Tales of the Employed Unemployee, Episode 2

I feel like I've been out of contact with the world for a week, but in fact it's really only been two days. You spend 2 days in a house up in the hills, and already I feel as if I've been away on vacation...except not as fun as vacation...though perhaps just as interesting.

I'm currently working as a PA on a photo shoot with a really famous photographer, the details of which I probably can't get into until I'm done. (well, ok probably not, but it sounds cooler that way, no?) He has these three large great danes. And by large, I don't mean shaggy dog large, I mean LARGE. As in, they come up to my stomach. As in, if they were to stand on their hind legs, they might be as tall as me. As in, they can probably take me down if they wanted to without trying too hard. But they're so sweet. We're currently occupying a side room as an office, and according to their caregiver, its their "lounge." Geez, I don't even have a lounge. They'll just come in and stare at me, or my boss, as if they're saying, "Strange beast, what are you doing in my lounge? I'd like to lounge now, can you please get out or move?" And I just look at them straight in the eyes (its easy because the chair I sit in is so low that its at their eye level), pat them on the head, and just smile. Sometimes I bring out the baby talk...cause I'm sure that really annoys them. So since we strange beasts won't budge, and they want their lounge, they'll just plop down right next to us. Haha..suckers.

Beasts: 1.
Great Danes: 0.

And now, the sidelines:

Rumor has it that my Idol nemesis, ACE, is finally off the show. Thank god! This fact has yet to be verified, which I will do after this blog.

Ok, so how many of you want to see American Dreamz, raise your hands? Higher....higher...! YOU in the back, I can't see your hand! Yea, you all know you want to go see Mandy Moore. At least I do. :-( I thought I had grown out of Mandy Moore, and sometimes I really can't stand her sweeter than candy demeanor, yet I always want to see her movies. And buy her albums (the last one sucked big time by the way!!!). So, as dumb as this movie may look, I'm DYING to see it. Plus Hugh Grant is in it, it's got to be good! I love Hugh, I really do, love Hugh.

(Haha...I just thought of this really funny scene for a situational comedy where...well, this is how it would go:

Girl: I love Hugh.
Guy: Really?
Girl: Yes, really and truly.
Guy: Well...I don't know what to say...
Girl: Don't say anything, I just needed you to know...
Guy: I never thought I would say this to anyone but...I think I finally realize...I love you too!
Girl: Really?
Guy: Yes, really and truly.
Girl: Wow, I never knew.
Guy: Well, you're the first person I've ever said that to.
Girl: But I love Hugh.
Guy: Yes. And I love you too.
Girl: So what do we do now?

And yak yak yak, blah blah blah. The rest is where the hilarity will ensue...promise. Yea ok, needs some work...but boy, I can drag that on forever! Moving on.)

I missed out on the wondrous day that is 4/20. I didn't even realize it til 10pm. I have 12min left to celebrate. And when I say celebrate, I don't mean "celebrate" with equipment and all. I just mean, a little, "yay hooray, its 4/20 day" in my head. And I just did it. With 10 minutes to spare...whew.

Kelly Clarkson performing in Irvine in AUGUST!!!! OMG!! Do I dare go? She speaks to me, she really does. Well, through her music, not the mobile or anything like that. I have some time to decide.

WELP. I think that's all for now. I'm tired. I hope I don't die these next couple of days. If I do, someone finish my situational comedy for me, please. And make it good.

Good Night.

I always have this self conscious feeling of not knowing enough information about anything and everything. Sometimes I wish I was E.T. and can just absorb knowledge with a snap of a finger. And, I'm not even talking about the important stuff. I mean, important stuff like world news and politics is good to know, and I'd love to absorb that too. But I don't even know the unimportant stuff-like Sanford and Son? Ok, just googled it. Looks familiar, but never seen it. Jefferson Airplane? Is that 1 person or a group? Though I am a child of the 80s, I missed out on most of the decade, due to the fact that I was out of the country in my early years. I barely caught the New Kids on the Block craze, I didn't know who Tiffany was til freshman year of college, and I can't even name 1 Billy Idol song. Sure, these facts aren't that important, but people bond over things like this. And when it comes up, I feel like the non-smoker in the smokers' circle: so uncool.

So help me out readers. Give me some factoids. People to know, incidents that happened, songs to listen to. Pass the cigarette and light me up, I WANT IN!

PS!

May I introduce (ta da!) Ms. Sarah Parker's new/old Blog, as well as Mel and Jyvonne's Blog, over there, to your left!
Let's all welcome them to the Blog World! (applause)

Thank You.

Taxes: finally sent. Hooray!

This leaves me more time for:
*Taking over the world: Check.
*Blogging: check.
*Being unemployed: check.
*Hula Hooping: check.
*Eating: double check.

Knowing I won't have to do it all again for another year: Priceless.

:-)

Tales of the Employed Unemployee

Today, I realized how many people in LA don't work. I know everyone says that about LA, but actually seeing it still amazes me. What amazes me even more is that everyone looks like they're being paid not to work. Everyone just looks like they have so much time on their hands, not a care in the world, except for maybe whether or not they really got the nonfat milk they asked for in their lattes, or if indeed! it was replaced by whole milk and that no, the barrista was not paying attention after all.

Maybe they're not unemployed. Maybe its their day off. Maybe its their lunch break. Maybe they're on vacation. But all I can say is that these people who are not working between the hours of 9 to 6 for the most part, all look GOOD. The guys look good, the girls look good, even the babies and dogs look good. Boy, that's LA for you.

Today on my one-day-job, I went around LA gyms and fitness clubs trying to get people to audition for a print ad. Boy, people in LA sure work out ALOT. Not only do they work out, they work out at HUGE fitness centers that have valets dressed all in white to greet you when you get out of the car. Whatever happened to that diet tip where you're suppose to park as far away as possible so you can get a mini work-out from the walk? But I guess if you can afford it, you just pay to have someone do the mini work out for you BEFORE you actually work out yourself.

I also listened to bits and pieces of the same newscast on NPR oh about five times in my car. I can't stand the other radio stations now...whatever happened to all the good stuff?

I'm currently doped up on caffeine. Caffeine and sugar. I've had nothing in me all day except for coffee, and a piece of cake. Chocolate cake. Good cake. And now, my fingers want to type faster than my brain can process. It's really such a shame, to put all this energy to waste. If in an alternate world, the ability to type faster than fast is equal to that of a surgeon's skills here in this world, I'd be saving more lives than you can count right now. One two three four five. More lives than you can even read this sentence.

I must go. My friend the microwave is calling me. It plans to cure my faster than fast typing abilities by putting some sustenance in my body. You know, to counteract the drugs. I hope, in our world, that micro wave succeeds, though I can't say the same for those on the other world.

Until next time these fingers hit the keys, and save lives in the process (should we be on that OTHER world),
Ciao.

Dear friend,

I'm sorry you've been neglected lately. It's not you, please don't think it's you, you're wonderful. Thing is, it's me...or rather, myspace. No, you're not encroaching upon it, like I've said, it's not you, you're wonderful. Its myspace, and it's evil. I'm weak, and I'm easily tempted by others to spend more time in myspace than what is really necessary (which, in truth, is NOT AT ALL). I know you're always here for me, so I will make more of an effort to spend more time with you. Especially since our anniversary is coming up in a few months. No, I haven't forgotten. It'll be our 5th. See? I do love you after all! So please, forgive me, I've returned to you.

Sincerely,
SH

Wow.

Today has turned out to be quite the interesting day.

The End.

But also the beginning of a new chapter.

Man...I get so jealous when I find out about people going to grad school. It seems so big and important. Not to mention exciting. I loved school...well, college is more like it. I didn't really love learning until I got to college. Highschool was just a mandatory social experiment that I happened to survived through. Oy...

College was where I actually learned. And looking back on it now, I didn't want to leave. As much as I loved San Diego, I liked it as much as I did because of school. And because of the people at school. Not just for the social aspects, but well...there were so many smart and interesting people in college. And professors too. I remember having the BEST last quarter ever. I was stimulated and challenged. I was learning about things I was interested in. And some that weren't so interesting, but for the most part, it was. But for some reason I graduated a quarter earlier than everyone else, I guess hoping that I'd get a jump on the industry competition before everyone else in my major graduated. Not a lot of good that did. Yea. If I had known then what I know now, I would've stayed that extra quarter, taking classes that I didn't really need to but wanted to, and just enjoy the good hearty edumacation (not to mention the shuttle rides).

Maybe I should go back to school?

Goodbye Ace, Hello Chris!

Dear Ace,
It was either me or the hair, and it seems as though you've decided on your hair...so I'm moving on- with the baldy.

Regards,
SH

Dear Katherine,
You're beautiful. We're practically neighbors! Let's do lunch.

Best Wishes,
SH

Holy Cow.

I drove by a Baja Fresh yesterday and did a double take as my eyes skimmed over a sign that said: Now serving Breakfast Burritos. Now, Baja Fresh isn't exactly my favorite, I prefer Rubios, especially after those days in Hollywood where we would end up eating Baja once or twice a week, just because it was convenient. But now that they serve BBs there, I may have a different outlook on Baja. Then again, I really should try the BBs there before I jump to any conclusions.

So last night, as I stared at this sign, I realized something. You know how sometimes you wonder what you're doing here? You know, those big questions about life, and who you are, and what your purpose is, yadda yadda. Last night I realized that I am here to spread my love of Breakfast Burritos to the masses. (At least those who read my blog.) See, its all very simple. I try the Breakfast Burritos from all over, I tell people about them - which ones were great, which ones to stay away from, etc, and I pass that information on to YOU, the masses, so that you can share in the joy that is: The Breakfast Burrito. I'm not here to serve god, I'm here to serve YOU, at least the part of your taste buds that enjoy Breakfast Burritos.

Holy Breakfast Burritos Batman!

Try saying that 3 times fast.

No Ace, YOU give ME butterflies...

Man, every time I see that guy smile I can't help but smile to myself. It's contagious. He can stand to lose some of that hair, but, no matter. Yummy.

My American Idol fun fact of the week: One thing people may not know about me is that I can recite the entire greek alphabet, from Alpha to Zeta. If you're lucky, I'll recite it through song.

My American Idol performance for the week: Katie Melua's "I cried for you." I can't get enough of that song.

Randy will say: Yo yo, listen, listen, that one goes straight to the dog pound...woof woof.
Paula will say: It was a big risk because Katie's voice is so good, but you made it your own. I can't wait to see what you do next week.
Simon will say: I like you SH, I do, but that song just didn't do it for me. (And...cue boo hiss from the crowd)


And that is how I participate in my own American Idol.

Oooo woah woah.

Stop with the Brokeback jokes, PLEASE!

Yes, it was a good movie. Yes, there were some awesome performances. Yes, gay cowboys are kinda hot. Yes, it may have broke new ground.** Yes, we all wish we knew how to quit Heath Ledger...it's hard, I know. But please, for the sake of originality, and my sanity, PLEASE:

STOP WITH THE BROKEBACK JOKES!!!!

It's kinda like what George Clooney said about winning his oscar, that he'll be forever known as an oscar winner and sexiest man of 1997. That's how I feel homosexuality will be associated with from now on. Which is kinda sad to me. In the future, we'll look back in the post-Brokeback Era, and know that it started with this movie. Being gay will no longer simply be "being gay". (Not that it's that simple to begin with) Homosexuality (not to mention cowboys too!) will now always be tainted by that movie, with the prefix of "Brokeback ThisorThat" or jokes like "Hey there goes that Brokeback couple" or "maybe that cowboy is from Brokeback Mountain."

Ok ok, lame jokes I know, but I'm not a freakin comedian. I'm just trying to make a point.

So the point is, references to the movie are no longer funny. It has overstayed its welcome. I also believe this whole phenomenom is creating this outlet that's making it ok to poke fun at gays. First there's the Brokeback to the Future spoof, then theres the Top Gun spoof. Then there's Billy Crystal in the tent with Chris Rock. Not to mention the film montage during the Oscars that show supposedly all cowboys are gay in old westerns. Yadda yadda yadda. Ok, alright, I get it!!!! Now stop it!!!

I don't usually get irritated with too much, but this topic has me irked. I really do believe it's just the lack of originality. Spoof after spoof, joke after joke, it's always the same thing. If Brokeback the film was suppose to be a "fresh" new look at homosexuality, then boy, you spoofers and joke makers are really sucking it dry.

And the other reason is just what I said earlier, that spoofing this film is making it ok to make fun of being gay. I don't know, are there any gay people reading this that don't agree with me? Am I being too uptight about this? Making it an issue when it's really not? Do you, as a gay man or woman, actually enjoy these jokes? Not that I have any gay readers, but because I really don't know, why don't you tell me.

But for all of our sakes, I really hope this is just a phase that everyone grows out of...like that whole Jerry McGuire phase we all went through where everyone "completed" each other and all that bullshit.

**And can someone please explain to me how Brokeback broke new ground? We're in 2006. Homosexuality is everywhere, though perhaps not accepted everywhere (like your trusty Mastercard). We've seen homosexuality before in movies. It's on TV everywhere! The L Word, Queer as Folk. Samantha made lesbianism hot on Sex and the City (yes, most guys will argue that it was always hot to begin with, that Samantha had nothing to do with it, whatever, I'm trying to make a point). Will and Grace is on a public channel, not CABLE, where you have to pay! Any poor person with a TV has access to Will and Grace. I'm just trying to pointing out, it's nothing new!!! (Damn, I should be a lawyer.)

So, even though Brokeback was a great love story, does the fact that it's a love between two really really, I mean, really hot gay cowboys (let the record show that I've loved Heath even before he went down in A Knight's Tale back in '01 and my relationship with Jake began shortly thereafter) make it ground breaking even though it's a subject we've all heard of/seen before?

Can someone explain that please?


Oy. I rest my case.

Oh Kelly Clarkson, how I love you.

I need another day.

SB has a point. Sometimes, the two day weekend is just not enough to do all that you need to do. We have five days to work, why don't we get 5 days to do our shit? But see, I'm not even asking for 5, I'm just asking for one more. Three day weekends should not be something we look forward to, it should be the norm. The units of time within 2 days is sometimes just not enough for what I have planned. I have old roommates to catch up with. Phone calls to people I have to make. Movies to watch. Moon to play with so she doesn't feel unwanted. Trainers to set up. Laundry to do. Self training to master. Guitar songs to rehearse. Grey's Anatomy I want to watch. Apartment to be cleaned. And so on, and so forth. Every weekend, I make this list, and hardly ever do I check off the entire list before it's Monday morning again. After the hours spent into extra sleeping, showering and eating, the weekend's half gone. If we had another day, we wouldn't run into this problem. Everyone would be refreshed from the weekend, having done all that was needed, and be ready to work on Monday. Great, and now I'm starting to sound like SB.

Tonight, Moon and I made it home to watch the last hour of American Idol, guy's night. I try not to get sucked into these things, but its hard. Especially with someone like Ace on the show! Boy, he's a real winner, I'll tell you that. Moon would never admit it, but she was mesmerized too, I can tell.

I finally finished Life of Pi last night (which was the reason for me getting up late this morning and almost late for work). I had my doubts in the beginning, but halfway through it, I found myself engulfed in the book, and thinking about it throughout the day, wanting to talk to someone about Pi, (also wanting to eat some pie too, but that's nothing new). That's when you know you've got something special; when it creeps up on you before you even realize it.

There's just something about reading a really good book thats just so refreshing yet really lonely at the same time. The experience of it is twofold: you find yourself trapped inside the world of the writer, living his words, celebrating his joys, traveling the world. Yet at the same time, reading a book is so personal: you do it by yourself at your own pace, you turn the pages when you're ready, all the sadness and happiness you're experiencing is done alone. There's no one to share it with at *that* moment. There were so many times while I was reading when I just wanted to turn to the person next to me and say, "can you believe that just happend?" but I knew I would be answered by silence.

Oh sure, tons of people have read the book, I can find anyone to sit down and have a discussion, but I just feel it won't be the same. They'll be recalling hints of memories of what they read a week, a month, a year ago. They may remember what happened in chapter 24, but would they be able to remember how they felt when they read that chapter? What was racing through their minds? What kinds of questions they had that they deeply needed answered right then?

No, I don't believe it would be the same.

But, no matter. As lonely as it is, I would rather have these amazing experiences on my own than to never have read anything worthy of a deep heavy sign of appreciation as I did last night.



Mmm...french apple pie.

Alas, I've found that Mr. A-Z will not return to the states until at least after June. Hopefully he will be back in July, perhaps in time for my birthday? That would be spectacular.

This past week the band finally got together for the first time ever, after months of talk and mental rehearsals. Things escalated when our "studio" (if you will) was suddenly made available to us. Shortly thereafter, we conceived of the greatest band name ever, one that everyone quickly agreed to without hesitation (not to mention ideas for t-shirt designs), which finally resulted in our first jam session. One thing I realized during our jam session was this: being a rock star will be harder than I imagined. Not that I ever thought it was easy, but it will be hard. I need to brush up on my skills. (But in reality, I really need to just get some skills.) My lack of musical abilities was not exposed this time, for Hillz forgot to bring her amp for me, so I played as if I was the greatest rock star ever, and since they couldn't hear me, nobody was none the wiser. But since then, the amp has been brought in, and the next time we play, everyone will find out I'm a fraud.

But no matter. I will not let that stop me. Embarrasment only lasts momentarily (unless you're like me, and tend to play all things embarrassing on a constant loop inside my head.) And if I suck now, I can only get better. I'll bring home the "most improved" award. Afterall, I can't NOT be a part of a band with a name so great. It'd be like knowing you have the winning lottery ticket, and then throwing it in the trash.

And who would do that?

"Not I", said the fly with a pie in the sky.

Not I.

The Chronic (WHAT!)-cles of India

,

and subsequently Hong Kong

: A continuation...

I don't think I can quite go through everything I experienced in India, so I'll just do what I can on this blog, and leave the rest in my head, where images still appear in my dreams even after a week of being back.
A couple things on India:

*Driving on the street gets pretty crazy.*

Cars don't drive inside the lanes! This I experienced pretty quickly in India, when the driver took us from the airport to the hotel. They seem to like to hover over the middle white line that divides the road into two lanes. Everyone always seems to be in a hurry, so if the rickshaw/car/bus/large truck with a load the size of an elephant/etc. is going too slowly in front of you, you simply honk your horn for them to move over to let you go ahead. But you don't just honk. You HOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOONK (seriously) until the vehicle in front of you moves over. And even IF you can clearly see that the vehicle in front of you can't move over for whatever reason, you still HOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOONK HONK HONK HOOOOOOOOOOOOONK until they do so. Even if the vehicle in front of you is still a few seconds away from being directly in front of you, you still HOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOONK until they move, just to get a head start. It gets very loud and annoying sitting on the road, let me tell you.

However, many of the large trucks have two words painted on the back of the truck or rear bumper: HONK PLEASE. So I guess it's normal to be honked at. Another thing I noticed was that many of their heavy loaded trucks are all very brightly painted and decorated. They're fun to look at, especially when the honking gets not so fun.

Many times, depending on what part of the city you're at (we were mostly in Delhi), I'm guessing the light signals are merely "suggestions" rather than the law. There were a couple times when after we crossed a street, I thought to myself, "Self, did we just go through a red light?" To which I would reply to myself, "Self, I belive we just did."

On the very first day of our 5 day tour, within 10 minutes of getting into our car, the car's right side mirror got sideswipped by this huge bus. That's how close the bus came to us.

The streets there were farily dusty. Parts of the main roads were paved, but the sidewalks weren't. Everywhere I went I felt like there was dust everywhere. Not to mention cows. People keep asking me if I saw cows. Yup. I saw cows. Lots of them. Most of the time just chillaxing on the street, or trying to find something to eat. Most of them looked like they were in pretty bad shape though, either really skinny, or really dirty. None of them looked particularly happy, not at all like those prankster california cows that they're always showing on TV. I also saw several elephants, monkeys (which, as cute as they are, you have to stay away from), yaks, camels, and of course, a snake charmer with a cobra that came out of the basket when he played his flute thing.

Oh, and along the way, I saw men (of all ages) just peeing along the side of the road, or against a wall. Speaking of men:

*Men in India are not afraid to show their feelings.*

I saw alot of men in India holding hands with other men. Either alone together, walking down the street, with a group of other friends, you name it, they hold hands. They also get very huggy with each other. And yes, they're still completely heterosexual. Trust me, we asked. It was a little surprising at first to see, but I'm glad that they're ok being so open about showing their affection for their friends.

I don't think I'll get into all the temples, museums, and monuments we saw on our trip. Too many to name, and the pictures would probably do it better justice than whatever I can say about them. Actually, no. The pictures themselves probably won't do the real places any justice either...I'm a bad photographer anyway. I can't say that my experience is totally representative of India since most of the places we went to were tourist areas. So if you're really all that interested about the things I saw, I guess you'll have to go there yourself and experience it.

One thing I did love in India was their movies. I watched parts of 2 movies on the busses, and even though I couldn't understand what they were saying, I still got the gist of it, and I LOVE those dance numbers. The guys dance, the girls dance in their sexy clothes, and they just dance dance dance while they sing sing sing, and everything is really bright and colorful. How can one not be happy after watching one of those singing dance numbers? How?

I do have to say though, that I've become quite proficient at squatting down to pee. You do something enough times, you're bound to get good at it, even if you weren't to begin with.

HONG KONG...

...was awesome! For some reason, I really liked Hong Kong. Maybe it was because it was so much more comfortable than India. Maybe because everyone there is Chinese and I can relate and just blend in. Maybe it was because everything seemed familiar and reminded me of my early childhood in Taiwan. Or maybe it was just because there was food everywhere? Yea, probably. (Oh, and plus Hong Kong is just fun to say in English. I usually say it with an accent ala Audrey Hepburn in Breakfast at Tiffany's.)

Everywhere you go, there is a restaurant in front, in back, to the sides of wherever you are. Small or large (but usually small). I smelled chinese food all the time! (Which was a great change from all the curry smells that made me nauseous in India, AND, the lack of any chinese food smells in Burbank.) And most places stay open pretty late...imagine having noodles after midnight....oh the life.

Public transportation there consists of nice and clean double decker buses, clean subways, taxis everywhere, and mini buses (which are suppose to be faster than the big busses I think). It was really easy to get around. And all you do is buy a Supercard in advance, and you can just scan it through on the busses or subways. It's so fast and easy, and there's no fishing in your pockets for change. I'm starting to sound like a commercial for Hong Kong...

And did I mention the food? Hong Kong is famous for their seafood, which, when I realized it, thought, it's ok, I can just eat rice. (I'm not a huge seafood fan...I'll eat fish, but I can pass on all the other stuff.) But there was one night where we had a seafood feast, and I tried everything, even things I didn't think I would ever eat, and it was all so delicious. SO DELICIOUS!!!! I still don't know what some of the stuff I ate was. But I know it was darn tasty. I left that night with a full stomach and a new outlook on seafood. Well...at least the kind in Hong Kong.

Even though I have lived in Taiwan and New Jersey, I mostly grew up in Southern California...Orange County no less, and I've always been aware that I live in a bubble. So whenever I go to a new place I always wonder if I can ever live there, if my coffee drinking, corolla driving, celebrity sighting, flip flop wearing, Hollywood trashtalk, sunny-all-the-time-without-humidity, reality TV filled way of life could ever adapt to a new environment. I think I could in Hong Kong. I think I'd be able to toss up my beret, do a twirl in the street, and make it there afterall...should I ever choose to.

I guess we'll see.

Hello people. Here I am, back from the other side of the world, alive and well (except for dry skin and the minor sniffles). I'm pretty bummed, I didn't get to write as much as I had expected to, there just wasn't enough time. So, I will now transcribe what little I did write, which really had nothing to do with the places I visited at all. Perhaps the next post, or the next. We'll see. This will be a long post, bear with me. Or, just skip it all together.

The Chronic (WHAT!)-cles of India

Monday, Jan 23, 7:38am

Well, it's only been a few hours into my trip and already I have so much to write about. I'll spare you the particulars about getting up at the crack of dawn and just jump right into my first QTS ("question to self"): Just how many beverages on board this flight will they serve me before cutting me off? It seems like a good test to conduct in the midst of my boredom, but perhaps I will save that for the 10hr flight to Tokyo.

Next item of business: while in the car to the airport this morning, I came up with the greatest title to sum up all the writing I'll be doing on this trip. Henceforth, begins: "The Chronic (WHAT!) -cles of India (and subsequently, Hong Kong)". Alright, I admit, its long and only slightly humours if you've seen the SNL skit. If not, well then, go download the skit online somewhere and then come back. -BATHROOM BREAK- Just returned from the bathroom and one observation; morel ike a second QTS: this mile high club that people talk so much about, how do they manage? These bathrooms are tiny, barely enough room for a large person, how do two people fit in there? Perhaps the restrooms are larger on the jumbo jets...I'll have to report on that later.

Soon, I will be landing in Portland. I wish I had done some research about Portland since I'll be stuck there for three whole hours. Slight chance of rain there, the capt. said. I wouldn't mind getting out of the airport to see the city but its highly doubtful I will. I'm sure I already display signs of being the novice traveller. I'm a little too eager in my movements and too easily excited and confused. A skilled con man would be able to easily single me out in the crowd and prey on my inexperience with traveling. Oh look! Snowy mountains to my right! Pretty..

I have a window seat, and am the only occupant in this row, which is cool, I've never had my own row before. And hark! More snow! One thing I do like about flying, is that it's always sunny up here, despite the weather down there. I mean, to have the sun right next to you, shining its rays of light down below is so serene and promising of what's to come.
Ooooh! A snow filled lake!

My mental visualizations of the plane going down will not help me on this flight, for I visualized myself on the left side, and I am sitting on the right side of the plane. And, the other passengers on board are just too mellow to fulfill the role of the screaming chaos I had visualized. No, these people will not do at all. And it's too late to adjust my visualizations, at least for the flight. Perhaps on the next?

11:27pm PST Monday

There is snow in Japan. How cool is that? Ok, maybe not that much, I guess its just that everything looks pretty from above. So far, from the circular walk I just made around the international center area, Japan is pretty darn cool. For one, I've already gotten kicked out of the NWA membership lounge, (not knowing it was the membership lounge) but the Japanese lady was so polite about it that it was actually a pleasure to get kicked out by her. (How was I suppose to know you need a membership card to stay in the lounge? The signs said "public lounge!!")

**NOTE: Upon returning to that airport, I realized that I had read the sign wrong, public lounges were downstairs, membership lounges (where I went) was upstairs.

I feel like an ipod commercial walking around these airports with my ipod shuffle dangling around my neck (I have no pockets on me), while I walk in step to the tune of Ben Lee's "That's the way I like it." I was a bit worried about the music selections in my shuffle, but so far, I think I did superb: these are totally hanging-out-in-airports-of-different-countries tunes. Definitely.

So I survived the dreaded 10hr flight. Sat next to an older gent whose story can be an entry of his own. It was definitely more cramped on that flight, which was the reason for me not writing for 10hrs. Plus Tom (the name I'm giving to the man who sat next to me because we never did introduce ourselves, thus avoiding the commitment of friendship at the minutest level) probably would have asked about it, or even worse, start reading over my arm about the things I would write about him. Instead, I read my trashy OK! magazine, a little piece of guilty pleasure I gave into during my 3hr wait in Portland, which, from the airport, seemed very pretty (again, probably just the whole "birds eye view" thing. Tom said its not so great.) I also napped, ate a lot of snacks I brought, ate alot of in flight food, shared my snacks with Tom, and watched bad in-flight movies. Other than my back and my butt being super uncomfortable, it wasn't so bad. Actually, trying to sleep was really tiresome and annoying.

Oh great, my shuffle just stopped working. My apple commercial has ended. Op! There it is. Yay!

So, I made some observations on the last flight that answered some of my previous QTS's. Number one being: in higher altitudes, my bladder will probably give in before the beverages do.
In flight beverages: 1 SH: 0

Also, after making several trips to the restroom, I've concluded that yes, two people can fit in there and still have a couple inches of room left to join the club. It may not be comfortable, but it is definitely possible. However, another QTS is raised: How do 2 people get in without being seen? I guess that is why the club is so exclusive: because it's hard. There's at least 1 person hanging around at any given time, not to mention the people who sit right next to the restrooms who have nothing else to do but look at the people entering and exiting the restroom. So, I give props to the people of the "club."

The Sun is just now setting in Japan, but it is after midnight in Burbank. I have made it through my first day and I am still here, alive. My mental visualizations would have come in more handy on this last flight, as I was sitting on the correct side of the plane this time, and the passengers aboard, little beknownst it to them, corroborrated with the passengers in my visualizations: a couple families with small children (the better to add to the chaos if the plane went down), many Japanese men and women (have you seen their useless inventions? If they're not crazy, I don't know who is), and just a good mix of people who seemed like they would create chaos, should the opportunity arose. Not at all like the duds from the Portland flight.

6:02 am PST Tuesday

Boy, am I lucky. With 30 minutes left before I land in Hong Kong, I will just say that I was able to have the whole row to myself on this flight. I didn't really get to take advantage of the whole situation though, but the extra leg room is always nice. And boy do I feel like crap. That is all.

Feb 1, sometime somewhere in Singapore

Here I am, sitting once again in the singapore airport, waiting for my flight back to Hong Kong. That's right, back to Hong Kong. I barely had a free moment in India to do any writing. It was all "go go go!" or sleep so that we can do some more "go go go!" My so-called "chroic (what!) -cles of India" are now over. There's just so much to write about my experience in India, but its 5:50 in the morning, and instead of sleeping, I watched 2 whole movies plus 1 Family Guy episode on the plane, so it's a bit hard to concentrate on recalling all that has occured over the last 5 days. Instead, I will just write what comes to mind:

An addition/amendment to an earlier QTS: I've found that different size planes have different sized bathrooms, and when you're on an overnight flight where most people are sleeping in the middle of the flight, it seems easier than I had previously imagined to get 2 people in the bathroom to do their "bid-ness." That is the last I will say on that topic. I'm not obsessed, just strangely curious.

Oh how much I love singapore airlines. They have over 10 movies to choose from, all pretty big names and all pretty recent, in all sorts of languages. Not to mention several popular TV shows, recent and popular music albums in several languages, interactive games, and other fun things I didn't even get a chance to look at. This stuff makes the time go by so much qucker. Another reason for my lack of wirting and random thoughts.

6:34 am, continued...

Got distracted by a big yummy bowl of airport congee and CNN. Not bad for airport food. Congee is great for breakfast but really, its good at anytime of the day, if you make it right. Speaking of food, I don't think I'll be having Indian cuisine for a long time. I'm not saying never, I'm just saying a LONG time. Reason being: I go pretty sick in India. On the first day there I threw up my breakfast, and proceeded to repeat the act 2 more times through the day. I think I broke my own record. It was like that scene in Kindergarten Cop, if you've seen it you'd know what I mean. Anyway, more gory details later in my breakdown of India, but my point is, after something comes up the way it went down three times in one day, it's just not so appetizing anymore, and any similary smells encountered subsequently afterwards only acted as an annoying prodding stick, reminding me of that glorious day when I left my mark on India on three separate occasions along the hills of Shimla.

SH: 3
India: 0

Correction-

SH: 4
India: 0

(I threw up again the next day. Not to mention nearly again the day after that.)

Anyways, enough about my digestive track. Let's talk about how hot the flight attendants are on singapore airlines. Ok, they're not all hot, but they're all very pretty and well groomed. I wonder what their requirements are when hiring these gals- 1) Be pretty? 2) 24-36-24? What's the word when one discriminates against ugly people? Oy, can't think...too early in the morning.

Boy, still another 1.5 hours before I leave for HK. And then a couple more hours to get there. I can't wait though - Chinese food GALORE!!! Dim sum, noodles.. I can't imagine what else. I can hear the noodles chanting my name already. Good thing my name is very chantable - you should try it some time. Anyway, enough writing for now, I'm going to zone out on ESPN football. And by football, I mean, American Soccer. And by American, I mean British. And by British, I may mean Irish or Scottish, I can't be sure.

Alright kids, this is it. This is my last blog before I leave for India. I'll definitely be writing (manually)along the way, and it will depend on the availability of my sis's laptop and internet for me to post something while I am there. (Who knows, this could be my last blog ever.)

So be good while I'm gone, and goodnight.

At the prodding of Ms. Schu, I will now blog. (She's like the guilty conscious in the back of my head that's come to life.)

Nothing of significiance to post lately, thus, the half assed poetry about boys, which, is so retarded now looking back on it that I'm about to delete it from history, except: that would be cheating. Once you blog, you can't go back. (Well, technically, you can, you just hit the delete button. But we're living in my world here, a world in which deleting already-published blog posts is not allowed. It's the "no takebacks" from 4th grade. It's that 2am drunken call you wish you hadn't made the morning after. But you did, and you have to live with it. It's done and its over with, and even though there's the "delete post" button staring you in the face, prompting you to hit it with your best shot, you ignore, and move on with your life. At least in my blog world...)

Moving on.

I am going to India.

That is a bold statement, is it not? :)

And let me just say that "Save as draft" is a loophole into the "no delete" rule. When you save, you are interrupted, but plan on coming back to the post later, at which time, you could delete the post if you so wish, no one would know; it has not yet made it into the internet void, its just dangling somewhere in the air, like that little string of skin attached to your baby teeth about to fall off. But I digress...

Usually, upon called to dinner by my mother, I would save this post as a draft and come back to it later. But somehow I know I will end up avoiding the bold statement I've stated above. I will now publish this post, send it out into the internet world, so that I can abide by my own blog rules and will HAVE TO come back to this subject at a later time.

I bid thee goodnight, and a happy 2006.



It's kinda a cliff hanger, is it not? Dun dun dun!!!

Cute boy.
Cute waiter boy?
Cute chef boy.
Cute boy who cooks
Cute boy who cooks looks good in black apron speaks fluent french.
Cute boy.

Let me just say that Breakfast Burritos may just be the most perfect food on earth. You've got cheese, potatos, eggs, salsa, beans, and some kind of meat all wrapped up in a tortilla. So potable...so handheld...so YUMMY. They're so great, that they deserve to be capitalized in writing.

Wait...deja vu....I feel like I've blogged about this exact same thing already...But who cares. If you haven't read that post, then it's new to you.

And since when did Jodie Foster speak fluent French??

Good god, I'm still at work...waiting for renders is no fun.

So this is Christmas...so the song goes. I have nothing of interest to comment about lately. Either that or I can't remember any. To my right sits six bottles of Orange Cream soda, to my left, the packet of pop rocks is humping my spiderman mousepad. I wonder if I combine my left and my right, what will happen? Some people may guess that I'll explode. I don't think I'll explode, I think my mouth would just hurt alot. I mean, since I don't drink carbonated drinks often, just drinking soda alone hurts my mouth sometimes. So just imagine it with some watermelon pop rocks. Wow. The pain...

I still have remnants of Heath Ledger on my mind from last night's Brokeback viewing. Kinda slow but very...oy whats the word...(no not "burn". That's a Little Mermaid reference for ya K)...passionate I guess.

Ok, renders are done...back to work.

In reply to my email informing the staff at This American Life about the injustice on The OC (mention in my Nov. 17th post):

"HI, we were aware and actually offered a free gift to people who visited our website after the show for a few days ...

All best,

~e"

Bummer...I did not visit their website after the show, and thus, did not get my free gift. She didn't even tell me what the free gift was!!! Why didn't I even think to visit the website? Sheesh kabobs.

Good god, Santa sings!

Or should I say, holy jesus?

Not only does Santa sing, Santa sings in spanish! Santa stopped his picture taking amidst a long line of children, and proceeded to sing Feliz Navidad, while the instrumental music blasted on the speakers. I was so disgusted that I had to push my way through the crowd to get out ASAP. Whatever happened to the good ol days when you tell santa what you want, and then you get pushed down a huge slide by some weird elves? Ok, so I never really waited in line for santa, and that slide thing probably only happened to little ralphie, but still, how does santa have time to fit in a song or two with all those children waiting for him?

The holidays are a weird time for me. Every year, I WANT to get into the spirit, but every year, it just gets a little further and further away from me. I can't stand the crowds anymore, the commercials, and the waiting..., and ESPECIALLY the singing by santa, who should really just sit in his chair and say his ho ho ho's. I try to do it with the music, but even with that, there are some songs that really annoy me.

Oy..the holidays...the joy.

fuck.

Rather than do the usual "event blogging" (as Ms. Schu calls it I think?) where a blog of everything that happened to me during this year's Thanksgiving festivities is produced, I've decided to base this entry on thoughts and inquiries and wonders alone. I'll save my events for next time, perhaps.

I'll let you all in on a little secret: I'm in love. With a Mr. A-Z. My silly school girl crush that developed when I saw him last has now evolved into an all out love fest. ALL OUT I say.

It's weird. The first time I saw him, I developed the same type of silly crush for a couple days, and went back to business as usual. Last year around the same time, I saw him again, and same thing. But this year I can't seem to shake him off.

What is it about a boy, his guitar, a silly backwards cap, and a dreamy voice that makes me swoon? I knew he was one of those girl charmers the first time I learned of him: freshman year Vis 70N, it was a production class. Our final: interview a celebrity. What kind of weird assignment is that? Where were we to find celebrities in the city of SD? But alas, my group interviewed Tiffany. Y'know, the 80's version of Britney and Lindsay. Well, actually, I didn't know. Had no idea who she was until I heard one of her songs. Could've Been? Ring any bells? Well, even to this day I still only know Mandy Moore's version. Anyways, I digress.

So, when it came time to screen everyone's interviews, I was intrigued by this group that had interviewed some sort of no-name-not-quite-made-it-yet musician who seemed to have his own huge following in SD. They followed this guy around, in his car, to his house, asking him questions along the way. One point in the interview, they even showed him surprising some girl at her own birthday party, sat down, picked up his guitar and sang to her right then and there. She swooned. (I would have too.)

"No fair" I thought. They've interviewed some guy that's not even famous! Even though I was intrigued throughout the whole interview, I still didn't think the group followed directions for the assignment...he just wasn't a celebrity! Me and my stupid principles.

To this day, I keep wondering...had I been in a different group...THAT group, the group that interviewed him, I would've met him. I would have sat in his car asking him questions for the assignment. I would have been in his house while he showed us his practice room. I would've been at the birthday party where he made girls swoon. I would have been able to have a conversation with him. Perhaps we would have become friends? Perhaps he was in desperate need of a professional whistler? Who knows, I might've been the one touring with him right now, instead of writing this blog. Actually, he blogs too, so maybe we would be blogging together, but separately. You get the gist.

So you see, our paths almost-not-quite crossed. I feel like we have some sort of history together, even though he doesn't know it, and I'm kinda forcing it.

Maybe one day I'll meet him. But it wouldn't have been the same had we met for that interview. Because now, I'm just a silly fan with a silly crush. What would I say to him if I were to meet him tomorrow? Hey, love your music, your words, your voice, you? Nah, he gets that all the time.

I'd love to sit him down for just an hour with some coffee...and perhaps some apple pie, we'd chat and just shoot the shit. We could talk music, or not. We might learn that we both find the idea of pie very strange, but just can't resist the french apple kind, especially if its a la mode. We'd become great friends, I'd be invited to all the shows, even the ones in dublin. He'd soon realize that he has a professional whistler right under his nose so why isn't he using her to maximum capacity? I'd mull over the opportunity to tour with his band, just like I mull over everything else fantastic that happens in my life (why should he be any different right?). I'd weigh the pros and cons, and come to the decision that, aside from my fascination for anything livable and mobile ie, RVs, planes, trains, large tour busses, etc, that yes, I would rather like to tour with him and his band across the world.

And that, my dear reader, is what I think about amidst hours upon hours of holiday traffic.

ARE YOU KIDDING ME?? #003

I can't believe this! The OC has betrayed me!! (the show, not the county...at least not yet.)

Why would The OC hurt me like this? They made a reference to my favorite radio show of all time, This American Life, and then totally bagged on it. It's like...unwrapping a gift, and then immediately throwing it into the trash. That's what it's like.

"Is that the show where they make boring people interesting?" For real? I can't believe... One of the writers there must have something against Ira Glass. I wonder if he knows. I wonder if he watched the show tonight and cried. Well, probably not. Ira probably wouldn't be caught watching such a show. (or maybe he would?) But why would they do such a thing? I mean...to even refer to it, the way they've done with other hot topics in popular culture...is TAL suppose to be grateful that The OC is bringing attention to their show? Only to be made fun of by the cuter and cooler couple of The OC? Geez.

Good grief Charlie Brown. What kind of monster has television become?????????

Starting today, I will begin a series of investigative blogs called, ARE YOU KIDDING ME?? Entries will delve into the moronic and idiotic people, places, and things that I happen to come across throughout the day. And now, ladies and gentlemen,

ARE YOU KIDDING ME? #001

UPN News in Los Angeles...is it really "news"? Or just a clever covered up version of shows like Hardcopy and Entertainment Tonight in disguise?

Tonight, I happened to catch my first UPN News broadcast. Their opening act was a string of short 10 second clips featuring what will be covered on their upcoming news broadcast. I can't remember all the clips right now, I just remember thinking, "This is the news??"

ARE YOU KIDDING ME??

Second act: The broadcast begins.
They begin their top story with, not the bombing in Jordan that killed 50+ people, not Arnold and his failed propositions, but with Paris Hilton. PARIS HILTON??

Are you kidding me?

The story is as follows: The paparazzi follow Paris and her boyfriend and friends out of a Hollywood nightclub into their beamer, or porsche, or whatever crazy expensive car, and while trying to get away, the boyfriend rams his car into the back of a truck, then speeds away. Minutes later, they are stopped by police, and Paris is shown getting back into the car with her friends, saying to the cop as she walked away, "Thank you! I love the police!" All this, of course, is caught on paparrazi cameras. So, UPN investigates, shows a police deputy the tape, and asks whether Paris and her friends got special treatment, because they were obviously not sober. The story continues with the deputy sticking up for the cops, and blah blah blah. This story lasted, SERIOUSLY, for about 4-5 minutes. This might not seem like a long time, but just keep in mind, most news stories (live coverage not included) lasts about 1-2minutes...if they're lucky. Paris got 4, and was considered the top story on the 11pm news. Ugh.

Second story, which lasted another 3 minutes, was about 50cent's new movie, and the controversy surrounding it. Really now, is this real news? Hosted by a really hot anchor woman who once hosted "So you think you can dance?" This is why Hollywood gets such a bad rep I tell ya. I guess there's no need to miss the awful news in San Diego, I can just tune in to UPN News at 11.

As disappointing as his albums may be, Jason Mraz ALWAYS puts on an awesome live show. Just awesome. Plus he really knows how to make da ladies swoon. That really comes in handy when you're a rock star. When I become a rock star, I'm going to make the boys, the girls, AND yo mama swoon. I don't know how yet though, I need to find my schtick. Everyone's got a schtick. Jason's got his hat. Plus he's just really cute. No matter how geeky he is. THAT could be his schtick too. I thought the whole geek thing was just an act, yknow, I thought that doing the whole self proclaimed geek thing actually makes you cooler, thus making you not so much a geek. But it turns out he really IS a geek. It's like reverse reverse reverse psychology....or something like that.

Oh! I think I just found my schtick. But I'll have to keep it underwraps til after my rockstar-dom.

Rock on,
Rock out,
Just ROCK.

I just realized that you can't have coffee when you're pregnant. This realization came from learning that you can't have caffeine while pregnant.

WHAT?!

Which doctor made that rule? I'm sure fetuses (pl: feti?) need a little jump start to their mornings too. It can get a little *yawn* in that position after a while, yknow? They just need a little kick, just like the rest of us. I'm currently reliving the "No coffee" number from How to Succeed in Business Without Really Trying in my head. Aw...I miss the musical. Just like I will miss coffee...

No, that won't do at all.

On an unrelated topic, I think my bladder has shrunk. Every morning at 5am, like clockwork, I'll have to get up and pee. This didn't happen before! I used to be able to sleep a solid 8 hours without having to get up and pee. It really messes with my sleep, having to get up for those 3 minutes. I'm in the REM cycle, I'm out to pee, I'm back in the cycle, and I already have to wake up. I blame my bladder for my time at the NIKE run this year. If I didn't have to pee everytime I started running, I probably would have made a better time. Which is what I'm telling myself for losing steve. Ha. But it's true steve.

In closing: I'm on a mission...the specifics of which will be revealed at a later date.

God, I'm so glad I have my blog to vent about all the small annoyances in life that really don't matter, since people half way around the world are homeless and freezing in their non-existent homes...

Ahem.

1. Halloween. What happened to this beloved day? I used to love this day, now its just filled with stress. Stress over the strange need to dress up, possibly due to the need to re-live some sort of childhood memory that half exists in my head. Stress over the need to be something not too boring or over done, yet creative and recognizable at the same time, AND, not TOO slutty, but just slutty enough.

Ok, who am I kidding, I can't even pull off slutty.

2. Myspace. Everytime I sign on I'm reminded of why I signed off the last time. And yes, I'm a big hypocrite.

3. The growing need to look up more and more words like "hypocrite" on dictionary.com because it seems as though I'm losing my spelling abilities. I used to be the best speller ever...in 5th grade. Now I'm reduced to looking up words online and getting a correct spelling within 2 seconds or less, instead of flipping through thousands of delicate thin pages for a word I wasn't really sure how to spell in the first place. Now how will I ever learn this way?

4. Boys. The whole lot of them. 'Nuff said.

5. My current state of my apartment, and the spiders that have decided to fill it.

6. Holiday specific wares. Halloween, Thanksgiving, Christmas, Easter, Valentines Day, whatever holiday, you name it, there's a decorative plate or something or the other for it. Who's buying this stuff? And worse yet, who's making it? Don't they know they're just increasing the clutter that exists in the world? How many sets of plates does one household of 4 really need? I can just go on and on about the kinds of unecessary and useless junk I see at stores like Linens and Things or BBB. I can go on, but for the sake of my blood pressure, I'll let it go...this time. I'll save my rant on the stuff in stores like that for later.


So, these are some of the things that annoy me right now. These are things that make me want to pull my hair, stamp my feet, scream and whine, and throw a tantrum like barbaric children. Oh yea,

7. Barbaric children who throw tantrums in stores you can't avoid. Like the grocery store.

I could throw a tantrum for all the things that annoy me right now, but no one's here to watch me, and really, isn't that the whole point of a tantrum, is to have someone around to throw it at? Otherwise, you'd throw one, and it would just land splat on the ground, with nobody but you to pick up the mess.

Which is why, dear blog, I have you.

Jess is back!

If even for only an episode, he's back nonetheless. And even though I think his days are up on this show, I'll gladly take some of him, than none at all.

I've finally finished Pride and Prejudice. The ending was a bit of a blur due to poor planning on my part. You see, I had to quickly finish the last ten chapters in an hour before it turned into an overdue book (again!), and I was not about to have yet another library fine (seeing how I already incurred some the day before). So, I tried to find another copy of it at the library so that I could check it out and finish the ending at my leisure at home, but to no avail. Alas, it was nowhere to be found. I then had to sit myself down and finish the last chapters in a hurry thinking that the library closed at 8, though I later found out it really closes at 9. In any case, Elizabeth does finally agree to take Mr. Darcy's hand afterall (gee, I didn't see that coming), and everyone is happy and all is well.

Except for me.

I now find myself conjecturing throughout the course of a day, fancying phrases like, "utmost care" or "urging earnestly." This is what happens when you read Austen. I should read more books with expletives for fuck's sake.

:)

Oh great. I'm a plagiarizer!

But can one be guilty of such a thing when one didn't even know that the thing to be plagiarized exists? I feel like my blog about nice was copied straight out of the ES script. Except they copied me. But did it first. And put it in a movie. Of course I had to blog about it second. I'm always late when it comes to this stuff.

Sigh...

Well, what else can I do, right? Just call me Clementine...

My orchestra has a concert coming up on Saturday.

There. Now when people ask me, "Why didn't you tell me?" I can tell them that I told the whole world, to which they can reply: But I don't read your blogs.

Ha ha... suckas!

Bruckman, I don't get it. By your story left on my blog, are you saying I don't have a personality? Or that it's not developed enough? Were you mocking my contempt for nice? Or was it more of a social commentary on something or the other that has just totally flown over my head? I just don't get it. And what's this about applying personality in a paste? How do I get in on that?

In any case...

I'm beginning to develop a fetish for denim butt pockets. I've never really noticed til now, but the decor of the butt pocket on denim jeans I must say, are just the greatest accent to something already so wonderful: jeans. I've never been much of a butt person, nor do I intend to become one, butt, I'll be on the lookout for butts more so now...for those wonderful butt pockets.

I do miss my butt slapping wars with the roommates though...where's a butt to slap when you need one?

Penny for my thoughts?

Are thoughts only worth a penny? If that's so, I can sell all of Daily Banterings for a good $5.00, which leaves me with $1.45 in profits. I can take that money, invest in a second blog, and see where we go from there. I'm moving up in the world, I tell ya.

Man, a breakfast burrito from Pepe's sure sounds good right now. If there was only a Pepe's around here.

I had no idea the Burbank fires were getting so bad. I know that the heat is the cause of the fires, but I wonder if the fires are the cause of the heat, too?

So what does it mean to be "nice" anyways? Aren't people generally "nice"? It seems like it would take a lot of work to be mean, so out of pure laziness, don't people have more of an inclination towards what is nice, rather than what is not? That said, what does it mean to be nice these days? Has nice lost its meaning? (If not, it probably will after you read this paragraph. If not after that, just repeat the word 10 times.)

Everything now is categorized as "nice." That girl is nice. That boy is nice. You know what else is nice? A set of matching candle holders from Bed Bath and Beyond. Why does one like the other? Because they are nice. Everything is just nice. Nice almost seems too easy. If all you are is nice, well great, but then what? Nice doesn't explain who you are or describe what he is. Maryann and Ginger were both nice, but they were different in many ways. I don't want to be nice anymore. I don't want you to be nice anymore. We are more than just a pair of candle holders. I demand more, and you should expect more.

Remember that school house rock song? Well come on people, start unpacking those adjectives!



Came home from camping last spring.
Saw people, places and things.
We barely had arrived,
Friends asked us to describe
The people, places and every last thing.
So we unpacked our adjectives.

I unpacked "frustrating" first.
Reached in and found the word "worst."
Then I picked "soggy" and
Next I picked "foggy" and
Then I was ready to tell them my tale,
'cause I'd unpacked my adjectives.

Adjectives are words you use to really describe things,
Handy words to carry around.
Days are sunny or they're rainy
Boys are dumb or else they're brainy
Adjectives can show you which way.

Adjectives are often used to help us compare things
To say how thin how fat how short how tall.
Girls who are tall can get taller,
Boys who are small can get smaller,
Till one is the tallest
And one is the smallest of all.

We hiked along without care.
Then we ran into a bear!
He was a hairy bear!
He was a scary bear!
We beat a hasty retreat from his lair,
And described him with adjectives!

Whoah! Boy, that was one big, ugly bear!

You can even make adjectives out of the other parts of speech, like verbs or
nouns. All you have to do is tack on an ending, like "ic" or "ish" or "ary". For
example, this boy can grow up to be a huge man, but still have a boyish face.
"Boy" is a noun, but the ending "ish" makes it an adjective. "Boyish": that
describes the huge man's face. Get it?

Next time you go on a trip,
Remember this little tip:
The minute you get back,
They'll ask you this and that.
You can describe people, places and things.
Simply unpack your adjectives.
You can do it with adjectives.
Tell them about it with adjectives.
You can shout it with adjectives.

Burbank smells like a large BBQ.

Apparently the hills of Burbank want to join in on the fire fun too, so they've decided to go get themselves all burned up. I can't seem to take my eyes off the flames, they are so hypnotically mesmorizing. I teared up as I went to work this morning, not because of the white ash collecting on my recently washed car, but because white ash was attacking my eyes, and when you're biking, there's no windshield to protect you from such attacks.

Hmm...white ash...that sounds like a good band name. I call dibs.


Since I'm always late to rehearsals, I seem to have different stand partners each week. This week I sat in the back next to a friendly gal, and when I introduced myself, it went something like this:

Me: Hi, my name is Szu-Hua
Her: Su...?
Me: Su-Ha
Her (nods): Su ra
Me: no, SU-HA
Her: no, Su ra

Turns out, her name is pronounced Su-ra! We both realized our names sounded the same at the same, and had a jolly laugh about it. Ok, so I guess the whole story would be funnier if you had name issues growing up...
Whatever, you...........normal named person.

Sushi ain't so bad! I had "real" sushi tonight, with the seared tuna and the raw halibut and the raw spicy tuna and whatnot. I'm still trying to get used to the texture, but the taste isn't so bad.

Now I can finally join the rest of the asian race. Hooray!

Dear Readers,

Due to the lack of fresh ideas and new thoughts, the editor in chief here at DB will be on hiatus indeterminately until further notice.

Thank you.

Here's a new one:

Instead of Szu-Hua, I was greeted today with Alo-HUA! It's the perfect combination of hello and szu-hua in one, especially for those who are lazy, like me. Props to Fern for that one.

My friend is trying to set me up:

Not in the conspiratorial that-really-wasn't-MY-pot-in-my-locker...i-was-holding-it-for-Szu-Hua sort of way. (Ok not really...we didn't have lockers anyways.) More in the girl-works-with-cute-guy-decides-to-hook-up-guy-with-best-friend sort of way. Do people still do that anymore? Anyways, I'm sure these things always have with the best of intentions, but the cynic I am, I'm completely against these sorts of things.

Signs that I should take lessons:

While watching an incredibly crappy Hillary Duff movie (don't ask me why, this is just what happens when movies show up at your door), I wondered why one of the violin players reminded me so much of my old violin teacher. Why? Because it WAS my old violin teacher. What the heck is this guy doing in a movie? In a Hillary Duff movie, no less, and! on top of that, a CRAPPY Hillary Duff movie. Maybe it wasn't him, it was just a vision of him that my head conjured up to push me to take my lessons. Hmm...ok, not really. Maybe he was making a statement to old students like me: "if you practice, you too can be in a Hillary Duff movie." If that's the case, can I trade Hillary Duff in for Sarah Jessica Parker?

10 Reasons why I need to retire my flip flops for the winter:

My toes. They get cold easily. And when they get cold, my feet get cold. And when my feet get cold...it's over. But I'm not ready to put them away! How will people know I'm coming down the hall if they can't hear my flip flip flopping? I'm not ready to do the unthinkable, but for my toes, I must.

I'm in search of the perfect basket for my bike:

Now, before you start thinking flowers and ribbons and puppies, let me paint you a picture: Chrome. Wire. Shiny. None of that fru fru stuff. I'm talking more solid, good old Shiny Chrome Wire baskets. I've mentioned this to a few people already, all of whom have laughed at the idea. They suggested rear baskets, or even panniers. No way! My bike will not wear a fanny butt pack. It already has one. I'm talking Shiny. Chrome. Wire. Classic. That's right.

I couldn't decide which I wanted to read more: the article on SJP in my vogue, or whether Elizabeth will finally see through Mr. Darcy's admiration for her...so here I am instead.

Finally the people at Starbucks remember my name and order. TL % wm nw for Sue (sometimes Su). Is that so hard? And I've been going there for how long now? Come on people!

Oh, and here's a line I haven't yet heard used in conjunction with my name, other than the usual Su-Hahahaha, I'm gonna Sue you!, etc:

Man: Name?
Me: Su
Man: Su, are you a lawyer?
Me: 'scuse me?
Man: Are you a lawyer?
Me: Wah?
Man: Are you a lawyer?
Me: Huh? (long pause) No?
Man: Are you a lawyer? Y'know, cause you're name is Su.

Good god, dood needs to get some new material...and he thought he was so clever.


Right now Michael J. is telling me to "get on the floor" and dance with him. I'll have to oblige.

I have a liquid gelcap stuck in my throat. No amount of water I drink can make it go down. So now I can't go to bed, because the gravitational forces needed to pull a gelcap into your stomach will not work when one is horizontal. Now I wait.

















Perhaps I will wait while reading.

Day three.

Good god, its been three days, and I'm bored outta my mind. With the exception of the little blackout today, there's been no excitement. And I would hardly even call a blackout exciting. And what a day to call in sick...due to the blackout, everyone was sent home at 2:30. And then, to make matters worse, due to the blackout, everyone was partying by 4:30 at Wally's house just down the street. His call was like boredom punching me in the face. By 4:32 I could've been sitting poolside, sipping on whatever concoctions they would've handed me in this lovely fall weather. Instead, I sadly declined and went back to bed. The only time I went out today was to take out the trash and check on my power. That is not so fabulous.

In the meantime, I've began re-reading Pride and Prejudice since a new version of the film is coming out in November. It always amazes me that this book (or this author rather), written more than 200 years ago, can still relate to present day (minus all the fluffy language). I guess that at the core of it, love, relationships, and courtship still transcends time.

I've always wanted to use the word "transcend". Cool.

It's weird, due to my irratic sleeping pattern, I've been having odd dreams. Well, they're more like visions. I'll see myself having conversations with people, and I'll wake up and later wonder if it really happened, or if I just dreamed it. And currently, I'm still wondering about some of them...

Being sick is no fun.

I've read, watched my dvds, slept, played my guitar, got a tire alignment, and even signed on to myspace, only to realize, there's not much to do there. I'm on page 278 of an 800 page Vogue magazine. I spent the latter half of the afternoon with my G boys, Gaye and Green. I'm so utterly bored, but don't have the energy to be out and about. So here I am, blogging.

With nothing to blog about.

I'm in the mood to do something crazy...suggestions?

I never realized that cats really do eat mice. I thought it was just a cartoon thing. But this morning, as I opened my front door, there it was, laying on the pavement: a dead rat. Not only was it dead, it was bloody, covered in ants, and its stomach was gone. All I could see was its skinny skinless, fleshless, vertebrae bone. Quite a sight first thing in the morning, let me tell you.

So now I'm getting suspicious of the cats around here. They're always staring me down when I walk by them. I think its because of my bike...they're confused by this shiny two wheeled monster that I'm always walking around them, its nothing at all like dogs people walk. Neither I nor my neighbor that shares the same porch step have cats. So why would a cat drop off a dead rat in front of us? And plus, after I stopped staring at the dead carcus, I looked up and there was my neighbor's fat cat, and I swear, it was meowing AT me, like it was trying to communicate with me. I could very possibly be their next victim...

For now, I'm the victim of tiny invisible germs that have made its way into my body. I knew I didn't feel quite right this morning, I thought it was just from staring at a dead rat for too long (it was actually rather fascinating, as well as disgusting). But then my body started aching all over, and now I'm hot one minute and cold the next. Man, these germs know what they're doing. They invade on a Friday afternoon, and most likely will camp out all weekend, so instead of doing all the things I had planned for the weekend, I now have to entertain these germs in bed. Maybe this is what the cats are plotting. They get the germs to break me down first, so that they can attack me while I'm weak. One step out the door and I'm a gonner. If you don't hear from me, try looking for me on my porch step- bloody, half eaten, and covered with ants. And if you don't hear from me or see me on my porch step, the ants mostly likely got to me already. With the help from the spiders of course. They work in conjunction with each other.

I can't possibly go to bed right now.

I just had a deeply enlightning and interesting conversation with a friend about aliens and government conspiracies and the moon landing not actually happening. However, now that I'm safely home, I'm a little freaked out. Did you know there are three different kinds of aliens? And the government knows about them? What if they come for me in my sleep?

I know it all sounds very silly, but my imagination likes to run wild after midnight. A little too wild. I am a bit freaked.

So now i'm going to blog happy thoughts:

Frosting on cupcakes and sideburns on cute boys
Bright yellow beetles and warm milk from soy
A nice pair of pants that fit me just right
These are the thoughts that'll keep me sleeping at night.

(It's working, it's working!)

A tall cup of starbucks or a small cup at CB
Watching pole dancing from my drunk gal sivie
Playing so loud that my ears actually ring
These are a few of my favorite things...

When the ghosts come, when the spiders crawl, when the aliens are there
I simply remember these favorite things
And then i don't feeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeel so scared!



Wow, that Julie Andrews really knows her shit. That really did the trick. No wonder she played two different nannies. And she looked hot in both movies. I can't decide which I prefer more, her as a bobbed hair blonde Frauline Maria or as a long brunette haired Mary Poppins. I'll take them both.

Now it's safe to go to bed!

Episode #0008: The older I get the less I know.

What a difference a day makes.

The day after labor day, I woke up, and it smelled different. It smelled like fall...like the first day of school, like new clothes and trapper keepers. Except I didn't have any new clothes to wear to work today, instead I opted for the fat jeans and the usual flip flops.

Sometimes going to work seems no different than going to school. You have your principals and your teachers that you have to watch out for, ie: the owner boss and your boss boss. Your co-workers are your fellow classmates. The lunch hour has turned into recess. The only difference is, there's no homework, and you stay late-not for detention, but to finish up work. Really, in the grand scheme of things, how far have I really come?

Something's come over me lately. I've been feeling this need to read and learn everything that's out there. Violin lessons aren't enough. There's so much more I want to learn. Guitar, yoga, languages, sewing, ballet, voice, ceramics, painting, taxes, and yes, even how to refinance a home. I just feel like I don't know enough about anything.

I'm like a packrat when I go to the library. I checkout more books than I can possibly read, and end up incurring fines for overdue books that I don't even get a chance to read. I go to the local barnes and noble and want to buy every book I touch. I have duplicates of books I've bought at the used bookstore that I had forgotten that I've bought. It's madness. And still, I feel like I can't read fast enough, absorb information quickly enough. Why is that?

I feel like a hungry baby that just needs to be fed with knowledge. Does that mean I should go back to school? I'm not patient enough for that right now. And I won't be able to stick with just one subject. There's just too many things I want to learn to stick with one, or two, or three.

I wish I was one of those 19th century upper class girls where all they had to do was take their lessons and be accomplished in them. If only that was my job: to learn different skills all the time. That would be awesome. Except I wouldn't get to wear those lovely puffy dresses. With gloves. ...Or would I....?

Maybe that's why, to answer your question, there is this resurgence in my blogging. No, that doesn't answer your question at all. It doesn't answer mine.

In any case, tomorrow I will undergo a special project I just thought of last night. It will be fantacular. Just like me.

An unexpected surprise awaited me on the way back to the valley tonight: a flat tire. It was as if my corolla was protesting the return to the valley. (My bike, on the other hand, would never throw such a tantrum.) I felt like such a useless girl as AAA came and changed my tire. Note to self: need to increase upper body strength. Time to pump some iron.

This weekend I had some really good chinese food back at the OC. Not the faux food that restaurants in Burbank or a certain Mr. PF Chang call "chinese food." I mean the REAL stuff. The good stuff.

John Williams at the Bowl was great. Although, not as exciting as my last two visits to the bowl, but still great nonetheless. One thing I noticed was how much John resembles the colonel from KFC. I wonder if anyone's ever told him that?

So after a culmination of things: a night at the bowl, the summer orchestra, the recent concert, an incredibly beautiful violin solo I heard on the radio, I've realized that I desperately want to become a better player. I know I have the potential, but no matter how much more I practice, I'll still need someone to guide me and coach me to play better. There's just so many things I still need to learn. So I've decided that I need to take lessons again. But with lessons comes commitment. I just don't know how much time I can devote to practicing everyweek to really take advantage of my lessons. But it's getting to the point where I'm yearning to play better. And I don't usually yearn for much...except maybe chocolate and ice cream.

In the mean time, until I figure out what to do with this lesson business, I'll just continue to play. The valley orch. begins the day after tomorrow, sooner than I realized. I thought I'd have a week or two to chill, but I think it's better this way. Once you get off track it's hard to get back on again.

My migraine returns, so its bedtime.

Goodnight blogworld.

Episode #0001 - "A New Beginning"

Cups of coffee this week: 0
# of falls this week: 0
Spiders killed: 5.5
Days biked to work: 5
# of DVD games completely out the door: 1!


Ok ok, so the week won't really be over until Sunday, but it's the work week that really counts anyways.

Today marks the end of a caffeine free week, for I will break that by rewarding myself with coffee in the morning. (C'mon, it's Saturday! Saturdays mornings are MEANT for coffee. Followed by Sunday mornings...) I think the only kinds of beverages I've had this week were water, soymilk, and tea. Although, I don't think water counts as a beverage. Water is just water. Oh no, but tea has caffeine! But well, I am chinese. I HAVE to drink tea. If I don't I'll be disrespecting great great ancestors somewhere, I'm sure. The coffee thing, I just wanted to see if I could do it. Now that I know I can go for a week without coffee, I'll probably still have coffee. I just wanted to see if I could do it. And I did, so hoorah.

The concert went well, I suppose. The thing about not having a stand partner is not having someone to turn your pages in critical situations. After a deadly page turn in the middle of a movement, I completely lost my place...for an entire page! I'm hoping people couldn't tell I was lost. Jyvonne was telling me today about an electronic screen that displays your music, and turns the pages with the press of a foot pedal. Now that's something that would have come in handy on Wednesday! There was a great turnout for Jyvonne and I, thanks to the Cannerians and friends and family, but it wasn't close to full. I did find out however, that there is an orchestra that rehearses at that very hall during the year on Mondays. It would be alot closer than Valley College, but somehow, I feel like I should stick with Valley College. I want to stay with the oboe guy and the flute lady. They're such incredible musicians. I still have some time to decide.

That's all for tonight. Tomorrow, I'm spending an evening with John Williams at the Hollywood Bowl, followed by fireworks!

Stay Tuned...

My current migraine messes with my head, and leads me to think illogically.

The logical thing to do would be to go to bed and sleep it off. But if I were thinking logically, I wouldn't be having this headache, and thus, be having the need to sleep it off. Anyway to sleep now, so early and so hot in the evening is unthinkable. Instead, my illogical ways of thinking have led me to

1)Paint 10 toenails
2)Eat one (1) fudgcicle
3)Skim through a book
4)Play 3 songs on my guitar
5)Consider practicing for the concert
6)Not return some necessary phone calls
7)Re-consider the consideration for practicing due to head pounding
8)Begin a blog entry

And after all that including continuous head pounding, its still not late enough to go to bed.

So tomorrow's the big night: Concert night. It seems as though alot of people may show up. Even Sheila and Harley, my neighbors that always talk to me forever about cats and JFK might show up. It's gonna be one jammin party...if people don't fall asleep. I'm a little nervous since I do feel unprepared. But it's all for fun anyways right?

Sometimes I wish I were a comedy writer. Then I'd get more traffic to my blog. And I'd be writing for fabulous shows like Sex and the City (which is coming this Fall to the WB by the way...hooray!). But maybe...just maybe, I can write for my own show.

It would be called: Bikes and the Valley. Not as glamourous, but just as fabulous. I can be the topic of my own show, and write about a writer who Blogs about writing shows. Intead of Carrie Bradshaw's shoes and Mr. Big as her weakness, a nice pair of pants and a good cup of coffee will be my vice. (Speaking of pants, Emily had on a fantastic pair of jeans on today. Fantastic.)

Oh boy. This is going to be a good show. I can feel it. Oh yea, and I'm calling dibs on the title of Bikes and the Valley, trademarks and copyrights and whatnot, so I better not see this show on TV in the future! (Unless I'm co-writing it of course. And the role of myself is played by Sandra Oh. Even though she's korean and I'm chinese...no, that won't do... I wonder if Ellen plays a good chinese. They do wonders with makeup these days. She's a comedian, the show would practically write itself then. Plus I can use all the help from her soaring ratings on her own show. PLUS! her show tapes in Burbank, she can just dance her way down the street to my apartment, we'd go over ideas for the next installment of Bikes in the Valley, and she can have me as a guest on her show to promote my own show! This is going to work out fan-tabulously.)

This will be great. Oh yes.

# of falls within the past two weeks:
SH: 2
The World: 0

Ha. Take that world!

*********

It's too hot and I can't sleep. So I've decided to blog instead.

May I just say how much I love Wallace and Grommit. We're working on the movie's website at work, and I get to see bits from the movie, which looks hilarious. Sexual innuendos up the wazoo! They're everywhere. Robert doesn't believe me, but oh, they're in there. It comes out Oct 7th. Who's with me?

I like the fact that I keep a blog. I can go back and read about events that I may have forgotten about, like things from college. But with it being so public, sometimes I can't write about the more private issues. Which I guess is where a journal comes in. But really, who writes manually anymore?

I can't continue this entry anymore. It's getting to that point where I'm just writing for the sake of writing. Plus my knee is killing me. So I guess I'll go to bed. I wish it wasn't so hot.

Yesterday I spent half an hour just staring out my window spying on my neighbor's cat. He was doing backflips on the walkway. Left...and then right, and then back left again...and then...wait...wait...back to the right! He could've just been trying to scratch his back, who knows. But it was fascinating.

This reminds me of the days back in Apt 15 when we'd used to watch Monty in his tank. Especially when finals and papers and midterms came around. During those times, he was especially fascinating to watch. He'd climb up on his rock, and then jump off of it, letting the water safely float him down. It was as if he knew that we had to study and write papers, and so would seduce us even more by giving us quite the show. Who knew crayfish could be such the tease?

I'm not a huge fan of cats seeing how I'm allergic to them, but there have been a few that have caught my eye. If I wasn't so allergic, I would definitely have a cat. In fact, I'd probably steal my neighbor's cat. There are about 10 altogether in our complex, but only this one I was watching would I steal. He's just adorable. I think he can sense that I like him. If I leave my door open, he'll have the audacity to open the screen door with one paw, walk in, and sit on my couch. He's done it several times. And sometimes I'll catch him lounging on my doormat when I come home from work. Sometimes cats are just like little kids. They're just as cute, but don't talk back or ask endless questions.

I think I will give myself the title of "The NON-CAT cat lady."

I even have a large brimmed hat.

J'aime practiquer mon francais. C'est une langue tres belle. Quelquefois, j'aime faire semblant que je suis Jean Seberg, de la film, A bout de souffle. J'ai des cheveux courts, comme elle. Mais, elle est plus jolie avec ses cheveux courts. Et, je n'ai pas une robe fantastique de Dior. Bouf.

Mais, j'aime faire semblant que je suis une etudiant de New York, et j'aide une homme qui a tuer la police, et qui je ne sais pas si j'aime.

Et quand je veux, je marche dans les rues de Paris pour vendre des copies de le Harold Tribune. (Sans une robe de Dior.)

For some reason, I'm really fond of trees.

I was in my car stopped at a stoplight the other day, turned my head to look out my window, and what did I see? A perfect tree in all its beauty. It was just standing there, so perfectly tree-like. Yea, there were some other trees next to it, but they weren't as perfect as this one. If only I could collect trees. I've seen some really nice ones that I've wished I could keep. But I guess their beauty, is not just for me, it's for all to see.


I'm also fond of a good pair of pants.

Couple things to blog about before I leave tonight:

1. DO NOT go see Broken Flowers. Just got back from the movie, and it's not worth it. Even if you think you love Bill Murray.

2. Monday, January 10th, 2005. Upon re-reading this entry I realized that I've done it. I'm no longer Winona Ryder. I can no longer say "I don't know" because I'm doing what I know. Or at least, "going through the necessary steps to get there." Have I put myself in a corner by giving a definite answer? Well, I have. Literally. (No really, I sit in the corner now. :-) Apparently, guys don't get the "nobody puts baby in the corner" line. I tried using that on the boys, and not one of them got the joke, or knew what I was talking about. And suddenly, Emily walks in, I tell her I'm sitting in the corner, and automatically she says, "Nobody puts baby in the corner!" I guess it's a girl thing.) I feel good about my decision so far, but still a little awkward and out of place. I'm sure as with everything, adjusting takes time.

C. I did it. I'm now on myspace, with picture and all. Well...okay ok, so I couldn't actually sit through the entire process of filling out my profile, but at least I've half assed it. Half ass is better than no ass, right? So there.

I didn't mean to offend anyone with the last blog, all I meant to say was that I've succumbed to the idea of an internet community. After this post, I'm going straight to create my Myspace Profile. (And let's face it, I can promote this blog, and my concert coming up. Who knows, I may become the next Myspace whore.)

Okay okay okay.

What is up with this myspace business? I can't rag on it too much because several of you who read this actually log on quite regularly. Yea, you know who you are.

Oh, but if you weren't reading this, the nasty things I would say about myspace. And the whole idea of things like myspace. I was on friendster back when it was still around (is it still around?). I vowed not to join until I got inundated with emails from people wanting me to join as their friend. Now, I don't have many friends mind you, so to be inundated with emails rather intrigued me. Back then I didn't want to join, but still they broke me down.

Even now, I still don't want to join. But I hear it everywhere. Myspace this, myspace that. Sivie is always showing me something on HERspace. Apparently, Ms. Parker blogs on hers. I think I signed up a while ago and forgot about it, and never used it to its full potential. I guess myspace is the place to be.

So, once again, I'm succumbing to the many evils of the internet:

*Junkmail/Spam
*Forwarding emails withing 10 minutes of receiving it if I didn't want to die
*Popup ads
*Friendster.com
*"Register now for your free (fill in the blank)"
*Musical birthday ecards
*The email that screams if you stare at it too long (pure evil...)
*Ticketmaster.com
and finally,
*Myspace.com

See you all on the dark side. May the force be with me.

I can't remember what I came to blog about. It was going to be something good...

In any case, I finally found the nerve to speak up and talk to my favorite oboe guy. Leonid, to be exact. Actually, we never introduced each other, we just talked about whether or not we got our notices in the mail yet from the other orchestra. Neither one of us have. But, I finally got to say what I've been wanting to say to him for the longest time: I love your playing, it always sounds beautiful. It feels good to get that out. I just felt like he had to know. I think he appreciated it.

So I lost my rehearsal space at work. We have this great sound room at work that I've been practicing in, but it recently got rented out, so I'm out of a space. Today I was practicing in my office when suddenly I hear the main door open and shut. I figure, if they want to, they'll come poke their head in to say hello. So I keep practicing. And who of all people pokes their head through the door? None other than THE BIG BOSS. Boy, was I embarrased. Why, you ask? I'm not really sure, but I was just embarrassed. I'm sure the owner of the company wasn't expecting anyone at work, much less, anyone practicing in one of his offices. Oh well. C'est la vie.

Oh yes, I just remembered what I came to blog about: Dreams. Isn't it strange how you can have such strong feelings and emotions in dreams? I can still remember how I felt in a dream from 5 years ago. I was about to die from driving off a freeway on ramp.

It's just so odd to me that our bodies can be lying perfect still in one world, yet our brain can be experiencing all sorts of things in another world. Last night I shot someone in the head and I saw part of their bloody caved-in head. Even now, typing out that sentence, I can still feel this sense of horror and guilt at having shot this person, and knowing that she was going to die. However, last night I also met Save Ferris in person, and in that world, they were supposedly my favorite band of all time (which is weird because I haven't listened to a Save Ferris song in how long??). I was ecstatic to be meeting them.

These are just words: horror, guilt, ecstatic. But what I felt from last night's dream was way beyond what language is capable of describing. How is it possible for us to have these emotions in our dreams if we've never experienced these emotions in real life?

I don't know what it's like to shoot someone, but I sure did last night. How does my brain know how to feel if it's not really happening? Are dreams some sort of loophole in the matrix of things? How do I know that I'm not dreaming right now, and in fact, I really shot someone in real life last night? Or maybe dreams are when we unplug out of the matrix? I've gotta watch that movie again...

I just read this from a fellow blogger and had to share it with the rest of you...

"I came home one day last week and I wanted a cookie. And not just any kind of cookie. A Keebler Fudge Shoppe Grasshopper. For the uninformed, a Grasshopper is a mint cookie dipped in chocolate and 'made with the generous help of Elfin Magic.' And if Grasshopper cookies are any indication of the general benevolence of elves, then I must make it a point to meet more elves: invite elves over for dinner, pay for a classified add that reads, 'SWM seeks elf,' or maybe open up my own elf recreation center. Whatever it takes, I must find a way to bring more elves into my life. Because Grasshoppers are delicious, maybe even the most appetizing thing baked in a tree."

Geez.

Had to endure yet another phone call from my mother who thinks I have no life. (But I had some Al Green on in the background so it wasn't as bad...he was backing me up with his sexiness.) She seems to know more about the online dating scene than I do. So I go to the site and just cringe at the sheer annoyance I get from reading people's bios.

Adrian from SF says he is "financially stable, mentally mature, energetic, cute..." etc etc and blah blah shit.

Everything is relative, isn't it? What's the standard he's comparing himself to? Just because he thinks he's mentally mature doesn't mean I don't think he's mentally retarded just by reading his retarded bio. I mean, good for him that he has enough self esteem to think he's cute, but how does him thinking he's cute sell me on wanting to contact this dood? I'm sure I'm just as retarded by blogging about it, but boy, I hate these online things.

Excuse my slower than usual typing not that you can see me typing but I am currently typing with one hand as the other is holding a popsicle which my mouth is eating. Ok, done.

So the cemetary music is going just swell. I wish regular orchestra could be like summer orchestra! And plus, my favorite oboe guy just showed up this week! He's this small older gent with a cute European accent, and his oboe playing is just some of the most beautiful music I've ever heard. He always hits his notes right on, and his sound is just so sweet, listening to it is like drowning in sugar. He is that good.

I've actually been practicing (not as much as I should be, as always) and I'm getting a little better. I always feel really good after rehearsal, like I've accomplished some great feat. In fact, I wish I could be practicing right now, but it's late.

Goodnite blogworld.

How much do I love Amoeba? Let me count the ways...

Not only was I able to find all the recordings I needed, I was able to get 2 of them at used prices. Awesome!
I thought I would be lucky to find 1 recording, 2 at the most, but I was surprised to find all three Tchaikovsky recordings that the orchestra is playing.

This summer orchestra thing is off to a great start. Jyvonne from work joined with me. I love Jyvonne, she is like laughter in a bottle. She's awesome. So not only that, there's a few people from the regular orchestra, AND!, the conductor is cool...not like the other guy. Plus, we rehearse at a cemetary. How cool is that? Well, it's in a Hall on top of Forrest Lawn, the same cemetary that Marilyn Monroe is buried in. So, we're inside, which is not very cemetary like. It'd be cool if we could play outside though. I'm sure all the tombstones would appreciate it.

*****

I got a pedicure for the first time this weekend. The loofah rock thing...that kills me. It tickles my feet to death. So much so that I don't think I can go back. I was straining so hard to refrain from squirming in my seat. The lady thought she was hurting me. And then she was massaging my calves...that tickled too. I get the whole "being pampered" thing. I can see why people love it. I just don't know if i can do it again. I wonder why I'm so ticklish?

*****

I'm trying to get back into the whole running thing. I even have a shuffle now, and a cool arm band to stick it on. But, I just ran for the first time in months 2 days ago, and my legs are still sore from it. It hurts when I try to sit down. Boy, I suck. But Run Hit Wonder is coming up soon...in September! How will I ever be ready for the 5K?

Stay tuned...