Monday, November 23, 2009

Twiddling braided pigtails while pondering the imponderables....

I'm at home trying to figure out how I'm going to get myself out of my latest snafu. Less the long explanation of what the latest mess is, I'm in a dilly of a pickle easily rectified with a short and to the point conversation.

Ah, but I'm perplexed nonetheless and cowardice is taking over. Sometimes I wish I was born a turtle. God gave them the convenience of a built in back-up plan. Hide in your shell until you deem safe to resurface.

I have no turtle shell. I just have really long braids I'm twiddling until I come up with a brilliant idea. Looking in the mirror, I think I can pull off dumb. Maybe I'll just do that.

Sunday, November 22, 2009

Really good at avoiding things...

The lengths I'll go to avoid people. Like, stay at home and watch Hotel Rwanda. I've watched this movie already. It was good. But, it's the type of good that would be satisfied with one viewing. I already decided this years ago when I watched it the first time. For a while, I had a copy it sitting on my shelf just to prove that I watched it and that I was an intellectual...but we all know that I wouldn't watch it again. Call me crass, but genocide isn't a feel good topic. I traded that movie in for a missing copy of Center Stage that I needed to replace. No one will admit that they liked that movie except for me. I proudly display that shit on my shelf because no one else will. Of course, against mine own will, it doesn't get displayed for long. Close Center Stage junkies have jacked no less than five copies. Eventually, I gave up. They repeat Center Stage quite a bit on TBS.

Anywho, I watched Hotel Rwanda. I didn't want to, but I needed an excuse. I don't like lying. So, when I give someone the excuse that "I don't want to come over and have relations with you" and they ask, "Really?" And I say, "really." I felt like actually watching Hotel Rwanda would bring the point home. So, many repeated tears and tissues later, I've finished Hotel Rwanda. I'm satisfied with ever having to watch that movie again, and avoiding someone.

Oh, otters

Random gratuitous acts of cuteness mixed in with an update.

There's a lovable otter to start off this post. I neither feel or look as chipper as this otter. I'm at home. Sick. I hate being sick. I shall only be taking of making phone calls to either Dave or Sara at this point in time. I'm my current state of consciousness, limiting the amount of names I'll have to remember is key. Making one a boy and the other a girl was just cheating.

Considering that I hate being sick, you'd think I'd do everything in my possibility to get myself better. Namely, getting enough fluids and getting plenty of vitamin rich nutrients in my system. I'm pretty much eaten nothing by grilled cheeses and cocoa. Dave's come by twice and plied me with ice cream. My mucus membranes are jacked. I don't give a fuck. I'm now eating cheetos.

I don't want to leave the impression that I'm a lonely techno geek sitting at my server (notice how I've bypassed the word computer altogether...) nursing redbull to chase down skittles. On a normal basis, I'm pretty much an asshole about making sure I get my proper squares a day. It's just that my synapses don't fire and I don't do rational things. Overloading my system with preservatives seems to be the instinctive self destruct.

I'm also entertaining myself with some pretty tragic brain fodder. I'm so weak and slothlike, I can barely curry the energy to find the remote and turn on the tv. Instead, I've been in the same prone position with my laptop in vertical position (propped up by pillows...tenuous....scary....necessary to promote sloth) and watching SNL skits all day. Andy Samburg isn't as funny as we think, but the juvenile in all of us appreciates the good laugh of a white man rapping.

That shit's super cute. It's a furry thing on a finger, but it's super fucking cute. Damn.

That's it. I'm sick. Just rambling.

-the end-

Saturday, October 24, 2009

Things I know you don't think I know....

I know someone who claims vegetarianism, but thought I wouldn't notice I heard them ordering a steak wrap at the Taco Bell drive thru while they put me on hold the other day.

Sunday, August 30, 2009

Letting a week go in between tirades gives you some time to reflect...

...and realize that there's no way of looking at a hissy fit without it always looking like a hissy fit. I never really regret the things I say, because there's no point in doing so. It's not like you can take it back, and when the time machine gets built to let you go back in the time space continuum to allow you to do that sort of thing, you probably wouldn't. It would be occupied with much important matters like going back to see the precise moment when the yo-yo was invented or some other nonsense like that. All I'm saying, in mere observation that sounds profound...if you spent all your time surfing around in a time machine to fix all of your life's regrets, you'd surf forever and never get back home. Ask Scott Bakula how that feels.

Anywho, looking back at the previous weeks posts, I was genuinely upset and being genuinely upset, I vented. It was appropriate at the time. It isn't now. What is appropriate now is that do some house cleaning, regrouping, and moving the fuck on.

That certain friend that frequently will show up in my posts, as he did a few nights ago when I decided to throw a verbal hissy, met me up for coffee. It's a routine. Same bat time, same bat channel. The air is different from the last week we decided to visit.

Last week, we were both very angry and frustrated and there's no way we could change the topic of conversation without it rerouting back to original starting point. Flash forward to today, and clearly, we've done our fair share of reconciliation over our personal matters and the committee has decided that everything is going to be okay as long as we put on the agenda that we are working towards making everything be okay. Sounds like a good plan.

No doubt, there will realistically be some amount of backtracking and pitfalls, but forward progression is our direction so we'll just pick up where we left off after we just ourselves off. So it is written, so shall be done.

We decided to leave on that note before any other jangle could creep into the conversation. My mind hasn't waivered since I came home. Good and good. Check and check. Day by day.

-the end-

Tuesday, August 25, 2009

In other news...

Anyone know how to get over an addiction to fountain drinks. It's seriously getting out of hand over here. I mean, I would think it was just soda, but I can put the fucking can down. And, I'll know if you cheat me by refilling my cup with a regular bottle or can of soda. But, my regular trips through the drive through or stops at the local Valero have me feeling like I made a visit to my local crack dealer instead.

It's bad folks. Seriously bad. I mean, I'd ask you to stage an intervention, but you're probably already reading this and thinking I'm ridiculous. Who am I kidding? Those of you reading this already know I'm ridiculous.

Moving on.

-the end-

More crude commentary about how I should stay away from people who've had their hoo anywhere near, in or around my own hoo ha.

I'd like to tell you that my common sense coordinates with my bullshit meter when it comes to people I've dated, but it doesn't. In reality, my brain detects the bullshit, but for lack of a better reason and nothing else to do, I go along willingly. Both participants in the game play their roles accordingly, hop in bed and give each other a few weeks to a few months after all is said and done so that we can play the game all over again. It's the appropriate amount of time that we feel comfortable in convincing ourselves that we don't really know what happened and it won't happen again...and then forget it.

You can stop telling yourself that you don't know what you were thinking, when even your mom knows what's up and she would tell you herself that it's not her first time at that rodeo...had she not birthed you from her own womb.

It's the very existence I've been living, lathering, rinsing and repeating for the last few years. As I mentioned before, it's also an existence I've grown very weary of. At the moment, I've decided to reinstall the alarm on my bullshit meter so it's louder and more obnoxious. It's not like I hadn't heard it before, but like my alarm clock, there's just so many times I can hit that snooze button before shit gets seriously annoying and I have to wake up.

I've entered phase three of break up mode. I've went from weepy and morose to temporary acceptance of life and all it's circumstance (severely abusing the phrase, "If it's not meant to be, it's not meant to be...I wish him well and so be it") And now, I'm just comfortably seated at the thrown of red hot mad and not going to take it anymore. You'd think this was a minor feat bound to recycle itself. But as a woman of efficiency, I've decided to break up with all of the men of my past and present all at once.

This is where turning in my clunkers for cash takes on a grander meaning.

Yes, I'm still firm in the belief that things didn't happen weren't meant to happen. I'm just reevaluating why they weren't happening and what exactly I was waiting for to happen. Evaluation of past circumstances leads me believe I've been only waiting for the inevitable to happen. Broken hearts and frustration and quietly paying for stock in mental health and therapy. If learning to accept and tolerate and grow strong from rejection was what I wanted to gain, I'm a fucking beast. That, I'm well versed and educated in.

Now, here comes the real scary part. Healthy commitment in a strong relationship based in mutual love and affection. That, my friends, is the serious and hard core "boss level" shit. That, freaks me out to the very core and it's mostly because I have no real experience in it. How do you people handle it?

Nevermind answering that. It's about time I found that out for myself.

-the end-

Sunday, August 23, 2009

Almost forgotten, nearly always reminded.

A dear friend and I have been going through romantic woe at exactly the same time. Remembering the old adage, "Misery loves company," it's almost a bit too precious this has happened so conveniently...or rather inconveniently. However, I couldn't imagine a better partner in crime to go through this with. Said person is a good portion of my heart, and considering we went through very like circumstances, helping him mend was like mending myself. About a month later, the both of us are beginning to get back on track. In hearing him talk and sort his head out loud, he's reaching that bit of zen that registers to me he's going to be okay. I think I'm getting there, but my confidence had taken a pretty severe hit and so getting on the same page is taking me a bit more time than I imagine. Long story short, I'm getting close but I'm hardly what you considered there just yet.

In the meantime, I've spent a considerable lot of time with some wonderful company this weekend. They really do make up the rest of my heart. Getting out, having fun, not necessarily forgetting what I've been going through but giving myself a proper opportunity to take a break from it has been a tremendous load off the aching muscle in my chest. I could have spent a bit more time in that happy sort of place, but certain people and their effect on you have a way of demanding attention when they're being ignored. A certain missed phone call or message that temporarily empowers you for having ignored, will always gnaw at you moments later.

As I drift off to sleep in attempts to forget, I will be kept awake thinking about whether or not I should have ignored them altogether.

-the end-

Wednesday, August 19, 2009

Wonderfully blissful dreams marred by reality intervening.

Did I have a good summer? For the most part, yes. Would have kept enjoying it and really develop a taste for it if the means by which I could entertain myself (the harsh reality that money makes the world go round and my dead end job is what keeps my particular world spinning on its axis) wasn't desperately running low. So, regretfully, I returned back to school.

Best and worst choice I ever made was taking a full day off yesterday for my birthday. I spent the whole day watching movies, eating junk food, moseying about the city and disconnecting from the media devices I've becomes so attached to so that I could appreciate even more. Ah, such a wonderful wonderful day. That was the best part. The worst part...that it was yesterday and today paled in comparison to yesterday.

Phasing back to reality is taking a little longer than usual this year, as you may be able to tell.

I'm at home tonight walking a few blocks of memory lane. Did I do all I want to do this summer to satisfy spending 10 months of waiting until I can live it up as a "free woman" again? I don't know just yet....I'm still in that phase of shock that my summer is over. I drove through downtown after work this afternoon silently cursing at people who appeared to not have anywhere like work to go to. Jealously of a temporary carefree existence that they have an extension on surged through my veins as I remember mine has been ripped away from me as of this Monday. I doodled sandbuckets and shovels repeatedly in my notebook during endless hours of inservice meetings, despite having no interest of going to the beach or seasides during my summer breaks. I spent one day out of this whole summer in any form of water other than a shower, but I'd spend a whole week in stagnant public pool water if it meant I could live wondrously amongst the land of the living again for a few moments longer.

Oh, I cannot say that summer didn't have it's woeful moments. There were the moments of complete and absolute boredom when I didn't really have anything to. There were the failed summer romances that I lived and had to recover from in the same breath. There was the lack of financing to allow me to truly live things up.

But there were all the delightful moments that I can remember as well. The nights staying late with friends talking about nothing. There were the nights where the air was just cool enough to sit on the roof of my car and listen to soundtracks I spent the whole day making for moments like those. There was the wandering aimlessly through downtown streets observing the city I live in. There was the moment I remember stealing a kiss on the middle of South Congress at 3am in the safety of knowing no one would be passing on that street in the middle of the night on such a day like this. Because normal people would be asleep and hours ago, they'd gone to bed in preparation for a job that would awake them in the morning.

It's the same sort of existence I've returned to myself.

Yes, oh yes. I think I really enjoyed the summer to the fullest of mine own expectations. I'll take that good despite that bad and daydream about its loveliness until I can revisit those moments again.

-the end-

Monday, August 17, 2009

Seeing elephants makes me giddy. I heart my friends and their willingness to indulge my absurdities.

A very near and dear friend of my called me see what I was up to and "if I wanted to do something." Doing "something" usually entails that I meet him up at a certain local coffee shop that's 24hrs that hardly anyone knows about (and, I'd tell you what that place is, but I like that nobody knows about it. So, there.) and we talk aimlessly and pointlessly until we both tire ourselves despite the copious amounts of caffeine we've just drunk. It was what I had planned to do as normal until shortly after getting off the phone with him to get ready, the news reports presented a fine piece of media tidbit.

At 11:30 pm, The Ringling Bros. Barnum and Bailey Circus were coming into town and the elephants would be let out for a walk over near Bolm and Springdale. Your plans change considerably when you are provided with such wonderful information.

Totally on.

What makes life interesting sometimes is when you make plans and you force friends to just go along with it without telling them what they are in store for. It tests their loyalty to you, and it provides you with telling information about what your friends think of you and the type of stuff you're willing to subject others to as they try to figure out what the hell you're up to.

Needless to say, I didn't tell my friend Dave that we were going to see elephants.

He went through a round of guesses and I believe he truly considered that we were about the embark on an adventure that would lead to both of our arrests. Unfortunately, he somehow managed to guess what we were about to do at the last minute. This became a disappointment for both him and me...because compared to the excitement of being apprehended, seeing elephants get off a stupid freight train sound pale in comparison.

But we went anyway, and you know what? When you see live elephants...freaking huge as life pachyderms...get off a train and politely hold each others "hands" waiting for their next destination as if waiting casually for a bus, it's pretty damn amazing. And shortly thereafter, I stood there in complete awe of these massive beautiful creature as I turned 29 years old.

Best birthday present to myself ever.

-the end-

Friday, August 14, 2009

"I gave fair warning that tonight would not turn out like you expected it would."

Tonight, I got dragged to the opening of a new Westin Hotel in downtown Houston. I do not have enough fingers or toes on my person...on your person...on the person of all of my friends combined to count the number of things I would have rather done tonight. But, as a favor to a friend who needed a little more organized fun and excitement cum free drinks, I went. Needless to say, I ended having spent more money on this evening and not one of my drinks was comped. I did however, leave a good smudge of dirt and grass on those fancy Westin sheets as jumped on their fancy overpriced beds with my heels on.

Still, that sort of satisfaction barely covers one of my paid drinks.

A word to the wise...don't ever let an invitation to any sort of grand opening of any kind convince you that you are going to have a good time or that you are special. An appearance only to said event only demonstrates how much of a glutton for punishment you are. Suckers are a dime a dozen and you and the rest are now standing in line for a free drink that will never come.

We did, however, go to a lovely dive bar called Kay's Place I ended up thoroughly enjoying. I could take off my heels, swill a few Lonestars, and talk shit and rabble rouse to much saner folk who realized paying 3 bucks for a pint is a price worth paying considering what you have to go through freely for "free".

-the end-

Why I feel l'm really on vacation today...

Currently staying in my sister's house. Let me tell you, being away from home in a clean house is in and of itself, a vacation. All I had to do today was get up early to let the contractor's in to work on some construction bits around the house, and the rest of my day morning was dedicated to sloth.

First task of the day...wash laundry. You'd think that would be a chore for me, because it's a chore for everyone else. But, I really like doing laundry. It's a simple mindless task that unfortunately takes lodes of time to do properly. So, I rarely do. Unless I'm on a mini-vacay...which I am...which I'm currently doing. Something about being blanketed by warm fresh clothing makes me feel loved. It's the exact opposite of the feeling of self-loathing and despair I get when I run out of clean clothes and am reduced to wearing ill-fitting back of the closet sample sale mistakes or baptizing myself with gallons of Febreeze before leaving the house.

Other loveliness...I have the house to myself this morning. Not that I don't love my sister or her family, but being alone plopped in a very lady like manner (read: not very lady like at all) manner in front of a huge flatscreen tv, surrounded by warm laundry and no one to fight over the remote with (that person being a four yr old who wants to watch nothing but Go Diego Go which conflicts with my need to watch nothing but Law and Order SVU - Go Stabler, Go.

Fine dining options...I'm what you call a grazer. I eat like a five yr old. I like individual sized snacks and food items partitioned off in compartmentalized melamine trays. Food looks lovely cut up into cubes. This would be lovely everyday, but I have a tendency to forget to run out of time to get groceries, which like doing laundry, should be a simple chore. However, I like dedicating more time than necessary to doing it and if i can, i just won't. This means a lot of eating out with I like and dislike in parts. If I'm dining - sitting to a proper meal with a friend or two, it's great. But, more often, my dining partner is the drive through man or woman at the window and my proper meal has no name but "number + large diet coke." My sister, buys grocery in bulk and never really runs out of things. So, my ability to indulge like a five yr old is catered by her responsible ability to restock the cheese sticks and personal hummus and cracker combos.

In addition to this, she got an ice cream machine and has been indulging in the art of homemade gelatos. I've been taking advantage of this new found art of hers.

Entertainment has consisted no less than three networks playing hours long marathons of mindless programming. Bravo's got America's Next Top Model going back to back. The Sci-Fi Channel has been playing Scariest Places on Earth non stop all morning. Noggin is nothing but repeats of Degrassi The Next Generation. If I bore of any of this, my sister was mysterious gifted box set of True Blood's Season 1. It is safe to say, i will have no brain cells by the end of the day, and that's fine by me.

As I'm a multi-tasker, I will thumbing through a fine library of magazines my sister has yet to go through. My sister subscribes to enough magazines that she's not quite sure what she gets in the mail, but knows that she's never in short supply of materials to read on the can. It's all girl centric ranging from gossip rags to decorating and fashion magazines. And frankly, I'm in hog heaven with my nose in mindless reading material. Which, I will get to as soon as I'm finished typing.

The likelihood that I will get up for anything but bathroom breaks, if that, is slim to none.

-the end-

Thursday, August 13, 2009

Last hurrah in Houston.

The idea is that I come down to Houston to have a last summer hurrah before the start of another school year on Monday. So far, that has entailed me running errands as soon as I arrived here and now rounding out my evening watching Thundercats with my four year old niece. Totally rocking it hardcore.


Realistically, I could have used a bit of reprieve from all that is Austin, TX at the moment anyway.

Over the last few years, Austin has ranked high on travel lists as the best place to be a single person. I agree with this wholeheartedly. Austin is the best place to be a single person...if you have no wishes to change that status...if you've already proven to be completely dysfunctional at maintaining anything long term or anywhere near remotely healthy for a long period of time...if the thought of commitment thorough scares the shit out of you...if you are me.

Not that any of the above would be different if I lived in Houston or any other major or minor metropolis. I've just found that Austin has delightfully and professionally managed to encourage said tendencies.

However, as of late, I've found a certain need to change some of my habits. I never found those particularities naturally within me. I was just young and dumb and full of....oh well, we'll just censor that little axiom, shall we?...enough to allow myself to be accustomed to it as second skin. Seeing that want for change turning in the synapses, Austin all of a sudden felt a bit claustrophobic. Not everyone is necessarily on board with that. Some people actually prefer the former and not the slowly changing latter. And, I could use some time apart from "some people."

I'll be ready to come home soon enough. Eventually, if I want to make ends meet, I'll have to go back to work. And besides, Austin has more to offer than a singles scene. It has cupcakes. (And people that do love me for my heart.)

-the end-

Wednesday, August 12, 2009

Scary days in the neighborhood: Why being a single girl living alone sometimes scares the bejeezus out of me.

So, this past week, I had a frightful dream. It kept me up the rest of the night and I never caught up on sleep for the remainder of the next day. The dream was a real doozy, and without getting into too much detail, I had I lot of time to think about it as I spent my waking hours reinforcing the screens to all my windows, asking the guys at Home Depot about the most cost efficient way I could go about keeping life's psychopaths from paying me a visit against my will, and investing in a huge ass "take down a bear and it's pack" sized can of chili-pepper spray. (I've been informed I have to register for a license of some sort to carry the potent amount of attack spray I chose to procure).

Normally, I take the lazy man's belief system that "whatever will happen will happen." But, frankly it was a vivid dream reinforced by the increased amount of reports of sexual assaults around the city by attackers that have yet to be apprehended. Whatever will happen, will most undoubtedly happen. I've just decided that, in my scenario I'll have effectively caused enough physical harm to said attacker in such a way that he (or hell, even she...there are a lot of crazy people out there) will reconsider doing it again. Not that they will have the capability to do so.

Nonetheless, the anxiety does have me a bit on edge as of late. As I finally manage to enforce some amount of healthy sleep, I curl up these days with a completely useless by mildly intimidating appearing guard dog and the extra sharp titanium trek stick my ex left behind at my place.

Hopefully, the worst case scenario will ever be is that I managed to poke my own eye out in a fitful night of sleep.

-the end-

The not so anonymous ramblings of your friendly neighborhood asian.

The not so anonymous ramblings of your friendly neighborhood asian.
I've been subjected to several movies as of late where the protagonist bemoans the fact that, despite having a graduate's degree in journalism from an elite accredited school, he or she has been given the menial task of writing a "slice of life" column. This scenario most assuredly turns the protagonist into a mortal enemy for me and I proceed to stop watching. My natural willingness to suspend my disbelief becomes an active exercise in civil disobedience to listen any further. Said character has been offered a full salary to sit down and write their general musings on life and guaranteed an audience will loyally follow along every insipid word.

It's my dream job and I get to hear Hollywood's version of a person who hardly appreciates how lucky they truly are.

I don't want to be on the frontlines of some civil war going on in some unpronounceable county that I've never heard of. I don't want to be undercover exposing some scandal going on in some industry. I truly just want to write about the things that matter to me the that one time I was eating lunch and how I saved a potato chip from that very day because I was convinced it's likness to the Virgin Mary really got me through the lowest period of my life. Or perhaps, why none of the lack of success in securing a proper relationship has anything to do with my fears of commitment, but more likely due to a grand conspiracy founded by a skull and crossbone society I somehow managed to slight many moons ago because I made some casually harmful remarks about the Publisher's Clearinghouse Sweepstakes.

The true gems of life...

I'm just saying. Anywho...I suppose I should spend more time practicing for the day when the gods finally decide to shed their light upon me. Posting more often would help.

-the end-

Monday, July 6, 2009

LAzy days and mondays.

If I could comfortably spend the rest of my days in a pair of cotton undies and bra in perfectly air conditioned house watching shitty tv and eating cheetos and get paid to do it all, I think I would be the happiest girl on earth.

The shocking reality that this isn't my fate, came crashing down early this morning. It was 10:30 am. I was balled up in a fetal position crying my heart out knowing that in a few short weeks, that wouldn't be considered casually sleeping in a little late. That would straight up be a firm reprimand to a job I don't care for that like any continual change in the seasons, I would return to because I had no other choice. That's what you do with fate. You go where the little ball and chain allows you to go.

It's now 11:20 and I have the full day ahead of me. I plan to do absolutely nothing and cherish every last moment of it.

-the end-

Wednesday, July 1, 2009

I have nothing to talk about.

But, it has been requested that I return to my post as MC of the inane, best approached through a blog. So, there. I'm back. Most likely temporarily. Don't get too excited. Don't shift too uncomfortably in you seats. I have lots of errands to run today. I might tell you more about that later. Something hilarious will happen on the way to the me. I mean, if you look at my account history, you'd laugh too. But, right now, I have to actually make it out there before anything funny can happen.

-the end-

Tuesday, March 24, 2009

Lame attempt at a comeback #2

10:30 pm. Have nothing productive to say. Missed tango. Was supposed to run three miles, but successful managed to walk just over one. Craig, my good friend and new landlord is coming over to fumigate my apartment (sadly, the only shocking shocking business that I'm willing to discuss is that I think I caught a brown recluse in my new digs. Aside from deadly arachnids lurking in dark corners of my pad, I have nothing else to complain about. You know, it really comes down to location location location.)Have to feebly clean up around here...moved in a few weeks ago, and my clothes were barely hung up into the closet as of a few days ago. Don't want to leave the impression that the last tenant, my complete mess of an ex-boyfriend, never left.

Have a lot of crazy plans on decorating my place...lots of wonderful fun things to spruce up my plot of land. At the moment, unless a wad of thousands and cocaine induced energy come my way, I'll just have to assume those ideas are sitting on a backburner. It'll get done. Just not anytime soon.

Here's to hoping and wishing. Leaving to pick up a dirty sock or two.

-the end-