cindy's world

I’m so uncomfortable after those vivid detailed dreams that deal with people in my life. Hours after waking, those impressions are still there. These dreams make me miss people I shouldn’t miss, nostalgic for things that never truly were, and angry at people whom I have no real-life beef with. I’m fighting the urge to call this old DA friend of mine and see how he’s been since he transferred to Long Beach, call MOH Vicky’s younger sister Karen and yell at her for being a selfish conceited immature brat (and kind of a slut), and call Andrae and gush about how much I appreciate his friendship and loyalty. Over NOTHING! Gah.

I might make the last phone call, tho…Andrae would probably get a kick out of the dream while I still remember it.

There’s a lot of bad stuff going around in the blogosphere today. Instead of adding to it in Cindy’s World, I’m gonna leave instead the Judge’s joke du jour:

Did you hear that they came out with a new Barbie doll called “Divorced Barbie”?
It comes with all of Ken’s stuff.

I’m trying to do more divorce cases but the family law computer program’s down. And then I tried to do a criminal law entry but I couldn’t get around the criminal system’s locks on this issue. I didn’t feel like working out today, so I took a walk to a local law firm and paid for my parents’ living trust documents. Even with a very generous $375 professional discount that this probate attorney gave me, I’m still out $1200.

I really, really want to go home, burrow in my bed and go to sleep.

I think, I think, I’m addicted to string cheese. I bought a pack of ’em the other day and keep it in my fridge. I started out having one stick a day around lunchtime. And then I had to have one at home in the evenings while watching TV. And then it was two watching TV. The other day I had four. “But they’re so small,” my courtroom assistant said, trying to make me feel better. Small or not, they’re 80 calories each, and 4 would be 320 calories I otherwise wouldn’t have consumed had I not purchased the pack. But there’s just something so fun and tasty about trying to peel stringy cheese as thin as possible off a cold-hardened stick, making it last as long as possible. It’s like a challenge, AND a calcium-rich snack. I’d always thought food consumed with bare hands were somehow more yummers than food you have to cut and eat with a knife and fork. Like giant turkey legs from Disneyland and the Renaissance Pleasure Faire. *drool*

Mr. W said, “You’re not addicted to string cheese. You just eat it cuz there’s nothing else in your house to eat!” That’s one theory…but my fridge also contains salad dressing, eggs, butter, and an unopened bottle of white wine. And my freezer has ice. So obviously there are other things in the house to eat.

Now that I have finished all my string cheese, let’s see if I feen and have to buy more. My guess is that because I grocery shop a few times a year, laziness will overtake any withdrawal.

Here’s another photo from the wedding, the wedding couple ‘twixt me and the W. Thanks, Warren!

Last nite/this morning, I dreamt that I was on my way over to work (or school) and met up with Gym Trainee at an outdoors playground-like gym on the campus. I did like 1 exercise and realized I was half in a dress I wear for work altho I had my running shoes and workout gloves on, and I told her I was going to finish changing into gym attire and will be right back.
I went to my courtroom to put my stuff down but on the way there, was ushered instead to a lecture hall-sized classroom. Oh, the bartending class was starting! I sat down in class, feeling bad that I’d told my trainee I would be right back but couldn’t now that class has begun. I saw a few people I knew in high school, people too popular to hang out with me back then. I sat next to one of these girls, who seems perfectly content to socialize with me now. And then some other girls came in that the girl I was with wanted to hang with, and we moved back a row to sit with them. I looked around the classroom and thought, “The class description said this was a ‘SMALL GROUP short term, fast paced course’, my understanding was 20 people per class, and there must be like 200 people in here! This is ridiculous!” Thinking about the class description, I also remembered/realized that this is a 4.5-hour course. And I’m supposed to be taking it with Gym Trainee, who isn’t here. Wait, how could I be taking a 4.5 hour course in the MORNING, before I’m excused from my other classes? I’m gonna fail my other classes! As the class segmented into 6 TAs (which I guess would explain the smaller classes advertised, altho I was disappointed to learn the course would be taught by a TA and not the professor who DID look like a bartender whereas our TA was a Hispanic young man whose English I had a hard time understanding), I walked with my group out and noted aloud to my new friends, “Some of these kids in here don’t even look 18! Why’re they learning bartending?” And then I realized/remembered that I’d made a point to register for the evening classes so that my daytime schedule wouldn’t be disrupted. How’d I end up in the wrong session of the course? Because they didn’t take roll, that’s why.
That means there’s someplace else I was supposed to be. I checked the time. 10:30a. “What period is this?” I asked a blonde woman, who in real life is my court district administrator’s secretary. “It’s second period,” she answered me in the ever-resourceful way she has in real life. I thanked her and thought hard. 2nd period…2nd period…what do I have 2nd period? Where am I supposed to be? 1st period was homeroom with my judge in the courtroom, but I’m past that now. Math? No, I made a point not to take any math classes in college cuz I hate it. Didn’t I? Okay, so process of elimination. Science? No, that’s later on in the afternoon. So what the hell is 2nd period? Where do I go EVERY DAY at this time? Maybe I can just go thru the motions and my legs will automatically walk me to the right place out of routine habit. I didn’t make myself take CALCULUS, did I? I don’t remember doing any math homework, which means if I DID take math, I’m about to commit scholastic suicide. Like so many other nightmares I have about being in school again; getting lost on campus, forgetting to study all quarter for a course which had a midterm or final the day of the dream, etc. It was usually a math class, too. *vomit*
Walking around still thinking hard, my memories starting poking a finger though the fog. I…don’t have a second period because…I’m not in school. So where do I go all day long? What’s familiar to me now? Work! I work!
And then I woke up, late for work.

This morning, I put on a short black velvet go-go looking dress, high black boots, tossed my long hair back and skipped off to my car. I pushed the ignition start button, heard the 306 horses roar to life, and popped in a CD I made in ’98 called “Driving Music.” Pulling my beautiful IS350 out of the garage of my home where I left my furry li’l companion chomping away on his breakfast after he walked me downstairs, I bopped to upbeat music (“Fantasy” remix, by Mariah Carey and Old Dirty Bastard) which took me back to the days of driving around UCLA blasting that song in my friend Johnny’s car.

“Beachside, lakeside, or horse property? I wish I had your problems, Cindy,” my ghost said in our phone conversation last night. “I should never have left Southern California,” he said, tracing the roots of his multitude of regrets. His mother just wishes he could get a normal job, marry a nice girl, have a nice normal life. And although it breaks his heart, he can’t explain to her why that is impossible for him now. “That’s all she wants. It’s so simple. And I’m so fucked up.”

Listening to my music from the good ol’ days, half of me went back to the past mindset, and the other half remained (because SOMEONE had to safely operate the vehicle). The two Cindies looked at each other, smiled, and agreed: I have arrived. But I was always arrived; there was never anything wrong with my life. Okay, there were things wrong with people whose lives have at times crossed paths with mine and thus affected me very negatively, but MY life was, on the whole, on track. As with all my friends and loved ones, even the ones who lament.

There was a milk commercial where a young girl looks in the mirror and sees a beautiful young woman looking back at her, and the young woman explains that she’s the girl’s future self, and how she’s healthy and strong because of the years of milk drinking, and then a gorgeous hunk of a man walked into the mirror frame, put his arms around the young woman, and grinned. “Who’s THAT?” the little girl asked. The young woman whispered, “That’s your future boyfriend.” The girl instantly chugged her milk. I think if miserable little Cindy could have looked in that mirror and caught a glimpse of 31-year-old Cindy now with her hot wonderful fiance and promising life, she would’ve had a lot more to look forward to than she knew. Boo to me that it took listening to someone whose life path had gone horribly off-track to appreciate mine.

* House-hunting is getting old and making us feel poor.
* I booked our venue wedding coordinator consultation and our venue rehearsal, and tomorrow we’re attending the food-tasting to pick our meals.
* Today I received my order of more face powder and 3 eyeshadows from Sephora; starting tomorrow everything on my face will be Bare Escentuals and the switchover will be complete.
* We’re on Week 1 of Phase 2 in the psycho workout routine, both I and my gym trainee are looking the best we’ve looked since we can remember, and I was very proud of her when she told me she’s decided to wear a racer-back tanktop dress this weekend to visit her cousins in San Diego to “show off” her toned arms (since we did upper body today).
* I finally got to select vacation days for this year, and I got the week after my friend Jimmy’s upcoming Sunday wedding off so we can take our time coming back from Northern California after his wedding, BUT I didn’t have enough seniority to even make the WAIT LIST for the week of my own wedding. >:-(
* Dodo’s being a good sport in letting me brush some clumps out of his fur this week, altho it seemed somewhat painful, and he’s stopped jumping into the shower to lap up leftover bathwater in the mornings.
* The Association finally signed and mailed back the roofer’s contract this week, and I received an email from the roofer saying he hopes to start work around March 10; I was afraid to tell him my Association neighbors are asses and all still refuse to pay their contribution toward the repairwork.
* At Mr. W’s house without a TV in his bedroom and being unable to watch TV in the living room w/o disturbing his son who’s sleeping in the upstairs loft overlooking the living room, I am unable to fall asleep (obviously).

My mom kinda lost her mind last Saturday. While we were at my supervisor’s house having a grand ol’ time, I didn’t know but my mom called my cell and left me this grave-sounding voice mail to the effect of, “Cindy, Mama is so sorry. Mama did you wrong. I regret so much that I didn’t give you any brothers or sisters. In the future, when you’re married, you and [Mr. W] need to be kind to each other and persevere in your marriage and not break up or dispute over little petty things. Don’t let yourself be affected by too much.” I was like, Why’s she giving me future advice? Is she going thru one of those I’m-gonna-die-soon things again? I know they both had doctor’s appointments 2 days prior on Thursday.

So I called my parents’ house when we left and my dad picked up. I said, “Dad. Are you guys okay?”
He said, “Yeah, why?”
I said, “Cuz mom left me this weird message. Did a doctor contact you guys or something?”
“No. You wanna talk to your mom?”
“Sure.”
I heard the phone shuffle, and my dad said, “Your mom said it’s nothing.”
I said, “Okay, then see you tomorrow.” And we hung up since she wouldn’t talk to me.

Then on Sunday, when I visited, my mom told me in another room that she had gotten into a fight with my dad over the amount of soy sauce he was putting on his avocado, so my dad got mad and dropped the avocado and said he wasn’t going to eat it anymore. (She was trying to look out for his high blood pressure.) My mom was so offended she stormed off and drove around by herself, went shopping, cussed him out in her car alone, came back late at night, pulled in the driveway and realized she was STILL mad so she didn’t want to go in, and then she drove off again. She was also upset he never called her cell to check up on her even tho she’d been gone for hours. And then she tried calling me, but I didn’t pick up. So she was all crying and thinking about how she has nowhere to turn when the chips are down and her friends all have their own families so she can’t bother them and her mom’s never around and they’re not close, and how I would be in the same position without siblings. I told my mom, “I’ve learned in these past couple years that you don’t have to be blood to be family.” My mom said you can have friends but it’s still not the same; people get married, have their own lives and families and friendships loosen. You still can’t call on them at times like these.

Dwaine and I discussed the above story last nite and he agreed with me, and we decided that the last generation has different friendships from our generation. Dwaine’s and my relationship, for example, would be inappropriate in our parents’ generation. Neither my mom nor his mom have close male friends, unless it’s the husband of a close female friend and everyone hangs out as couples. But Dwaine and I go way back in a childhood that’d always had co-ed friendships and I can’t imagine life, present or future, without him.

Horoscope for February 17, 2008:

You could feel somewhat unsettled today and may not be able to quell your anxiety. Even if your emotions are a bit out of whack, it probably isn’t severe enough to require drastic action. Be careful not to become overly possessive, as Venus in your 8th of Shared Resources encourages you to exert control. Don’t succumb to fear, for tightening your grip on love could easily backfire.

I just advised a friend not to jump the gun about someone possibly having a crush on my friend’s significant other, and then I see this horoscope of mine immediately after. Okay, so I’m being pointed in a specific direction. Cuz truth is, I HAVE been feeling unsettled about a little thing for the past couple days. Mr. W told me that his biatch ex (not the mom of his kids, I mean the one who always gave me a hard time) called him on Friday and said she found some stuff in her house that belongs to or was made by his kids when they were younger, and said she wanted to meet up with him to return them. I had gotten instantly annoyed since any mention of her annoys me, and I told him to let me know when he plans to do that and I’ll make sure I’m nowhere near cuz I don’t want to deal with her attitude again. And we left it at that. Altho I’ve felt “somewhat unsettled” about it for the past couple of days, I’m chalking it up to my “emotions [being] a bit out of whack” and not readdressing it with him because 1) I trust him completely, and 2) I respect him so much for telling me something that I’m sure he knew I wouldn’t want to throw a party over. Unless the party were her and I’m throwing her overboard. I’d enjoy that. Anyway…I may be PMSing.

Yesterday evening, on Valentine’s Day, I fell in love. I didn’t really expect to, I figured I’ll settle and be just fine. Happy sometimes, even. Besides, I’ve already got one foot halfway into another, altho the contract hasn’t been written yet and it’s not binding technically. Yet.

I don’t think there’s just one “the one” in our lives. Sometimes there are two or three “the one”s, cuz that one is the best one for our lives right now. I just know that when I recognize one of these “the one”s, I can instantly see the future flash before me, I can picture myself there, and I’m so happy. I can think about nothing else and all the molecules around me spark with energy and I get beyond restless. It’s happened to me before when I’ve found other “the one”s.

So it was last nite that I ran around in circles, exclaiming over and over, “Oh my God. I love it. I love it. It’s perfect. Oh my God.” That house that Vicky found online and told me about? Mr. W and I went to take a look at it last night on our way to dinner. Sure our offer for our short sale house JUST went in that day, but it doesn’t hurt to keep our options open for something more ideal. We first hit up 2 or 3 other houses on the way, and even tho some were pretty cool or had interesting floor plans and I could live with it, none of them spoke to me or excited me. One had a backyard that scared me. I swear, I think they abused dogs or children and there are body parts still buried back there among the overgrown shrubs and weird sectioned-off kennels and cages. *shudder*

And then last on our list was THE house. It has a huge 3-car driveway, so wide that “I can Zaino my car sideways on it!” I said, so wide that “You can do donuts in your car on it,” Mr. W said. The neighborhood is older but well-manicured and totally upgraded. The 2500 square foot house looks like it had a recent face lift with beautiful new double-front-doors and a generously-sized raised platform wooden porch. The lights are on inside the house although it’s already vacant, and I gasped at the custom paint, the crown moldings, the carpet, the upgraded designer interior. The back yard gate was unlocked so in a delirium I ran to the back and nearly fell into the GIANT new pool, surrounded by a nice deck and fruit trees. (It was dark.) The clean white backyard patio rafters, Mr. W observed, is not wood, but fiberglass. No termite issues! Looking in from the back, I saw new granite countertops in the kitchen, recessed lighting, a nice center kitchen island, new stainless steel appliances. All totally new and upgraded. I even loved the bend in the staircase. In my mind, I SAW my life inside that house. I felt my happiness. I could feel Dodo’s happiness wandering around in there. It was totally move-in ready and costs THE SAME as the other house! (With the other house, we’d have to sink money into changing the carpet, small repairs on the floors and upgrading the bathrooms/bedrooms first.)

My realtor left for a week-long family trip yesterday, but had left me in the hands of Grace’s dad. I called him this morning to say hello and to tell him about the house, and he called me back with details. It is a short sale again (I’m fine with that, because the amount of time a short sale situation adds to the process will be beneficial to us; we can’t move in right away, anyway), it’s assessed at $200K more than it’s being offered for, and he’s free to let us in to look at it TONIGHT! I was SO excited when I hung up I couldn’t stop smiling as I called Mr. W to tell him the good news.

Due to the psychotically early meet-up time I made with Grace’s dad at the new property in my eagerness, I’d have no time to run home tonite to grab clothes and take care of Dodo’s food and whatnot for the weekend, so I was going to do it at lunchtime and skip the gym. In calling my gym trainee to tell her I wasn’t going to hit the gym with her today, I got a call in on my cell phone. It was my bank, congratulating me that I’ve been approved for my great HELOC (home equity line of credit), which I’d applied for at a crazy-low interest rate to use as down payment for the new house. I’ll be mailed closing documents on Wednesday and then I can throw my car loan into the HELOC, make it tax deductible, AND fund my path into my (uh, I mean “our”) new home!

Here’s the fated sequence of events…
1. We find the 1st short sale house.
2. We put an offer on that short sale house. (I run into Grace’s dad.)
3. I call and tell Vicky about it.
4. Vicky looks up that house online and says, “Hey, what about THIS house? It’s the same price.” She reads the description to me and I’m instantly intrigued.
5. Our realtor leaves the country. Mr. W and I visit that house. I fall in love, utterly, completely.
6. Grace’s dad is handling our stuff in our realtor’s absence.

It’s perfect! It’s GOT to be meant to be, right? EEEEEEEEEE!!!

I’ve been wanting to post this every Valentine’s Day for years but I never remembered in time. I wrote this poem 2-14-94, my senior year in high school. (That’s important for the irony you’ll see.) It was published later on that year in a school publication.
Each time a reference to Valentine’s Day is written, the font is in a creepy horror-movie-title font, like with blood drippage coming off the letters.

V-DAY
The kid down the street
Sits up in bed at six
Alarmed as his alarm alarms him.

And in this state of panic
His feet hammer out something drastic
Just as his young heart mimicks his alarm.

Having forgotten it was Valentine’s
He frantically cuts flowers fresh off the vine
And in so doing, draws blood the color of the maroon petals.

In school, the boy greets Little Suzie,
Presents her with his flowers, still a little woozy
From his tremendous outpour of blood.

Suzie’s lush lips stretch into a smile
As she eyes the beautiful red pile
Of flowers, and blushingly accepts the gift.

She giggles and wiggles and squirms all day
Looking so forward to her luncheon date
With the little, young twelfth grade boy.

Amongst all this hustle and bustle
Of young, immature kids
Whose clanging, clamoring hearts still believe in Valentine’s Day

I sit, and observe
And occasionally laugh
At all the silly, unrealisitic lovesick fools

And wish that one time more
I could be a part
Of all this fuss over nothing on Valentine’s Day.