cindy's world

I wrote this post some time ago about the heart-wrenching nature of George Michael’s rendition of Bonnie Raitt’s “Can’t Make You Love Me.” James and I were IMing about music conveying experiences you don’t really “get” until you’ve gone through hell, and I asked him if he’s heard this version of the song. He hadn’t, but soon found this:

I’ve raved about George Michael’s version of this song to Mr. W, who claims to also have never heard it. And he’s a hu-uge Buffy and Angel fan, so he’ll enjoy this. As will Wilco, my other partner in crime for enjoying the guilty pleasure of teeny bopper shows. Whoever made this video seems to have interpreted George Michael’s rendition the same way I did. Plus, I’d always rooted for Buffy and Spike, so with that added to the impact this song already has on me, I again had to wipe tears off my face. Or maybe it’s just because of the late hour since I’ve been up till now completing my and my parents’ TAXES. Ugh. My head and eyeballs hurt.

“My loyalty is with you,” she informed me yesterday. I didn’t respond to it, although she said she needed me to know that. But the reason it didn’t bowl me over is because I already knew that. She showed it all the time through her actions. Her simple statement to me didn’t even register until late last night. I was in front of my bathroom mirror plucking little unruly hairs, and my brain zapped my consciousness back to the days when loyalty was the thing most lacking from my friendships. I wouldn’t say my friends were catty, just young and selfish. There was a time when my closest female friend gave me her ear and her shoulder so that I could cry to her all the frustrations I had about a boy I liked, all the information I had about him, only to use what she learned through me to land him herself. There was a time when all the considerations and extra favors I did for my friends were not reciprocated when the opportunities arose for them to help me out or give me a heads-up. There was a time when I felt utterly alone, sad that I could trust no one. Pages and pages of teenage poetry testify to a disillusioned depression. This is why my friends are selected carefully today, and why I’d do so much for them. If I feel like someone is taking advantage of me, I’m sensitive to it. Sure I am. It’s all too familiar. But the people I surround myself by large are people I trust, and it has been this way for so long now that I don’t even think twice when one proclaims her loyalty to me. I hope I can live up to the kind of friendship that the wonderful people around me now give me.

Tonite at the end of bellydancing I added a new item to my gratitude list (which we give thanks for in our heads during a 1-minute silence as we stand holding hands in a big class circle). I am grateful for having hair to be screwed up.

Walking out to my car, I discovered another one. I didn’t have a coughing fit the entire day! I mean, I had the scattered coughs, but I didn’t double over in uncontrollable waves of heaves and hacks to the point of gagging. Sleeping with Vanessa’s humidifier on the past few nights may have done some magic. Yay for healing lungs and good friends’ caretaking.

The SUV in front of me this morning had a license plate frame that said, in a stylistic font reminscent of Old World Celtic wisdom:

ABOVE ALL ELSE
PROTECT YOUR HEART

It reminded me of a poem I’d written in high school, in which the speaker is a mother advising her daughter about life, and it ends with something like “But no matter what, remember to keep a portion of your heart sovereign, or you’ll have nothing left to rebuild yourself with, when he hurts you.” Of course I justified the pessimistic angle by entitling it “From a Cancer Mother to her Daughter”, cuz everyone knows that Cancers have a shell to protect their soft, loving but vulnerable insides. (I’m a Cancer, as is my mother.)

The SUV in front of me did not have the cartoony white stickfigures representing each member of the driver’s family that adorns so many SUVs around here. And it was a BMW. The driver was alone. I don’t know that she’s single, but if she were, could the driver’s motto be the reason that she’s by herself? If she didn’t get married and have 3 kids, she could afford a BMW SUV, right? And what’s that say about me that I’m 30, single, no kids, in a Lexus? Are the two paths in life either fulfillment with family life OR fulfillment with materialism? Are the two typically mutually exclusive? Then where do I fit in? I’m not a particularly materialistic person, but the reason I have the Lexus is because in one emotional weekend, I decided to blow my wedding fund. So for me, I suppose on some level the Lexus is a (poor) compensation for what I really want.

Mr. W’s boy is getting his college acceptances in now. It makes me think back to my senior year. UCLA (University of California, Los Angeles) was my dream school. UCI (University of California, Irvine) was the backup. UCR (University of California, Riverside) was the backup to the backup. And then I applied to Cal (University of California, Berkeley) because my mom just wanted to know. Those were the only colleges I applied to.

Choosing to go to UCLA was a big step for me; most of my close friends either went to UCI or UCBerkeley, or stayed at home and attended a local Cal State University or junior college and transferred into a UC. But I always knew where I belonged. It was tough because as a teenager, you want to follow your friends. You get separation anxiety. You don’t want to look like a “loner,” cuz “loners” are “losers.” I gritted my teeth and told myself I’d make new friends. With that new thick(er) skin, college was also the first time I was able to eat alone. It just seems that the caliber of most people on a university campus are less concerned about how they look to strangers than how they work food into their day on their way to their next class, on their way to a degree, on their way to a better life. It was inspiring and admirable. I thought, “I don’t look at these people grabbing a bite doing work at the table and studying as loners or losers. They look like they’re just going along their day. I probably don’t look like a loser to other people, either, so they’ll just assume I’m alone because I choose to be.” I saved a lot of time multi-tasking lunch with studying, catching up on reading for an upcoming class, homework, reviewing notes for an imminent midterm.

I told Mr. W that I’m glad I didn’t have a boyfriend in high school, because I’m the type of girlfriend who would put her man’s happiness above her own. If I were accepted to UCLA and he wasn’t, and he was attending UCI and wanted me around, I’d be at UCI. I may have never found my independence. I’d be an Anteater, not a Bruin. I would’ve never met Diana, whom chance threw into my dorm room during summer orientation. Without Diana, I would’ve never met Wilco, whose server runs this blog, and I may not even be blogging. Even if I somehow still ended up at where I am in life right now and I met Mr. W who convinced me to go on a cruise last February, and I still met Jordan at the dinner table, I wouldn’t have the blog to keep in touch with her. Our friendship grew after meeting each other because we got in each others’ cyber lives, or rather, she came into mine, created her own after liking what she saw, and then I invaded hers. It is terrifying to think that so many things that I’m thankful for today wouldn’t be around if I had simply chosen a different school.

But then, maybe there’s an alternative me who DID attend UCI instead, who’s thankful right now that she didn’t go to UCLA or she would’ve never met her husband and had her baby who’s just learning to roll over from tummy onto back. :/

One day in March last year, I was given a pod by my parents. It was unremarkable except for its large size. I kept waiting and waiting for it to ripen, drooling at the thought of a creamy avocado of this size, nearly 6 inches in length and maybe 4 inches across. I remember it being very heavy. Little did I know then, that this avocado would never ripen, but instead housed a healthy bouncing baby boy for me to love!

The boy came out in a C-section. I’m sorry to say that the pod was inedible. Hard as a rubber ball, it was. But the boy became right at home up on my desk in a little cup of water. People came by to marvel at it, to question its identity, but most of all, to say stuff like, “That’s gross! You should throw it away! I think it’s MOLDING!” But I always had faith, so on the edge of the desk it continued to sit, making friends with the Lucky Bamboo.

It wasn’t even 3 months later in early June when the boy’s sprouting became indisputable.

People came by and were utterly shocked. “That’s a little avocado tree!” they exclaimed as the leaves were now identifiable. My boy was now taller than his buddy, Lucky Bamboo.

Many envious friends tried to raise their own avocado, but I haven’t heard of anyone else’s success quite like this one. Indeed, the little green plant grew and grew, it seemed that two new leaves popped out the top every other week. My court reporter and I have both noticed that the plant gives off a very positive energy, and yes, both of us sensed that he’s a boy.
Like all boys, they soon outgrow their clothes and shoes. So two weeks after the last photo when the little avocado plant was 3 months old, we nervously and excitedly gave him a new outfit, hoping he doesn’t go into shock and wilt.

Aww, lookit the little guy! My bailiff brought in potting soil, my gym trainee brought in the cute pot, and potted him. Now, more people were coming in and making astounded statements about the plant. “It’s a TREE now!” they said. Before the avocado was repotted, I’d offered him to a bailiff who had 3 expensive avocado saplings die on him. He said with a high-fallutin’ scoff, “I don’t want your little weed.” Who’re you calling a weed NOW?!

Here, my little avocado tree is 11 months old, and has stopped growing new leaves on top. I haven’t seen any new growth for a few weeks now, so clearly he’s outgrown this pot, too. The question is whether to put him into the ground somewhere, or to put him in a bigger pot. I think he could use a bigger pot just to get a little stronger before he’s exposed to the cruel elements outdoors. After all, he has been terribly spoiled so far. He’s never been outdoors and the only “raw” element he’s been exposed to was sunshine filtered through a window. He sits with me on the weekdays, where I water him with drinking water as needed and my court reporter comes up to him and nuzzles his green leaves with her nose as she smiles and puts her arms around him. My trainee pops in here and there and plumps up his ego by exclaiming, “It’s a shade tree now!” and smiling as she stands underneath its spread leaves, which appears to spread wider to provide her adequate shade from the overhead flourescent lights.

Yesterday, I received an email from a retired coworker, canceling her weekly lunch with us. The tone of her email seemed a little bummed to me, so I replied to her email asking her about it. She wrote back that I was perceptive, that she was indeed in a sort of “funk,” and that she was “Just waiting for spring to show up so I can start planting my garden and my hanging baskets.. The nurseries have no seedlings to plant as they are waiting for warmer weather also.” Are you thinking what I was thinking?

I responded, “Would you like a baby avocado tree to love? He’s very sweet, and I raised him from the seed stage in a plastic cup. He’s now almost 3 ft high and straight with big happy leaves, ready to be repotted. (I’d understand if you turn him down; I hear avocados are big trees and some people don’t have the yard room, like me.)”

Her response: “I’ll take your baby from you if you really don’t want him and I will understand if you do not want to part with him. Thank you for your sweet offer.”

Me: “I’ll miss him as he’s become our courtroom mascot and shade tree, but he needs some place to stretch and I’m unable to provide that. I’ll know he’s in a good home if you take him!” So she’s gonna stop by this Friday for a meet-n-greet with my little green boy.

I’m all of a sudden getting separation anxiety! The plant has become a fixture in the courtroom in the past 11 months. But I know that he’ll get lots of loving care from her, and may soon forget me, his first mommy.

Rest mouse pointer over photos for captions. I apologize for looking crappy today and not having my face or hair done. I did not expect to have my picture taken, and therefore rushed to work with my hair wet. You can tell my eyes are all red from all the incessant coughing.

Dodo was audacious last nite. Twice, he tried to go onto my super duper expensive chenille La-Z-Boy, causing me to yell, which in turn caused him to dart off with a guilty “rawr!” and settle down on the carpet. Twice, I walked into my bedroom to find him lounging in the middle of my bed. The boy knows he’s not supposed to be on furniture! As it is I let him hang out on the backs and arms and the middle section of the tri-sectional couch (which I will be soon rid of as I take over my parents’ cream leather couch). So in the middle of the night, feeling bad for the forlorn looking kitty gazing at me with wide round eyes, I got my sacrificial chenille sweater, folded it up, and put it on the floor next to my bed. He happily took that over, kneaded it while purring loudly, and slept on it like it were a pillow. So I got my little taste of heaven around 4am. The cat’s purrs dissolved into the increasing volume of a rainfall. Thus were the sounds around me as I was lulled into a deep comfortable sleep, curled up between flannel sheets underneath a heavy cotton Chinese comforter. As I drifted, I pictured all my neglected plants and flowers happily drinking up rainwater. I’m sure I smiled in my sleep.

That is, until the stupid nightmare where I dreamt I was on a large ship to go to China, and somehow my family was also on the cruise, and during the family banquet, Mr. W was missing and I was thinking he didn’t want to do the formal banquet so he must be enjoying the gambling floor or something in his sloppy clothes. I called Jordan to tell her to put on her formal dress and to invite her to the banquet, and when she picked up, she said hello and presumed I’d called looking for Mr. W, and I heard a shuffle as she handed him the phone! I demanded why the hell he wasn’t at the banquet, that’s the whole reason we’re on this freaking cruise, and he said because he’d wanted to see San Pedro and apparently, Jordan was on her way out to explore San Pedro and so he just went along with her. I was livid. (I also didn’t even know we were docked at San Pedro.) I yelled at him so loud that I had to leave the banquet hall to avoid the curious looks from other guests, and I walked out into the hallway and yelled so loud THERE that I got more looks.

This morning, I’m mad at Mr. W and at Jordan. Hmmph! Of course, Jordan can redeem herself by posting on her blog so that we can have something new to read. 🙂

I’m too ticked to sleep. I brought up to Mr. W earlier that I don’t understand why he’d take all these random chemical diet aid pills and “supplement” stuff that his ex left laying around his house, but it’s so hard for him to listen to ME and not take ephedrine despite how much I explained that it was dangerous for someone with high blood pressure and a history of heart problems in the family, or to take other things I suggest that are good for him, such as glucosamine for all his creaking crackling joints especially since he runs. I said it’s a different thing if she were a nutritionist, or had actual knowledge about these products, but judging by the crap laying around the house that she’d bought, she’d simply bought into all the ineffective and/or dangerous trends. He yelled at me about not understanding why I have to pick a fight with him and feel threatened by an ex-girlfriend of his that doesn’t even live in the same state anymore. I was so pissed off that he said that. He’s back to the same old problem — not hearing what I’m saying but projecting other fights he had with his exes over, apparently, other women and other exes. I told him I would’ve said the same damn thing if his dad were the one who’d bought those pills, but does that mean I must be jealous of his father? He wouldn’t listen and instead got into bed and went to sleep.

AAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRRRRRRGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

No, all women are NOT alike! No, all women are NOT catty! No, not everything is about some fear that I’m gonna lose you to some ex! I’m so upset I’m shaking right now. I hate, HATE when I’m falsely accused of something like this, cuz it means 1) he didn’t hear me or didn’t take me seriously; 2) he can’t see that I’m not like THEM; 3) we’re making no progress in our relationship in getting to know each other; 4) I get no credit for NOT being like his jealous exes. This is like when someone who’s innocent is accused of cheating and they say, “Well shit, I may as well go cheat cuz I’m gonna get blamed for it either way.” WHY do I make the effort to keep the peace between him/us and his exes, then? Why don’t I just have a fuss and have a fit whenever the mother of his children calls, instead of getting along with her, going with him to pick up the kids and then greeting the ex and having a nice warm chat with her? So when he’s got me totally wronged like this, I find myself trying to explain what my issue ACTUALLY is instead of what he’s ACCUSING ME that the issue is (and his reaction to that was to practically call me a liar and then he ignored me), and now it’s so much uglier than it would’ve been if he’d just listened to and stuck to the original real issue. Now, I can’t sleep and I’m too upset to go lay down next to him.

Self-reflection:

I’m posting this with the express written consent of Vanessa. She finds herself at a 4-path crossroads with regards to her next stage in life. She asked her spirit guides for guidance. I did not inquire as to how she made contact with her guides, but Vanessa has her ways. Their response to her discouraged her. It was, “be true and loyal to that which you believe.” Vanessa’s reaction: “WTF? I was like HELLO I am asking you for advice and you don’t tell me anything else but that???”

Before she told me all this, she told me her path possibilities and asked for my feedback. All of her paths involved some pretty hefty uprooting of her lifestyle now. I advised her to not choose one of these options now, but to explore all of them before committing to any of them. Go to the locations and check ’em out before deciding whether to dump yourself there indefinitely, so to speak. And when she told me about her advice from Beyond, I felt it was not inappropriate or irrelevant advice, it was just a little ahead of her. I believe that if you go for an informed decision, then whatever path you choose will be the right one. That’s what they’re telling her. “The key here is for you to have conviction for the path that you BELIEVE in. That means you have to first establish a sense of conviction to HAVE a belief. They didn’t say ‘be true and loyal to that which you randomly stumble upon with a toss of a coin.’ They said BELIEVE. All I’m doing is giving you an idea for how to arrive on something that you’d believe in.”

Vanessa said she had been hoping to have a more directive answer from them, like “pick this and then do that.” I don’t think they’re supposed to tell you to do a and b and c, or life would be their puppetshow and we won’t learn anything. It’s not free will if we do things cuz “my spirit guide told me to.” She felt that at confusing times like this, tho, she wished the answers would be clearer to make things easier for her. So here’s my theory on that.

The reason we’re not more closely connected to the Other Side is because we’re supposed to be here to learn from our experiences, and the only way to do that is to see what happens when we act in a certain way. If we already know exactly what would happen, this incarnation’s pretty useless. Sure it’d be “easier” if we’re given a map (at least one we can access consciously), but the opportunities for the largest personal growth ARE these difficult spots. You are called upon to pull out every resource you’ve collected in your experience this life — be it your own past experiences, your friends, your intellect, your understanding of human nature, your ability to do research — to make an educated gamble about some aspect of your life. Not that it’s really a test to see if you were paying attention throughout your life, but this is a chance for you to USE the skills you’ve gone thru so much, decades’ worth of acquisition, to collect! And after you emerge from this rough experience, you’ve now gained MORE knowledge, experience, tools for you to use in bigger, harder tasks in the future. Cool, huh?

I think life’s sort of like an adventure/rpg video game.

On the opposite side of the coin, toward the end of the email discussion with Vanessa, I got an email from a “California genius” that got me heavily involved in a discussion about someone else’s inability to take or even acknowledge the myriad possible paths in life, opting instead, it appears, to play the safe if unfulfilling role.

This makes me wonder if my spirit guide is trying to tell me something, or at least get me to think about something that Mr. W’s been trying to get me to think about, i.e. settling for complacency and letting my own dreams slip through my fingers.

V-day: I went over to Mr. W’s armed with a freshly baked banana creme pie from my favorite bakery. Mr. W worked up a sweat in the kitchen opening containers of BBQ babyback pork ribs and roasted whole chicken from Costco. Oh, and he also made mashed potatoes, and by “made,” I mean he dispensed hot water over potato powder and stirred it up. And he made salad, and by “made,” I mean he opened the Costco container and poured the pre-tossed salad greens into a big serving bowl. Dinner was delish; both teenage kids were home but they opted out on the banana creme pie in favor of Costco rice krispies treats. Kids… Oh, and we went to bed early, like at 9p. No V-day nookie. Mr. W was tired. I’m sure all the slaving away in the kitchen exhausted him. (I’m not complaining — I didn’t cook, either.)

Work: Today we did our first civil harassment hearing. It went okay. The plaintiff got his restraining order granted against a chick who’s stalking him. She didn’t show up. Later on in the day, I was reviewing a future harassment hearing. A woman is requesting a restraining order against another woman. The defendant is accused of following the plaintiff around in her car, calling and cussing her out, threatening her, throwing rocks at her house, breaking her car window and her brother’s car window. Seemed pretty crazy, until I read what the plaintiff put in the question about “How do you know the person you want the restraining order against? Please explain.” The plaintiff wrote, “I dated her husband.” Well, hellO!

Bellydancing: Nothing remarkable. Nothing eventful. I felt clumsy but picked up on the routine as we went. At the end of class, as we stood in a big circle holding hands and spent a minute to give silent thanks for the things we are grateful for this day (this is how we end every class with this instructor), I went thru my usual list of being grateful for my health, for being able to take a dance class, for the health of my family and friends, and added to it gratitude for having Mr. W in my life and for my closeness with my friends, especially my girlfriends, even the ones who live far, far away. And for my car.

Relationship: I had a sit-down with an acquaintance over a quick meal of Daphne’s Greek food. She told me about a guy she’s been dating. Unfortunately for her, “dating” describes the relationship less accurately than “booty call.” The guy calls her up maybe once or twice a month. They don’t socialize outside of each others’ houses. When she invites him to do something with her and her friends, he comes up with some excuse and turns her down. He never invites her to events with his friends. He claims to be busy every weekend with his buddies. They don’t plan dates in advance; he just calls to see if she’s available, like, “right now.” He was nowhere to be found on Valentine’s Day, her birthday, and went MIA November through December (Thanksgiving, xmas, New Year’s). She has to think twice before calling him because she was the last one who called and invited him to do something, so now it was “his turn” so that she doesn’t scare him off by being too forward or pushy. She’s on eggshells when it comes to wondering when she’d next see him again. She has to be careful what she says around him in case he finds she’s getting too attached and backs away from her. She’s floored when he’s nice to her, like kissing her goodnight and being sweet for a whole evening. It’s awful!
I remember when I was in her situation, back when I either didn’t know better and didn’t recognize the signs early enough, or when I didn’t have a high enough self-esteem, or when I had tolerance for lame men. I don’t know what my problem was. It sucked, being nervous and afraid to call, afraid to ask but wondering whether he was seeing someone else, sleeping with other girls, because he sure doesn’t act committed to me. Wanting to welcome him by throwing my arms around his neck but afraid that would scare him off. Wanting to put my hand on his thigh, and after finally finding the courage to do so, feeling him not only not reciprocate, but stiffen under my touch. Always second-guessing, second-guessing. He didn’t call today, did I scare him off? What might I have said or done wrong yesterday to make him back off? Now I have to back off to make it okay for him to come forward. Pretend I don’t care for him as I do. Pretend he’s not important like he is. Altho the 2 guys who made me feel like this (well, mainly just one, the other one wasn’t nearly as bad) both decided they wanted to be with me and in the end it was I who left them, having gotten just exhausted from the stress, I would never again put up with this bullcrap as long as I did before. The way I see it now, I am worth more than that. If you don’t like me enough to do something about it, you’re just gonna have to miss your chance. You can admire my ass as I leave you behind. Both guys learned that the hard way, and they came running, but I was not going to be at someone’s emotional beck and call anymore.
I knew the truth, and didn’t want to tell the girl, but the truth is, he’s only with her when nothing else better comes along for the evening. He won’t even commit an evening in advance to her because just about anything else is a better option to him than her. He’s probably dating and sleeping with other women. He knows she’s that into him, he’s just playing dumb so he won’t feel responsible for breaking her heart. He’s spending all his holidays and his own birthday with people he places more importance on than her. She says they’ve made a little progress in the past year, but if it takes that long for just “a little progress,” he does not and may never like her enough. He has no respect for her and her time because she is always available to him, and she cancels her plans for him, altho he does not reciprocate in kind. She will always be #2.
I called Mr. W after talking with this girl, and dumped a bunch of love in his lap over the phone. I am so glad I am with him. I am so glad he didn’t play stupid games with me, to “keep her on her toes.” I am so glad that whatever affection I feel for him, I can give to him, and he will drink it all up with open arms and give me a kiss in return. There is no second-guessing myself, what I mean to him, how he has taken something I said or did, and no “uh-oh, I may have accidentally crossed the line when I said I like him, he’s suddenly quiet and withdrawn.” There is no substitute for peace. I am most grateful that he saw he has what I needed, and convinced me to try him on for size. I may never take him off.