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.