Yesterday I was looking for some air filter for my car at Walmart and was going through the list to find my type of car & what type the air filter should be, when all of a sudden, I guy ask me in a raspy scratchy voice "Do you need any help finding anything?"
At first I thought he worked for Walmart, but, no worker at Walmart would wear jeans to work and have no name tag, don't you think?
So, the bitch inside of me starting to react and I just said "I'll find it." without even looked at him and just kept on staring at the list.
Then he said okay and left, which then lead to me feeling bad for being 'not nice'.
But after 2-3 minutes later he showed up again and I was still there with the list and he asked again "Are you sure you don't need any help with that?"
Now, okay...
FIRST OF ALL!!! I said I'll find it and that should leave to a conclusion that I don't need any help, even though after minutes later I was still not done with the list.
SECONDLY!!! And this is kind of personal, but, I don't like being asked again and again whether I need help with something because I am not some bimbo who thinks that buffaloes have wings and mistakes tuna for chicken. Do I look stupid or what? It's air filter list, not rocket science.
And If I don't find it then I will ask someone who officially work for Walmart with blue apron with slogan "HOW CAN I HELP YOU?" who's not creepy looking.
So, I looked at him straight in the eyes, paused for a second to make sure that this time he heard it and said... "No."
He smiled and shrugged and tilted his head to the side and said "Okay", like it is natural to go to a store and insist people to take his help.
CREEEEPY!
The eastern culture inside of me said that I have to be nice to people, but sometimes when you are nice to people, the creepy strangers would just work their way into a conversation or something and man, I'm just not up for that.
And I am a nice person, believe it or not. Just don't press my button, that's how my roommate describe it.

Then later on I told my boyfriend about the creep and he said "do you wear this shirt when you went to Walmart?"
"Yes."
He smiled and said only one sentence "Then, that's why he was so into making conversation with you."

I wore a low cut tank top.

Sigh... the different perspectives of male and female.

I am nervous about my wedding. Very very nervous.
Not cold feet about it, but more like, nervous about all the things that I actually need to take care of, and haven't yet.
And as if, one wedding is not enough, I might have two receptions and two different church ceremonies. My mom wants to invite 1000 people and I'm fighting for 500 people.
Still fighting. It ain't over till it's over.
And I don't want the conventional kind of wedding where you stand for hours greeting people that you hardly know and after 3 hours, your feet are sore and your hand smells like grilled mutton.
I want to sit.
And eat.
And listen to the music.
And be able to talk with my groom, and not being under the hot spotlight.
I want a small wedding. The smaller the better. What matters to me is the people I know. And the flowers. And the music, and the food. But not the quantity of how many people I manage to invite.
If it is up to me, then I bet we'd just elope to Vegas, take a lot of pictures as proof, then go straight to the honeymoon.
Then we'll just post an ad in the local newspaper saying:

We did it!
BlueCactus and Dimcorner have eloped!
Don't bother calling us to congratulate, because right now we are sunbathing in the Caribbean.

Ah.... that would be perrrrrfect. Very tempting. Because honestly, I don't care what people think.
But, being a good daughter that I am (wink), I care about my parents' feeling.
And because of that, I have to wake up now and go back to reality and plan the two receptions and the two church ceremonies (which leads to two dresses, and many other twos).

I fell asleep earlier today & woke up in panic when I saw the bedside clock said 8:07, and I thought I missed worked.
But, after consciousness sank in, I realized that it is 8:07 PM. Not AM.
Sigh... yeah, that's what happens when you being a lazy ass on Sunday.
It's funny now that I think about it. The first thing that came to mind was: I need to call in and tell someone that I'm going to be late. Now, what the best excuse for me being late?
Hmmmppfff... excuse... excuse...

But you know, today is not too bad since I went to this pottery painting place. I just have to find a hobby... that's what I thought to myself, before I become challange-less, drive-less, shower-less couch potato.
It turned out that I had so much fun there. I thought I have fulfilled the purpose of Sunday, which is to think nothing of work and throw away money for nothing really important. Like the pottery that I painted, which was a cereal bowl.
And I don't eat cereal.

Speaking of throwing money away, isn't it funny that when you walk in a store determined to buy something, most likely you won't find what you're looking for? And when you just walk to a mall with no expectations, you walk out with something that wasn't in your agenda... like a dark pink strapless dress that's on sale, the last one in the store, and in your size. AND when you tried it on 'just for the heck of it' you stare in the mirror thinking, "this freaking dress was made especially for me." "This dress looks fabulous on me. NO! I look fabulous in this dress" "Crap! Now I have to buy it. Now... let's think... where can I wear this dress to?" "Argh, doesn't matter, ... I'll think of an occasion to wear this dress to".

I guess, each one of us have what they call suppressed memories. The memories that we choose not to remember and bury deep down our subconscious mind.
I think that's what I thought happen to the memory of me putting my dog to sleep. My dog's name was Panda. No, it's not a panda, it's a dog named Panda.
And he grew older we called him grandpa instead.
So, there I was, watching Grey's Anatomy when Grey had to put the dog to sleep. And that dog just looked like Grandpa. And the vet injected it with the drug to stop its heart. Just like my vet did to Grandpa.
I was staring at it and all of a sudden, memories came rushing and flashing before my eyes.
I was crying in the doctor's office. My dad held me. Grandpa was lying with a big fat needle stuck right into his heart. And I could see it moving with the rhythm of his breathing until it finally stopped.
And I carried the body home in a box. And I couldn't stop crying for the rest of the day.
Then, I tried to move on & buried the horrid memory of the visit to the vet, until today.
He was a good dog. Grandpa. He liked mango and stir fry vegetables, believe it or not. He had pink nose and curled up tail. He was handsome, and I think, I should think of him more. Not the sick part, but the happy part.
I hate corny things, but I have to say, that every time my dog died, I grow a hole in my heart, with the shaped of it. And, as time goes by, I found that the pain was just ignored, but never really disappeared. Just like I found out today.
I looked at my blog and thought of how it is so full of memoirs of my dead dogs.
Like a memorial site or something. But they are my darlings. I told my boyfriend just now, that I have decided to not have dogs anymore. For the rest of my life. I don't know if I'm going to stick by it, but I can't go to the vet with a scenario like that again. Ever. And I won't let my boyfriend have the same experience.
And now, I still have two more at home in Jakarta. Two 104-year-old dogs.
If they are human, guess how high their insurance rate is?
Yeah... exactly my thought.

Dave Spritz: The first time I was struck with something, a chicken breast from Kenny Rogers. I was standing next to a garbage pail. I thought it might've been an accident, that they were throwing it out. The second time, it hit me square on the chin, a soft taco. Then, pop. A falafel. McNuggets. Always fast food. Fast food. Shit people would rather throw out than finish. It's easy. It tastes all right, but it doesn't really provide you any nourishment
[pause]

Dave Spritz: I'm fast food.

-The Weather Man-

I found this line very funny. But... should I say that when I am working for a fast food company?

The Constant Gardener

I watched the Constant Gardener last week and to my surprise, it was a very inspiring movie. There was, however, no entertainment value. There is no Hollywood ending whatsoever, it's not a feel good movie, you will feel like crap, depressed and sad altogether afterwards. And if you are Angelina Jolie, maybe you will start adopting more children from Africa.
Every time I watch a movie that arises the issues in Africa, I always feel depressed, and ashamed of all the petty little complaints I have about life. There are just so many things to be done there, and yet, there is no oil, or other kind of beneficial resources for the super power countries worth fighting for and interfering to. Let alone the reason of humanity.
And there I was, sitting in front of my TV. Depressed and sad, and I looked at the clock, oh... 9 PM, Grey's Anatomy will start in no time.
And life goes on.
People see the movie, got the message, feel touched by it, but then... what to do?
So there we are, me and the rest of the world, in our little bubbled world, and the Africans with their poverty, hunger, health and welfare issues, living in parallel and uncrossed paths.

As Urban As You Can Get

Quoting my boyfriend about Naperville, IL: "This is as urban as you can get in the suburb." We went there and spent our evening just walking on the riverside & downtown & taking pictures.

We saw the Budwiser's horse (I don't know why this is such a big deal, but moving on...) and I touched the horse while my boyfriend took a picture. I was smiling but my mind was thinking, please, horsey, please... please don't pee or poop while I'm just inches away from you.

It's a big beautiful horse. I love seeing animals that are well kept & healthy. The horse looked like it has enough food, enough bath, enough tender love and care. It brings warmth to my heart.
I heart animals, with the exception of bugs and reptiles.

Downtown Craving

I don't know why all of a sudden I missed downtown so much. I was walking on the parking lot. It was past 6 PM and all my work was done. Today was a beautiful day, a bit cool, but still in a comfortable range. The sun was still shining, the sky was blue. It was a perfect afternoon.
I got into my car, opened the windows turned on the radio, and I sat there. For a few minutes, just trying to empty my mind and get settled.

Then I thought, how perfect it would be, if I live in downtown. I could go home, wear my gym shoes and just walk a few block to the beach. Not to do some workout (gee, no), but just to get some fresh air and shake off my work stress of my system.
I remember that I and my boyfriend planned to wait for the summer then rent some bikes and bike on the lake shore. But now that I moved here, I don't think we're going to drive for 25 miles, then try to find parking for another 30-60 minutes, walk to Navy pier, then rent a bike. Yeah, ain't going to happen.

My life is funny, when I lived in downtown, I lived in a budget and hence, couldn't get out more and lavishly 'enjoy life'. Classic story of a student/fresh graduate. And now, I have my income, but my form of recreation is going to a forest preserve and take some pictures. Or to the zoo and get really excited to see a lion.
I really really R E A L L Y miss downtown, honestly sometimes it hurts when I drove down there, just passing by the streets that I used to walk along with my friends, the stores that I used to visit or the crappy chinese restaurant which the lady owner was very fond of my roommate.
Having memories can be a bitch sometimes, but then again, this comes from me, a person who doesn't like being all sentimental or, maybe I should say, doesn't like to appear sentimental.

So, a few weeks ago, I went to the pancake house near my old apartment, and guess where we got the parking spot? Right on the side of the apartment building. That apartment is the nicest amongst all of the other apartment I've been in Chicago. Usually, I refused to think much of it, like I said,... it hurts.
But that day, I was just all eyes and ears. I found out that the little french bistro across the street was out of business. Well, I wasn't really 'wow-ed' when eating there, but it was kind of sad to see something that was part of your life start changing. Like you part ways with your closest friends and 5 years later, they already have kids or move to Europe or has become the big shot director of a huge company, and you just wonder, what happened in between? Then you start to wonder how much you guys have missed?
So anyway, I managed to brace my heart and I went into the apartment, I just had to see who's the doorman that day. And there he was, Roland, the big guy with the big smile. He paused for a second when he saw me, then he rushed towards me and gave me a great bear hug.
Roland is a very nice man. It is just impossible dislike him.

I really miss being just one block away from bars and clubs. Not that I went a lot, but the spirit of it, the beat, the honking, the siren, all the noises, made you feel like you were a part of the fiesta.

I really want to go back to the city.
Though I know, that my 'downtown' era has passed. It's really over.
Like the finale of 'Friends' where Monica moved to the suburb. I bet she felt crappy.
Just like I felt.
Sigh...
Enough drama. I need to move on.

Should I join the rally?

I'm not the kind of person who pays attention to the news or politics, but I can't help but feeling intrigue by the Immigrant Rights issue that divide the Nation lately.
I listened to a girl on the radio about a week or two ago, ranting about immigrants.
She said "I'm not racist, but I really don't like it when I go to a certain area all the store signs are in Spanish. I mean, if they want to be in America, well then, speak English."
You see, all my life, I have been an immigrant. Or maybe I should say, the descendant of immigrants. I lived in Indonesia as a Chinese. I was a second class citizen. Then I moved to the US, and I'm still an immigrant. If I move to China, I can't assimilate with the native people anymore. Even there, I bet I will still be considered as an immigrant, I can't speak mandarin. See my problem? Seems like there is no 'home' for me in this world.
So, when I heard that girl on the radio, trying to justify her point of view by prefix-ing her remark the the words: "I'm not a racist" All I can think of was: Big fat liar. If she doesn't care about the race, why should she care about the signs? Why does she so bothered by them? I don't. Signs are just a miniscule problem here.

I saw Carlos Mencia today on TV. I love his stupid jokes. This time he invited an red-Indian guy to the show. And that Red Indian guy said that his colony was here first. Everybody else after them are immigrants.
In his version, everybody in America is a wetback.
I like that point of view. In fact, I've been thinking the same way. All this fuss about immigrants from the people whose anchestors originally were immigrants, it's just funny.
I know, that America does have a problem with illegal immigrants, but there should be a way out rather can prosecuting the diligent, hard-working people, who work for minimum wage, trying to have a better life for himself, his wife and kids.

So, I, the ultimate immigrant, hope that the STUPID bill will never be passed.
There I said it. I choose my side. And those who don't agree, feel free to talk back.

Okay,...
Enough with the short hair.
I'm growing it back. So I can do that good old trick of making a bun using a pencil that almost everybody went ooooh and aaaah about.
It might take me years, though.
And by that time I might already change my mind for the gazillion time about my hairdo.

Man, I'm so bored I even mopped the floor today.

I slept.
I woke up.
I looked out to the window.
I saw how gloomy the day will be.
I decided to go back to bed.

I'm signing off.

This is going to be another wasteful Sunday, I'm sure.

I need a hobby.

Huffing and Puffing

I just talked on the phone to one of my best friends. One topic lead to another, then we talked about smoking and that somebody's aunt died not too long ago of lung cancer. She wasn't a smoker. Ever.
She was a second-hand smoker.
See, here is the thing. I don't care if people smoke. You can smoke all day, huff and puff all you want, I don't care.
And I don't care if the person is a female, or male, or under 21, or old, or cute, or whatever. His/her lung is his/her own business. He can burn it, drown it or donate it for all I care.
But I mind if I have to share air with the smokers while they are polluting it with their cigarettes / cigars.
That's just gross.
For me having to inhale that intoxicating air & risk my lung is unacceptable. My laziness for not working out or watcing out my diet is bad enough without me having to worry about my lungs.

My dad was an ex-smoker, my brother was an ex-smoker, my boyfriend was an ex-smoker, and I'm glad they quit, especially my dad who had been smoking for about 30 years. I bet it was hard as heck for him to quit, but he did. He's a living proof that it can be done. I'm very proud of him.
I never really appreciate his quiting smoking until I was old enough and informed enough how severe the damage can be, not only to him but potentially to the people surrounding him, like my mom or me or God forbid, my precious nephews.
And for that I thank him.
So, rather than buying cigarettes, donate it, or buy some new underwear. Imagine how many underwear you can buy in a year from the fund you allocate to buy cigarettes. You will never have to do underwear laundry ever again. Just toss it out after you wear it.
Oh, I know, buy an air purifier, I bet the smell sticks everywhere.
Bottom line, don't wait till it's too late. That's all I learnt today.
I bet it's hard. But I also bet it worth it.

*Dedicated to someone who is really close to my heart and to some others' hearts, who are also close to my heart*
(Got it?)

Flying poop

Holy Cow.
Today when walking at the parking lot, I saw a couple of duck flying and quacking and one of them just pooped right up in the air. Big poops just flung down to a car and I ran to the side, trying to avoid their path so they didn't pass my head.
Crazy psychopath duck!
With poop that big, it's a crime to fly.
Lesson learnt: Never trust anything flying. Not even a cute harmless-looking duck. Their poop is 10 times bigger than the birds'.
If the italians say it's good luck being pooped by a bird, imagine how lucky you'd be when the duck poop lands on your head.

My Side Job

Brace yourself.
I'm going to reveal my other secret occupations.
I
am
a
Tarot
reader.
...
Don't laugh, I'm freaking serious. I've been doing this for years. My cards was brought from Netherlands, it's a french Tarot.
Am I good at it?
Mmmaaaayybeeee.
Maybe not.
But who cares? Because I'm signing off. I have faith in it. I believe in it and put effort in learning it. My mom is a great fortune teller. She has talent that I will never have, not in a million years. But I don't want to be a Tarot reader anymore.
Because some people just abuse my free time.
I just told my roommate the other day, some friends just take it for granted. All they look forward when meeting me is for sessions over sessions of tarot reading. Honestly, I think, they don't need my cards.
They'll do just fine.
The right man will come, the right job will fall on their path, the right decisions will be made, the business will do well, the year is going to be great. Because the future holds thousands of possibilities. They don't need my cards just to ask if the cute guy they just met is 'da one'.
And if you happen to fall for a jerk. You don't need my card to tell you that you deserve to find someone better. My cards are just the explicit affirmation of their subconsciousness. Something that they already have in the back of their mind. They just need a push to kick the jerk in the ... (you know what), leave him on the curb and start living their lives. (Am I being too hard?)
I try to live with uncertainty. It's hard, when you know that you might find an answer from the 'third drawer from the top' (there's where I keep my cards). Or from your mom, who practically owns a mental crystal ball. I do ask questions, but I barely do. Only in dire emergency.
I was 'fortune-told' too much during my adolescent time. Believe me, knowing less is better than more, especially when we are talking about the future. The element of surprise brings color to your life. Don't you think?
I almost never shuffle for myself. I did. But almost never. Only for problems I can't control, like if my job is in jeopardy, because if yes, then I might want to start hustling for another job or be prepared to go back home.

So, I'll tell them, I'm converting to be a the ultimate solitaire champion.
Or a mud wrestler... nah, just kidding. Obviously, for a potential obsessive-compulsive like me, that's just gross.

Earth day

I bet you know that 'Mercy Mercy Me' by Marvin Gaye is a song about ecology and how mankind abuse it. Well, every time I hear the song, there's a part of it that reminds me of the all the sushi I ate, all the pollution I've sucked in and the land being commercialized for the new, the better, the bigger, the higher highrises.

I'm not the green-peace kind of person, but I do love nature and its habitat.

It is so sad to see the earth is going down being abused by mankind.
So, to honor Earth day, when Scarlett was ever so dirty yesterday, I didn't go to the car wash place & bathe her.
Besides, I've always been trying not to use air conditioning as much as I can, or let the water runs when I brush my teeth. And thanks to my boyfriend, I recycle paper waste now.

I'm kinda a pessimist at times, and i know that my contribution might be meaningless at all compared to all the damage done at the same time. But, heck, that's something I think I can do. And that makes me feel slightly better.

"...
Where did all the blue skies go?
Poison is the wind that blows from the north and south and east
Woo mercy, mercy me, mercy father
Ah things ain't what they used to be, no no
Oil wasted on the ocean and upon our seas, fish full of mercury
Ah oh mercy, mercy me
...
Radiation under ground and in the sky
Animals and birds who live nearby are dying
...
What about this overcrowded land
How much more abuse from man can she stand?
..."

A gal pal is on the search

It hit me today, that I no longer has girlfriend bonding to any females, except for my coworkers (doesn't count) and my mom (also doesn't count).
My roommate moved a year ago back to the other side of the world. I moved out from my 'hood and my friends.
And now, I have no girlfriends.
I mean, I have girlfriends, but not the one that I can physically meet up easily for Sunday brunch or something.
And now, I haven't called my boyfriend since afternoon, I don't know where he is, I think his cellphone is dead and he told me that he's going to be out but I think his business is not done yet.
Then, it dawn to me, that my boyfriend has been bearing the double duty as my galpal.
Although, I don't exactly push him to go into Victoria Secret spent hours there.

And besides, I think sometimes I got the feeling that he doesn't really 'get it' when I talked about some issues, like my bitching out about how my day went, or when I was being PMSy and sensitive and cranky. But he does try to fill that role.
But now I'm wondering if I'm pushing my luck too far.
And if he has too much of me.

I guess I'll never know, because he would say no. And I would always wonder if that's the truth.

Ideally, I should find some girlfriends. And I should run an ad, just like those people in craigslist.org.
And when I manage to stir the courage to do so, I imagine the ad should say something like this:
Looking for a gal pal, who's witty, bitchy, spunky. Doesn't like boy bands. Likes to eat out and doesn't count calories on everything. Non smoker, loves autumn and animals. A good listener, a good debater and opinionated, in a good way.
Only need a liiiiittle time to dress up, take a shower and put on the make up.
Likes watching TV. Have good knowledge on pop culture. Must dislike Bush.
Not a fashion victim, and most importantly can distinguish the stupid chick-flicks and the high quality ones.
P.S. Doesn't have Damsel in distress syndrome. Superwoman syndrome is higly welcomed.

How about that?

Tom Attack Reloaded

Eeeeeeng...
Man!
Apparently, if your life is touched by television, internet, radio and or newspapers, I BETCHA by now you already know that the Tom & Katie's baby was born yesterday.
It was allll over the news. I really can feel the deja vu attack back in the time when they first got together and did the same damage to my couch-potato time.
Sigh... anyway, I'm sticking with home and garden channel for a few days before I dare to move back to E entertainment.
I mean, who cares if Katie is having a 'silent birth'? Or if that very same day at the very same hospital, Brooke Shields (Tom's rivalry when it comes down to anti-depressant drugs) also delivered her baby.
See?
Do you see that?
I don't want to know about this, and yet, sadly, I do.
Why?
Because I've been shoved all this information from everywhere.
Is it really a rating booster?
Does people really want to know what the baby's name means in Hebrew?
Anyway... I need another hobby besides watching TV.
Knitting?
Bingo?
Any ideas?

Guilty. I voted for American Idol

I voted for Elliot Yamin. Upon request from my best girlfriend back in Indonesia.
Yep, shameless as a starstruck teenager, I dialed and dialed, until my boyfriend called me and I got distracted.
I voted for 14 times (or so) and I already felt like I have contributed a lot for the dude.
And he still got to the bottom three.
What a voter gotta do?
Anyway, you see, I don't usually vote.
I don't vote for American Idol, I don't want to be in the crowd. Be generic. Join the hype. This is so not like me, the ignorant, antisocial, careless, cynical bitch.
But this guy, he is okay.
And what made me easily agreed to vote for him is one simple fact.
About maybe 5-6 weeks ago, he sang Moody's Mood.
That's it. One of my favorite songs in this planet (search it, it's worth your time, or send me a message I will send it to you).
So, anyone who sang the whole song of Moody's mood and succeeded without being pitchy, deserves my vote.
Because I know from the many times I sang that song in the shower.
I sucked!
That song is hard to sing.

Anyhow, though, here is my reality check about American Idol: Elliot Yamin will not win. Why? Because he is not bad-boyish, handsome or tall enough.
Can he sing?
Yes, he damn well can, and so does Mendisa in this matter, who got booted off last week.
But should this be a contest about singing talent?
No, this is a thug of war contest of whose fans' fingers dial the fastest.
Plus, I know that there's a community whose whole purpose is to vote the worst singers. Maybe that's why that juvenile contestant who looks like Chicken Little lasted that far.
So who might win? It doesn't matter.
I think who will win is FOX Network Executives.
And Cingular as the phone network provider.
And I'm one of the victims, who next week will still be voting again, as appreciation for the singer of Moody's Mood, even though it might not matter at all.

To see the 'moody's mood' performance: click here

My very own JFK Jr.

Never in my romance life would I thought that my parents who have very high expectation to all to the boyfriends I have had (which, by the way, not much), would approve a guy to marry me.
This topic might seem a little jaded since I've been engaged for almost a year now. But I have had the hardest time with them since their first reaction to all of them has always been the same, which is: NO. We do not approve.
My parents wished someone stable for me, independent, a gentleman, love me obsessively, faithful, a Catholic, have short hair (I once had a boyfriend with long hair, I didn't like it, but apparently, my mom hated it even more), came from a nice family, well-educated, good-look is a plus, preferably a little bit older than me (and by the way, I've never dated anyone older than me, isn't weird?), and so on, and so on.
I remember telling my roommate once, with that criteria, then I might have a chance if I date John F Kennedy Jr. But he got lost in the sea. Plus he's married anyway. And, I'm not sure if he loves me obsessively since we never met, and the faithful part is kinda questionable.
Then, came my fiance, he is not even Catholic (gasssppp!!), he's a few months younger than me (that's strike two already), and many more questions were risen.
But, after all the commotion, and they met on Summer 2004, I don't know how he won them, but now, when they sends gifts from Indonesia, he gets more stuff then me.
My dad sends text messages to him every once in a while. My mom asks about him all the time.
I mean, how the heck does that happen?
It seems like they are very fond of him.
Like yesterday, they sent him 2 shirts, 4 Adidas hats, a Brazil soccer wrist band, and what do I get?
Nutin'
Nada.
Zero.
I think I'm going to veto the wrist band.
Apparently, he is my parents' version of John F Kennedy Jr.

Let me be a loner

I notice that I have turned into a total antisocial. Especially since I don't have a roommate and I don't have any friends in the area, now that I'm in the suburb.
And I find it amazing how I don't feel the urge to find new friends. I'm most comfortable with the friends I have downtown (and half around the world), which by the way are very very few. And I don't even get in touch with them that much at all.

A friend, who is the most enthusiastic in introducing me with his friends is almost in a desperate - if not angry - state because I always refuse to come to their get together.
Why does he insist on me meeting them?
It is my right not the be pushed around being introduced to people while I don't feel the thrill or the enjoyment to meet them. Some people like meeting new friends and, hey, more power to them if they do, but that's not me.
Do I sound arrogant?
But think about it. Being arrogant is if I don't want to meet them because I feel superior and I think that my 'level' is above them. Which I do not.
I think they are just fine. I just have a very huge personal bubble.
I wish more people would just understand and let me be.
And please don't call me strange.

I try to analyze if I'm scared of meeting new people. The thing is I don't think so.
I went to social events when I want to. If a friend is having a baby shower, or a Christmas party, or if there's food involved, and I feel like going, then I'd go. I arranged the chinese new year's eve dinner with of my friends, though I (and my boyfriend) were the only two who were celebrating. So I really think I'm fine.
I'm just a person who really enjoys spending her free time not interacting too much with other human beings.
I'm a loner.
And I am happy of who I am.