It's My Birthday!!!

The morning of my birthday, three days ago, I woke up and logged in to check my emails. I found many greetings and birthday wishes from my friends and family. It made me smile.
I got a message in facebook from one of my much older cousins. She wished me a birthday wish and said that she's wishing to God that I would have kids soon.
I was wincing while thinking, uhm... that is presumptuous of her to think I want kids right away. And even went ahead praying for that.
For one, I haven't had my grandeur wedding reception like my parents want. My mom would be livid. But then, I can tell her, well, blame my cousin, Tina, who's been talking to God about it. She's the culprit.
I chuckled thinking about it.

Well, I am thirty-three now. BUT despite that, I am thankful for all of God's blessings. And it is the first time that I am celebrating my birthday with a husband.
I have accepted and no longer in denial, that I do see more lines on the corners of my eyes. And I am in the market for some anti-aging cream... or some eye cream, possibly. Although, I'm not willing to pay for those hundreds of dollars worth of cream in tiny winy jar.

I also chatted with my sister (who is 7 years older than me) on Yahoo.
I said: I feel old.
And her answer was: Are you mocking me?
Which gave me the perspective that I was not that old. And actually a week before my birthday, ChicagoDimCorner's church just celebrated the birthday of its oldest member. A ninety-freaking-seven year old grandpa. His name is Don Taylor. Don has a really good memory. I'll say even better than mine. He remembers people and their stories. He is still capable of driving, painting his house and fixing his basement.
That's the way to live when you are ninety something, don't you think?

I couldn't really enjoy my birthday this time because it is just a day away from the fateful immigration hearing for ChicagoDimCorner, which turned out to be not that fateful anyway as it was postponed for another three weeks.

But anyway, I think the funniest thing someone said to me on my birthday was when my friend David said: Thirty three? Jesus died when he was thirty-three. And Tammy, his wife, dropped her head and shook it in disbelief that he just said that.

And the most touching was when my not-romantic and non-elaborate husband asked me to pray together with him and in the prayer he thanked God for bringing me into his life.

Touched. Yes, I was.

The forecast said it's going to be flurry on Thursday.
Sigh... that's it. Winter is here.

Mrs. ChicagoDimCorner?

We got married on November 5th. It was a Thursday, so I took a day off and was back to work on Friday.
It was a very small ceremony, if you even consider it a ceremony.
We went to the courthouse in Joliet, IL and paid $10. We waited for an hour and then a judge in an empty court room read us stuff, asked us the question. We said I do. Then we repeated after the judge, vowing to stick by each other, through sickness and health, richer and poorer, yada yada...
Then we kissed.
We took pictures.
And off we went to eat.

It could've been a more pleasant day, without all of the drama that was going on between me and my parents.
Without my dad's push on the (again) prenup and his extravagant, impersonal and expensive ideas on the wedding reception while I want a small one.
Without my mom's silence treatment to me and her risen up blood pressure when I suggested (just a suggestion!) that we just have a pastor blesses us here instead of in Jakarta.
Again... just a suggestion!!!
And she was so dissapointed, with tears, she demanded to have a wedding reception back home.
Uhm... this is just a suggestion, by the way, no need to get all freaked out.
Sigh, I really began to think that my wedding was their fantasy wedding. A big Cinderella wedding that they didn't have.

I don't know if I have always been this private, but that last scene in Runaway Bride is the perfect scenario for me. Just the the wedding officiant, the bride and the groom, on top of a green hill.
Perfect.
But of course, that didn't happen. And it will not happen.

I'm happy to be married to ChicagoDimCorner, though. I have never been so sure about anything else in my life, despite my brother's separation from his wife, Prince Charles' infidelity, Tom Cruise's and Nicole Kidman's divorce, Jessica Simpson and Nick Lachey, Britney Spears and Kevin Federline, Jennifer Anniston and Brad Pitt, Elizabeth Taylor's and Richard Burton (twice!).
I'm sure we will be the anomaly, and will surpass all the hurdles in life.

That afternoon, we took Bandit to the doctor because he had eye infection. That's why if you see in all my civil wedding pictures, Bandit was squinting.
The trip to the doctor was short but that was the first time that day that I have some time alone with my husband, without relatives, without cameras, without people nagging about anything.
I said to him: So... do I refer to you as my husband now? Or still a fiance?
ChicagoDimCorner said firmly: Husband, of course.
Then I asked: And as what are you going to refer me?
He said: my woman.
I said: Hm,... fine... just like a caveman, huh? Grunt.. grunt.. my woman. By the way, I want to change my name. My dad asked if I'm going to change it to my last name hyphen your last name. But, I think I'm going to strip off my last name, and adopt yours completely.
He just smiled and said jokingly, whichever you will comfortable with, woman.

After the doctor visit, we walked to a small pathway in the woods right next to the doctor's office. We walked there in silence with Bandit, we held hands. And it dawned to me, I got married. I got married to a guy who loves me and understands my quirks and, let's face it, accepts my other hundred of mental disorders.

And it doesn't really matter what other people want, at the end of the day, when all the people are gone, it will be only me, ChicagoDimCorner and Bandit.
Nothing else matters.
And now, we are a family.
And in the chilly air in the woods, I felt warmth in my chest.

Fifth day.... will passed in 10 minutes.

Only the fourth day, and I need a hug.
Fourteen more days to go.

Who's getting married?

My boyfriend's lawyer dropped the news bomb a few weeks ago. ChicagoDimCorner's greencard process has moved along and now... he doesn't have to wait anymore to get married.

We. Are. Free. To. Get. Married.

In fact, if we get married before the time he has to go to the immigration judge at the end of December, I would immediately get my GC also (if he is granted his GC, of course).

I remember that day, we went out for lunch after his meeting with his lawyer, and he didn't have any appetite.
Not me though. I ate quite a lot. It was good Thai food.

Anyhow.... I told my parents about the news, of course, and they were packing their luggage right then and there and they will be back here, in less than two weeks to witness the two seconds moment of me signing the marriage certificate. I told them it's no big deal. It's not that we are really getting married. Well,.. yeah, legally I am married, the significance of that is that next year I will file a join tax with CDC and hopefully get more tax return. But we don't have a pastor to marry us, there will be nothing really, just a strategy for my immigration status.
But nooo.... they have booked their tickets and took care of their Japan visa for their overnight transits in Tokyo. They are all set!
Three times in a year, this year that they visit.
I love them to death.... it's just that.. uhm,.. the interval keeps getting shorter and shorter and my days off are skimpy now. Also, I have gotten used to living alone that having house guests seems... sigh... hard.
My dad loves to talk to me in the morning, right at the moment I go downstairs from my room in the morning, when my social capability is totally invalid. Like a computer that is still booting but the user is already trying to logon to Yahoo messenger.

Now, again, I love my parents, but I envision some bloodbath along the way towards my wedding day. My mom suggested, again, that I have prenup.
Also I just heard from my sister that my dad has chosen the color for my wedding in 2010.
It's pink if you're wondering.
And since the news, they have been driving around Jakarta visiting luxurious hotels asking for price quotes, checking out ballrooms, taking notes on the wedding packages.
They went to survey the wedding favors yesterday with my godmother.
My dad wants the guys (including my poor fiance) to wear bowtie. I don't know if it occurs in his mind to ask what my fiance would've like to wear. I think that what bugs me the most. The not asking and just deciding part.
Oh, and I found out from my sister that my mom might not have let go of the idea that we have TWO wedding ceremonies.
One is for the Seventh Day adventist ceremony, the other one is the Catholic ceremony.
Chatolic... hm,... a religion I have not thought about in.. let's see... since high school.
See, my mom is a Budhist, so... sigh... why insist on having a Catholic ceremony?
I can just see that when they come here in less than two weeks and we start to have the wedding preparation conversation, I will walk out the room as the most insolent, difficult, ungrateful daughter they have. They will switch and make my sister their favorite instead.

You see, I want to be married with CDC. The concept is that I want to have a day that I spend with the people I love and care about, celebrating us, being fools, getting married.
While my parents want to throw the wedding reception of the century.

Ow.. and my dad wanted to book Elfa Secioria as my wedding band. Who? My American friends might ask. That band is like the most popular big band, very popular in the 80-ies.

Sometimes I don't know who's getting married.
I'm so confused.

My parents have turned into Parentzillas.

Food For Thought

To my defense... I had that face because my brother trained me to make ugly faces upon request.

100,000 More Times If I Need To

This has been a weird summer.
It's cool like April.
And it's been April since 4 months ago.
I switched my comforter to a thicker one a few days ago, it went down to the 40-ies at night, believe it or not. The world is nearing the end.
Well, enough about the weather.
Today, I am going to share something that is really personal about my family.
My brother has separated from his wife. After more than 12 years of marriage, he left his house and rent a one bedroom condo on the other side of the city almost a couple of months ago.
I have been holding my breath for quite a while, and it finally happened. And I am glad, to be honest.
But I am weeping inside.
I don't know how I feel. Ideally I want him to have a family. To be near his children, but life is f***ing unfair. And it's either you fall and cry on the side of the road, or you wipe your useless tears and keep moving.

My brother is the one of the few that I truly unconditionally love. The soft spot in my heart, my hero, my friend, my idol, almost my everything, (if I don't have ChicagoDimCorner).
I cannot express in words how strong of an influence he is all my life. I look up to him since as long as my memory serves me.

But then again, like I said, life is a bitch. And you just have to play the cards you're dealt.

He's not perfect. But for me he is a perfect brother. And I am privileged.

My parents... they love me, I know. I feel it. But we don't say I love you to each other out loud. I never said how much I love my brother. Ever. Out loud. I wonder, would it be weird if I do that?
I told ChicagoDimCorner, when we have children, I want to be able to express to them how much I love them, in words.

And in the helplessness that I felt, I prayed. I have been praying a lot for him. Oh God, please give him strength and wisdom and peace and clarity of mind and most of all happiness. Please be with him. Please. Please. Please. Please....
And I will pray 100,000 more times until I know for sure that God listens and grants my pleas.

I don't know how big the psychological impact would be for his children. But he is doing his best, he is a good father, he has always been, like he's a good brother to me.
Again, in my helplessness all I can do is pray for his children.

I don't know what the atheists do when they have problems. When it seems like there is no way out, and everything is just hopeless and you have no friends and you need help. Because, for me, I pray.

When he moved out of his house, my mom was all tensed, nervous and fell in deep pity for him.
Your poor bother, who's going to cook for him, poor thing, how is he going to take care of himself, who's going to do his laundry. Sigh... the apartment is very small, too small for even one person. Blah blah blah...

And so I said to my mom, in a very composed, together and calm manner, that she should be glad that he's left. That he is getting his independence back. His sanity back. His freedom. His peace of mind. That's he's standing up for himself and we shouldn't be too involved in little details.
We should let him take care of this by himself, after all, he's a 41 year old very capable adult.
We all just need to pray and tell him that we are there for him. He's going to be just fine.

But then, I hung up the phone with my mom and I started crying, oh my God, who is going to cook him meals, do his laundry, is the apartment furnished? Does he sleep on the floor at night. Oh my God, please help him.

But I think God did hear me. He is doing fine. He's getting his life back together, he wakes up in the morning not feeling like crap anymore.
And the apartment is furnished. He has a very nice and comfy-looking bed.

But still I am praying... 100,000 more if I need to. Just to see him happy.

The Crystal Merchant Inspired Me Not To End Up Like Him

I just finished The Alchemist last week. Part of my New Year Resolution, the 2009 one, if anyone wonders, is to find a hobby. A hobby other than slouching on the couch and watch TV until it's time to go to bed.
And hence the reading.

I love fables.
And though I don't really 100% agree with what Coelho said in that book, I appreciate his work.
The book is somewhat a reality bitch-slap for me though.
I do have a job.
But is it really something that I want to do?
In the book (okay,... spoiler alert for those who want to read the Alchemist, but haven't), there was a old crystal merchant who have a shop. A long time ago, when he was young, being the devoted Moslem that he is, he always wanted to go to Mecca. But he thought that he wanted to work and be rich first so that he can afford a trip to Mecca.
It was tens of years ago and every year he sees people passing by with their caravans, going to Mecca. Even people who were poorer than him.
Their faces were happy. Because they were going to Mecca.
And now he's old, and all his life, the one thing that keeps him going is the thought that one day he will go to Mecca, but now that he can afford it, he is afraid.
If he goes to Mecca, then after that, what would he be looking forward to in life?

I don't want to be that old man.

I want to go to my 'Mecca', as early as I can.
Why wait? I don't even know if I am still breathing tomorrow.
Well, hopefully I will. I have an early and important meeting with some clients.

I need to figure out what I want in life. Is being an IT whore (pardon my curse) really what I want to do? Is it what I aspired to be?

I have a friend who was just diagnosed with Lymphoma. It is basically a type of cancer. She called me and told me the biopsy result and instead of consoling her, I bursted into tears, I was so heartbroken. She's such a sweetheart. She was the one who then consoled me (nice going, Bluecactus).
But it got me think about life, and how uncertain it is. And I have been counting my blessings ever since and try to be positive. And it is hard, you know, because complaining is so darn easy. When you have an idiot as a boss, for example. (Insert smiley face).

But I am not waiting anymore. I want to live life to the fullest. It doesn't mean, clubbing every night, drink, try all the illegal drugs, swing from a stripper pole. But to live right, to take care of my own mental and physical health.
Plan to execute my forgotten life goals.
Do charity. try to be kind, be patient, be strong, be wise.
Live, love, laugh, people often say.
Then hopefully at the end of the day, I will have no regrets.

They Are BACK! In Full Blast Nonetheless

My mom and dad is coming to visit me again.
Yes, they will arrive tomorrow. I will pick them up, drive them home, give them my room and entertain them for a whole month.
I will retreat to the guest room. I can't put them in the guest room, it's next to ChicagoDimCorner's room and my dad snores like there's no tomorrow.
They'll be back home on the 3rd of August.
I already counted, it's 24 days of full interaction.

Twenty four days.

I am an introvert. I really value my time alone without interaction with other human beings, and I'm so terrified that I will go crazy with constant human interaction 24/7. I need my alone time to read books, to wind down, to reset my sanity which everyday got shattered by the outrageous lunacy which unfortunately I have to interact with.
And my mom would burst into my room in the morning declaring that the breakfast is ready. I'm weeping inside just thinking about it.

It is actually kinda surprising to see that my parents cannot cope well as empty-nesters. I would think that they would blow us, the kids, kisses and say "Toodles, kids, we're going around the world in a full year, or two, eat caviar, sunbathing at the beach. Don't wait up!" But, apparently not. Sadly said, in their mind, I have been the same 17 year-old daughter of them. I have been seventeen for the past 15 years.

My mom said, "When I visited you last December, I saw the bathrobe you have was the old one that you have been having for years. I'm going to buy you a new one and bring it to Chicago."
Sigh...
"Huh? What's wrong with it, Mom? It's fine, I never use it anyway and I can buy it myself. Don't bring me anything, travel in style, travel light."

And last week, she just suggested that I have a prenupt before getting married, which confuses me because I'm not rich, and I don't have any weathly, sickly old relative who favors me tremendously.
Also, does she think that I have a big chance to have a divorce?
I'm trying to be in her shoes and think of reasons why she would think that I need one.
"Hm,... this kid of mine has always been the unstable one, always use feelings never logic. I need to step in."
Or, "This ChicagoDimCorner looks like a crook, and he's marrying my daughter, I better tell her to separate her assets."
Or, "It looks like it's the 'in' thing to do these days for young couple, so-and-so kids are doing it, her cousin did it, eeehhh... maybe I'll tell her to do the same."
I know she meant well.
But I'm just,... you know... speechless.
I finally said, I think about it.
And I hope this will never come up again.

To-Do List Before I Die

I have bought myself several empty journals in this month.
First because I was reading Eat, Pray, Love and I thought to myself, I should have a book just like the author where I can write to God, and have conversations with Him. Especially when I'm feeling sad, or confused or in need of a friend that no mere mortals can console.
So I went and came back with a journal.
I have started writing in it. Yeah, already I did. Apparently I have dormant worries, confusion, concerns in life. I also have some friends I wanted to mention in my journal. I call this book as my Prayer Journal.
Another book I bought yesterday. Now this one I call as my Thoughts and Inspiration Journal. This is where I think I would write about my goals, where I want to be in life, focus in life, anything... basically to keep my perceptions in check as a third person.
The first entry I wrote was: Things I Want To Do Before I Die...
Luckily I did not put some number, like, the 10 things I want to do before I die. I found out that I am so boring, I can't even reached 10. I stopped at number 7 and I stared blankly at it, unable to dig in within me, what I want to do for number 8.
But anyway, maybe it was the hunger (I'm trying to eat less, yes... doctor's order... gosh darn it), maybe I need some sleep.
So... here we go,... The Things I Want To Do Before I Die...
1. Sky Diving (I know... I know... I keep on thinking about it and do nothing about it).
2. Go to Japan and explore their culture (Been there, never really go to the rural traditional parts of it).
3. Have kids and teach them well in life (I think this would be my biggest legacy in life, the hardest yet, I would imagine, the most rewarding). And I would underline the teach them well in life part. The having kids part, I think would be piece of cake. :)
4. Paint an oil painting and proudly hang it in my house.
5. Go to Alaska
6. Learn pottery and make some pottery objects that I can call my creations.
7. Have a series of professionally-taken self portraits before having a baby so I can cherish them later when I am old and toothless (hopefully not toothless... but you never know)That's it!
I know I want to travel, but I have yet to dig in more.

And No, I don't want to try bungee jumping, I think when I die, instead, I would be glad I duck out of it. And I don't know why it's so different (in my mind) than sky diving. I guess, I'm afraid that the rope would snap.

Anyway... enough about me. Anyone wants to share your to-do list before you die?

The Size Of His Nostrils

You know...
When my best friend at work exclaimed while reading Yahoo! news, "Whoa,... Michael Jackson was found not breathing and was rushed to the hospital!"
All I said was, "Well, who can breathe anyway with that size of nostrils."
But then he actually died and today I felt bad that my last comment about a person before his death was a mockery on his facial weirdness.

A Day In The Life

Today I worked remotely from home.
I set my cellphone alarm at 6 AM, thinking that I would still be pretty much in a comma for the next half hour.
Then I forced myself up. Then I ran with Bandit around the block, then feed him.
Then I showered.
After that, I ate a couple slices of cinnamon raisin bread (I don't know why I like it while I'm never really a bread person, I think it's a seasonal thing, it'll be over in a week and I'll be back in disliking bread and worshiping potatoes and noodles).
Then I logged on to the office's network.
People from work, mostly the India team, started to call me through the IM one by one with their problems/questions/requests.
I'm their big mama at work, whether I like it or not.
Then some even called.
Then I did some conference calls.
Then we had some issues which needed immediate resolutions.
Solved.
I took Bandit out so that he can do his business.
Then I called my mortgage broker to talk about my refinancing.
Today ChicagoDimCorner and I refinanced our house.
We put 20 thousands more so that we can pay our house sooner.
We're broke and poor now. Broke broke broke.
But, it's all good.
I went to the Bank and got a money order for the refinancing.
The lady from the title company came and we settled the refinancing.

We are then twenty something thousands poorer now than this morning.

I worked some more.

Then we went to the post office and walked the dog, then we cooked dinner, which was supposed to resembled some Cuban meal we had when we were in New York.
It was good. I love the mango salsa part.

Watched some TV.

And here I am.
Tired.
I feel like an adult and I'm tired.

All I think about is to be able to not exercise but still feel good about myself, not having to work, not having to think about mortgage, refinancing, balancing my checkbook, cook my own meal.

And now I have to go to bed, so that tomorrow morning I can do it all over again.

Encounter with Marni

I called my mom earlier today in the evening (which means their morning time the next day), but I was a little bit too late because they had already gone for their 'out-of-town' weekend with their friends and some of my aunts.
I knew that my mom has a new maid at home, and it was her who answered the phone.
She picked up and said hello as if she's actually screaming it from my house in Jakarta, through the sound wave, traveling the pacific ocean, directly to my ear, here, in Bolingbrook, IL, USA.
So I asked for my mom and she said, oh they have left for the weekend already. She asked me who I am, and I answered, I'm the daughter.
And then enthusiastically, she said " OH!!! YES! MISS LINA!!!! RIGHT?"
And I said, no, I'm Miss Lina's younger sister (while thinking, this was all moot. I didn't really need to explain the family tree to her, while I knew that my mom wasn't there anyway).
And she said, "OOOHH... YES... YES..."
And I don't know why, I continued by saying "The one in the America."
And, gee... did she get excited. She said, "OHHH... SO THIS IS FROM AMERICA??!!!! OOOH... HELLO MISS!!! MISS, MY NAME IS MARNI, I'M NEW HERE, I JUST STARTED HERE FROM LAST WEEK!!! MADAM MENTIONED THAT SHE IS GOING THERE TO AMERICA NEXT WEEK, RIGHT??!!"
Whoa... wait a second...
Now... Marni absolutely threw the bomb there so I said, "Huh? Really? I don't know...."
"YES!!"
"Well, Marni, alright then, I will call them on their cell-phone"
"YES... YES..."
And so I hung up.

I texted my dad, I said: I heard from Marni, the new maid, that you are coming here next week (Like Marni is my new BFF, and like coming here meaning like from Jakarta going to Puncak).

So he called me and we talked a little, and he told me that they might.
But definitely not next week.
Maybe sometime this year.

Huh... that Marni is a riot. Though I have to fact-checked her statements and I think she needs to use her indoor voice, I think she's amusing.

Gotta Make Them The Same Size

I had a dream that it was my wedding day and my hairdo was a pair of buns on the lower sides of my head, right above my neck.
And one bun was bigger than the other.

Okay, first of all,... the hairdo was uuuggly.

But nevermind that...
More than anything, I, who likes everything divided equally in the middle, felt like my OCD was kicking in (yes, even in my dream).
I tried so hard to, either make one bigger or the other one smaller but I couldn't and the event organizer popped his head in and said: Come on. It's time. You're walking down the aisle. Now!

And I started cursing in my head and start running down the aisle (still cursing in my head),... then I woke up.

Now,... what the heck does that mean?

I tried to tell my boyfriend about it, but he just laughed and laughed... especially at the part where I tried to make the stupid buns have the same size.

I looked old, she said...

Wow... I had some kind of Lorelai Gilmore v.s Emily Gilmore moment a couple of days ago when I talked to my mom on the phone.
I don't know if I am being sensitive or what, but it was quite something:

Mom: I saw your vacation pictures the other day. Your hair is really long now. And you don't look good when you are wearing your hair down like that. You look better with your hair tied up.
Me: Yes, mom. I know you never like my hair long. You like my hair short. But I am growing my hair so I can donate it.
Mom: That's fine. But, tie the hair. Your face does not look nice with the hair down like that. You look old. Actually older than you actually are. You look like you are at least 35.
(Ouch... )
Silence....
Me: Sooo... are you going somewhere fun today?

The After-Math of my Vacation

I went on a vacation last week for a few days leaving the never-get-warm weather of the Midwest and headed to the east coast. I went to Washington DC and New York. I flew there and met up with my boyfriend who was already there for some (yawn..) Church seminar, then we drove from Washington DC to New York and then back to Chicago.
It was a much needed vacation as I haven't been to one since a long time. The vacation I had last December when my parents were here didn't count, as I had the big task and pressure to please the guests and make sure that they had a good time.
And the year before, I went home to Jakarta and that was also not at all a vacation, as I had the big task and pressure to please my family and my boyfriend's and make sure everyone had a piece of my time.
But this time. It's just me and what I want to do together with my boyfriend.

After arriving back to my home sweet home, I did quite a lot of self-assessment. Involuntarily, if I may add because it made my head spins, but I thought I jot them down:

One and foremost: I love traveling. It's like finding a dormant hobby that I never knew existed. Ten years ago, when I still lived with my parents, they traveled quite a lot and I got dragged to places, from Hong Kong to Hawaii to Tokyo to Vegas. I didn't mind that, but I can't remember ecstatically embracing it. Now I know that I LOVE traveling. But... without the tour guide, without a schedule, without a chartered bus, without the polite chit-chat with the fellow tour members,... AND without my family. And that makes me feel guilty, because, I know how much my mom loves traveling with me.
Am I being mean and insensitive?
I still need to figure out why that is.
My mom has been asking me to join her and my dad to their Europe trip, possibly this year. And they were saying a couple of weeks ago that they, might be going back here to my place and wanted me to join them to Florida this summer, and also to see the Niagara falls from the Canada side. And for all of those offers, I tried to fake enthusiasm... but I actually cringed inside.
I'm so going to hell.


Second conclusion of my self-assessment: I find out that for once, in many years, I did not check my emails and I was fine. I checked my emails (the personal ones) only once for the entire trip and only replied to one person, and that person was you, Daniel, and it was a short one too.
I did not even log in to the work emails. And I was okay with it. Being away from work actually fix my perspective on life.
How my work is not my life, and it shouldn't be.
How I should work hard and play harder.
That I should live up to my favorite quote I put in my facebook page: "Just living is not enough" said the butterfly,"one must have sunshine, freedom and a little flower."

Third, is that I'm old. It took my entire weekend to recuperate from the tiring trip and lots and lots of sleep. Granted, I did a lot of walking, miles and miles of walking, but still, I used to be fine after a day of rest.
I'm no seventeen year-old anymore. I just have to accept that in two years, I will be a seventeen year old times two.

Fourth, my dog, Bandit is a big-time spoiled-rotten rascal. I was lucky enough to find a lady who was willing to take care of him. Bless her heart. She's an angel and Bandit really tested her. He chased both of her cats back to the bedroom, for 5 days the cats never got out from there. She took him for a drive and he barked at people. One time he got away from the leash while she took him out to do his 'business'. He ran around the park jovially while the lady almost got a heart-attack thinking that he would run away.
The lady gave me a book to read, and I didn't took it in a wrong way, because I know Bandit has issues and I think I'm a big part of the root-cause. And according to the book, a dog needs to have exercise, discipline and affection. In that order. And I have been doing it backwards, if not only giving him the last part.
And now I'm terrified that I will subconsciously do the same thing to my future kids and they will grow up to be the pompous jackasses that I bumped into all my life and that I hate.
Sigh,.. one more thing to put in my worry-wart list.

I told my boyfriend once, I hate it that I am so complicated. Sometimes I think maybe, being a blond empty-headed ditsy gal for a day won't hurt at all. I think they sleep peacefully at night without worries. Me? I never have a dreamless sleep since I was in the 6th grade.
But anyway, if I have the chance to be that gal, let's do it over the weekend when I am not on-call.
You know, I still want to keep my job.

I'm leaving

I'm going on vacation... I packed my sundress, my hat and my bathing suit.
And I got like 5 different shoes for a four day vacation.
I know it's crazy, but I'm vacationing in style.
Sue me...

And I'm not sorry

It was very liberating.
It was scary but it was, indeed, liberating.

When I click the send button to send an email to my dad.... That email was an explanation of my point of view, which was very much opposing his. Well, basically that email underlined my disagreement with him. And as I clicked the button, that was my point of no return.
And I was in 'in omnia paratus' mode.

I thought to myself, I can be this obedient daughter suppressing my opinions and be agreeable... or I can take a major leap and let my opinion be heard.

I did not send the email to argue back with my dad. I just want him to understand that I have a different opinion. And we can agree to disagree. But oh, man, did he take it the wrong way.
I made a rule for myself not to send an email when I am angry. I can compose it while I was fuming... but I will not send it. And I do play by that rule. But apparently not my dad. And I can tell that his reply would be my very first draft of an angry email.

But strangely... despite all of that, I felt liberated.
I'm not vengeful. I don't feel the need to retaliate.
But most importantly, I don't regret sending the first email.

And I'm not sorry.

And, yes, I love my dad. This is just me outlining my own pathway. And I really mean, my own.

I just told my gossipy boss that I don't want to know any details about my coworkers unless it is related to my work as a team leader.

The office environment has become he-said she-said cross stories left wing, right wing. It's disgusting.
I didn't care about office politics then when I was an oppressed bottom feeder and I don't care about it now, when I'm somewhat not too oppressed anymore.

Okay, enough about the office.
Did I mention that my mom wants to have polonaise dance on my wedding?
Yeah, the corny dance from the last century. Where the couples line up and hold up their hands together, locking fingers with their partners and the couple at the end of the line have to go through under the tunnel of hands to the other side.
And as much as I love classic big band music, gosh, I hate Rod Stewart's Greatest America's Songbooks. He sold his soul (and dignity) for easy money, and of course... my dad has all of his corny songs. And I'm so afraid that he will insist that we have our father daughter dance with one of those horrific songs.

I know I'm bitching and there are hungry people out there without food nor a job who would love to trade place with me and I have to be thankful.
Well, I am.
Just not tonight.

When I told my mom years ago that I am dating this Seventh Day Adventist Christian, my mom said, "But... you guys have different beliefs. You will have a hard time later in life with this."

I said, "Nah, it's going to be okay. We'll work it out."

Today, I sit here with heavy and burdened heart realizing how right she is. No matter how hard we work it out, fundamentally we are screwed. It's like we stand on the different side of the line of fire, while holding hands, it's crazy.


It's frustrating.

And there's nothing I can do. It's a choice I have made, and I am standing by it. Even though my hands are burning.

BlueCactus Lost Temper... In The Office

As I try to be a non-nazi team leader, I find it really difficult at times to not yell at some of my team members.
I know... that I am not the most patient person. Patience is certainly a virtue, but not mine.

But, believe it or not, I am very patient in the office.
Very patient....
Darn patient, actually.
And that's because I do believe in positive reinforcement.
Besides, I don't yell. That is just unprofessional.
I believe that any issue can be dealt and addressed in a calm supportive discussion.
Criticism can be thrown out. Constructively.
People do make mistake and it is not the end of the world, as long as it is not swiped under the carpet and a week later I smell something funny.
I have to believe in any of my team member equally. Although, in reality some members excel much more than the others, I have to give the same trust and opportunity to all. I have to believe that each one of them is fully capable to be given any tasks.
I have to give opportunities equally.
Push them equally with the thought of 'I-know-you-have-it-somewhere-in-there' kind of attitude.
Knowledge is to be shared. There's no holding back.
I want to know what each member wants, what they are passionate about, give them a chance to grow. Learn. Sometimes fail, in order to learn some more.

That's my Bluecactus-ism in the office.

But today, I really lost my temper.
Not proud of it.

Because, even though I rant a lot outside the office. In this blog. To CDC, or to my mom.
At work, it's off limit.

I slammed the desk, and I said: Darn it, [a team member name here]!!! when I caught that we have this problem.

There was a silence, my best friend jumped to my desk and held my hands trying to calm me down, and my peer, another team leader was just sit there with raised eyebrows looking at me like I grew fangs.

The person I was so ready to eat alive has gone for the day, but still, I do regret what I did.

I have been thinking about it for the whole evening of how I could have handled things better and not burst into a Hulkette in mere seconds.
And no... I was not PMS-ing.
I have tolerance for mistakes. I do not, however, have tolerance for repeated mistakes,... the same kind of mistake on a very plain, simple and straightforward assignment one has been assigned,.... not for the first time, but maybe for the 100th time.
Now, this I consider as negligence.

I might have 1000 different ways to push someone, to motivate someone. But someone who's not willing to be motivated or grow will be a lost cause of my effort. Because it is not up to me to make someone better if the willingness does not come from within.

I grow to love my team. And I want to be proud of them. But frankly it's easier to be proud to some than to others.

CDC is the total opposite of me. When faced with a problem, he would sleep on it.
I would hesitate and finish it off. Hot headed.
Today, I'm going to adapt his approach and sleep on it.

Tomorrow is a different ball game. I hope,... or I demand to be sedated.

Serial Killer, am I?

For the longest time I have always known that I am a loner. I like to be by myself, I have no problem, for example, having lunch down at the cafeteria and sit by myself while other people from the office were at the next tables. I never have the urge to ask if I can sit with them, or even feel uncomfortable sitting alone. Once the boss of my boss even stopped by and asked me to have lunch at his table with some other people. That's was so nice of him, but I politely declined.

At times, I went out for lunch by myself too. I enjoyed the quietness. Not having to make conversation with anyone is at times a bliss.

I don't like talking on the phone. My philosophy is, state your purpose, then say your good byes.

Also, I would love to have a day at work where I'm not interrupted every 10 minutes and just focus on what I need to do. I have a long list of tasks that I want to accomplish before the end of the day and it would be sweet if at least I can nail, like 90% of it. If only I'm not interrupted all the time.

I don't like small talk, especially with strangers, I pray to God every time I board a plane that my neighbors are either sedated, or too wasted talk, or just plain rude or stuck up, so he/she doesn't feel the need to socialize. Most of the time God answers my prayers, but well, let's face it, he's busy too.

So, one day, my boyfriend forwarded me this link. A link about the introverts, and though I know very well that I am somewhat introvert, I did not know how much I fit into the profile of the right column ( the introvert column).

I think of some people to be boisterous. Nice, but very exhausting to deal with. Now I know that it's just how an introvert perceives an extrovert, according to that article.

But look at what the extroverts think of the introverts:
"One of those who like to read. Moody loners. Be careful not to tick them off; some of them are serial killers."

What?!!
Gosh darn it.

I think of them as boisterous, they think of me as a serial killer.

But well, the good thing about it is that maybe, just maybe, they'll stay away.

One can only hope.

Becaust It's Red

My boyfriend asked, sooo... who are you rooting for the Superbowl tonight.
So I said, what colors are their uniforms?
Well, the Cardinals, red, the Steelers, yellow.
What kind of red? The kind like the sweater I am wearing?
Hee hee... I don't know... he took a glimpse (he was driving).... yeah, I guess.
And what about the yellow, is it like that yellow, that road sign over there?
Yup, I guess so.
Hm,... okay, I'll take the red team. It's a nice color.

And that's, ladies and gentlemen, how I lost. Because I like the color red, and now I owe him a half hour head massage.

Flossing Etiquette

There's a guy in my office who sits about 8-9 feet away from me who flosses his teeth every day in the office.
No. Not in front of the restroom sink in the office.
But at his desk.

Yes. Sitting, or at times actually standing, flossing his teeth.

Even sometimes, walking around. Flossing, while stopping once in a while to chat with people, with his floss rolled around his index finger, touching things, other people's report, blackberry, and stuff. Then without washing his hands, go straight back to his desk, put the floss aside on his desk (for later use), and start typing.

Can you imagine the amount of germs invested on his keyboard? Sometimes he makes this tight high-pitch string-picked noises when pulling his gunk out. It's like playing guitar with his teeth. Totally gross. Think of all of the particles being flicked out from this floss of his.

We joked about his habit behind his back, but over the time it has become more gross than funny. Up to a point that I think it is just a matter of us pulling the straws and the one who gets the shortest straw will have to sit with him and tell him how gross it is to floss in public.
It's unsanitary, it's mannerless, it's rude, it's inhumane, it's disgusting and it's... did I say gross already?

So my friends and I got into this discussion about how weird it is that if someone is being rude, the society tends to let that person be. Because, most of the time, if we, for example, stand up and say something to the person that he's being mannerless or rude, that person will get offended.
I mean, how can that person be offended when we are the one who are trying to say in the first place that we are offended by him? The world has gone mad.

Oh, you know what, he also chews his gum and when he needs to talk to someone, he would take out his gum, stick it on top of his notebook for the longest period of time, and for later consumption.

Yup... you can only find this kind of bizarre behavior in my office.

The Angel of Dogs

On the day of my birthday, nine to ten days ago, on which I turned 32, my dad gave me a figurine of an angel.

It was an angel holding some flowers.

Then he said: I actually wanted to give you the angel holding a dog. You were with mom in that quaint little store in Long Grove picking up bracelets and I had to sneak past you to tell the lady owner which one I wanted. Then they scurried here and there discreetly and shoved me this box, and I did not check the inside.
So I ended up with the angel with the flower instead.
I wanted to give you the dog one because the pose is exactly just how you always hold Bandit. And the dog's tail hanging down just like Bandit's too. It's such a good representation of you and Bandit. You are so good with animals you are like their guardian angel. That figurine is perfect for you.

So, when you have the chance later on, go there and exchange this with the angel holding the dog.
Except,... you really like this one holding some flowers.

So I said, sure, Dad. I'll go there and exchange them.
Thanks, Dad.

To do that, then, last week, I went to Long Grove with CDC (ChicagoDimCorner, that is...) and went to that quaint store again. And I explained to the Lady owner who was very nice, by the way.
I looked for the figurine which he explained to me, the angel carries a dog with a pose just how I carry Bandit, on my right arm with him facing my right or sometimes back. And I found it.
"There it is!" I said to CDC.
I picked it right up, we stared at it in silence.
"But..." I said.

"It's a CAT."

Then CDC started to laugh.

"Are you sure?" He said.

"Yeah, I know what a cat looks like... don't you?"
"And," I said, "Also, she carried the cat on her left side... unlike how I carry Bandit. On the right. Maybe my dad didn't wear his glasses at that time and thought that it's a dog."

CDC said, "Now what? Are you still going to take it?"

"I guess so,... we can pretend that it's a dog. I can draw a black spot on its back to make it looks more like Bandit, " I said.

"Okay...."
"Okay."

So, I exchanged it.

Then we left.

Only to find, this morning, that on the official website of those angel figurines, they do have an angel carrying a dog.
With the exact pose as mine and Bandit.

I looked at it in disbelief.
Cursing inside.
It's ME who needs glasses. I missed that one over there in the store.

I guess I'm going back to Long Grove again, which is a forty freaking miles drive, one way, so that I can have an angel figurine, that my dad wants me to have, and I want to have because my dad wants me to have.

Me,...
The angel of dogs, who, because of some mix-up, currently is the angel of cats.