cindy's world

I thought I looked funny today. I’d gone to the bathroom at lunch (didn’t go work out or I would’ve figured it out sooner) and in passing, mused how small my eyes looked. And just now, in the bathroom, while washing my hands, I looked up in the mirror, and…realized I’d forgotten to put on eye makeup this morning. What the…?! Who does that?! No wonder I got out the house early today!

…in many people’s lives when they get to scream (and sometimes without lying)…
I ‘ M e n G A G E D !!!!

Relive the experience time after time like it’s your first. See the comment section here. 😀

Flat Coke & Flies participated in an interesting and self-esteem-boosting meme on her blog, and as I finished reading the last juicy word, I saw my name in the paragraph below. She’d tagged me to do the same meme! Okay, so here it is, 10 things I like about myself.

10.) I fit in small spaces. Yeah, I’ve griped about being short and not having the square footage for wider-spread distribution of fat; yeah, I’ve griped about not being able to buy clothes right off the racks. But hey, not being able to fit in most clothes saves me money, AND I’m one of the few people who can sit comfortably anywhere, no matter how small the car, how tight the seat, how negligible the legroom. This is how I sleep in the coach section of planes: I lower the food tray attached to the back of the seat in front of me, I lean forward, fold my arms over the tray, and sleep with my head on my arms, just like when we played “Heads-Up, 7Up” in gradeschool. The other day I walked into Mr. W’s house to find him putting away groceries he’d just gotten from Costco, and there was a produce cardboard box on the ground (as Costco does not use grocery bags). “Hey, that’s big enough to fit me!” I said as I climbed in, sat in there cross-legged and looked out at him, beaming. He was unable to resist dragging me around the floor for a few laps as I held on to the sides of the box shrieking, “WHEEEEEEEE!!!”

9.) I like my quirky sense of humor. The humor is sometimes high-brow and witty, but more often it’s just goofy. Sometimes I find someone who “gets” me and my humor, and the interaction is just back-breakingly belly-achingly funny…unless you’re the person we’re making fun of. Chances are, tho, if we’re making fun of you, you’re not one of those people who get it anyway.

8.) I love that I don’t fit the negative stereotype of today’s American girl. I’m financially independent, have assets, no credit card debt, don’t blow offensive wads of cash on name-brand shoes/purses/makeup/hair-extensions/manicures, don’t do catty sabotaging things to other women, did not get knocked up by a guy who doesn’t take me seriously, am not waiting around for Prince Charming to come around and “rescue” me by wiping my ass of my debts. And I’m college-educated, have never been drunk, high, nor ever smoked. You may THINK I’m boring, but I’ve partied with the best of you and *I* can say I remember doing it.

7.) I have a natural teacher in me. I like that I can share knowledge or perspectives and make it palatable to the recipient. People sense this and seek me out for tutoring (just did a session last Friday for a coworker), and often for advice. That teacher is able to get you from Point A (problem) to Point B (solution) in a way that’s easy to understand and is hopefully inspiring. Oh, people come to me with nutrition/workout questions, too. I’m very proud of my students, they have an extremely high success rate. College roommie Diana’s nickname for me when she seeks advice is “Psychic Cindy.”

6.) Kind of along with #7, I like that I can and have inspired goodness in people. Few things are more rewarding than when I get a phone call from an excited friend saying, “I took your advice and didn’t do that mean nasty thing I wanted to do, and instead I did this positive thing, and oh my gosh you were right! I’m so glad I didn’t go through with what I’d wanted to before I talked to you!” One of my proudest and favorite stories in this category has to do with Vanessa and an email response she almost sent to her father, but thought she’d send it to me first and ask “How would YOU respond?” To respect Vanessa’s privacy in that she may not want this story divulged, I’ll stop here. But it is a BEAUTIFUL story.

5.) I plan for the future, and for the rainy days. But I do so without depriving myself today. I may never have kids, but if I do, there’s a college fund being built that I started 10 years ago. BUT I still bought myself that Lexus for my happiness today. You also can’t say I don’t vacation well. Through all this, I still live comfortably and well within my means. (Altho my parents do this better than I can; I can’t figure out how they do it.)

4.) Sometimes, just sometimes, I have a spark of enlightenment and I learn like mad from life. I see the higher purpose for everything, and I try to spread that goodness around as I grow as much as possible. From the worst relationship ever, I learned how to survive and make myself happy. I strive to live calmer, with a broader perspective. I am hyper-conscious of my flaws and work to improve myself. I come up with great little sayings like, “Sometimes you have to add your own yellow.” Sometimes the day is dark, and you bring your own sunshine, you rewrite your own day, and in so doing, you just may change the world. This side of me is really hard to explain in words, it’s more of a state of mind than a physical thing I can describe.

3.) I’ve never actually failed at anything I’d set out to do. Ever. I don’t know why I deserve that kind of luck, but I am appreciative of everything it’s brought me. I’m proud that I set out for positive things, and that those are the things I’ve succeeded at. I think I’d regret it forever if one of my successes were in destroying someone’s career or something like that. (I know what you’re thinking, and no, I’m not gonna help you sabotage an annoying person in your life. But I will talk you out of WANTING to and make you happier in the process.)

2.) I have an affinity for surrounding myself with good people. Quality friends. People with character that I can trust and be proud to be around. I’d say I’m a good judge of character, but I think a lot of it came from learning the hard way, too. When I was younger, I had to do what I called “spring cleaning” of “friends,” when I found out that these people were not the kind of friend to me that I was to them. But what I am left with now is a collection of some of the most inspiring people who give out so much light, whom I constantly learn from, and they have shielded me in storms, pulled me out of wreckages, given their blood to make sure I survive. There are too many of you to name, and as I credit you for helping me find myself, I also credit me for finding you. =)

1.) I have a detailed memory. So detailed, that yesterday while having a sunset oceanside dinner with Mr. W (he had the lemon-caper swordfish), he mentioned that he didn’t use to like capers when he first had them, and I was actually able to recall THE first time I actually had capers. It was at Orange Hill Restaurant on a double-date with college roommie Diana and our then-boyfriends. I had chicken breast with a creamy lemon-caper sauce. It must’ve been ’98. I can see the restaurant, the people, feel what I felt then. And that memory in turn pulls the thread of many other associated memories involving other people and thoughts back then. It just goes from there. But I love this memory of mine, despite the holy terror it strikes in people, because this is how I keep my life’s lessons and remember how to give gratitude for them, and cherish all the wonderful things that existence has and will continue to give me.

One of those strange things about existing in today’s technology generation, is that etiquette rules haven’t caught up to technology yet. We have ground-breaking case-law written all the time in court (such as a motion asking the Court for permission to confiscate an employee’s computer to recover deleted e-mail files in defending a sexual harassment lawsuit — what are the privacy issues in this regard, if she used a personal email account?), but who’s writing the etiquette rules? College roommie Diana had called me some years ago on a debate that she and her then-boyfriend had about whether it would be okay to do wedding invitations by E-Vite. Wilco and his fiance are doing wedding RSVPs through their online wedding site as opposed to going through the hassle of mailing, stamping, and making their guests mail back reply cards in the mail.

That being said, I feel a little sheepish that instead of calling all my close friends and family to make some personal announcement about the state of my relationship (which call I’d received from many engaged and now-married friends, which adds to my feeling of sheepishness), my first “official” mention of it is on an online blog, despite the vagueness of its mention.

But because I am the queen of justification, I call on the loophole that despite the fact that I was there when the subject jewelry was purchased on July 20, and despite the fact that I was there when my parents gave their permission on July 29, that I don’t have an “announcement” to make as Mr. W has not proposed and I am therefore not engaged, so this isn’t “the” announcement and I reserve the right to make personal phone calls later upon my actual engagement.

Okay, at your request for photos:

(It’s the “crown”, not the “earring”.)

I don’t like the way I look in this photo, but the professional photographer did a better shot of the ring than I did. And it IS this ring in the picture. It’s weird to walk around knowing I have the advertised item I’m seeing everywhere; the saleslady who helped us said she had to turn away 3 people after us who wanted to see the ring in the ads and brochures, and she had to tell them it’s been sold.

Look! Another time-bombed entry! I must really love you guys. It’s 2:21 a.m. on Thurs nite/Fri morning, and you’ll see this post on Sunday. So if it’s Sunday and you’re reading this, I’ll be back from the cruise with Mr. W tomorrow morning!

I dug this out in the earlier packing/cleaning (this is why it takes me so long to clean my room or rid myself of old junk — too much reminiscing):

I want a guy who knows what he has when he has me
I want a guy who feels he’ll love me for eternity
I want his eyes to soften when he looks into mine
Content to have me near while he reads and sips his wine
He’ll love me for enhancing his already beautiful life
He’ll love the dark I bring to his light
He’ll appreciate the reinforcement I am to his strength
Does not need (me) but chooses me to be his bane
I want to love and lavish without fear
Release him to go and welcome him back with no tear
I want to give him my world and sleep softly at his side
Be his girl forever and his woman when the time is right.

6am Thurs., 7-24-03

I don’t really remember writing this altho I can relate to the almost desperate desire for someone who’d protect me, love me, and bring me peace especially at that time in my life, but what throws me is the middle of the piece, in which I seem to write myself as the destruction of this great guy’s great life, and yet the guy loves me in spite of and through all of that. Why did I feel like I’d be the guy’s vulnerability, the Achilles heel that he has attached his heart to? Was it low self-esteem? Or maybe I was just making the point tongue-in-cheek that altho the guy’s fine without me or any girlfriend, he chooses to keep me in his life with all my dark sarcasm and the inevitable relationship fights. It really does read like Mr. W — he’s said over and over that he wouldn’t change a thing about me. “What about my crabby PMS-ness?” I asked him the other day. He replied that that’s but a small manageable inconvenience outweighed by all the joy I bring to him.

Happy (1-day early) birthday to the man of my dreams, the heart’s desire fantasy come to life, the exact personification of what I’d scripted almost exactly 4 years ago to the day. Well, except he sips martinis instead of wine.

James bugged me to blog about this, so I’m time-bombing it to post on Saturday when I’m on the cruise, despite the fact that I’m writing it at 1:48 a.m. Thursday night/Friday morning.

I was on my own for dinner tonight, but didn’t feel like spending a lot of money. James owed me $10 for when I spotted him at The Yard House last nite at dinner with Vanessa, so I called to see what he was planning for his own dinner. We agreed to meet up for Japanese so he could be my debit account. I’m paranoid about getting fatter lately (I seem to have grown somehow softer and wider in the past couple of weeks, even tho it’s not reflected in the body fat scale), so I ordered a sashimi plate. I’d gotten to the restaurant first, grabbed a seat at the sushi bar, chatted a bit with the two sushi chefs, before James got there. In spite of that, the two chefs revealed they were clearly first-generation immigrant Japanese men, which I would’ve known even without their accents or their use of Japanese when they spoke to each other. Here’s why.

Toward the end of dinner, the two chefs asked us, or more specifically, asked James, what race he was. Was he Chinese? James said he’s half. They then asked him where he worked. James gave the city, and the chefs exclaimed how far away that was. Then they asked him what he did for a living. James said he built speakers and sound cards for computers. They were impressed. I’m sitting there, totally ignored, wondering why they were asking him this and not also asking me. One of the chefs finally turned and nodded at me, and asked James, “Is this your wife?” They were lucky I had a mouthful of orange, so that James could reply, “No, we’re friends.” How patriarchal was that? Despite my being there first, having a rapport with the chefs first, sitting closer to the chefs than James, they ask the man about his career and personal information, like I didn’t have a job or something, and then only involve me insofar as I relate to the man, and then not even asking the question directly to me, but asking it as if I were some non-human possession, like “Is this your briefcase, sir?”

I would’ve demanded feminist retribution, but then James paid my entire bill, so I was happy to leave it at that. =P

I was just on the Happy Bunny site and saw this. I suddenly laughed so loud it woke up my cat down the hall.

Can you imagine driving by a car and looking over, and seeing THIS window cling looking back at you? HAHAHA! Alas, I don’t have the balls. You know how you’re behind a car and see their window sticker or license plate frame saying something like, “Powered by HAWT” or “Don’t hate me because I just had your boyfriend” and you want to look in the driver’s window to see just how hot this obnoxious girl is, and no matter how hot she is, you’re gonna scoff and think she’s too ugly to make those claims? *Sigh* This Happy Bunny window cling is going to go into the same pile of wishful thinking as that t-shirt that says “O.K. I’m perfect. Stop staring” (a Happy Bunny T my gym trainee got me that I still haven’t had the courage to wear), and that tank top that says “Well? It ain’t gonna lick itself.”

After skipping the noon workout on Friday (I went with Mr. W’s coworkers to lunch as they wanted to treat him for his upcoming bday), eating the rare lunch and rich dinner out, having lunch out again today (P.F. Chang’s China Bistro), and making myself a grilled chicken quesadilla for dinner tonite, there are few things more guilt-quenching than feeling rivulets of sweat trickle down my lower back and between my breasts, dissipating into the elastic bands of the bottom of my sports bra and the waistband of my shorts, after a 3+ mile run as I sit here and type this.

And bunnies! I saw lots and lots of white cotton-tailed bunnies bouncing and pouncing and prancing on the rolling hills of the park we ran through! The hills were alive with the movement of bunnies! “Bunnies!” I said delightedly to Mr. W on the run, “What do you think they’re all doing out here?”
He said dully without looking around, “Breeding like rabbits.”
I examined the bunnies that darted off as we ran by, trying to catch some of them in x-rated bunny-style action. No luck. “Bunnies!” I said excitedly again. Aside from the sound of heavy rhythmic breathing, I got nothing back from Mr. W. “You don’t seem as impressed with the bunnies as I am,” I observed.
“I ain’t impressed with shit right now. I’m in pain,” he spat.
Footfalls in the silence. Pitter patter of our feet. “Bunnies,” I said quietly to myself.

2 posts ago, Adam left the following comment, which I think deserves its own post that I could read again later for inspiration and not have to hunt down through the comments sections:

“Happy birthday late. Here’s my horoscope for you:

You ever think back to your teens and wish you’d had it more together and how if you could go back you’d do it better because you weren’t awake enough at the time but now you are? Or your (early) 20s?

Your 30s are your power years, if you’re awake. Your you years. Your superhero years. Project ahead to your 50s and imagine what you’ll say then looking back on now, how if you could go back (to now) you’d do it better because you’re more aware.

I say focus not on what you don’t have or what schedule you’re behind on. Wake up early and discover/define your power and hurl it/you into daring enterprises and helping people. I say turn 40 breathless.”

It got me thinking. And my thoughts were in this response:

“I ‘woke up’ senior year in high school, in the sense that I saw and was able to behave accordingly with the Big Picture. Before that I was always disappointed by people and spent much of my time wallowing in that disappointment. As far as doing things better, I kinda wish I hadn’t ditched Cirque du Soleil and gotten in the biggest trouble I’d ever gotten into in high school, but it’s become one of those events that changed me and prevented future stupid decisions, and strengthened my sense of integrity. So, yeah. Not much I would change as far as HS goes.

Now my 20s was kinda scary, in the sense that after college, it was all sort of a blur without midterms and finals and years in college to mark the passing of time. But I think I continued to learn vicariously and develop my sense of self.

One of the essays we had to write in high school German class (in the German language, obviously) had the topic “In 10 years, how would you see yourself now?” I can’t remember what I wrote. But I like your idea of projecting forward and retrospecting back to my 30s to write it how I’d want to remember it later.

Thank you, Adam.

P.S. See, you should comment more often.”

I love this. I want to remind myself of this. Today’s horoscope.

You may be required to execute a task that others will notice, but you might prefer a chance to creatively unveil your deeper feelings in a more private situation. The problem is that you aren’t interested in burying your feelings while you put a positive spin on things. The good news is that you don’t have to deceive anyone if you are working for a higher cause.
Tuesday, July 10, 2007

I wonder if anyone who has ever sought and received advice from me feels this from me — that I point out the silver lining, that I seek to be understood as to my logic, that I try to draw my logic from an ethereal source. And it’s as true as Ben Franklin’s quote to the effect that one needn’t worry about a bad memory if one always sticks to the truth; there’s no evil motive to camouflage and no bloody hands to hide if my reasons, which I do creatively unveil in private to slicken understanding, are pure.