cindy's world

Mr. W has been going thru some drama, and he’d told me before that when he’s sick or not happy or mad, that he’d prefer to be left alone. So I’d been leaving him alone. Monday after work, I went to Boot Camp with Vanessa, and yesterday after work, I hung out with Dwaine to give him some China souvenir and we had dinner at Cheesecake Factory. I don’t plan on going over to Mr. W’s place for the remainder of this week, either, as there’s a zoo going on at his house and he’d probably prefer to keep whatever little space he has as quiet as possible. I wondered what would happen if I don’t go over at all on the weekdays anymore. I suppose in the beginning it’d be weird as I’m used to spending a lot more time with him than I am now, but over time would I get used to being by myself and doing my own thing, to the point where a relationship just doesn’t fit into my life anymore? And how long would that take, if ever? What happens if it does, do two people just sorta drift apart and stop dating each other? Hmm. Interesting stuff. I saw Mr. W at the gym at lunch earlier and wanted to run this by him and see what his opinion on this weird phenomenon is. I figured he’d probably not think it’s p0ssible to just unknowingly drift into a breakup situation, then look back and go, “Oh, I guess we broke up. I hadn’t seen my significant other for about a year now, come to think of it.” Haha. But there was a guy on the elliptical trainer right next to Mr. W, and the stranger wasn’t wearing a headset, so I didn’t approach Mr. W.

Later, I saw Mr. W online. So I IMed him. I apparently have communication problems, as you can see below:
me: You know a calzone is good when you eat it 3 days later, cold, and it’s DELICIOUS.
Mr. W: good
me: I was gonna ask you when you were on the elliptical (but that guy was right next to you), would it be possible if we just saw each other less and less and then not at all and we just sort of naturally break up?
Mr. W: This is a Joke …Right?
me: it’s a hypothetical.
maybe I should reword that.
I’m not asking “would it be possible” as in asking for permission.
I’m asking “would it be possible” as in, “do you think two people could…”
[* long-ass pause here *]
Mr. W: you r away from me for 2 days and now u wanna break up.
me: what?
it’s just a musing hypothetical, I’m not SUGGESTING we break up!
[* another long pause *]
Mr. W: u got some spaining to do lucy!
me: I thought I DID explain up there!
[* yet another pause *]
me: this is one of those questions like, “Do you think if we invert a huge glass bowl over my house and yard that the grass and trees that I currently have would provide enough oxygen to sustain me and Dodo?”
I’m not telling you to create a giant bell jar and trap me in a biodome!

That was awhile ago and he hasn’t responded. Hmm… Maybe the time it takes to drift apart and break up is like 20 minutes.

Life is more fun when you have an active imagination. My mom told me that when I was a toddler with her on a public bus in Taiwan, I started crying from being so thirsty. She looked in her bag and realized she’d forgotten to bring the baby bottle of milk. So instead, she said, “Okay, I’ll make you milk,” and went thru the physical motions as she explained what she was pretending to do. “I’m opening the powdered milk container. Now I’m scooping two scoops into your bottle. I’m adding hot water. Stir, stir, stir! Let me shake it up, and test it. It’s perfect. Here you go,” she hands me the handful of air. She said I took it and happily pretended to suck from the non-existent bottle, and was contentedly smiling after that. I was an easy baby. And I’m still like that today, as you can see from these IMs:

Vanessa: Ok
I had to make coffee, too
me: I want coffee.
Vanessa: *Handing over an internet cup of coffee*
best I can do from over here
me: wow, it’s strong!
* sip sip *
AND HOT! YIKES!!
Vanessa: U r too cool!
Luv it!
me: * placing hot coffee cup carefully balanced on Vanessa’s head *
still think I’m cool? hee hee
Vanessa: *doing belly dancing and not dropping the cup*
Now that is cool!

Aren’t we cute? 🙂

I used to think California driving was pretty bad, like they were just GIVING out licenses to anybody now. The way I see it, driving styles are separating themselves into two main categories. Road rage appears to be on the rise, as with ignorance of the drivers. With the first type, defensive driving is pretty much out the window — these drivers expect you to watch out for them and yield to their asshole driving styles. The second type, those who don’t drive aggressively like them drive obliviously and randomly, blocking your way, often gabbing on cell phones. I think this contributes to the aggression and road rage of the first kind of drivers.

I didn’t even realize how awful California drivers were until my vacation in Hawaii last year. When you signal on a freeway, the driver in the lane you want to change to slows down instead of speeds up to block you. They even give a hand gesture, similar to the ones we get in California, except the Hawaiian one uses ALL the fingers. What’s the rush? We’ll all get there soon enough, come on in, brother! their driving style seems to convey.

And then I went to China. I can’t say I was surprised since Taiwan driving is pretty awful as well, but I think Mr. W and his friends were treating it like a novelty. Pedestrians just walked into the street and stood still between two lanes as cars whizzed around them at full speed (yield to pedestrians? What’s that?), and then they moved up another lane and stood still again as more cars whizzed past, inches from their bodies. Thus they make their way, frogger-style, across the street. The driving was utterly unpredictable, as cars turned any direction from any lane, going the wrong way on streets if it was physically possible (and sometimes when it wasn’t), created a lane in between two existing lanes, and basically ignoring traffic lights, bikers and pedestrians. And other cars. Oh yes. Cars pulled out going the wrong way grazing within a inch of our vehicle, and yet they knew exactly what they were doing. Those going the wrong way or making odd turns or creating fake lanes would simply honk to let the relevant drivers know they were there, and the other drivers would move a little to let them make their obscure maneuvers. Needless to say, alert honking filled the air. No one was angry about it, no one was surprised. (Mr. W, me, his friends John and Lidya strolled around cities a few nights at our leisure, and every time we made it across a street, John would let out this big whoop and pick Lidya off the ground in celebration, laughing hysterically, thanking God that they were still alive, and commenting about how he hadn’t gotten such an adrenaline rush in a long time.)

I came back to California and was SO happy that people primarily drove inside of their own lanes and generally stopped when the light turned red, or when pedestrians were crossing the street. But I now have a new annoyance for pedestrians that see you driving by and deliberately step out in front of your car, forcing you to slam your brakes, as they walk slowly and haughtily across the street. “This would NOT be happening in China,” I’d grumbled more than a few times already.

So in honor of California drivers, here is something my coworker sent me a few minutes ago:

HOW TO DRIVE IN LOS ANGELES
1. The morning rush hour is from 5:00 am to noon . The evening rush hour is from noon to 7:00 pm. Friday’s rush hour starts on Thursday morning.
2. The minimum acceptable speed on most freeways is 85 mph. On the 105 or 110, your speed is expected to match the highway number. Anything less is considered “Wussy”.
3. Forget the traffic rules you learned elsewhere. LA has its own version of traffic rules. For example, cars/trucks with the loudest muffler go first at a four-way stop; the trucks with the biggest tires go second. However, in Malibu, SUV-driving, cell phone-talking moms ALWAYS have the right of way.
4. If you actually stop at a yellow light, you will be rear-ended, cussed out, and possibly shot.
5. Never honk at anyone. Ever. Seriously. It’s another offense that can get you shot.
6. Road construction is permanent and continuous in all of LA and Orange Counties. Detour barrels are moved around for your entertainment pleasure during the middle of the night to make the next day’s driving a bit more exciting.
7. Watch carefully for road hazards such as drunks, skunks, dogs, cats, barrels, cones, celebs, rubberneckers, shredded tires, cell phoners, deer and other roadkill, and the coyotes feeding on any of these items.
8. Mapquest does not work here, none of the roads are where they say they are or go where they say they do and all the freeway off- and on-ramps are moved each night.
9. If someone actually has their turn signal on, wave them to the shoulder immediately to let them know it has been “accidentally activated.”
10. If you are in the left lane and only driving 70 in a 55-65 mph zone, you are considered a road hazard and will be “flipped off” accordingly. If you return the flip, you’ll be shot.
11. Do not try to estimate travel time, just leave Monday afternoon for Tuesday appointments, by noon Thursday for Friday and right after church on Sunday for anything on Monday morning.

Vanessa’s sister, who normally leads Boot Camp, was unable to attend last nite. The girl who led it instead is a slim no-nonsense woman named Christine. She gave me food for thought.

“Rita might make it tonight,” she told Vanessa, “But she’s been saying that for the past month and she’s never come, so… But she gained a little bit of weight recently so she’s self-conscious about that. I saw her the other day and I asked, ‘Hey, how are you?’ and she said, ‘I’m fat!’ I said, ‘So what, we’re ALL fat!’ ”

That was genius. I laughed and loved it. Because no matter what we are or aren’t, no matter what we actually weigh, the plight of this generation is that we’re all fat. Our friends may not see it, our men may think we’re crazy, but it’s just that simple. “I’m fat!” “We’re ALL fat!” Whether or not we are, we are.

Today was a confusing and perturbing day. I was confused why I was so perturbed over something that wasn’t happening to me. Am I so freaking bored that I’m taking in someone else’s unfortunate drama to affect my sense of peace? Unfortunately, when bad things are happening to someone you’re in love with, telling yourself “This isn’t your problem, you’re not touched by this, it’ll handle itself with or without you” doesn’t get you very far. There’s something inside that wants to right the injustice, but I know I’m totally powerless and don’t have the option of participating in these events. Which is a good thing, the fact that I’m uninvolved in bad stuff, except for the fact that I feel so crappy about it. And then I’m back to the confusion. I was just sick about it all day today, trying not to take attitudes personally, trying to remind myself to be more giving and more understanding in this time. Still confused as to why I’d even have to tell myself that. I can walk away from it all right now and nothing would technically touch me or my life, I am that removed from it all. Technically. But I’m responding to it emotionally. Stop it.

I had a moment of relief from the stress (which isn’t even rightfully mine) between 7:30 and 9:00 when I took Vanessa up on her offer to go to Boot Camp at a local park, a circuit-training workout that’s run by her sister. It’d been offered before, but this time I went with it because I didn’t get to work out at lunch (I realized after getting into the gym locker room that I’d forgotten to bring workout pants, and I doubt the club would allow me to work out in my underwear), and I needed a distractor. The workout was so intense that I got the pre-fainting symptoms of dizziness, nausea, cold sweats, hyperventillation for a few minutes and sat out the rest of a circuit. I told myself I wasn’t properly nourished before the workout, and I was stressed all day, so I wasn’t at the top of my game. But it was disturbing that it happened. At least I caught the symptoms early and didn’t actually pass out or vomit. I was able to finish off all sets of all exercises up till then, despite seeing that some other people took breaks during sets. Yeah, when you feel like that, you really don’t care WHAT’s happening to other people in your life. Plus, some mosquitos actually stung me through my long-sleeved shirt, one on my arm, three on my back, so that occupied my attention for a few minutes, too. It was also really nice to catch up with Vanessa; I hadn’t seen her since way before my China trip.

Speaking of Vanessa, I’d once joked that the reason why my life/relationship was so peaceful was because all the drama available in the local area was being used up by Vanessa, so there was none left for me. Now that Vanessa’s life is on track, the drama has now hit someone else close to me. *sigh*

Mr. W said earlier, after a strange series of bad events that involve people marginally dealing with him, that anyone making contact with him these days are prone to attracting bad luck. Such as the guy tinting his car windows in the parking structure being harassed by the City. Such as my not having my workout pants. Well, I tend to believe that there are people/entities that look out for me, so I wasn’t too concerned. But at 6:30p, walking to my car in the parking structure after work, a car sped around a curb and unpredictably and without slowing down, turned right into my path and kept going in a speed way too fast for a parking structure. He didn’t even look and therefore didn’t see me. Some Asian guy. If I had stepped off the curb a mere 2 seconds earlier, there is no doubt that I would’ve been severely hit from my left, which would break my legs, hips, and at his speed, he wouldn’t have been able to stop from running over me so my head was likely to have been taken off, too. So to the entities protecting me, thank you. Your efforts are not unseen or unappreciated.

Mr. W wanted to have a weekend or at least a day of zero plans in order to get over the stress and jet lag of traveling, so that’s what this past Saturday was supposed to be. Except that Mr. W made breakfast plans with his male best bud for 8am on Saturday morning, so I was up, showered, and out of my house to meet Mr. W earlier than when I normally leave for work. My efforts were immediately redeemed when Mr. W and I walked up to the outdoors seating patio of the restaurant to see a very excited 3 year old golden retriever wagging his tail off at us, pulling on his leash and squeezing through the metal bars to jump on my shoulders to give me a hello kiss on my chin. “Hi, Buddy!” I laughed. When I walked around the gate to hug Buddy’s owner, Mr. W’s friend, Buddy growled. “You hear him growling?” Buddy’s dad asked. “He’s jealous.” I bent and hugged the dog, who again left salivary claim wherever his big happy tongue could reach. “I hugged you FIRST!” I told his bright golden head and floppy ears. I hadn’t seen Buddy in a few months, do dogs remember you? I usually run up to him and hug him, then play catch and tag and tug-of-war with him in his back yard until he slops up his entire water bowl and then drops into an exhausted and content nap. His parents say he gets really excited to see me, and I’d said that he’s just a happy dog and is excited to see everyone, and they’d said, “No, not like THIS,” but maybe they’re just being nice?

Anyway (man, it’s hard not to get off on a tangent when I’m talking about animals), Saturday was spent napping with a brief stepping out to lounge in Mr. W’s neighborhood jacuzzi. A new neighbor of Mr. W’s joined us with his 8-month-old little girl, who was the happiest tiny thing ever. She just loved the water, and kept trying to stick her tongue in it. And then she’d splash it with her teeny hand and burst into delighted squeals and giggles. She’d look at us with big blue eyes with her mouth wide open in a huge smile, as if to say, “Hot water is the greatest thing EVER! How can you NOT be excited?!” The little girl and her family just moved to Orange County, CA from Oklahoma when her dad was offered a great transfer opportunity as an athletic director for a local Christian private school. “How can anyone afford to live here?!” the dad exclaimed, describing his first thoughts upon moving to Orange County. After the visit to the jacuzzi, Mr. W and I took his teenage daughter to the movies and we watched Spider-Man 3. I think the black Spider-Man suit was more becoming on whatever stunt-double played Spider-Man than the suddenly-sissy blue and red suit. And someone had said that there were too many villains in this movie and too many sub-plots, but I enjoyed them all.

Sunday, Mr. W and I ran off to San Diego for a champagne brunch at Tom Ham’s Lighthouse, a great seafood restaurant that childhood friend Vicky and her boyfriend introduced us to, and then to Sea World. My bailiff had told me that Sea World, in partnership with Anheuser-Busch, had a beer tasting/beer pairing section. We found it. I had never drank so much beer in my life, and I don’t like beer, but I did find one that I do like. It’s a new product from Anheuser-Busch called “Peel,” and it’s juice-flavored beer, made with real juice. Surprisingly, it contains 1% more alcohol than regular beer, bringing it to 6%, but you don’t taste the alcohol. It’s more like a wine cooler. The flavor I sampled was blueberry-pomegranate. YUM. The beer introducer warned me that it had more calories and carbohydrates than all the other beers, and I pouted. Typical. But then he explained it’s higher by like 3 calories a serving, so I felt better. At the end of the beer tasting, he asked what my favorite was, and I said it was the Peel, and he said that Peel’s target audience is women between ages 21 and 40. Typical, again. I’m right there in the middle. I didn’t know I was so stereotypical. Oh, well. On the drive back, Mr. W and I discovered a delicious Italian restaurant by the water and I had a great if significantly oversized calzone. Half of it is going to be another meal. Or two. I had so much fun that day that I can’t remember the last time I had such a great time on an outing.

I saw so many animals this weekend that last nite, I actually DREAMT I was having a threesome with one. I can’t recall what kind of animal it was, but it was thankfully not a marine animal. (Like that makes beastiality any more redeeming.)

I sent my dad an email forward earlier today. You know, those entertaining emails you’re forwarded, then forward in turn to people you think are bored at work. My dad responded with:

“DEAR CINDY:

HAD SEEN IT BEFORE, AS YOU KNOW UNCLE TERRY SENT ME ALL KIND OF THINGS FROM E-MAIL. MY G-MAIL BOX ALL WAYS 90% FULL.”

Come to think of it, I do remember my dad saying before that his oldest brother Terry would clog his gmail account with forwards. Gmail has the largest capacity of free online emails I know of, so clogging it is quite a feat. I responded:

“oh. maybe you can “block” him.”

I looked at my line, then figured my dad may misread the statement due to the language barrier, and misunderstand the tone due to the cultural barrier, so I added:

“haha. Just kidding.”

Dad responded:

“You may see my mail addr is not g-mail but the g-mail is for him only. There
are some thing are good and fun only take too many times to read it. He is
retired may have time to kill .”

Translation: As you can see, this email account I’m writing you from is not gmail; I reserve gmail for him only so he can clog up my inbox with forwards. He sends some good stuff, but it takes me too long to read it [what with the language barrier and all]. He’s retired so he probably has a lot of time on his hands.

I replied:

“maybe i’ll send him my laundry to do, then.”

My dad’s immediate response:

“Ha ha you wish.”

I had to recheck the “from” field to make sure this email came from him. If you have immigrant parents, you’d be as shocked as I am. Did he just say the colloquil quip “you wish”? And he got that it was a joke! Maybe I really don’t give my parents enough credit.

Turned out TurboTiger was right, the nicer hotels in China had in-house gyms. That’d be 2 out of 3 or 4 hotels we stayed at. I’d worked my ass off (well, not really, that sucker’s hanging on tight to my hip bones) before the trip in anticipation of not having access to any gym, but between the 3 workouts we had in the hotel gyms and the 2 hours of climbing the Great Wall of China and the daily walking from, to, and within sight-seeing locations, I didn’t do too badly. I think I lost weight.

PMS bloating set in within a few days of the trip, as I weighed myself obsessively in each hotel we stayed in (and then multipled the bathroom scale number by 2.2 to convert kilos to pounds). I was also nervous about the three, sometimes four meals we’d get a day. It seemed like every time we got off a bus or off a plane, we were taken to a restaurant and fed. If we were in a plane, Air China also serves full hot meals with every flight, even those only 2 hours in duration. I ate guiltily, thinking of the cliched starving kids in China, and looking out the windows for them. I did see a few begging kids, but I can’t say it wasn’t a tourist trap scam put on by their nearby and slyly-grinning parents.

After returning to California, my body started its thing on time the day after I got back, and now that I’m debloated, I seem to be a pound or two less than before I’d gone on the trip. So maybe there really IS something to that “eat six meals a day to keep your metabolism up” thing.

Just to be safe, I still hit the gym whenever I could upon my return. Monday at lunch, full workout, weights and cardio. Tuesday at lunch, we had a meeting that took half an hour away from my lunch, so I did a quick gym turnaround and ran 3 miles on the treadmill, the most effective workout I could do in the shortest amount of time. Grumpy at the loss of lunch hour, I declined showering and simply wiped off, deciding they can deal with smelling me if they’re gonna make us give up our lunchtime for a meeting. (Altho I don’t think I do smell, even after massive sweating.) Wednesday, I’d forgone the noon workout to have a birthday lunch with a coworker. Thursday/yesterday, I did weights at lunch and no cardio as I had a late start, but made up for that by going to the gym with Mr. W in the evening and doing a 65-minute run with hills on the treadmill, plus a 2-minute cooldown. Today I’m certainly going to the gym at lunch.

I’ve been munching on portions of meals here and there, whatever being full-time in trial allows time for. Half a protein bar here, some coffee with a piece of fat-free angel cake there. Leftover albondigas soup here, leftover meat loaf there.

I know if I were anyone else, I’d see results in the form of 5 lbs lost in a week. But because it’s me, I’m just treading to keep my head above water.

Meet my boy Dwaine. (Actually, if you’re a regular reader of this blog, you’ve “met” Dwaine already, several times.)

Dwaine is a high-powered executive in the finance and mortgaging biz. He’s smart, witty, sophisticated, and has his suits and shirts custom-made by clothing designers and tailors. He manages multi-million dollar accounts and hires and fires people older than him. People he trains inevitably and quickly become major money producers.

Yesterday evening, Dwaine and I had the following phone conversation.
Dwaine: You’re really living the life, Cindy. I wanna take all those vacations.
Me: Let’s go to Jamaica! You can show us around to where your family goes.
Dwaine: I’ve been back so much lately that I’m really kind of burned out on Jamaica. Let’s plan something for Brazil or Australia, those are two places I really want to go.
Me: You know, Brazil is supposed to have some of the most beautiful women in the world. But Australia has koala bears.
Dwaine: Aren’t koala bears the cutest darn things in the world? I don’t mean to sound gay, but they’re just so cute! They’re a lot cuter than most other animals.
Me: Yeah, let’s go to Australia so I can go hug a koala bear. I probably couldn’t bring one home, tho. Customs wouldn’t allow it. But I wanna have one hug me like they hug a tree. It can just hang onto my middle.
Dwaine: *pause* Now I wanna hug a koala bear.
Me: *laughing at his wishful statement*
Dwaine: They really are the only animals that automatically hug you just to hug you.
Me: Well, monkeys, but they’re kinda creepy to me.
Dwaine: Yeah, I don’t care for monkeys. I don’t want something that’ll hug me and then try to pick my pockets at the same time. Koala bears hug you just to hug you, cuz they hug trees, there’s no ulterior motive. Like dogs, when they hug you, they’re trying to hump your leg. Koalas just hug you.
*silence on both ends. We’re both thinking the same thing.*
Dwaine: I wanna go hug a koala bear.
Me: You know I’m gonna blog this.
Dwaine: You can title it “I Wanna Hug a Koala Bear.” But you better not make me sound gay!
Me: Okay, I’ll title it “Dwaine wants to hug a koala bear.” And then the body of the post will say, “He told me so last night.” That’s it.
Dwaine: No, you better qualify that statement if you’re gonna write that! You have to explain what we were talking about!

Okay, so I gave it some context, but does it really make him look any less sissy?

I love my friends.

(Go ahead, try to say the title out loud without cracking a smile.)

In Beijing, our tourguide gave us an interesting summary of what gifts/offerings made a man a desirable bachelor through the years, due to the changes in society in the pre-Communism, Communism, and current hybrid Communism-Capitalism eras.

Before 1911: China is big and transportation was expensive if not unavailable. When a woman married into her husband’s family, she was hubby property and moved into his household, away from her own family. She’d rarely be able to make the trek back to her parents’ home, and could visit only every few years. Her parents (or mother, really) gave her a jadeite bracelet for her wedding which she would wear daily as an indicator of whether she was happy in her marriage. See my post on this here. Her husband gave her a handkerchief as his gift. Why? To wipe away her tears of longing for her own parents.

1960s: After what China calls “The Liberation” (change of government over into Communism), the 3 most desirable assets a man could have were a watch (“He’s so groovy! He always know what time it is! Watch, ask him!”), a bicycle (“He actually rides to work! He doesn’t have to walk! And I can sit on the handlebars and he rides me around and drops me off at work! I’m so proud when I sit on his bike.”), and a sewing machine (“We can make our own clothes, whenever we want! As many as we can afford fabric for!”).

1980s: This’ll sound familiar to you if you’re a child of the 80s like I am. A man is bitchin if he has a color television set (the newest technology and entertainment for leisure time), a refrigerator (“We actually have excess food that we can keep for a prolonged amount of time, we’re so privileged!”), and a washing machine (“What a good life I’ll have as his wife, I don’t have to scrub my hands raw doing laundry with a bar of soap against a scrubbing board!”).

1990s: The 2 most desirable things a man could possess are a computer (“My man’s technosavvy, and he makes more money than your man. Now that wages are no longer standardized equally by the government.”), and a college or technical degree (same reason: increased earning capacity).

2000s: Can you just smell the materialism increasing over there, catching up to the rest of the capitalistic world? Now the 2 most desirable assets in a man are a car (no explanation needed, I’m sure you understand) and credit card (the goverment actually has a program where if you make a lot of money, they’ll pay your wages directly into an interest-earning account, and give you a credit card linked to that account, similar to our debit cards. So having one of these cards means you have a high-earning job, AND have credit, AND outside earnings from interest. Pretty cool stuff.).

The changes in valued assets in China indicate a change in priorities, which in turn point to a change in its political system and how it affects the people’s lifestyle through the years. In the last 20 years or so, the people have expressed much contentment with the increase in “freedom”, as the oppressive style of communism depicted in novels and movies of the 40s and 50s gradually gave way to priorities and luxuries that almost meet those of socialist, if not quite capitalistic, government ruled countries. There are still reminders that they’re different, though. The inability to show public dissent against the government; the quantity of government jobs and government-owned property; and on a more personal level, the wistfulness of their people when they express their wishes for having more than one child, or to travel outside of their country.

Technologically advanced, cell phones are a huge thing over there.