To have felt than not felt at all
The worst possible feeling is feeling nothing. I'm happy to feel sad.
Thursday, March 04, 2004
Bienvenido a Miami
Fun in the sun looms upon me. In three short days, I will basking in the sun of Southbeach Miami, sipping margaritas, digging my pedicured feet in the sand. Some girlfriends and I are headed there for the Winter Music Conference. An event that draws the likes of everyone in the music industry: DJ's, musicians, producers, and then of course, the ever-present groupie- that's me. Actually, I prefer the term Band-aid, in memory of Penny Lane. A full weekend of non-stop music, parties, hot tubs, beaches, tanning with others all in the same spirit.
So, then why am I not as excited as I thought I would be? I can't seem to muster up the enthusiasm. Normally, by now I would have re-packed my luggage twice, picked up a beach tote, and found the perfect sunglasses. Rather, I'm preoccupied with what I'll be missing here in NY. Why is it that the one weekend you're out of town, there's something new and different going on in town? I guess St. Patty's Day celebrations are quite festive here, which is a shame because I like the Green. I leave this Saturday, the day after the big B Day so, officially, when I arrive it's just about the sun, sand and sips. I just better get carded.
Fun in the sun looms upon me. In three short days, I will basking in the sun of Southbeach Miami, sipping margaritas, digging my pedicured feet in the sand. Some girlfriends and I are headed there for the Winter Music Conference. An event that draws the likes of everyone in the music industry: DJ's, musicians, producers, and then of course, the ever-present groupie- that's me. Actually, I prefer the term Band-aid, in memory of Penny Lane. A full weekend of non-stop music, parties, hot tubs, beaches, tanning with others all in the same spirit.
So, then why am I not as excited as I thought I would be? I can't seem to muster up the enthusiasm. Normally, by now I would have re-packed my luggage twice, picked up a beach tote, and found the perfect sunglasses. Rather, I'm preoccupied with what I'll be missing here in NY. Why is it that the one weekend you're out of town, there's something new and different going on in town? I guess St. Patty's Day celebrations are quite festive here, which is a shame because I like the Green. I leave this Saturday, the day after the big B Day so, officially, when I arrive it's just about the sun, sand and sips. I just better get carded.
Monday, March 01, 2004
A Day in the Park
Finally, a peek of spring graced us with its presence today. The slightly balmy air had the enitre city out and about. Tripping on dog leashes, stepping aside for strollers I headed to Washington Square Park to people watch, sip a latte, have a smoke and catch up on phone calls back to Cali.
With so much activity surrounding me, I tucked away the Nokia and became a part of the free-loading audience of street performers. From twin brothas somersaulting mid air, Jerry Garcia look-alikes playing banjos, skaters gliding on the concrete curbs, electoral campaigning, women selling handmade accessories, homeless selling used books and whatever else redeemable dispose, dogs playing, dog owners conversing like proud parents, couples making out, couples fighting, singles reading, talking on phones and scoping other singles, it was a good show. Only in NY could such a show take place all in the confounds of a park simply because it was 54 degrees.
Finally, a peek of spring graced us with its presence today. The slightly balmy air had the enitre city out and about. Tripping on dog leashes, stepping aside for strollers I headed to Washington Square Park to people watch, sip a latte, have a smoke and catch up on phone calls back to Cali.
With so much activity surrounding me, I tucked away the Nokia and became a part of the free-loading audience of street performers. From twin brothas somersaulting mid air, Jerry Garcia look-alikes playing banjos, skaters gliding on the concrete curbs, electoral campaigning, women selling handmade accessories, homeless selling used books and whatever else redeemable dispose, dogs playing, dog owners conversing like proud parents, couples making out, couples fighting, singles reading, talking on phones and scoping other singles, it was a good show. Only in NY could such a show take place all in the confounds of a park simply because it was 54 degrees.
Friday, February 27, 2004
Thursday, February 26, 2004
Spun Out
I have a thing for D.J.'s. So many nights out I’ve spent looking over the turntables rather than the accessible, available men on the other side of the tracks. Something about them so focused while they’re spinning, something about their oversized headphones, something about their elusiveness from the rest of the bar/club, something about their non-verbal occupation all fuels this mysterious quality. In addition, they’re occupied so you can’t bother them while they’re working, or can you?
Tonight, I found my answer. You can. Out at a bar with some friends, standing near the D.J. booth, he asks if he should play White Stripes or Jane’s Addiction. “Seven Nation Army,” I yelled. Soon, a conversation ignited. And well, idealization turned into realization. I realized that my long-time predilection was better left in my head. I’m bummed. Now, if the night is bust I can’t even have an in-head flirtation. I need to revive my imaginary friend.
I have a thing for D.J.'s. So many nights out I’ve spent looking over the turntables rather than the accessible, available men on the other side of the tracks. Something about them so focused while they’re spinning, something about their oversized headphones, something about their elusiveness from the rest of the bar/club, something about their non-verbal occupation all fuels this mysterious quality. In addition, they’re occupied so you can’t bother them while they’re working, or can you?
Tonight, I found my answer. You can. Out at a bar with some friends, standing near the D.J. booth, he asks if he should play White Stripes or Jane’s Addiction. “Seven Nation Army,” I yelled. Soon, a conversation ignited. And well, idealization turned into realization. I realized that my long-time predilection was better left in my head. I’m bummed. Now, if the night is bust I can’t even have an in-head flirtation. I need to revive my imaginary friend.
Winter is in the air
It’s starting to get warmer and by that I mean red alert blizzard days have simmered but it’s still layering, gloving, scarfing season…and who knows how long it will last.
All winter long I bitched to new friends about the cold like a true New York winter neophyte. It kept me in on some weekends. It made me ruin Via Spigas. It made me enter the Chinese Delivery number on speed dial 3 (after Taco King). It made me spend $12 on coat check at clubs (next winter I’m safety pinning all items together, “Look, miss coat-checker, I know it’s a funny looking jacket”). It made me memorize all the lines to Sex and the City…okay, so I would have done it even in the spring. Now, that spring is looming, it made me appreciate my first New York winter. So, as soon as it ends I can start to be grateful, any day now...
It’s starting to get warmer and by that I mean red alert blizzard days have simmered but it’s still layering, gloving, scarfing season…and who knows how long it will last.
All winter long I bitched to new friends about the cold like a true New York winter neophyte. It kept me in on some weekends. It made me ruin Via Spigas. It made me enter the Chinese Delivery number on speed dial 3 (after Taco King). It made me spend $12 on coat check at clubs (next winter I’m safety pinning all items together, “Look, miss coat-checker, I know it’s a funny looking jacket”). It made me memorize all the lines to Sex and the City…okay, so I would have done it even in the spring. Now, that spring is looming, it made me appreciate my first New York winter. So, as soon as it ends I can start to be grateful, any day now...
Monday, February 23, 2004
Today is the Sad Day
What will we miss more? The pee-in-your-pants (or in the shower on a politician) humor, the witty banter racketing to and fro, the relatable conversations at the Coffee Shop, the cutting edge fashion (this is an entry deserving of its own), or all its humanity of love, heartbreak, one-offs, or two lives finally shared all delivered through four fabulous women?
Much more needs to be discussed but it's a little hard to type with the keyboard swimming in tears. It's getting hard to breathe...
Until full recovery, I beg that not one more person say to me that it's "the end of an era," I know it is, just don't say it to me. Denial is the place I'd like to be until the season 6 is released in DVD. Okay, my laptop is starting to float...
On a brighter note, I am ecstatic about being able to post images onto my blog! So, I thought what photo would be deserving of being posted as the first of many to come than my 4 best onscreen friends. All was made possible by tech-savvy 'Clavie,' thanks girl.
Final exit from the Coffee Shop.
John?!? Who would have thought? We all know several John's but this one...this one is no John Doe.
What will we miss more? The pee-in-your-pants (or in the shower on a politician) humor, the witty banter racketing to and fro, the relatable conversations at the Coffee Shop, the cutting edge fashion (this is an entry deserving of its own), or all its humanity of love, heartbreak, one-offs, or two lives finally shared all delivered through four fabulous women?
Much more needs to be discussed but it's a little hard to type with the keyboard swimming in tears. It's getting hard to breathe...
Until full recovery, I beg that not one more person say to me that it's "the end of an era," I know it is, just don't say it to me. Denial is the place I'd like to be until the season 6 is released in DVD. Okay, my laptop is starting to float...
On a brighter note, I am ecstatic about being able to post images onto my blog! So, I thought what photo would be deserving of being posted as the first of many to come than my 4 best onscreen friends. All was made possible by tech-savvy 'Clavie,' thanks girl.
Final exit from the Coffee Shop.
John?!? Who would have thought? We all know several John's but this one...this one is no John Doe.
Sunday, February 22, 2004
Partying on a Playground
Okay, so I lied. No one can be that good of a kisser. I suppose it is what’s in the kiss. A little thing called the zsa zsa zsu, the butterflies, the zing, the chill factor.
The chilling butterflies are still zinging zsa zsa zsu and I don’t even know how or why.
I saw ‘the kiss’ over the weekend at a very special event with no special kiss. With number of friends reduced to a minimum here in NY, I was fortunate enough to have two very special people plan a surprise to ring in the official mark of a new age bracket. Solidly, I am in the mid-twenties. The pros? *scratch forehead* The cons? Meeting others my age steadfast in a career, gradually being invited to weddings, feeling silly shopping at a store called Forever 21 and well, not being 21. Moreover, feeling inane about feeling this way about a boy.
With 'the kiss,' that night was about being single and trying to mingle- sometimes I think the rhymes help. Checking in on him from time to time yet, being elusive it was reminiscent of juvenile games of tag with boys I crushed on in elementary. I am a 25 year old flirting with boys on the playground.
Okay, so I lied. No one can be that good of a kisser. I suppose it is what’s in the kiss. A little thing called the zsa zsa zsu, the butterflies, the zing, the chill factor.
The chilling butterflies are still zinging zsa zsa zsu and I don’t even know how or why.
I saw ‘the kiss’ over the weekend at a very special event with no special kiss. With number of friends reduced to a minimum here in NY, I was fortunate enough to have two very special people plan a surprise to ring in the official mark of a new age bracket. Solidly, I am in the mid-twenties. The pros? *scratch forehead* The cons? Meeting others my age steadfast in a career, gradually being invited to weddings, feeling silly shopping at a store called Forever 21 and well, not being 21. Moreover, feeling inane about feeling this way about a boy.
With 'the kiss,' that night was about being single and trying to mingle- sometimes I think the rhymes help. Checking in on him from time to time yet, being elusive it was reminiscent of juvenile games of tag with boys I crushed on in elementary. I am a 25 year old flirting with boys on the playground.
Tuesday, February 17, 2004
Subway, my way
Is it a practice only in my mother’s homeland to get up and offer your seat to elders? In Korea, a healthy, relatively young individual would be scornfully looked upon for remaining in their seat in the presence of a standing senior.
Having been in NY for half a year now, I am quite familiar with my primary mode of transportation, the subway, a.k.a. the Metro. I am a regular and I would assume many are. Yet, of the many, most are not either not aware of their surroundings or are indifferent to what surrounds them. I often find myself getting up and out of my spot on the bench for an elder, which I am more than fine with, however it shall be noted that there are several healthy men around me that remain seated. New York men…what a surprise.
Is it a practice only in my mother’s homeland to get up and offer your seat to elders? In Korea, a healthy, relatively young individual would be scornfully looked upon for remaining in their seat in the presence of a standing senior.
Having been in NY for half a year now, I am quite familiar with my primary mode of transportation, the subway, a.k.a. the Metro. I am a regular and I would assume many are. Yet, of the many, most are not either not aware of their surroundings or are indifferent to what surrounds them. I often find myself getting up and out of my spot on the bench for an elder, which I am more than fine with, however it shall be noted that there are several healthy men around me that remain seated. New York men…what a surprise.
Sunday, February 15, 2004
Small Hearts in the Big Apple
The attitude on dating, sex and relationships is a common one in New York- the first two are acceptable, the latter is not. At least this is the belief of most singles in New York. I am not casting doubt on the favored sentiment of a single, free life. Inarguably, there are benefits that cannot be gained if “with other.” One major sacrifice is sacrifice. One must forego their favorite bad music, watch Sex and the City with abrupt channel changes to ESPN, and get used to the idea that a toilet seat no longer has a cover.
So yes, there are losses when “with other” but are there also gains? Sure, otherwise why would people do it...right? Yet, the once-desired security, stability and settlement are being replaced by the sought of freedom, “friendship” and…well, sometimes the other f. This is what most toasted to on Valentine’s Day. I had my first Valentine’s in NYC and it was an interesting experience, to say the least. Many sneered it as a day of contrived romance and others scoffed at the ones that succumbed to Hallmark’s propaganda. I was a part of this group. It was not necessarily out of bitterness but because red roses aren’t my fave and I can eat fine chocolates any day of the year.
So then, in today’s time, is it simply cool to be anti-relationship? The single movement has taken such a toll that it has surpassed a state of trend and now is a state of mind; this is definitely the case for the city of New York. The non-committal and frivolous behavior was present and accounted for on this red and pink day. Inhibitions lowered as more approached the anonymous, smiles flashed across the parallel lines at men’s and women’s restrooms, and even the elusive offer of a drink was extended. These practices are easier than getting that reservation at Nobu, hunting down shriveled roses at the last minute and buying chocolates at the cost of a round of drinks for all your friends.
In this regard, it is easier to be single. Independence comes naturally, it is co-dependence that is a challenge, a challenge that most are not up for. Good, bad? Progressive, regressive? "Hmmm..."
The attitude on dating, sex and relationships is a common one in New York- the first two are acceptable, the latter is not. At least this is the belief of most singles in New York. I am not casting doubt on the favored sentiment of a single, free life. Inarguably, there are benefits that cannot be gained if “with other.” One major sacrifice is sacrifice. One must forego their favorite bad music, watch Sex and the City with abrupt channel changes to ESPN, and get used to the idea that a toilet seat no longer has a cover.
So yes, there are losses when “with other” but are there also gains? Sure, otherwise why would people do it...right? Yet, the once-desired security, stability and settlement are being replaced by the sought of freedom, “friendship” and…well, sometimes the other f. This is what most toasted to on Valentine’s Day. I had my first Valentine’s in NYC and it was an interesting experience, to say the least. Many sneered it as a day of contrived romance and others scoffed at the ones that succumbed to Hallmark’s propaganda. I was a part of this group. It was not necessarily out of bitterness but because red roses aren’t my fave and I can eat fine chocolates any day of the year.
So then, in today’s time, is it simply cool to be anti-relationship? The single movement has taken such a toll that it has surpassed a state of trend and now is a state of mind; this is definitely the case for the city of New York. The non-committal and frivolous behavior was present and accounted for on this red and pink day. Inhibitions lowered as more approached the anonymous, smiles flashed across the parallel lines at men’s and women’s restrooms, and even the elusive offer of a drink was extended. These practices are easier than getting that reservation at Nobu, hunting down shriveled roses at the last minute and buying chocolates at the cost of a round of drinks for all your friends.
In this regard, it is easier to be single. Independence comes naturally, it is co-dependence that is a challenge, a challenge that most are not up for. Good, bad? Progressive, regressive? "Hmmm..."
Saturday, February 07, 2004
Can’t have it all
Okay, I realize what I'm about to say makes me a bit of a freak but I must pose the question. What’s the point of having a great kiss if that’s all there is? I know, I know, how dare I think that the physical element be combined with…oh I don’t know emotional, mental stuff.
Okay, the kiss...there was something about it. Something about it was so familiar, comfortable and well, irresistible. It usually takes me a while to learn a new kiss but this...this was effortless. And now here comes the cream pie. Although, it's not what you think. The kiss is still good, real good. Yet, it is what precedes it and follows it that is not equitable. I'm starting to get the whole "with emotion" thing. You can have a great kisser and nothing else or you can have a bad kisser and if everything else is there, you'll actually want to learn a new kiss.
So, I guess the physical stuff loses. The other crap wins. This is even harder.
Okay, I realize what I'm about to say makes me a bit of a freak but I must pose the question. What’s the point of having a great kiss if that’s all there is? I know, I know, how dare I think that the physical element be combined with…oh I don’t know emotional, mental stuff.
Okay, the kiss...there was something about it. Something about it was so familiar, comfortable and well, irresistible. It usually takes me a while to learn a new kiss but this...this was effortless. And now here comes the cream pie. Although, it's not what you think. The kiss is still good, real good. Yet, it is what precedes it and follows it that is not equitable. I'm starting to get the whole "with emotion" thing. You can have a great kisser and nothing else or you can have a bad kisser and if everything else is there, you'll actually want to learn a new kiss.
So, I guess the physical stuff loses. The other crap wins. This is even harder.
Monday, February 02, 2004
It’s in his kiss
Can the order proceed as such: kiss then, attraction? I find myself in unfamiliar territory for whenever physical intimacy occurs, it is usually anticipated and/or predicted (willingly or not).
Take the kiss, for example, when that hopeful lean is taken and eyes shut and lips finally meet, there were signs leading up to it. If it was anticipated, the exhilaration engulfs your entire being. If it was not wished for, well, it’s just bad.
But, what if you’re caught off guard? Completely not expecting it. Not because there was no attraction but because there were no indicative signs leading up to it such as, spending the entire night bickering and bantering about nothing and everything. Then, suddenly, a kiss from nowhere and you’re stuck in a moment of puzzlement? Only to piece together that whatever it was, it kind of shook you to your core. Then, the moment clarifies into a moment of where did that come from, and when will it come again?
Can the order proceed as such: kiss then, attraction? I find myself in unfamiliar territory for whenever physical intimacy occurs, it is usually anticipated and/or predicted (willingly or not).
Take the kiss, for example, when that hopeful lean is taken and eyes shut and lips finally meet, there were signs leading up to it. If it was anticipated, the exhilaration engulfs your entire being. If it was not wished for, well, it’s just bad.
But, what if you’re caught off guard? Completely not expecting it. Not because there was no attraction but because there were no indicative signs leading up to it such as, spending the entire night bickering and bantering about nothing and everything. Then, suddenly, a kiss from nowhere and you’re stuck in a moment of puzzlement? Only to piece together that whatever it was, it kind of shook you to your core. Then, the moment clarifies into a moment of where did that come from, and when will it come again?
Thursday, January 15, 2004
Same old, same old…some new, some new
So, I decided that I couldn’t brave the cold nor, the separation from family and friends for winter break, so rather than a white Christmas this year, I headed west for a sunny Christmas.
Having gone to college half an hour away from home, it never felt like I went ‘home for the holidays.’ This time around, it did. It was great to get behind the wheel again and to retire the metro card for a few weeks, walk around sans scarf, gloves and face-mask. It was nice to see familiar faces, it was nice to know some faces you don’t have to see anymore and yes, it was even nice to be with family. Some friends are now in relationships, living with boyfriends and two dear friends are *gasp* engaged. Yes, they are my age *roll eyes*. And some are now single *grin*. No, this isn’t an evil smirk, it’s a ‘yay, they’re coming out of the couple cove and going to party with me’ smile.
The scene in San Francisco hasn’t changed much. This is both comforting (to know that home will always be home) and disconcerting at the same time (that some things should evolve…quickly).
Between a ski trip to Tahoe, drinks with my girls, still wanting to party after 2am, pleasant encounters with boys I wish I had met in NY instead of SF, boys I could have been fine with not meeting at all, fights and hugs with my mom, begging to borrow my brother’s car, “I missed you’s” and “come visits” it was a nice holiday season. To that end, I will say, I miss loved ones dearly but I sure am lucky to be where I’m at.
So, I decided that I couldn’t brave the cold nor, the separation from family and friends for winter break, so rather than a white Christmas this year, I headed west for a sunny Christmas.
Having gone to college half an hour away from home, it never felt like I went ‘home for the holidays.’ This time around, it did. It was great to get behind the wheel again and to retire the metro card for a few weeks, walk around sans scarf, gloves and face-mask. It was nice to see familiar faces, it was nice to know some faces you don’t have to see anymore and yes, it was even nice to be with family. Some friends are now in relationships, living with boyfriends and two dear friends are *gasp* engaged. Yes, they are my age *roll eyes*. And some are now single *grin*. No, this isn’t an evil smirk, it’s a ‘yay, they’re coming out of the couple cove and going to party with me’ smile.
The scene in San Francisco hasn’t changed much. This is both comforting (to know that home will always be home) and disconcerting at the same time (that some things should evolve…quickly).
Between a ski trip to Tahoe, drinks with my girls, still wanting to party after 2am, pleasant encounters with boys I wish I had met in NY instead of SF, boys I could have been fine with not meeting at all, fights and hugs with my mom, begging to borrow my brother’s car, “I missed you’s” and “come visits” it was a nice holiday season. To that end, I will say, I miss loved ones dearly but I sure am lucky to be where I’m at.
Tuesday, December 09, 2003
Spoon and Swoon?
This past weekend, a girlfriend came through town with friends from work and over dinner the topic of spooning, cuddling, post-sex came up. Her friends, guys, were earnestly trying to convince us that they occasionally sought a simple cuddle session. That there are times that they would rather lay next to someone and simply hold each other to sleep. Hmmm...*scratch forehead* This concept was hard to buy, that guys would opt for a sex-free trade of affection. But, what really bothers me is the fact that I found this hard to believe. I’m not a misanthropist, I’m a realist…right?
So, then the question is this, if it is agreed that sex is the most intimate physical act two people (or whatever your preferred party count is) then, why is it more nerve-racking to regress? As we get older or, as sex becomes more frequented on a casual basis, does the traditional chronology revert itself? Recall the "bases." Once upon a time, there was a succession people followed that led up to sex: kissing, a little more, a little more than a little more and eventually, if you round out the bases, sex. Has this order reversed?
I often hear tales of holding hands as a defining moment. Several dates take place before fingers interlock, it has replaced sex as the sign of closeness. When did this regressive transition take place? Was it sometime between high-school sweethearts and drunken fraternity keg parties? Was it between the lapse of a serious relationship to casual dates? Was it between a break-up and make-up with others? Moreover, why has this happened?
I suppose it’s because sex is discrete (for most of us) thus, there is no public display whereas, holding hands indicates to the world that they are taken, off the market, unavailable, wed, hooked, hitched, et al, and that’s something many are not ready for. Rather, most are inclined to gather their clothes, exchange the obligatory kiss and, do they dare, the evasive phone number, and let themselves out.
I feel blue. I can’t think about this stuff. I thought it would be a nice break from writing term papers but I think I would rather write on the origins of symbolic expression in the hyper-reality of heteropic virtual media.
This past weekend, a girlfriend came through town with friends from work and over dinner the topic of spooning, cuddling, post-sex came up. Her friends, guys, were earnestly trying to convince us that they occasionally sought a simple cuddle session. That there are times that they would rather lay next to someone and simply hold each other to sleep. Hmmm...*scratch forehead* This concept was hard to buy, that guys would opt for a sex-free trade of affection. But, what really bothers me is the fact that I found this hard to believe. I’m not a misanthropist, I’m a realist…right?
So, then the question is this, if it is agreed that sex is the most intimate physical act two people (or whatever your preferred party count is) then, why is it more nerve-racking to regress? As we get older or, as sex becomes more frequented on a casual basis, does the traditional chronology revert itself? Recall the "bases." Once upon a time, there was a succession people followed that led up to sex: kissing, a little more, a little more than a little more and eventually, if you round out the bases, sex. Has this order reversed?
I often hear tales of holding hands as a defining moment. Several dates take place before fingers interlock, it has replaced sex as the sign of closeness. When did this regressive transition take place? Was it sometime between high-school sweethearts and drunken fraternity keg parties? Was it between the lapse of a serious relationship to casual dates? Was it between a break-up and make-up with others? Moreover, why has this happened?
I suppose it’s because sex is discrete (for most of us) thus, there is no public display whereas, holding hands indicates to the world that they are taken, off the market, unavailable, wed, hooked, hitched, et al, and that’s something many are not ready for. Rather, most are inclined to gather their clothes, exchange the obligatory kiss and, do they dare, the evasive phone number, and let themselves out.
I feel blue. I can’t think about this stuff. I thought it would be a nice break from writing term papers but I think I would rather write on the origins of symbolic expression in the hyper-reality of heteropic virtual media.
Saturday, November 29, 2003
The Grand Gesture
Girls expect romance more than guys. This is true. Which, in turn, means that a guy has a duty that girls are freed of. (Mark the date of this entry, I believe I am in rescue for the fellas).
I was talking to a guy the other day and we were discussing creative, romantic gestures, including marriage proposals. Some sweet tales were exchanged. Days later, I realize that all the stories were things that a GUY has done/could do. *Scratch forehead* Why there were no stories of how a woman has proposed is understandable- traditionally, it hasn’t happened much. Okay, so be it. But why?
When a guy performs the grand gesture, it is considered romantic, when a girl does it, it is often looked upon as foolishly audacious. This doesn’t have to apply to only marriage proposals, it can include other grand gestures such as professing one’s love, demonstrating desire, initiating a reconciliation, et al. A woman says “I love you” and sometimes, it is uneasily received. A woman initiates sex and often, she is labeled easy. A woman asks for a guy back and, she may be considered needy.
So, is this worse for the guy, being stuck with plentiful duties in the romance department or, for the girl, restricted from acting upon thoughts/feeling?
Well, if guys were obliged to a little less and girls initiated a little more, then maybe a shift in balance will occur, leading people to be able to act in accordance to their wishes. How nice would it be for a guy to get chocolates on Valentines and for a girl to be able to call a in the middle of the night (with no judgment ;)
Girls expect romance more than guys. This is true. Which, in turn, means that a guy has a duty that girls are freed of. (Mark the date of this entry, I believe I am in rescue for the fellas).
I was talking to a guy the other day and we were discussing creative, romantic gestures, including marriage proposals. Some sweet tales were exchanged. Days later, I realize that all the stories were things that a GUY has done/could do. *Scratch forehead* Why there were no stories of how a woman has proposed is understandable- traditionally, it hasn’t happened much. Okay, so be it. But why?
When a guy performs the grand gesture, it is considered romantic, when a girl does it, it is often looked upon as foolishly audacious. This doesn’t have to apply to only marriage proposals, it can include other grand gestures such as professing one’s love, demonstrating desire, initiating a reconciliation, et al. A woman says “I love you” and sometimes, it is uneasily received. A woman initiates sex and often, she is labeled easy. A woman asks for a guy back and, she may be considered needy.
So, is this worse for the guy, being stuck with plentiful duties in the romance department or, for the girl, restricted from acting upon thoughts/feeling?
Well, if guys were obliged to a little less and girls initiated a little more, then maybe a shift in balance will occur, leading people to be able to act in accordance to their wishes. How nice would it be for a guy to get chocolates on Valentines and for a girl to be able to call a in the middle of the night (with no judgment ;)
Thanksgiving with the Sopranos
This was my first Thanksgiving away from home. Granted, Thanksgiving in my family doesn't depict a traditional one, if we want turkey, we go to Boston Market. My family is not big on holidays, that's been the case all my life thus, it's what I know and it's what I'm fine with. But, this year I was in for a holiday treat, a traditional east coast Thanksgiving with the Sopranos meets the Romanos.
A friend from school, Jaime (this girl is crazy, she's one of those who you thought must have been a cheerleader/president of her sorority, but she's even cooler than that, she was the one roll her eyes at 'em) extends a gracious warm invite.
We approach the home and easily I spot the house. Christmas lights drape every pane and roof tile. We walk up the steps, I smell the enticing aroma, yum. We enter and turkey decor ubiquitous in this Queens suburb home. The greetings begin. The family is Italian, which means kisses on both cheeks for every hello, goodbye and a few extra in passing. Soon, appetizers are served: stuffed mushrooms, stuffed tomatoes, stuffed artichokes, Italians really know how to stuff, including guests. As soon as a plate clears, more food is on its way. Some food, then the Turkey Bowl. Yep, a family football game. Soon to follow, THE MEAL. All the fixings, two to three versions of all the fixings, "Candy, this is vegetarian stuffing, I know you're from California. Now, there are some low-cal foods, which I don't think you should eat, because it's not good and you don't need to be concerned but you're from California, so who knows?" I love it. Thus far, it's like what I see in the movies, except the characters names are Uncle Ray, Uncle Jimmy, Cousin Tony and a few juniors, there's even an Uncle Carmine. And the women, they're cooks, moms of 3-4 children, and they call you "honey" and "sweetie" with total naturalness. They also ask the family to go around and say grace.
My turn comes. I'm red and it's not from the wine, which they didn't stop pouring...I wonder if that was grape juice in the baby bottles. I creatively say, "I'm thankful for being able to spend Thanksgiving with this family." Everyone cheers, toasts and sips. This goes on for every person's grace. More energy is exerted in the after dinner activity, Charades. I don't recall the last time paying games with my family...no, I take that back, we play a lot of phone tag.
And on those messages, we do tell each other what's going on in our lives, occasionally even that we miss each other and my mom is always telling me to wait to cross streets one foot away from the curb. So, when I was thinking about how jovially-spirited the Jordans are (for safety reasons, they don't go by Soprano), and wishing that I had a family that like that to go home to on the Holidays, I realized that I did wish I could go home to my family. We eat whatever delivers on a holiday, go to Starbucks for dessert, fight, yell, laugh, only to re-fuel to fight a little more...see, now that's the traditional Thanksgiving, isn't it? Although, the Jordans were a great substitute.
This was my first Thanksgiving away from home. Granted, Thanksgiving in my family doesn't depict a traditional one, if we want turkey, we go to Boston Market. My family is not big on holidays, that's been the case all my life thus, it's what I know and it's what I'm fine with. But, this year I was in for a holiday treat, a traditional east coast Thanksgiving with the Sopranos meets the Romanos.
A friend from school, Jaime (this girl is crazy, she's one of those who you thought must have been a cheerleader/president of her sorority, but she's even cooler than that, she was the one roll her eyes at 'em) extends a gracious warm invite.
We approach the home and easily I spot the house. Christmas lights drape every pane and roof tile. We walk up the steps, I smell the enticing aroma, yum. We enter and turkey decor ubiquitous in this Queens suburb home. The greetings begin. The family is Italian, which means kisses on both cheeks for every hello, goodbye and a few extra in passing. Soon, appetizers are served: stuffed mushrooms, stuffed tomatoes, stuffed artichokes, Italians really know how to stuff, including guests. As soon as a plate clears, more food is on its way. Some food, then the Turkey Bowl. Yep, a family football game. Soon to follow, THE MEAL. All the fixings, two to three versions of all the fixings, "Candy, this is vegetarian stuffing, I know you're from California. Now, there are some low-cal foods, which I don't think you should eat, because it's not good and you don't need to be concerned but you're from California, so who knows?" I love it. Thus far, it's like what I see in the movies, except the characters names are Uncle Ray, Uncle Jimmy, Cousin Tony and a few juniors, there's even an Uncle Carmine. And the women, they're cooks, moms of 3-4 children, and they call you "honey" and "sweetie" with total naturalness. They also ask the family to go around and say grace.
My turn comes. I'm red and it's not from the wine, which they didn't stop pouring...I wonder if that was grape juice in the baby bottles. I creatively say, "I'm thankful for being able to spend Thanksgiving with this family." Everyone cheers, toasts and sips. This goes on for every person's grace. More energy is exerted in the after dinner activity, Charades. I don't recall the last time paying games with my family...no, I take that back, we play a lot of phone tag.
And on those messages, we do tell each other what's going on in our lives, occasionally even that we miss each other and my mom is always telling me to wait to cross streets one foot away from the curb. So, when I was thinking about how jovially-spirited the Jordans are (for safety reasons, they don't go by Soprano), and wishing that I had a family that like that to go home to on the Holidays, I realized that I did wish I could go home to my family. We eat whatever delivers on a holiday, go to Starbucks for dessert, fight, yell, laugh, only to re-fuel to fight a little more...see, now that's the traditional Thanksgiving, isn't it? Although, the Jordans were a great substitute.
Monday, November 24, 2003
Separate-Togetherness
I got to thinking (I do give it a whirl sometimes) and thought how it's funny how when you're dating multiple people simultaneously there's not much to talk about with your girlfriends. "How's Jim, Bob, and Smith?" Reply: "It's cool, they're fun, you know, everything's cool." Succinct yet, vague. This is not intentional but, it is the inevitable when there is not one focus. But, if you're actually in that elusive one-on-one situation, there's a plethora of topics to discuss i.e., he's a bastard because (fill in the blank), or he did the sweetest thing, he (fill in the blank). Or, better yet, when there is no one, endless rants persist on the gripe of the lack thereofs.
I suppose this is because when you're multi-dating, no one particular really means anything. If there is just the one, the others would be a mere disruption. Now, the real question is, does that prevent anything from developing into anything serious, or do we practice such a juggle as a measure of caution? I know, I know this is not a new lament from me but it is reiterated because seemingly, this is an issue that prevails from college to marriage, girl to guy, guy to girl and coast to coast.
Words like "serious," "exclusive," and, of course, "commitment" have become words of taboo in the realm of dating. Fine. It's perfectly okay to desire other things in lieu of a relationship. There are notions that suggest that a lot must be sacrificed if not, at least compromised to engage in a steady relationship and that's just too much work. It is a separate-togetherness that is sought. Then, as a result, has independence become an easier trait to acquire than co-dependence?
I got to thinking (I do give it a whirl sometimes) and thought how it's funny how when you're dating multiple people simultaneously there's not much to talk about with your girlfriends. "How's Jim, Bob, and Smith?" Reply: "It's cool, they're fun, you know, everything's cool." Succinct yet, vague. This is not intentional but, it is the inevitable when there is not one focus. But, if you're actually in that elusive one-on-one situation, there's a plethora of topics to discuss i.e., he's a bastard because (fill in the blank), or he did the sweetest thing, he (fill in the blank). Or, better yet, when there is no one, endless rants persist on the gripe of the lack thereofs.
I suppose this is because when you're multi-dating, no one particular really means anything. If there is just the one, the others would be a mere disruption. Now, the real question is, does that prevent anything from developing into anything serious, or do we practice such a juggle as a measure of caution? I know, I know this is not a new lament from me but it is reiterated because seemingly, this is an issue that prevails from college to marriage, girl to guy, guy to girl and coast to coast.
Words like "serious," "exclusive," and, of course, "commitment" have become words of taboo in the realm of dating. Fine. It's perfectly okay to desire other things in lieu of a relationship. There are notions that suggest that a lot must be sacrificed if not, at least compromised to engage in a steady relationship and that's just too much work. It is a separate-togetherness that is sought. Then, as a result, has independence become an easier trait to acquire than co-dependence?
Tuesday, November 18, 2003
Wine and Whine
Buzzed. Again. I’ve had trouble sleeping. I’ve had to drink a little to get to sleep. This is nothing new for a former insomniac. Yet, it is new when you have to drunk dial friends back in California.
So, I have been sipping wine and sniffling tears. It’s been three months in NY and already so much has happened. So many hellos and almost as many goodbyes.
I have yet to establish a set group of trusted friends, correction, girl friends. I have been blessed to have had the same circle of the greatest girls for almost a decade now. I have often debated whether or not I was missing out for not belonging to a more balanced, coed group of friends. I now have the answer. No, I never felt a void for lacking platonic male companions. However, I DO feel the emptiness of not having a group of just the girls. Granted, any potential girl I meet will ever measure up to my girls back home; nonetheless, I'm a girl’s girl. I need girl friends.
I miss 7 girls wripping apart a closet to get ready for a night out. I miss drinking, dancing and dining with them. Particularly the latter, I miss the Jack in the Box drive thru’s. *sniffle* I miss them making fun of the guy I was talking to at the club. I miss giving them shit for spending the whole night talking to a gorgeous gay guy. I even miss the drama. Ahh, the drama. Moved 5000 miles to get away from it only to learn that it was that that made us last. How triumphant we have been given the tears and guys we have shed ;) Fortunately, I have also met people to appease the forlornness. People that have distracted the isolation with laughter, conversation, pearls and twirls at Suede, boy bashing at Cafeteria, walking over bridges, salsa and Salsa, great burgers a la Blue 9, and parties in your mouths.
Buzzed. Again. I’ve had trouble sleeping. I’ve had to drink a little to get to sleep. This is nothing new for a former insomniac. Yet, it is new when you have to drunk dial friends back in California.
So, I have been sipping wine and sniffling tears. It’s been three months in NY and already so much has happened. So many hellos and almost as many goodbyes.
I have yet to establish a set group of trusted friends, correction, girl friends. I have been blessed to have had the same circle of the greatest girls for almost a decade now. I have often debated whether or not I was missing out for not belonging to a more balanced, coed group of friends. I now have the answer. No, I never felt a void for lacking platonic male companions. However, I DO feel the emptiness of not having a group of just the girls. Granted, any potential girl I meet will ever measure up to my girls back home; nonetheless, I'm a girl’s girl. I need girl friends.
I miss 7 girls wripping apart a closet to get ready for a night out. I miss drinking, dancing and dining with them. Particularly the latter, I miss the Jack in the Box drive thru’s. *sniffle* I miss them making fun of the guy I was talking to at the club. I miss giving them shit for spending the whole night talking to a gorgeous gay guy. I even miss the drama. Ahh, the drama. Moved 5000 miles to get away from it only to learn that it was that that made us last. How triumphant we have been given the tears and guys we have shed ;) Fortunately, I have also met people to appease the forlornness. People that have distracted the isolation with laughter, conversation, pearls and twirls at Suede, boy bashing at Cafeteria, walking over bridges, salsa and Salsa, great burgers a la Blue 9, and parties in your mouths.
Tuesday, October 28, 2003
B & B at C.C.’s
Looks like I’m open for business again…wait, probably not a wise statement by someone named Candy. What I mean is that my side business of a bed and breakfast has re-opened at its new location, NY. Sure, there isn’t much breakfast since now, my refrigerator is stocked with menus.
Been here two months and have already had 3 visitors and 5 more to go. People have said, “Wow, Candy you must be really popular.” It’s funny how much your popularity increases when you get a place in NYC. The burning question is, had I moved to Boise, Idaho, would I still need to put out clean towels biweekly? Actually, I take that back, Boise has stuff to offer. What if I had moved to Mobile, Alabama?
Yes, they’re a pain the ass. Constantly, asking me if I know how to get to places. What to do, where to eat, how to get back home…like I know, right? It’s been like the blind leading the blind. Friends frustrated with my map illiteracy, the weather (in their defense, it does quite suck), and the lack of hot boys, so they say.
Well, as far as the past week, I don’t have much of a rebuttal, no sweets for the eyes. But not all was bad in fact, had we found some cuteness, we may have not had the unforgettable NY experience we did. It is the search of boys that is quality time amongst girls, by getting to know what your girlfriend seeks in a guy you gain the comfort of knowing that you will never fight over the same guy. By getting lost, we were able to walk and talk 5 (or 50) extra blocks. And, by being weak Cali-weather spoiled girls, we were obliged to stay in, out from the nasty dewy rain, and whine and dine over the lack of cute boys while flipping through countless menus.
The hotel is vacant now. No occupancy reserved until next month. Unexpectedly, I find myself a feeling alone...and mind you, I have lived alone for some time now and this is unfamiliar territory. I have always maintained that my favorite part of the day is coming home to a quiet empty house. Strange, I kind of miss having my girl waiting for me with Indian, Japanese and Mexican cuisine, “I couldn’t decide, she chuckles.” *cute* Yeah, I’m glad I didn’t move to Alabama.
Looks like I’m open for business again…wait, probably not a wise statement by someone named Candy. What I mean is that my side business of a bed and breakfast has re-opened at its new location, NY. Sure, there isn’t much breakfast since now, my refrigerator is stocked with menus.
Been here two months and have already had 3 visitors and 5 more to go. People have said, “Wow, Candy you must be really popular.” It’s funny how much your popularity increases when you get a place in NYC. The burning question is, had I moved to Boise, Idaho, would I still need to put out clean towels biweekly? Actually, I take that back, Boise has stuff to offer. What if I had moved to Mobile, Alabama?
Yes, they’re a pain the ass. Constantly, asking me if I know how to get to places. What to do, where to eat, how to get back home…like I know, right? It’s been like the blind leading the blind. Friends frustrated with my map illiteracy, the weather (in their defense, it does quite suck), and the lack of hot boys, so they say.
Well, as far as the past week, I don’t have much of a rebuttal, no sweets for the eyes. But not all was bad in fact, had we found some cuteness, we may have not had the unforgettable NY experience we did. It is the search of boys that is quality time amongst girls, by getting to know what your girlfriend seeks in a guy you gain the comfort of knowing that you will never fight over the same guy. By getting lost, we were able to walk and talk 5 (or 50) extra blocks. And, by being weak Cali-weather spoiled girls, we were obliged to stay in, out from the nasty dewy rain, and whine and dine over the lack of cute boys while flipping through countless menus.
The hotel is vacant now. No occupancy reserved until next month. Unexpectedly, I find myself a feeling alone...and mind you, I have lived alone for some time now and this is unfamiliar territory. I have always maintained that my favorite part of the day is coming home to a quiet empty house. Strange, I kind of miss having my girl waiting for me with Indian, Japanese and Mexican cuisine, “I couldn’t decide, she chuckles.” *cute* Yeah, I’m glad I didn’t move to Alabama.
Thursday, September 25, 2003
Goodbye and Hello
I am alive. Contrary to popular belief, I have not vanished to some small island with millions of neurotics and assimilated. No possible way that could have happened ; )
It’s ironic how when you don’t have time to write is when you should because there are actually things to write about. Thus, a synopsis of the past 60 days, incidentally one of the most pivotal two months of my life…
July/August
moved out of the Bay/moved into NYC
sold car/bought Metro card
packed/unpacked
said bye to friends/said hello to new ones
Now, it’s September and school is three weeks deep, summer is fading and like the fall tranquility in Central Park (and I use the word “tranquility” selectively in reference to New York City) I, too, feel like I can walk again rather than run, chew not swallow, and finally breathe rather than gasping for some NYC taxi smog-filled air. Just about settled into my new home and school. So, what am I left to do?
Light a cigarette from my $8 pack, sip on a $4.50 cappucino, endure through the humid heat, hop over urine puddles at the Time Square subway station, hop from bar to bar in Greenwich Village, eat in Washington Square Park, rollerblade in Central Park with an ice cream cone, weave through orange cones in the Bronx to get to the best paella in the city, jump back on the 6 train, a.k.a. Carrie Bradshaw's neighborhood, a.k.a. my new home.
And that’s where I’m at. It’s an aged, pre-war, above the neighborhood bar, laundry mat, and nail salon building built out of a shoebox, or at least it’s the same square footage. Okay, I just stretched my arms out and touched wall to wall. Everything is dual purpose: the bed doubles as the couch, table also a desk, bathtub can be used as a guest bed. In spite of tiny apartment and tiny budget I would like to have guests…only from Cali, of course.
Wow, I actually do miss my family and friends. Never had to miss them before, having been raised and schooled in the same area my entire life. When I told family and friends that I would miss them at my farewell, it fell to be true. So, what am I left to do?
Guess I'll have to see...
I am alive. Contrary to popular belief, I have not vanished to some small island with millions of neurotics and assimilated. No possible way that could have happened ; )
It’s ironic how when you don’t have time to write is when you should because there are actually things to write about. Thus, a synopsis of the past 60 days, incidentally one of the most pivotal two months of my life…
July/August
moved out of the Bay/moved into NYC
sold car/bought Metro card
packed/unpacked
said bye to friends/said hello to new ones
Now, it’s September and school is three weeks deep, summer is fading and like the fall tranquility in Central Park (and I use the word “tranquility” selectively in reference to New York City) I, too, feel like I can walk again rather than run, chew not swallow, and finally breathe rather than gasping for some NYC taxi smog-filled air. Just about settled into my new home and school. So, what am I left to do?
Light a cigarette from my $8 pack, sip on a $4.50 cappucino, endure through the humid heat, hop over urine puddles at the Time Square subway station, hop from bar to bar in Greenwich Village, eat in Washington Square Park, rollerblade in Central Park with an ice cream cone, weave through orange cones in the Bronx to get to the best paella in the city, jump back on the 6 train, a.k.a. Carrie Bradshaw's neighborhood, a.k.a. my new home.
And that’s where I’m at. It’s an aged, pre-war, above the neighborhood bar, laundry mat, and nail salon building built out of a shoebox, or at least it’s the same square footage. Okay, I just stretched my arms out and touched wall to wall. Everything is dual purpose: the bed doubles as the couch, table also a desk, bathtub can be used as a guest bed. In spite of tiny apartment and tiny budget I would like to have guests…only from Cali, of course.
Wow, I actually do miss my family and friends. Never had to miss them before, having been raised and schooled in the same area my entire life. When I told family and friends that I would miss them at my farewell, it fell to be true. So, what am I left to do?
Guess I'll have to see...
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