My 11 Guy

Nope, it's not my 11th boyfriend. Although, I would like to have at least half of that amount in ex-es. Alas, that is not the case.

Nope, nope, nope. It's the guy who used to drive no. 11 bus, when I live downtown. Cute guy. Strict, but polite. I like that in a man. Didn't recognize him at first. He looked so ... haggard and worn down. On his face I mean. You know, the expression of "I had boatload of s*** from people and I'm this close to quitting this job". He used to be so fresh and carefree, friendly to boot. At least, when he was driving the no. 11. What changed, 11 guy?

But then I realize, he was driving no. 1 bus. It's the main route and covers lot of millage. And has it's own history of crazy people clusters. And I mean crazy, like loose hinge on brain crazy. Crazy, preaching in the middle of the bus crazy. You know. So that explain the expression. Ah, too bad. He's kinda cute.

Self-sabotage Syndrome

Is it real? Yes, it is. It mostly can be seen in women. All ages. For us, ladies, the syndrome knows no boundaries. We all suffer from it, some times.

Case in point. This lovely woman I know is in the early stage of a relationship, with a good man. A good catch, your momma would say. But she's having all this doubt about it. Last night, on the kitchen, she poured her heart out. Basically, telling me why she wants to take things slow with this guy. Understandably, just like others, she's been hurt before. Bad. And I mean, bad. The kind of broken heart that would keel you over if you don't have a strong heart and will. The kind that make you wish you hurt more physically, just so you don't feel that aching mentally.

Anyway, I digress. So somehow in this conversation, she stated that this might be a mistake. Why? Well, this is where it gets interesting. If she were my shanks (pet name for my BFFs), I would tell it like it is. Like "Shank, you're shanking yourself here. Get a grip. He's a good man. Deal". (In reality, I don't talk like that) But she's not. So no "shanking" her. Okay, long story short, her reason is more spiritual than I would like to believe. I'm not the most religious person in the world, ladies. But really? Really? You've got to be "shanking" yourself here.

A good man is hard to find. Trust me, I've been looking for ages (decades even). So when one comes along, you accept. No, I'm not saying that you should throw a rejoicing dance or ritual. After all, man is only ... man. But accept that a good man wants to love you, you beautiful self. And on forward to your journey to get to know him. Don't, and I repeat, DO NOT sabotage yourself. It's kinda old. And remotely sick, I tell ya. We can't be always ruining ourselves. Do not drag your behind and sink it low.

So yes, I do think this lovely woman is self-sabotaging herself. But I can't tell her that, as she poured her heart out on the kitchen floor. So I stand there, and listen. I didn't tell her flat out what I think. I listen. I was the enabler that time. If only she was my shank ...

The Good Girl

So, why am I still single? My teacher just called it. We were catching up after not seeing each other for a while. And she just wondered out loud why a good girl like me is still single. She feels (out loud again) that me being a good girl should've been with a man right now. Well, I'm wondering too. Why am I still single?

As I walk my way to the bus stop, my mind glanced back to the internet dating phase I went through. I remembered just ignoring and rejecting people that doesn't add up to my expectation. Am I too picky for my own good?

Sorry, I feel like it's like selling out if I just settle. No, thank you. I think with all that I've been through, I deserve a right to be picky. I am looking for Mr. Right, now Mr. Right Now.

Nostalgia

A simple memory is not so simple anymore. My dad text me that my birthday is on the same date my cousin's wedding.

I disagree.

So I sent him back a text, saying "No, his wedding is happen to be on my birthday". After all, my birth happened a long 29 years ago. Long before the wedding is going to happen. I kinda feel I have the right to claim it first.

Anyway, I went off on a tangent here. He texted me back, telling me that my parents' wedding happens on the same date (according to Islamic calendar) that his parents'. Ha ...

The thing about is that now, after my mom passed away, reminiscing is a totally different experience. Back then, what it bring was just a content sigh, knowing just a little bit more of my parents' history. Now, it kinda ... suck a little. There was a pang of sadness (I'm sure my dad felt it a little more than me) and that thought, "Oh, she's not here anymore". And it lead to this post and a bit of tears.

*sigh* Now nostalgia really do bring tears.

It's Always Something

You see, there's always something. Let me give an example to make it easier. When you are in college, people would ask you when are you going to graduate. When you graduate from college, people would ask you when are you to get a job. When you got a job, people would ask you when are you going to get married. When you are married, people would ask you when are you going to be pregnant (or have a child). Then when you are pregnant or have a child, they'll ask you when the next one. It's like never ending expectation all around.

Right now, I'm in a situation where I am pretty much content with my life. I have a good job, not a dream job like being a chef in Food Network or work for this amazing hotels in Paris. But I like my job. It's what I came here for, plus I don't think you can get a better work atmosphere like my workplace. I like my co-workers, the chef is wonderful, learn a lot, and ... here's the plus plus plus, they like me. What more can you ask? Sure, the wage isn't 15 dollars an hour. Hell, it's not even 10 an hour (close, but barely). But I like it. Isn't it what important? Or not.

Am I losing my ambitiousness? Do I lost sense of that glimmering future of being a well-known chef? Can a girl take a break here? Or is it too late for me in life to even take a break (I pushing 30 here)?

To be honest with you, I would like to sit down and enjoy life for a moment here. I do feel that ball of chain labeled "too comfortable to move" or "affraid of change" slowly pulling me down. And I do have that glamorous dream every chef in the making have. But when is too much is too much? When can we stop having ambitions or goals? Or when can we have just goals, not ambition (goals=small accomplishment, ambition=huge, large, over the scale ones)? I know as I write, I won't have an answer just yet at the end of the post. It's like this huge, question ... what do I want to do with my life? Am I going to be pacifist? Or a goal-getter? An ambition ridden single young woman? Or follow the flow kind?

If I search my soul for an answer, so far I can only found one, definite answer. I want to be happy. So basic, so ... human. Unfortunately, my brain would go off doing it's analytical process as usual. I wonder if I can just enjoy this peace of mind for a moment or two. Just sit peacefully and smell the flower. Yes, this isn't the end of my journey. But I know, no ... I feel that my soul begs me too. Just a quiet moment, before I pick up my legs to chase that dream.

Chasing ...

I was just reading "Chasing Harry Winston" by Lauren Weisberger (Her first novel is the famous "The Devil Wears Prada"). Emmy, on of the character, turned down a position that enables her to go on a world culinary tour, just because her ex-boyfriend asked her not to. So they could be together in New York.

The first thing that came to me was, are you crazy? Ditching this almost once-in-a-lifetime chance, for a jerk that dump you anyway. Wow. If it was me, I would've accept the offer without even skipping a heartbeat. I get to travel, see exciting places, try wonderful world cuisine, and got paid doing it. Oh yeah, talk about a dream job. Screw the boyfriend. Gimme the job.

And then, a thought just jump into my mind. Is this why I don't have boyfriend?

2010

HAPPY NEW YEAR!

Short number facts for 2010: it's my 28th new year, 2nd without my mom, and 3rd that I celebrate in Michigan and away from home. Unfortunately, this time I celebrate it with being single ... again.

Speaking of, maybe I should make my 2010 resolution to be not single again. But then again, I do so hate sounding so desperate. I don't know what it is, but desperate doesn't wear well on me. Should I make the resolution "to try not to be single" instead? Somehow, that doesn't sound better. Still sounding desperate ... dang.

My sister tweeted that she most envious with people during new years and holidays, because they have a complete family. I'm pastel green with envy with people that are blissfully not single. And yes, that would include my sister. She is officially off the market, blissfully in relationship. And yes, it came complete with Facebook status change. Well, not really. I'm kinda glad that she could be in another relationship after the first train wreck. So she has healed and ready to put her heart on the line again.

But that leaves me! What would happen to dear old ... uhum, young me? Is it time to throw the towel? To finally settle for whatever I can get? To give Gerard Butler up? Umm, well ... never mind that (let's hope that Mr. Butler is not vain enough to google himself up). Maybe, maybe not. I just have to wait and see ...

2010 resolution: to open my mind broader to the options out there without settling for less than great.

Please tell me that ...

Oh dear sweetie,
Please do tell that the real reason you want me to stay is to keep me close. And that you don't want me to leave you ever. Despite everything that has happened, I'm still the one that you really want.

That was my wishful thinking when he said what he needed to say. But I know for sure it is what it is. Wishful thinking at it's best. I'd never be the one that he wants. How sad, but true.

Don't you hate it when you know that there is nothing that you can do to change the situation. And don't you even hate it more when before you have the chance to do something, that door closed on you. I mean, really?

So here I am. Done with wishful thinking, laying down on the ground. Hugging the earth close, waiting for that one person who can make me feel the way I did for him again. Waiting for that man with a sense of greater than life to pick me off the ground and sweep me off my feet.

Until then, I'm hugging mother earth and laying low.

Really???

Why is it that I always have this urge to write whenever I'm sleepy. Is it the same like when one feels the urge to purge whenever one is drunk? Purge as in to tells everybody everything one feels the need to tell. Is sleepiness similar to drunkeness? Hmm, I wonder.

Anyhoo, this urge to write is probably caused after I wander into the internet dating site I was writing previously. After so many days shunting it (I was after all in Paris, where hot, gorgeous, men with suit wandering around its streets), I went back and guess what ... so many rejections on my "inbox". One stated a physical distant is too great, but this one does reside in the same state. Physical distant, my a**. One stated other, could also be translated as "not-interested-but-don't-really-wanna-bother-to-tell-you-the-exact-reason-why-cause-you-so-not-worth-it". Or maybe it's just me. Whatever.

But I did scored two. One with not so distinct, oh how do I say it, attractiveness. And the other with an amazing resume, photos and all. Dang, I still feel so pathetic though. To my defense, I live in a city where the great men are either married or gay. And the stock of single, soon-to-be-great men is dwindling. Why did I ever choose this town? Maybe because my objective was to get a degree, not snatching a men. But hey a girl could multitask, can she?

Aw, man. This makes me feel a little depressed now ... aaaargh.

Going Fishing

I have a confession to make. *sigh* Here goes ...

For the past 3 months, I have been a member of an internet dating service. Yes, I am trying on internet dating.

*phew* There you go. Now on the context of this post.

I don't know if you are lucky enough to be doing internet dating. But for those who aren't, well, let me tell you how it goes. So all you need to do it provide your basic information and write short stories on your lonely, but oh so fulfilling life. Make sure you have a picture of yourself. And make sure it shows your best side. Other members would likely to based their judgment by this photo alone. Then you choose some categories. These will be used by the service to match you to several potential future significant others (please let me know if I'm being redundant here ...). Click OK or Submit several times and voila! You have your own internet dating profile.

Then here comes the tricky part. You have to sort through the abundance of matches provided by the website. My particular service let the members go through several steps, until they could send each other secure messages through the website. So to make the short story short, I have gone through some up and down. I've been to the open stage of the matchmaking with several men. But nobody sticks around long enough for me to consider open dating. Oh, the woe of internet dating!!!

I guess this internet dating thing is a lot like non cyberspace dating most people are doing. It feels like going fishing. You throw all the baits you can throw, out there to the water, then sit and wait for the fish bite. Sometimes you got lucky, sometimes the fish snuff you even before step one is done. Oh my god, what I'd do for my dad (long story, that is for another post). Then when first few steps are successful, there is no guarantee that it would translate to a date. A real date. Have the world gone mad? Or to be specific, have I gone mad?

At first, it feels kinda exciting. Picking which match you will communicate with. Hmm, not this one *click*. This one sounds funny *click*. Oh, this one is not going to work *click*. After several attempts to make connection, I am ready to crash and burns. Maybe even gives this internet dating stuff up. *sigh*

There has to be another way to find a future significant other ...

Get your foot out of your mouth!

Yup, your mouth can be your worst enemy. It sometimes has its own mind and you have no control of it. It would blurted out the most embarrassing, humiliating fact, that until one second ago is unknown to the person sitting across you. For me, my mouth, or in this case, my blog was my own worst enemy.

A while back, I was bitching about my living situation. Very tacky, indeed, I know. But what do you expect from a woman who has PMDD (according to me, of course). And suddenly I realize, that this blogging thing isn't entirely private. Well, yeah, DOH! This is the internet after all. And nothing is private in the internet. It's like leaving breadcrumbs, volatile breadcrumbs at that, all over cyberspace. Yeah, I know. I kinda wish I could smack myself in the back of the head, but I can't reach that far.

So what prompt me to write a blog again? I don't know. Everything changed. Borrowing from Dr. Covey (7 Habits of Highly Effective People), it's a principle based paradigm shift. It's a coreshaker that changes your point of view. It was the loss of my mom.

So now, everything changes, we all tried to heal ourself from the lost. And somehow I manage to patch things up again. Which is great. Late but great. But better late than never, huh Mom?

*sniff*

So yeah, get your foot out of your mouth!

Avoiding complications

Me? I'm a simple girl, who likes things to be simple. To be thrown into a complication is something I totally avoid in all cost. But here I am, bored out of my mind ... and mildly putting myself in danger of that I avoid the most ... complication.

But it smells sooooo tempting, it feels tempting too. In the middle of my boredom state, I feel the rush, the need for excitement, the thrill of seduction. It feels dangerous ... yet feels so right. It's the boredom that got me in ... I'm sure. Definitely the long hours of watching HGTV and yet another rerun of CSI that drove me to this search of thrills. Oh, what crazy thoughts.

It's like standing on the edge of a cliff, with the waves crashing into the wall below. You know the jump will kill you ... or at least, mange you (then kill you). But that is the least of your worries. In fact, there is no worries at all. The sound of the crashing waves just pulls you in. You want to make that jump. You're itching to just plunge yourself into the deep sea. The only thing that stops you is your common sense, tugging from the deep haze in your brain.

...
...
...
...

I really need to find something to do.

Memorial Weekend, 2009

Home alone. Everybody in the building seems to be out of town. I guess I'm the only who is stuck here. Don't you hate it when you have nowhere to go, when everybody else is already gone? I hate it especially now, when my hormone is raging and I'm more sensitive than normal. A friggin' fine time to have a PMS.

I wish I could do another night of sleepover at my friends', but I kinda think they'd want some time alone. Make me wish I have a lover right now, so I can call him and have rabid make out session just to spend the time. How ... pathetic. This isn't good ... I just called my life pathetic. *sigh*

Whatever. I just have to find ways to spend this weekend. Let's make a list, shall we?

1. Clean up the apartment ... channeling the clean freak in me
2. Oogle over Gerard Butler's pictures ... and be lost in his blue eyes
3. Figure out ways to meet Chris Pine ... Paris sounds like a good backdrop
4. Play The Sims ... channeling the control freak in me
5. Level up in Mafia Wars ... wow, really?

Just five? I'm really getting sleepy now. Writings not making any sense at all ...

Must ...
Stay ...
Awake ...

zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz

Reboot

Three years after the last post, I decided to reboot the whole thing. Things have changed. I've experience a great loss and now, life is totally different. Things seem different now. And hopefully for the greater good, I have changed myself.

And so here it is ... the story of my life. Slightly uncensored, hopefully more matured, more hopeful, more insightful ... for the lack of a better term, better.

Hopefully more entertaining too ...

Oh My God!

I cannot believe it! Some inconsiderate dumb a** wrote an incosiderate comment on my last entry. I was complaining about family, you b******! And you dare to wrote a commercial for a comment on that?!!!

HAH!

Why oh why?

Why oh why? I wonder why.

I should have known it was a f****** dream. I should have known it would f****** happens. Why would it be? Every dreams and hope (lately) just turned to dust of fairy goneby. Why can't I read the signs?

What so bad about spending family time together? Why wouldn't my dad spend money for that? He gives everything for his siblings etc. Why can't he spend money on us? Is it because we are dispensable? Is it because he thinks we are oblige to love him no matter what? Well, I am NOT oblige to love anyone. There is no such thing as f****** unconditional love. Love IS ALWAYS conditional.

D*** it! My parents are so good in letting people the hardest way ever. They would just let me float my a** off to the sky with a f****** baloon of hope. Then they shoot the d*** baloon off, and let me fall so hard to he ground that I would be buried six feet under. Or worst break into pieces.

I should HAVE f****** known!!! It was just too good to be f****** true. We were to finally spend time together again after the last trip to Bali. God, I hope I leave soon. I can't take it anymore. This family is screwed!

Whatever. I don't care. I AM GOING.

I am going to Singapore with or without you.

Diary of A Mad US Grand Prix

What ever happen this morning (or last afternoon in America)? I woke up this morning remembering some glimpse of a six-cars race. At first, I thought it was a dream. Or I was to occuppied playing some grand prix game, that I still remembering the scenes from the game. But no, it was real. It was real, I tell ya. And it was one bizzare grand prix. For as long as I've became an F1 fans, I don't, I NEVER recall that this had happen before.

It all started at the Friday free practice session. The tyres of Ralf Schumacher's Toyota gave away because of the speed at turn 13. This accident caused the Michelin people to doubt wheter their product is safe and good to go for the grand prix. One thing led to another, and they demanded that a chicane is build at the turn 13, to slow down the cars, so the risk of another tyre failure is minimized. The FIA (and Bernie Ecks too, mind you, that money grabbing dictactor) did not give in to the demand. The start was delayed, but all cars were on the grid. The fans was cheering (I was too). The warm-up lap goes underway. But alas, to no avail, the Michelin runners (cars that used Michelin tyres) turn into the pit lane entry at the end of it. And there they were six cars on the grid, the two Ferraris, the two Jordans, and the two Minardis. All were Bridgestone runners. The crowd was startled. I was startled. Could this be true? A six-cars race? But then, as soon the six of them lined up on the grid, the five red are lighted and the race begun.

I was shocked, so does the crowd. I was appalled, so does the crowd (a water bottle thrown into the track prooved that point). The crowd chanting, wanting their money back. I was laughing hysterically, wanting my sleeping time back. This is what I wake up for? A six-cars race? A race so predictable, that you didn't need to watch the struggle, instead just the front and the back. A race so pathetic that I do not have the desire to watch, even as a self-proclaimed hard-core Ferrari fans (and Ruben Barichello too). A race so bemusing, it still feels like I was dreaming of a nightmare last night.

Alas, it was not a dream. It was real. It was real, I tell ya. As real as the pain in my forehead, from repeated slaps from my hand, it was not a nightmare. It was real, REAL, I tell ya. The most bizzare, pathetic, confusing, and oh-so-not-cool race ever. Was it the FIA mistake (for not giving in)? Bernie Ecks (that money grabbing dictactor, for being money grabbing dictactor)? Michelin (for a lack of quality)? Bridgestone (for whatever they do)? Michelin teams (for deciding not to race and forfeit points)? Bridgestone teams (for staying put on the track even thou' it was spelled disaster)? Well, one thing for sure, it was so bizzare that it would rather be forgotten. And another thing for sure, the fans, the crowd, and the drivers of Michelin teams was the victim of this schmagance (chaos, disaster, freak - red).

I WAS THE VICTIM, DAMN IT.

So does Jarno Trulli and his pole position. I'm sorry Jarno, best of luck next time. Peace and god bless.

Damn!

I finaly realized what my dad is trying to do!

He was so bitchy about my cousin who is staying with us for a few days. And he was soooo annoying about him being the oldest, he didn't stay at home (he has a few days off), he's running away from his responsibility, bla bla bla. I was just soooooo furious about it. I thought he's just trying to make someone misreable just because he feel misreable, he's soooo mean, etc.

Then it hit me. He was dumping his frustation on him. His youngest sister and her son are in town, because her son has a uni entrance test. And he wants them to stay here at our house. But because my cousin is here, he couldn't invite them. So he dump all his anger on him. He's always like that. Building up anger then try to justified his anger toward people, even when they are innocence, not guilty. Gosh! I can't believe it! Can you believe it?

I'm sooooo not liking him right now. I just want to shout "shut the f*** up!". But of course I can't do that. Cause that would cause a bigger problem. Then he would make sure that I would suffer. Then he would recite all my past mistakes. Then he would make me feel guilty about it. And if I don't appologize, then he would degrade me.

Believe me...I live with this man for more than 20 years. What do you think makes me goes downhill on depression lane? Him!!! And he won't believe that it's his fault! Feels like living with Hitler.

Because I'm a queen

VIDEO
by India.Arie

Sometimes I shave my legs and sometimes I don’t
Sometimes I comb my hair and sometimes I won’t
Depend on how the wind blows I might even paint my toes
It really just depends on whatever feels good in my soul

I’m not the average girl from your video
And I ain’t built like a supermodel
But, I learned to love myself unconditionally
Because I am a queen
I’m not the average girl from your video
My worth is not determined by the price of my clothes
No matter what I’m wearing I will always be india arie

When I look in the mirror the only one there is me
Every freckle on my face is where it’s supposed to be
And I know our creator didn’t make no mistakes on me
My feet, my thighs, my lips, my eyes; I’m lovin’ what I see

I’m not the average girl from your video
And I ain’t built like a supermodel
But, I learned to love myself unconditionally
Because I am a queen
I’m not the average girl from your video
My worth is not determined by the price of my clothes
No matter what I’m wearing I will always be india arie

Am I less of a lady if I don’t wear pantyhose?
My mama said a lady ain’t what she wears but, what she knows
But, I’ve drawn a conclusion, it’s all an illusion, confusion’s the name of the game
A misconception, a vast deception
Something’s gotta change
Don’t be offended this is all my opinion
Ain’t nothing that I’m sayin law
This is a true confession of a life learned lesson I was sent here to share wit y’all
So get in where you fit in go on and shine
Free your mind, now’s the time
Put your salt on the shelf
Go on and love yourself’cuz everything’s gonna be all right

I’m not the average girl from your video
And I ain’t built like a supermodel
But, I learned to love myself unconditionally
Because I am a queen
I’m not the average girl from your video
My worth is not determined by the price of my clothes
No matter what I’m wearing I will always be india arie

Keep your fancy drinks and your expensive minks
I don’t need that to have a good time
Keep your expensive car and your caviar
All I need is my guitar
Keep your crisp style and your pistol
I’d rather have a pretty piece of crystal
Don’t need your silicon I prefer my own
What God gave me is just fine

I’m not the average girl from your video
And I ain’t built like a supermodel
But, I learned to love myself unconditionally
Because I am a queen
I’m not the average girl from your video
My worth is not determined by the price of my clothes
No matter what I’m wearing I will always be india arie

Disclaimer
The lyric are copyrighted by its' righteous owner
Courtesy of LyricsFreak.com

I Will Be Me (Greater Reason)

I believe I'm here for a greater reason
To be able to give to others
It may not be in a form of a nobel prize for peace
Or a cure for AIDS
I do believe I am able to do it
Serving food that give others joy
Seeing the happy faces when tasting the food
It is not about the revelation of the deed
But to do the deed with passion and determination
I may not be a PHd
With stars and honors
I may just be a chef or a decorator
But at least I'm happy and satisfied
That way I can give myself 100%
Because I have a self to give
I'm not a empty case anymore
But a person with soul and will
Also passion and dreams
I'm not just a reflection of others
But a true spirit of myself
Years ahead may not be a comfort journey
But I know I will have my reward
A happy and satisfied person
With dreams and passion
A compassionate and loving person
With all myself to give
At the end of the journey
I will be me
And me only