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.