Me: I pushed him in disgust. Then I woke up.
BF: You always have those kind of weird dreams.
Me: What else?
BF: That dream about Arnold Schwarzenegger?
Me: That' a different kind. Arnold didn't do anything. Didn't get fresh on me. He just waved to the crowd like an idiot.

Anyway, back to that disgusting dream. I woke up. I forced my eyes to open up. And I realized it was just a dream. That I, in fact, was in this little teeny weeny apartment.
I looked around and I couldn't be happier.
My apartment can be tiny, it can be ugly, but it's mine. Together with my pride and my sanity.
Fiuffh...
It's just a dream...

Duck, will you come to my place?

I have always loved going to Naperville, an old suburb in Illinois where only the rich can afford, especially in the town's downtown area. The downtown area is about 4 - 5 blocks in perimeter, full of little charming, shops and dining places, a river where you can walk and (tough actually forbidden) feed the ducks. Lovely place.
Yesterday was a quite nice day for a day in January even the ducks were still swimming in the river. Stupid ducks, I know, they should've migrated to the south months ago.
And one of the must-to-do thing there is to take pictures.
So pictures were taken.
My boyfriend has this thing about taking our own pictures with his own fingers.
But the thing is, he kept on looking at the monitor and not the lens. Not only that, sometimes he focused so much on it that his expression was like he's taking a very difficult math surprise quiz worth 50% of his final grade.
Hehehe...
So many of the pictures have him looking constipated or smiling but looking at odd directions or both. Ah,... my boyfriend cracks me up. He truly is an extremely unique human being.
Now, whenever we took our own pictures, I keep on reminding him, look at the lens and smile, which apparently makes him chuckle, which is similar to smiling, and click! there it goes.
Alas, I can't show my pictures here, because it'll beat the purpose of me having a 'stage name' for my blog, etc to hide my identity.
Here is a picture taken by him.
I was asking the duck if he wanted to come to my place and be my dinner.
Just kidding, little ducky.

Rejection

I got another rejection.
First, I got this email of a possible job offer from a company. And this job, they offer you lots of perks and benefits. My favorite ones are: we believe in 40-45 hours per week, casual dress code, shorts and sandals is encouraged, drinks and snacks are always available.
Sigh...
But, as I should've predicted, they don't hire foreigners. And I am one.
And the very nice first email turned into a one liner from the recruiting manager saying that, nope, we're not interested in you then since you need sponsorship.

So, this morning when I got the reply, I thought, why do I even have to bother with this crap?
A foreigner.
Huh.
Back home, I can just drink coconut right from the shell and enjoy life.
I remember my mom asked me: Are you sure you want to do this? You will have to work hard out there. You will have to be strong, can't be a whiner, can't be a weakling, can't be a slacker, if you want to survive.
And I remember I said yes.
Well, it was actually a 'hell yes'.
And, cliche as it may sound, life is about choices, and I've chosen to break out from my family's lil' wonderland bubble and went here.

And here so I am.
And this is what I've become: a grumpy hustler.
Although..., retrospectively, if I have the chance to do it all over again.
My answer would still be a 'hell yes'.
Because, I believe that life is also about the journey, not only the destination.
So, this foreigner, she is going to make it.
And she's going to make it
... in style.

Stop The Darn Clips

Arrrgggghhh...
This is the fourth time in the past 1.5 hours that I saw the clip on the TV on Saddam Husein before he was executed, with the Noose around his neck.
I completely get it. He was a narcissistic brutal dictator who killed thousands of lives and had rapists sons and as much as I'm not in favor of capital punishment, I guess there are thousands of people cheering this execution to happen.
BUT...
Do the media really have to expose his final moments like it's some cheap clip about Britney /Lindsay partying?
I went to CNN and saw links to different video clips with title like: 'inside the execution chamber', 'Hussein in Hangman Noose', 'Hussein Body Wrapped in Shroud', and many others.
I thought, despite everything, Saddam's final moments should stay private. And mind you, not everybody is in favor of seeing the clips. Like me, my boyfriend's been playing channel hopping eveytime those clips start popping up on TV. Because he knows I don't want to see it.
I think this is just a cheap way of 'some people' to show to the public that 'justice has been served'. Oh please... we are sooo far away from justice if this is the closure.
And, by the way, where is that weapon of mass destruction? Has anyone check Saddam's armpits or bushy beard? Maybe he hid it there.

The Laundry Procrastinator

I know, I should be doing my laundry by last week. But, up until now, not only I didn't do any, I keep on adding pile over pile. I don't remember when the last time I did my laundry, but it seems like yesterday, which is actually impossible, unless you life in my world. But in real world, real calendar, I would say over a month ago.
Now, who says that girls are clean?
No, they are not.
They look clean, but not necessarily do.
I look clean, but I have lots and lots of dirty laundry...
For real. Literally.
And instead of start dragging my butt and do it, I choose to sit here and blog.
I'm the ultimate laundry procrastinator.
Now, you might start to think... how do I manage for my under garments?
The answer is: I have plenty of them, you wouldn't believe.
I however should clarify though, that I don't do side A - side B thing.
Ew.
But back to my laundry issue, I buy new clothes to avoid doing laundry, and the new clothes eventually end up in the laundry pile.
The more I buy, the more I pile.
This is a very vicious cycle.
And I don't know how to breakout from it.
(Unless, for the obvious, of course, that I do the laundry).
Sigh... and I think I have bought more than enough clothes. Since, I can see the laundry piling up, and yet, in my closet, the clean ones never seems to decrease.
Like a doraemon magic front pocket.
I'm amazed.

I got a very nice present from my boyfriend for my birthday.
A big giant picture of miniscule me standing in the middle of the woods after a snow storm.
He gave it to me with a nervous look on his face that I might not like it.
But I love it.
More also because I've been thinking about doing the same thing.
He read my mind.
Ah,.. great minds think alike.

I am ... 30

Okay,...
This is it. Point of no return.
I am officially being yanked out from the 'twenty-something' league.
And in the office, people kept on saying "'welcome to the league!" which, sigh..., honestly I responded with a very wide forced grin.
Anyway, I woke up just now, in the middle in the night, thinking: man, I really am not feeling happy about this.

I got an interesting text message from my sister though: Happy birthday, wish you all the best. You are sleeping, aren't you? Hey, is someone going home to Jakarta? I like that Bath and body lotion, my heels are cracking, give me two bottles, OK? Get me some with very nice fragrance. Thanks.
Heh.. as much as I love my sister, I do wonder why she can't talk about her cracked heels any other day.
But... good that she remembers though. It could've been worse. That's what I told myself.
Now, the text message from my bother is like this: Happy birthday, it's from me and your sis in law. Your nephew will sent his birthday wishes tomorrow, when it's the 22nd over there. He's terrified of wishing you birthday now, coz people told him it might shorten your age.
Made me smile, with a thought, shorten my age? It won't make a difference, I'm going downhill from this point anyway.

However, now that I am thirty, I thought, I have to try to make this positive and cheer myself up or I'll look back when I was 40 and regret the fact that I wasn't having fun.
So, I'm going to spend a day in the old 'hood, downtown that is, and have a nice lunch with my boyfriend.

As much as I hate turning 30, I am thankful though, that I am well, and in a good place in life. Good boyfriend, good career (somewhat, sigh...), good family, good friends, good health, financially independent, a little money in the piggy bank, still have hair, no visible grey ones (yet), still fit in the wedding dress (but we'll see after tomorrow), and having a nephew whose afraid of me having short age which is flattering.

Now I have to go back to bed, claim that beauty sleep, because let's face it, there are eye bags that might appear that no 30-year-old can cover even with the best make up.

I spent the day with my boyfriend.
Two more days ... two more days.

I realized I have some beers in the fridge. My boyfriend has given up drinking, so I might as well just start gulping them all and be merry & happy.
Hiccups... hiccups...
Or!!!
I can throw them away since beer = calories.
And calories = fat.
And getting older = slower metabolism.
In other words, the beers = fat butt.
Nice...

Three more days.
I told my boss I'm taking a day off tomorrow and on my birthday to sulk.
He let me took them.

I spent my day on meetings today. I wonder why my boss likes to talk so much. He really really really likes meetings. I think meetings are just political fantasies. Useless. Especially the long ones.
Although, I must say, today's meeting was very tensed and interesting. A coworker vented out on my boss, It got so tensed I thought he was about to choke him.
Prove that respect has to be earn, and can't be demanded, even if he is your damn boss.

I'm out.
I need my beauty sleep.

Okay...
This is the count down to my 3oth Birthday.
FOUR days to my 30th Birthday.
It is scary being old, but it is scarier if when you start to feel old, you also realize, on top of that, that you haven't done much with your life.
That sucks big time. And that's how I feel right now.
What have I been doing these past 10 years? I don't freaking know.
Also, I do notice the lines on my face that weren't there ten years ago.
And I also realize that I don't know what I want.
I always want something else after I get what I was chasing.
The only two things, I think, that I'm content is:
1. My education, because, you can kill me if you want to, but I'm done with school. If I ever want to go back to school. Just shoot me right in the head.
2. My boyfriend, 'nuf said. If someone can handle my tantrums (not to him,... but just accept the fact that I have tantrums about many things in life, namely: the maniac drivers, stupid boss, crazy co-workers, the weather, etc), then we have a winner!!! Because, let's face it, I'm not the most sane person around.

Today I'm still 'twenty something', but in four days, holy cow, oh my gosh, heeeeep...
Grasp...
I'm thirty.
I think this call for a mourning and some really delicious martinis.
Someone please hold my hand!

Grandmas Inc.

It's been a few times already that I came along with my boyfriend to his church on Saturdays.
Honestly, I am not going for the church. I went because I love my boyfriend and I want to support him. Plus, I have the responsibility to poke him when he falls asleep (just kidding, hunny).
So, one by one, people in the church start picking up my name. And I got to know some really nice people. I don't know what's up with that church, but about 90% of them are old people. And by old, I mean 80-90 something year old.

As I come to know them, I find them such sweethearts. Well, I have a soft spot for sweet old grandmas. I just find them so loveable.
Every week, after church they have potluck and we sometimes join them.
Amongst them, there is this one grandma who can't stop talking. Leaving only little chance for others to talk. Oddly enough, one of her stories is that she was a very shy young girl.
Another grandma is very Elizabeth Taylor-ish. She is a freaking ninety-four year old. She has her health, her matching suit and purse, a lovely well-colored bright red hair complete with the also-matching hat. I thought, now that's what I'm gonna look like when I'm 94. And throw in a Porsche while I'm at it.
But one grandma that I really fell in love is the grandma who came to me and gave me a hug and kiss on the cheek thanking me for coming with a dish for the potluck. A very motherly kiss. Not just a peck, but a big hug and a really hearty kiss. I sat there feeling all warm and touched.

I heart grandmas.

And the best part of it, the grandmas have husbands too. Well, not all of them, but some still do. And I look at them sitting together, eating and they still haven't run out of conversations or jokes. They are still enjoying each other's company. Hard to believe, I know, in this wretched, cruel world, where even someone who had a wife like Jenifer Aniston still cheated on her for another woman then called it 'being inspired'.
I thought, man, that's how I want my old days to be. Wrinkly. But not with just with age lines, but with smiles & jokes. Sitting, breaking bread and sharing a cup of orange juice with my guy, whom I poke once in a while in the church to keep awake. And preferably, I want to keep my teeth, but if I can't, then I hope by then I have a great dental plan.

Ally Is Here!

My dear sweet friend from back home reserved me (upon request) the complete series of Ally McBeal. Yes, all seasons. The DVDs were bought by her, then picked up by my parents, then given to my cousin. Then with her, travelled back half way across world to US. Then being forgotten for a couple of weeks, then finally they were sent to me.
So, I just want to say:
...
Happy happy joy joy, happy happy joy!
(Together!)
Happy happy joy joy, happy happy joy!

I'm thankful for this thanksgiving weekend.
It gave me a chance to catch my breath and recharge, as I'm going back to the Gaza Strip tomorrow (aka 'the office').
All this free time has also gives me the chance to put things into perspective. That life is trip, and it's about the journey - not just the destination. (This applied to my other problem areas in life too, because I'm convoluted and troublesome).
And, Carpe Diem! is my new thing, inspired by Samantha in Sex and the City who's always smiling because 'worry face expressions' will leave wrinkles. Now, it is bad enough that at this age (hahaha... I just said 'at this age' as if I'm one-hundred-and-four) I don't have a beauty regime because I don't have the patient & enough will to do it. But to undo worry expressions, I might be able to pull it off.
So, I'll let you know in a few days.

The Real War Crimes

If you can't click to the clip, click here.

This is a short clip of some US soldiers waving a bottle of water to a bunch of thirsty Iraqi children.

There's a lot of things that I want to say about this. But every time I typed down some sentences and I ended erasing them. This appaling, disgusting and inhumane. What arrogant bastards.
In twenty years or so, they'll going to tell people that they had fought for their country and brag about how much they suffered.
Yeah... right.

A cry from a bottom feeder

My deadline is approaching and I almost die out of stress.
I don't like my workplace anymore. Let alone the project, because it is actually the highlight of my daily routine now, even though I'm not done and as the result I'm doing extra hour work on the weekend and evening.
Lame life.
I know.
A person told me, that with jobs, comes the politics. It is a package and you can't avoid it.
But, I sure want to bitch slap everyone in the office who makes our lives (that're already hard as it is for us, the bottom feeders) even harder.
And I have the philosophy not to bring work to home which I always I try to abide. Now, what I meant is not to refuse doing extra work at home, which is fine, because that is part of the responsibility. But to go home with extra baggage about non-work-related issues that had happened in the office.
That I don't like.
But, I guess there's nothing I can do about things that are out of my control.
To add to that, I know some confidential news from my old boss who's now is up and above in his career ladder which will actually be quite disheartening for some of my coworkers, but will benefit me.
Man.. 2007 will be a hell year, because even if this upcoming event benefits me, I'm sure more politics, issues, bickering, and even more politics will come our way. And as if the s*** that had hit the fan is not enough, I'd imagine that cow dungs will also fall from the sky. Complete with the smell.
Sigh...
Tired...

This morning, as always, my tv went off at 7 and I had set it always on E! Entertainment. A channel full of celebrity gossips, useless information like, where Britney grew up, or the struggle that Tyra had when she was an awkward kid who was as tall as a coconut tree.
But this morning, I was thinking. Let's see what's going on the world!
And switched to NBC's Today Show.
Matt Lauer was babbling about something.
Then I went to the bathroom while still listening to it.
And all of a sudden they are talking about.
Tom Cruise.
Now, I thought Tom Cruise would just stick to E! Entertainment Channel.
But, nooo...
It was reported that this weekend he'll get married with Katie. And yesterday, Katie went to a store and bought 4 lingerie items and 2 boxer shorts.
Four lingerie items!
And two boxer shorts!
I can't believe they reported that on the news.
The world has gone mad.
And I thought the headlines has gone berserk when they put headlines like: "TomKat has touched down in Italy" or, "The dress has arrived in the hotel".
But...
Four lingerie items and two boxers I think tops them all.

Soooo...
My mom's had her 60th birthday last Saturday (on the 11th). I called her in her morning time and chatted with her and wish her well. Dimcorner also talked to her and wished her a happy birthday. Aw... so cute, the two of them communicating.
It is kind of sad not be able to be there for her big six zero, but I guess that's how it would go now, wouldn't it?
So as the compensation, since my whole family was going for some sushi for my mom's birthday, I also went for some sushi here with Dimcorner.
So to sushi place we went!
It was raining hard here and it was chilly. If it was not because of my mom's birthday, I would have cancelled the dinner plan, but we went anyway and we binged.



That's my hands holding a couple of pieces of bonito.

I really admire my mom on her 'getting old' issue. She chose to enjoy it rather than sulking on her age.
Way to go mom!!!
And she makes me have no reason to sulk over my upcoming birthday when I'm going to join the big group of 'thirty something".

Ah,.. what is age? Just a number that anyway you can lie about.
Hah.

GO TEAM BRITNEY!

Usually I don't really blog a lot about celebrity gossip unless it really affects my state of mind (or in other words: it pisses me off or tickles me so). But after a few days of holding my giggles back, I just have to laugh out loud, roll on the floor, peeing my pants... hahaha... Britney Spears is getting a divorce.
Sigh...
Man, I'm not laughing at the painful divorce she's gonna have, knowing that K-Fed (or as the media labels him now as Fed-ex) would try to squeeze every single dime that he might be able to get his hands on and make a fool of himself. And now Britney has said that she would give pictures of his children for free which I bet to prevent Fed-ex to sell the babies pictures.
Anyway, I'm laughing at how BLIND can love be. And how damaging blind love is.
Huh. Because, even I, bluecactus, who's not always can smell losers from afar, can tell that pesky Fed-ex was bad news just from glances at the TV.
But I guess every one of us needs to be a fool in love, at least once in a lifetime. And now, Britney, somehow, has gotten mentally slapped and woken up & smelled the coffee. I wonder what kind of slap it was.
I bet now in LA they'll be starting to sell t-shirts, one that said: TEAM BRITNEY, and the other one is TEAM KEVIN.
In that case then, go team Britney!
Kick his a**.!!

Ain't being an adult grand?

You try your best to be an adult. Think like an adult. Act like an adult. Be responsible like an adult. Voice your opinion like an adult.
Because you are. Demographic wise, a twenty-nine-year-old person is an adult.
You are independent, you work to support yourself, then if possible, try to invest. Start thinking about money management, considering the future, a place to purchase, a car to buy, your job security, how many kids you will want to have.
Then you also think about your family, the ones who used to take care of you. Now, the table has turned and you are taking care of them. Might not be financially, but could be emotionally.
You used to think your parents are all that. That they were the best, that you wanted to be like them when you grow up. Now you see that they are mere mortals. With flaws and actual weaknesses, that, in fact, you start to support.
You know, being an adult is almost like eating the fruit of the tree of knowledge of good and bad in Eden. Because, once you eat it then you know. And everything afterwards is about consideration. And making the right decisions.
At this particular moment, that John Mayer lyric chimes in in my head "quarter life crisis".
I think, that's what I'm having but four years too late.
Sigh...
having said that, being an adult is great.
Really. I don't want to exchange this with another 10 years of adolesence, the period of life when I thought that I was the ultimate ugly duckling, just trying to fit in a cruel society.

I think I just need a nap.
A long one.
Heck, make that a hibernation phase for a whole winter.
I'm tired.

Is it bad if I start buying new clothes to avoid doing laundry?

I was driving with my coworkers to a client lunch the other day when a male coworker told me that I drove like a man.
That was after I accelerated and passed the yellow light and after I 'only rolled' passed a stop sign instead of completely fully stopped.
I laughed and and jokingly said: hey,... is that a compliment or an insult?
He said while grinning, he's also impatient and has been driving with the same style too.
Then a female coworker who sat in the back jumped in the conversation and said, hey, it is not good to generalize people like that, you know.
I smiled and thinking ironically about how many gender jokes emails I and my other female coworker have been receiving from her.

Don't we all generalize people up to a certain level? Like, men are all sloppy. That car darted like a maniac, the driver must be a man. Women are all bitches. Women don't know how to fix the plumbing. Or, old Asian ladies don't know how to wait in line. Heee... that one is personal experience from back home. Give me a bunch of aunties lining up for something. I don't think I ever saw it worked. Especially for something enticing and free.

Me, I used to think that all men were bastard. Well, you see, I wasn't really all that lucky in relationships, hence the bitterness.
However, I gradually forgot that I thought that men are all bastards. Mainly because I realized that I knew quite a few of she-bastards too, and I then met nice men with good hearts.

Although,... let me tell you a little experience I have. I hate it when I'm driving on the highway and I bumped into a car that is slow... but on the fastest lane. For crying out loud, why does it have to stayed on the fastest lane?
And when I pass those suckers, most of them (if not all) are women. Or old gramps or grandmas.
I know... generalization.
But I guess there is a reason why women drivers' car insurance cost is different than men.
Which one do you think is higher?
Men.
Hah!
You thought it would be women, didn't you?
Well... considering that women drive like turtles having a leisure walk, statistically, the impact of the accident won't be as bad the the guys, whom I mostly saw have been darting and zigzagging left and right on the highway, 100 mph, like he's actually trying to get killed (and bring some people with him along the way).

And statistically, I think, it might be true that most women might not know how to fix a broken plumbing and most men don't know how to cook, but I bet there are wives who are better in fixing plumbing problem than their husbands. And women who don't cook and have chefs as their husbands.
So, having said that and statistics aside, I started to stop generalizing people, especially the heavy allegations like all men are cheaters (or bastards, or assh***,wait... I meant a**hole or many others accusations). And stick with personal remarks like: Andy is a bastard, because he is. Rather than saying all men are bastards.
Hehehe... fair enough?

My dear nephew just got a cellphone.
Nine year old kid with a cellphone.
And, to my surprise, he's not extraordinary for having a cellphone because the school now allow cellphones, although with a very strict set of rules, like no phone while school's in session (which leave them to... what? 15 minutes recess?)
I remember my days when I was nine. The cordless phone hasn't even been invented yet.
And now, my dear nephew starts on sending me text messages to me from Jakarta, which I love because it's really cute, but it also makes me scared how vast the change of childhood experience that he has compared to mine.

It was mortifying enough that when a few years after my high school years, I saw high school girls with make up. Make-freaking-up.
I remember thinking, those kids, minor kids, plug their eyebrows to get the Krisdayanti effect. They butchered their innocence with their make up. But it was nothing, I guess, compared to nine-year-olds with cellphones.

Now, my sweetheart sends me messages almost daily, without fully knowing the concept of our time difference that it might be 2 am my time when he sent it. And he's busy telling me what he's doing (I'm eating doughnut or I'm going for a swim), and asking me questions like when I'm going home (which I answered, when I'm becoming a bride, on which he answered: wow... a bride, how cool!).
And as weird as it might be, I embrace this phenomenon joyously, may I say, a bit of relief.
I always fear that he'd forget me.
First he'd forget my face, then finally totally forget that he has another aunt.
But now, I'm relieved.
That kiddo hasn't forgot about me.
That I exist in his world.
That I matter.
That he misses me.
And that feeling...
it's priceless. Heartmelting. Joyful. And just plain wonderful.

Finally my buddy left for good. I, being a loner, have almost totally lost all of my hangout friends. One more close friend in downtown, then I'm totally out.
For some reasons, though I was (and am) sad, I didn't shed tears, maybe because I have high hopes for him to have a better & greater future back home. So, though I am sad, I am anxious & excited for him too.
I arrived here with only two persons waiting for me, one was my roommate and the other one was him. And now, his journey here ended with me standing by the gate until he disappeared from the crowd. Funny, both took place at some gates in an airport.
Fate does have its satiric little jokes.
People come, people go.
And life goes on.

It finally snowed...
sigh...

My other dog died.
There. The pet chapter has ended.
No more pets for my poor mom as she said to me earlier, there's just too much emotional attachment.
Since my horsey faced dog died, this other dog, who was the spouse of the horsey-faced had been in a quiet gloomy mood. She barely made a noise, barely fussed about anything anymore. She just sat there quietly in the corner.
I guess that's love.
Ain't it grand?
I'd imagine that in pet heaven they meet again and the conversation would be like this:
Horsey-faced: Hey, yo! Whaddup! What the heck are you doing here, girl?
Chubby-bule: Ow, shut up, where the hell have you been? You know I'm blind and can't see, I've been trying to catch a glimpse of your sound, to no avail, tried to sniff a whiff of your smelly ass, but to no success too. Why did you leave me?
Horsey-faced: Cutie pie, had you heard the rhythm of my heartbeat??? I was amazed I survived that long. Now, how come you are here so fast after me?
Chubby-bule: Because life is empty and worthless without being able to sniff your smelly ass.
Then they lick each other's nose and wag their tails.

Sigh... you know... something like that.

And after that I hope they can look down and see me weep and understand how much I miss them and their stinking asses.

I have forced myself into some Mariah Carey, the happy, cheese songs, to uplift my mood.
I've been in this gloomy, shadowy mood these past days, I feel like lord of the dark. I have enough of 'the drugs don't work anymore', enough George Michael (his suicidal mood album - Older) and I have enough of Prayer for the Dying by Seal.

I know why I'm all depressed and in a constant bad mood, partly because I have this suppressed mourning of my dead 110-year-old horsey faced dog, but I think, it also have something to do with many other factors, namely (now, hear my bitch about my world):
Big project at work that's crushing me to death (I know I'd survive this and become a better developer after this, but, heck... I'd be better but black and blue), hyper / ADD (Attention Deficit Disorder) boss, annoying co-workers (also hyper and ADD), lack of communication with boyfriend who is busy with his dad's health and mom's... don't know what, best friend going back home for good, and let me just summarize another source of my depression into 3 words: preparation for wedding. I don't even want to go there.
Not to mention the fact that I am almost 30, and I wonder where the heck did the last 10 years go... oh,.. yeah,... right: went to school till I dropped dead and worked my ass off, also till drop dead.

I knoooooooow i know, the glass-half-full people (I used to be one) would advice me to look at the bright side, blah blah blah... but I feel like bitching.
When I was younger, I thought, I'll grow up, move out and be independent.
Well,... I'm here, all grown up, moved out, and independent.
...
...
...
Now what?

I also thought, then I have no curfew, no one can tell me what to do and when to go home...
Now that I can go to the clubs till I literally intoxicated with alcohol and should be brought to the hospital, I am ready to go to bed by 10 pm. Have no desire to go clubbing to see people rubbing against each other (yuck), drinking apple martinis till the world spins and have the worst hangover the next day and have some drunken guy grope my butt or asked my how I am doin'.
Let's face it, my era has passed. The wildest experience I had lately was going to Denny's and order myself some very large greasy, 'cholestrolful', breakfast. Even then, I can't get over how gross it was for the whole day, I was completely bloated.
Sigh...
Okay,... I'm going to bed.
This Mariah has gone 1 octave too high. I just have to shut her out.

p.s. I shut her out and play some Stan Getz. See how old I've become???

My dog died.


People have different ways of expressing goodbyes. Me, I hate it, but like my good bye to Casimoro, I had to find him before I left.
I made sure I walked my coworker to the elevator on her last day.
I went in to the doctor's office when when we decided to put one of my dogs to sleep and watched the doctor jabbed the needle to his heart.
I cried while holding my nephews and brother before going back here.
They were all painful, well, maybe accept the goodbye to Casimoro, although it was still sad.

This dog of mine is ugly, black, short fur, with long and awkward looking legs. He actually looked like a horse instead of a dog. Really really unattractive.
But like all moms, they always love their children and subjectively think that their kids are the best, the cutest, the prettiest. I do too.

But there was no closure between us. I want to be there when he exhaled his last breath. I bet I would've been crying, wailing, shaking, heartbroken, mourning, hyperventilating while holding his paws... If I hadn't passed out. But I'm big at that. That's how I deal.

And now my dog died.
He'll be cremated then my mom will pick up his ashes and they'll go to the sea and spread his ashes away.
And I'm right here, inside my la la land, untouched, in a sterile, perfect, Brady Bunch environment.
And I've been wanting to cry, to wail, to sob but I can't and I don't know why.
I feel this grieve inside my chest.
My head is pounding.
My throat is choked.
I can't breathe.
My heart is almost physically in pain.
And inside my head, there is this unstoppable movie clips of my dog. playing over and over and over and over and over and over again.
When he was born, and how I thought, man, this one is ugly.
When he did his daily barking to the postman.
The close ups of his horsey face and horsey legs.

And I can't freaking cry even though I feel empty.
And dark.
And in pain.


Listening to: The drugs Don't Work - The Verve
The drugs didn't work anymore, it just made him worse.

How much crap is too much crap?
How much manner is too polite?
What is politically correct anyway?
Don't you love it if you can just blurted out anything you really want to say?
No need to considerate other people's feeling, or the office policy, or if people would question whether your parents taught you well.
Like when a white guy once yelled at me from his car "Go back to Asia." I wished I was fast enough to yell something back like "No, you go back to Europe!"
Besides.... this land was originally belong to the red Indians anyway.
I am really bummed out today, not a good Sunday at all.

Por favor, when someone never makes a remark about your choices in life, your lifestyle, the way you do your hair, or, the color of your toe nails or for Pete's sake, why you are wearing pink tutus today, please be courteous enough not comment on their choices.
It's rude. And below the belt.
There's a reason why I don't make a remark on people's choices, and that's because I don't appreciate people tell me how I should run my life.

Having said that, every time I encounter this kind of things, there two things that I'm always thankful for the event. One is, I'm thankful that I am exposed of such thing that I understand what to expect or not to expect from that person in the future. Second, I'm thankful that I am not that bitter/critical/superficial/mean-hearted or whatever the trait that was being conveyed.

And the later one makes me think... hey,... I'm not too bad at all... I'm actually a nice person.

The Crackhead

I went in.
Inhaled the nicely scented air.
I walked slowly. Examining.
I was in a state of bliss.
All were pleasantly arranged based on type and color.
I touched.
I tried.
I smelled.
I rubbed.
I get excited.
My heart rate increased.
Then...
I bought
YET ANOTHER LOTION from Bath and Body Works.
You see...
I have a disorder.
The Bath and Body Works Disorder.
I know I have lots and lots of lotions and soaps and body wash, and room fragrances and body splashes, in many different sizes, in jars, tubes and bottles. I put my bottles according to color and the purposes in my cabinet. They give me comfort. I keep some in the office, in the bathroom, on my nightstand and once I had a tube of lotion in my car,... until the winter froze it and the consistency was never the same again after it warmed up.
I have the supply of lotions that will last until I give birth to my first child, and mind you, I haven't even set a wedding date yet.
I've got the BBWD.
Bath and Body Works is just like crack.
Like just now, I opened my cabinet and, gasped, I have a full tube of cherry blossom body wash. AND the moonlight path one too. (Whisper) I don't know when I bought them...
I wonder if anyone is experiencing the same thing.

My friend cancelled going back to Indonesia. Yay!
At the last minute, finally someone saw his potential and hired him.
It's about time.
Although... he'll be going to New York and, still, leave me here in the flat Midwest land with no one to have dimsum party with.
But, it's okay, my cellphone covers national plan, we're only 12 hours apart (by car) and an hour different, time zone wise.
Plus, YANKEES Stadium! Here I come!
A friend in times of happiness is easy to find, a friend in sorrow hard hardly ever exists.
He's the second kind.

I wish him well, all I can say is: Dude, don't go to the ghetto by yourself, and find a nice apartment by the subway with extra space for me to crash.
Peace out... we'll be in touch. After helping me out moving my stuff from place to place,... finally, I need to really get myself some professional movers the next time I change address.

I hate goodbyes, but what can I say? I do the goodbye this time with a smile... how can you not? My best friend can now officially sing: I'm an Alien in New York.

The Bro Who Never Says 'I love you'

"... Dad can't never learn that we are all adults now, can't you see that, Cil?
Just like me, the memory I have in my head when I think of you is just when you were little. So when mom was busy with something, she would put you on the sofa and told me to keep an eye on you so you wouldn't roll and tumble down on the floor... hahaha... really. That's the thing I remember when I think of you.
But now you are all grown up,
and getting married.
It feels surreal..."

A chunk of email from my big brother, who always calls me 'Cil' as in short for 'little'.

Funny he remembers me that way, I remember him playing the role of a big evil giant and chasing me and my friends around when we played in the yard. The person who tied the blanket around me neck as a cape and told me to run around being superman. Then he's made me a sword when I told him I want to be a kungfu master.
He's my saviour when it comes to guys. Put senses into my head. Diverted me from being a whiny, prissy little princess I could have been & told me to kick back the six graders who bullied me at school. He was the one who held me and said it's okay to not be the top three in the class, he was in the bottom three in his class and he was doing fine. He said all sort of politically incorrect advice, but without him, I wouldn't be the person I am to day.

He put the reason behind so many decisions in my life.

He's my hero.

The big angry evil giant in the yard.

I was washing my hands in the restroom when I glanced at the mirror and saw the reflection of my hair.
Black hair, black shiny hair
... and I saw a strand of gray hair there.
At least I thought I saw one.
I tried to look closer but couldn't so I decided that I should grab my hair on that spot and run back to my desk and ask my coworker who was sitting right next to me and also my best friend in the office to look into it, find the darn thing and plug it out.
So with one hand up above my head,... grabbing a small group of hair strands up in the air, while the other hand pushed the door open, I walked out of the ladies room when,... of course,
Yes of course,
the DBA of the company came out of the men's room and saw me holding my hair up in the air.
Nice.
Can't get geekier pose than that.
These things seems like, only happen to me.
So I dropped my hair. Smiled. And said: "Hi, Rob".
And he gentlemanlikely smiled back and said "Hi, Bluecactus."
Then ever so coolly I walked away cursing inside.
Stupid gray hair.

Monologue in Supermarkets

Another friend is leaving me. Leaving the country.
I sank myself in my chair by the wide open window facing the dark blue sky.
Michael Franks.
Light breeze.
Half eaten doughnut.
I should feel at ease. Tonight is, after all, a gorgeous night.
Yet, I'm anxious. I start to fear the prospect of living here.
Friends left, one by one.
Loneliness.
I never thought I would ever fear loneliness. I 99.99% of the time always enjoy some solitude.
But I guess, I'm more afraid of the long term effect on it: wandering in the supermarket talking to myself. Like some people do. My roommate and I have concluded that they had lost their mind because they were lonely, and got nobody to talk to, hence, the monologue.
Sad...

Cold feet I'm not.
I'm just questioning of why there are so many negative notes on marriage. So many warnings and bad jokes about it.
Like someone said to me years ago: There's nothing better that you'll find after marriage about your spouse. Everything will go downhill after that.
Or, men, you can never trust them. You have to be careful.
Or, marriage is a lot of work.
Or, Over the years, your husband will break your heart. Over and over again. You'll see.
In four weddings a funeral, the boy didn't marry the girl even though they lived happily ever after.
Juliet died, Romeo took the poison, then darn it! She's back to life.
Seems like the more I see it, the more I feel like there's always the twist at the end.
Whatever happen to sleeping beauty after she got married to her prince?
We'd never know if she'd get along with the in-laws. If she gained a lot of weight and the prince went for someone younger and slimmer.

I don't doubt my boyfriend, in fact I do believe that he is the one. If there is such thing as the one. But then again everybody who set foot in a church or mosque or temple or marriage court or reception building.... wherever they held the ceremony, most likely have the same belief as I do that the person standing (or kneeling) next to them is the one.
Yet,... Tom divorced Nicole, J-Lo dumped Ben and Nelson Mandela is a widower.
I was told by my boyfriend that he read that the highest percentage of divorce reason falls under: financial problem.
I thought: really? I thought it'll be for something more obvious like infidelity,... or STD (which lead to the suspicion to infidelity anyway). Because that would be the most painful heart aching scenario, I would thought. But, maybe then most people would rather got STD than being poor.

Now, why would I still getting married after all this rambling?
Being a sceptical one once myself, I do wonder.
And I don't have an answer.
But I'll be damn if I don't try, jump down, dive and test the water.
Like the rest of the fools in love.
Because for every commotion like J-Lo and Ben, there's a Charles and Camilla.
Even when the rest of the world glare at them, I don't think they care.
And, they live happily ever after.
Then I shall, live up to the possibility that I will too live happily ever after, with better fashion sense, hairdo and without stealing someone else's husband.

Amen...

Today I went to my boyfriend's sister's house for her birthday party.
She is married to an American guy, and she invited her friends, who mainly are married to American guys.
Actually... to be honest, the only women in the party with Asian dates/spouses are: me and my boyfriend's mom, which made the party interesting actually, because most of the American guys don't speak Indonesian and the ladies were talking in mixed language, Indonesian and English.
I sat there amongst them, strangely feeling deeply intrigued.
I observed the language and tried to dissect the sentences, how much the English was used and how much the Indonesian. Then I tried to think if English only was enough to make the sentences make sense to those who don't speak Indonesian.
Interesting. The guys did seem to understand by the nod here and there.

Although, one of the American men actually lived in Jakarta for almost 10 years. That one guy spoke Indonesian, good one, with slang words, saying "Nggak" instead of "tidak".
Then, I don't know who started first, those American guys started talking about their experience in Indonesia.
Some of the guys have actually been to more places than I am, an Indonesian citizen. one has been to basically everywhere in Indonesia, including the island outside of Java.

He was comparing experience with another guy who's been to Ujung Pandang. He mentioned sitting by the sea shore in pure darkness and just consumed by the little lights of fisherman boat. He bought a boat and went to the sea. He talked about the air, the breeze, the street vendors. How he learned about the different sounds of the passing food vendors and guessed what they were selling.
Took a becak ride and felt so bad for the becak guy. The other guy even offered to take turns to pedal the becak (I kid you not).
How he snorkeled in glass clear Bunaken sea.
How he loves Jakarta, every single section offeres something that is totally different.
Indonesia is muggy, hot, humid, but it is much alive.
It is a very lively place.
They laughed, they talked and they were being very passionate, warm hearted with their memories, just like talking about a hometown. How they bought 'ikat' fabric directly from and old lady whose hand were tainted by natural indigo. Then they visited Jepara and were in awe with the wood works. How one of them learned how to love durian (It took several try), and still couldn't stand jengkol.

The more they talked the more I missed home.
And for the gazillion times, I feel sad about all the things I need to sacrifice to be here.
And there, right there, he said, his home is Indonesia, "That's my kampung".
I just smiled, but think "Dude, ... I feel you, man... I totally know what you mean."
And the homesickness crept in.

Wives and Lovers

Get this:

Day after day,
There are girls at the office,
And men will always be men.
Don't send him off
With your hair still in curlers.
You may not see him again.

For wives should always be lovers, too.
Run to his arms the moment he comes home to you.
He's almost here.

That is a chunk of lyric from 'Wives and Lovers'.
1963.
I wonder really, what's up with that lyric. And that part about men will be men, is very discouraging for someone who is getting married, like... me.
If that is a song coming out today, women will beat the heck out of the composer.

And who is the composer, one might ask.
He is the one and only Burt Bacharach.
Ironic, actually, because I love his music so much, he's like demi-God for me. Don't know him? Well I bet you know these:
The Look of Love
Do you know the way to San Jose
Close to You
Walk on By
I say a Little Prayer
Raindrops keep falling on my head
Alfie (yes, also the soundtrack of that movie about that good for nothing playboy)
and the list goes on.

Another question was, how did his wife treat him after the release of that song?
I, myself, might:
A. Put curlers everytime he's around just to annoy him
B. Give him the spare key so he can open his own door.
C. Put on make up and find another guy
D. Find a job and flirt with other men
E. Divorce him and get half of whatever he is worth
F. Pull that 'girls will be girls' stunt (cat-fight his face off)

I greet my boyfriend without make up, let alone a dress and I also demand a hug (sometimes).

So Burt, you're talented and loaded, but if we're living in the same era and I'm some hot shot big somebody that you have a crush on, I'd still going to have to say no way Jose.

Bye bye Greg

Greg Maddux is leaving Chicago.
Now, first of all... what do I know about baseball anyway? Besides all the rambling from my boyfriend about his frustration on his beloved Chicago Cubs.
I don't consider myself to be a baseball fan, and I might not be writing this right, but one thing I know is that I think Chicago Tribune sucks. For a company that owns and runs a major league baseball team, it should run it as a fan. Rooting for it, bet their lives against it, rather than keep on trading people to get... what? A better deal? It's all back to the money, huh?
Chicago tribune doesn't give a damn whether the club loses or not. All they know is that, sucks or not, the Cubs is a well oiled machine. It's a garden beer, might be the only place where you can drink in broad daylight without anyone judging you.
I'm pissed.
I'm very upset.
I don't even know why I'm upset.
Maybe also because Greg Maddux is one of the coolest, most good looking pitcher I've ever seen.
Sigh...
And the curse continues...
Bring in the goat.

Inked Up?

"... Maybe you can stop by and get inked up. Cool?"

An ex-coworker, emailed me and asked if I want to join her tattoo party.

I don't think I will ever want to get 'inked up'. I used to think I want one, but then my boyfriend said, if I get one, he might get one too. Not sure if he's joking or not, but the thought of my boyfriend get 'inked up' is not necessarily thrilling, I like him tattoo-less.
Besides, there's a needle involved in the process. Not a big fan of poking myself unnecessarily.

I once asked a friend whose boyfriend had several tattoo and one of them was a dragon: " Have you ever think that when he gets old, the dragon might shrink into a worm?"
I really think it was a legitimate question, but she laugh out loud thinking it was a joke.

Well, anyway,... another weekend went by and I, the slave, will have to start again tomorrow.
Sigh, the joy of being an adult.

I remember campus.
Not the one in Chicago.
But the one on the other side of the world.
I had long hair, then I cut it short.
I remember sleepless night before presentations.
I was never a public speaker. I knew what to say, but the silence got in the way. Froze my words.
I remember scheduled Saturday calls, with a high school sweetheart. I sent him letters.
He sent me tapes.
I loved him. But then I grew apart. Adulthood crawled in and shoved me questions after questions.
Doubt after doubt.
Then I stopped loving him. I loved someone else.
I cared, but no longer loved.

I remember feeling guilty. I let him still called me once in a while.
Drunken with alcohol and emotion. Called me names, profanity, breaking appliances, then hung up on me.
I bore it, because I crushed him, and hence, I deserved it.
Then I got heartbroken.
Karma came instantly.
I was tired of deception, arguments, anger, tears and courtship.
I remember I swore off men.
And I went away from it all. Started fresh in a tiny empty apartment with a view to a parking lot.

I started with 2 friends. Both picked me up at the airport.
Six luggages.
I sent my parents home and I didn't cry.
Then I have another friend. And old acquaintance.
He called for old time sake. Then we met up.
I remember going to the lakeside. All I talked was my heart and how it scarred.
He's a good listener. Mainly because, he didn't judge. Didn't take side. He just sat and listened.
Then we all start having weekly fun, me, him and another old friend. We were best friends. We still are.

I remembered ended any form of communication from the past.
I was done mourning.
I also remembered noticing one morning that I was no longer angry. No longer in pain. No longer hating.
I read somewhere a long long time ago: The opposite of love is not hate. It's ignorance.
I no longer hated him.
I just didn't care anymore.

Then one boring day, I randomly chatted with someone.
Amazingly we had something in common.
My high school sweetheart.
Then the mystery was revealed. He wasn't faithful anyway.
Parties and girls.
To think about all the blame I bore myself of that breakup, bore his anger by the phone. All the name callings.
I was angry but relieved. Life is weird, I hadn't even been in any chat room in years but that day.
So he deserved being dump after all.

Then I remember enjoying being single.
Single-hood is awesome. I don't get why some people get nervous being single.
Then almost after a year, I remember a first kiss after the third bottle.
Then dates.
Puzzled on why he didn't sway and swoon me with words.
Amazed by how I could still feel he cared.
That was new for me. I couldn't explain.
I remember ice skating, drowning in the city lights. Picnic by the lake shore. Learning guitar.
I remember feeling loved and most importantly, happy.
I think I know why fate let me had all that heartbreaks.
So I get smarter and smarter when choosing for 'the one'. It is tricky. Sometimes we are blinded by the bling bling from outside, mislead and we overlook the inside.
But not anymore.

I have graduated.
I got an A.
A plus.

Chain of Thoughts

So, Okay, last weekend might be one of the weirdest weekend I've ever had, though, alas, I can't really completely reveal why it was so damn surreal but exiting and tense and interesting.
I, for the first time paid attention to that Hummer commercial. Guess what their motto is.
"Restore your Manhood"
Hahaha... I'm sorry, it feels like Hummer actually implies that it is the ultimate panacea of your manhood problem.
Buy it. Then you're a stud.
Funny enough that I once read somewhere that the more you show off about your car, the bigger problem you have inside. Because the big car, is the compensation of what you are lacking of.
Got it?
Wink.
Do you really want to buy a car that implies that you are trying to "restore your manhood"?
Anyway,... I went to a friend's place and weight myself in the bathroom (because I'm too afraid to buy myself one and get obsessive over it).
And Oh... holy cow...
I AM a cow.
I really need to get some exercise and cut down on dim sum. Seriously. I think that's what killing me the most. Chinese food. Oh how I luuuvvv dim sum. And I don't exercise. Bad. Baaaaad.
The mystery of my shrinking pants was revealed. They didn't shrink. I expanded.
Bloody hell...
Someone promised not to touch alcohol again. Ever. EVER. And I have to respect that and drink all the booze by myself. But what is the fun of drinking by myself? I'll find out.
And lastly, I hurt my right arm and wrist playing too much PS2. My wicked boyfriend played halfway and when it got to the difficult part, he went home and asked me to finish it up. Nice. So I played and played, and got butchered, over and over and over again.
Now I think I have carpal tunnel. It's either that, or I am a hypochondriac, because I also think that I am an obsessive compulsive, anemic and have arthritis.