cindy's world

Sometimes I’m pleasantly surprised by how easy it all feels. Even earlier today I was convinced I am a much better, happier person without a relationship or a man even on the horizon, because men add so much stress that I can’t control or alleviate to my life. And I looked forward to a low-key Friday night by myself. Even hanging out at Outback after work, I wanted to leave the people I was there with and go home so that I can lounge on my couch and finally watch some of those DVDs I haven’t yet unwrapped, while laundry’s going so that I feel productive.
And then there is the reality of now. I am disappointed at the things I miss, and how much I miss them. I want to call, but what is it I can say? “Hi, I wanted to connect with you, but I’m still in the same place and haven’t changed my mind.” What’s the point? I guess it’s progress that I can resist calling at all.
The radio was playing Dr. Dre’s “Nothin’ But A G Thang” on my drive home. It put me back in high school, and I instantly took on the persona of teenager Cindy. What a difference. My biggest misery back then was, “How come this boy I like doesn’t like me back?” I had no idea what a blessing in disguise unrequited love is back then. What can possibly go wrong if one person isn’t interested in the other? I can’t get cheated on, I can’t be lied to, I can’t be disappointed, I can’t be betrayed.
Let’s see if I can get my act together tonight and complete the plan: vacuum, laundry, and yoga.

It’s like this.
Don’t try to make me feel special if I’m not. Don’t kid with me as if you missed me with an “about time you came back,” don’t give me an intimate breathy hello how you doin’, or walk in front of me and face me to give me a private grin and a wink. Twice.
Don’t do that if you’re going to squeeze another girl’s arm when you don’t know I’m behind you, ask her persuasively if she’s going to be back tomorrow, give her a special goodbye (again not realizing I’m behind you) and revel in her flirtatious sing-songy “ByyYYYyyye.”
And what’s up with your dad trying to get me to room with her for the September trip? Well, to heed the advice of a good friend, “Keep your enemies close.” I see through her. She’s nice to me to impress you. It’s rather quite a joke. People are so two-faced. But then I’m multi-faceted.
I don’t appreciate your attempt to play me. I find it obscenely offensive. Thanks for fueling my workout. I hit the gym hard after I left the two-hour jujitsu class. Driving time noted, I tried to burn off my emotional glumness physically from 6:30pm to 10:30pm.
It’s not about a man anymore. It’s about no man, and yet every man. There is no more searching for “the one.” There is only “Screw you, and you, and you.” Get out of my face. I don’t want any of you and yet all of you are mine.

What a crazy lunch. Our trial settled late morning so I had some extra time. Since I did not sleep until past 3am and had a really hard time getting up this morning, I took an hour-long nap in the jury room women’s restroom “lounge” at lunch. Really odd dream involving tea lights on a cheesy mattress, my crying because I wasn’t allowed to use the bathroom of a friend’s house, and something about living in a forest. When I woke up, the tiny room I was sleeping in had turned into Antartica. I took a walk across the street to an outdoors eatery to thaw out. (Yes, my lunch is legally 1.5 hours long.) Ran into a DA who was enjoying the weather, his wireless internet access on his laptop, and what appeared to be a really decadent lunch of celery and carrots. I purchased my pizza and Diet Coke and joined him at the outdoors table and we analyzed my dream. I find myself still rather cranky about my last relationship. Then when I came back to work, on my keyboard I find a newspaper clipping someone had left with the headline Cindy Hits Gulf Coast. “Tropical Storm Cindy, possibly intensifying to a Category-1 hurricane this morning, will churn inland across the Mississippi Delta early today, packing winds at over 70 mph as it batters the region with heavy rain and thunderstorms.” I like how they personify objects, and objectify people, but my weather alter-ego is definitely sounding like me as she sits and pounds over New Orleans. You go, girl.

Well, that wasn’t nearly as mutually painful as I had been dreading. The northern Cal people who were around the dinner table during a certain discussion this past Saturday night would be happy to know that changing the code is no longer necessary. I am once again in actual and constructive possession. Altho I really do feel bad that, as I told a friend earlier, I watched a grown-ass man cry and all I could think about was “I hope his tears and snot don’t drip onto me.” I’m going to hell.

I will add more photos later when I receive a copy of Jimmy’s photos (documenting our insanity on Monday), and when I get to my better photo editing program at home so I can crop out all the dead space around the photo. Meanwhile, this photo is representative of Monday:

Our trial attorney asked me an hour ago which beach I had gone to in San Jose, and I could not remember. He started naming all these beaches, and none of them sound right. The point is, it doesn’t matter. The location was a variable; it was how I felt that was the surprising constant. There was a big crowd at our beach event and although most were strangers, I was comfortable enough to completely be stupid. My camera battery died so the really stupid photos are on Jimmy’s camera. Things like my standing on Diana and Jen’s backs and shoulders in a human pyramid, and our imitating the famous photo of the flag-raising at Iwo Jima… only instead of Feb 19, 1945, it was July 4, 2005; instead of the American flag it was a beach umbrella; instead of the US Navy it was Val, Jen and myself; instead of the battlefield rocks it was Diana’s ass.

Good times. At one point I looked around, fully aware of my high level of contentment and comfort, and then it suddenly hit me that later that evening I would be on a flight home and this beach, these people, are so far away from “home.” That was a strange feeling.

I’m sorry to have missed the beach night bonfire, but very happy to have participated in the antics of the day. I am grateful to all of these people who have befriended me and taken me in at a very hard time in my life, and have shown me by their mere existence that continued faith in people, friendships, and connectivity is warranted. Thanks, guys.

Saturday:

There is something so satisfying about hanging out with these people, a lot of whom I have only met once before, a month ago. From grocery shopping and cooking with Brad to laughing at Mike’s renditions of events to rebonding with Diana over each other’s social miseries to watching Jen’s sweet silliness to making fun of Jimmy under the stars to falling asleep outside and waking up just prior to hypothermia setting in. I perched so long on top of the stone-topped cooking range in Diana’s backyard last nite chatting with people that I think I bruised my butt-bone (okay, so I’m not an anatomy genius). I told them as I sat out there watching the stars get brighter as the night got darker (mostly because Diana couldn’t figure out how to turn the lights on outside; turned out the timer switch was unplugged) that it’s amazing how comfortable I was there that evening. I didn’t feel left out even tho a lot of the night was spent out of the circle of main conversation, and I felt totally at peace and safe. There was no worrying that someone was gonna get drunk and out of hand, or that there was some subplot going on so I’d better keep an eye open and watch my back. And I’ve only known a lot of these people a month. Amazing. Oh yeah. And the lasagnes turned out pretty well, if I can trust the compliments of the guests. The largest compliments were the guys who went back for seconds, and Henry’s girlfriend whose parents own(ed?) an Italian restaurant and who said that this is the best Italian food she’s ever tasted that an Asian person made. These people felt like kin.

Sunday:

Sunday isn’t over yet as it’s right before 9pm and it looks like we’re getting ready to go out again. I accomplished two things. The first is the realization that people who I’d thought were perfect and so admirable, I found out today is as human as the rest of us, and everyone has issues. I’m not sure if this is a good discovery, but over time I’m sure its effect will be revealed. The second thing is that I finally got a tan. I wore my bikini to Melanie’s (right photo, whose back you see) annual July 4th pool party and had good food and…well…interesting company. I didn’t mingle as much as I could have, but there were enough people I liked around me that I didn’t feel compelled to go out of my comfort zone. Jimmy, thanks for letting me throw you over my shoulder onto the grass. Now I know never to throw a fully-clothed adult while I’m in my bikini. Ouch, the fabric burn on my shoulder and shoulder blade…

So I’m analyzing my social self. I had an impending-doom feeling all day because I knew I was getting too high and overly giddy and way ahead of myself. I still don’t know how to rein it in. But I knew that I’m putting too much into what may be nothing. My bailiff helped by being so supportive and optimistic. So I’m feeling let down and discouraged. It wasn’t even that anything “bad” happened, it was just that nothing amazing happened. And just like that, I felt like throwing my hands up in defeat and looking for some steady ready comfort that I really don’t want and really isn’t worth it in the long run.

And I thought, “Why is this? Why are my expectations so high?” I’m about to make a confession of the most conceit ever. *Sigh* 1.) Every ex-boyfriend or even semi-serious dating relationship I’ve ever had have come back to try to secure a second (maybe third or fourth) chance. The begging process is like pouring fat into my ego. “I miss you, I am still in love with you, look at you, you are so amazingly beautiful/hot/smart/fun/good etc etc etc.” Some of these exes still tell me things like this to this day. What I should’ve noted: these guys are not objective; they are wearing rose-tinted lenses. 2.) I get my ego stroked all day long at work by men who either work around me or come into contact with me thru their occupations. What I should’ve noted: these men, most of whom are married, are sick of the day-in and day-out grinds with their wives so any woman younger and different from the spouse seems like greener grass than the lawn at home. 3.) I’ve become spoiled by getting my dates/boyfriends from men who come up to me and hit on me, or otherwise pursue me. What I should’ve noted: I haven’t done the work of pursuing and successfully turning the head of some guy I had my eye on first, so what made me think that I can have or get any (single) guy that I want? 4.) I think I’m buying into my own sour grapes bullshit that I’d been telling myself over and over since my breakup with the most recent ex: You don’t need to be with a cheater, you can do so much better! You’re still young, you’re fun, active, witty, you have no financial problems, the only debt you have is your mortgage, you’re pretty and it’s been a long time, years, since you were crying over unrequited love because most guys do end up liking you, even some people you don’t want having feelings for you seem to start. You just let the guys come to you and you have veto power. You don’t need to settle. You can even afford to aim higher!

So what do I do know, having to face the mirror and see a deluded woman who’d just been put in her place? I don’t know, but I feel like taking a time-out and going to the corner to lick my wounds. Oh, that’s right, I’m going up north this weekend to do nothing but stuff that makes me happy. Levity, not gravity, this weekend. I hope I feel better by then. If not, then that’s why this weekend’s placed in my life right here. I could surely use it.

I knew I shouldn’t have finished that margarita. I was more vulnerable to alcohol because of the 3+ mile run I did at lunch and I didn’t eat much all day. I got a headache that I’m even now still experiencing.

I made it to class early so that I could change into workout clothes. I’ll admit that a vain part of me did want certain people to see what I look like as a girl, and altho certain people were not in the classroom when I first poked my head in wearing a short skirt and heels, I ran into certain people on my way to the restroom to change. Certain people recognized me first and greeted me and I got to show off the 2 huge bruises on my left knee and shin, which certain people helped make. Gawd, I think I just gave too much away. Mental note: don’t give certain people this blog addy.

Teaching the ab portion was fun. I only had them do 1 set (20 reps) each of like 7 ab exercises. I fully planned to hit 40 reps, but quite a few of them were gasping and struggling already. The time worked out pretty well so that I ended at 7:29 (the instructor had said these warmups stop at 7:30 sharp). The students and instructor were very complimentary, about the effectiveness of the exercises, about my explanations of what each exercise worked as I went along, about my emphasis on proper form.

Then my day went downhill from there. I had forgotten what it was like to suck at something. When I look back, there really isn’t any activity I had failed to succeed in. Some things were more effortless than others, but if I wanted to do something or learn something, it was done. And most things WERE effortless. Today, with the skin torn off my knuckles as I was thrown again and again, my seeming inability to rise to the challenge or even progress beyond the last in the class was very discouraging. The students were great; they would give me tips and teach me as I did the exercises against them so it’s not just the instructors giving the directions. However, I just felt utterly un-adept. I would blank out and not remember what I was doing; the cognitive skills were fried and of course I haven’t developed an instinct to work off of yet; I had short-term memory problems such that I could not remember what station to go to or what action is being performed or received at each station. The new girl seemed to have flown way past me (altho I did learn today that she had previously taken some form of kung-fu or something because I asked her where she got her uniform) and one-on-one with her, she threw me way more times than I would’ve preferred. I’m gonna lie to myself right here and say she had an advantage over me being like 7 inches taller than me and outweighing me.

And it bugged me to not be in the limelight of the “new girl” title anymore, too. I so enjoyed the novelty-worship the class gave me the last 3 days. I feel like she and I are too similar and she’s in my space (socially). If I got into it more than that on here people would start losing respect for me (more so than they have already anyway). I feel pathetic and yet blue. But I did try very hard to be nice to her and she was nice in return.

I was discussing July 4th weekend plans with a stationary bike buddy at the gym today. He’s considering going to Tijuana with buddies to watch a bullfight (royale!) which takes place on Sunday. I told him I’m flying up north again and described all the activities involved. And then we discussed what I did last July 4th: hung out with a bunch of inebriated people at the usual bar, then branched off with 3 of them (one being the ex) to launch fireworks from a local neighborhood street. That’s the euphemistic version. The reality is that these people continued to suck down beers, and played the following fireworks “games” on the street:
* blowing up beer cans, cardboard boxes, city construction cones
* playing “chicken” with fireworks to see who can hold a lit firework the longest before throwing it into the air
* jumping over lit fireworks on the ground
* squatting over grounded fireworks that spray flames and sparks into the air (to see who can squat the lowest the longest)
* trying to hold lit stick-fireworks between the buttcheeks
All this while laughing hysterically, jumping up and down and clapping, sucking down more beers, calling me “uptight,” saying I “had no childhood” because I don’t see the necessity of burning body parts for no good reason at all. And these people range from ages 35-44. My stationary bike buddy assured me that their behavior isn’t typical and it’s not me because, altho he’d laugh if his drunk buddies engaged in activities like that, there’s no way he wouldn’t discourage it and tell them to stop being stupid, and no way he’d participate in those “games.”

“I remember sitting there last year kinda apart from them and thinking, ‘Oh my God, is this my life from now on?'” I said.
He smiled and said, “Well, now you know the answer. It isn’t.”
I must’ve glowed from smiling so hard as I said brightly, “Nope, it isn’t, and that feels SO GOOD!”

A Dream is a Wish Your Heart Makes
From Disney’s “Cinderella”

A dream is a wish your heart makes
When you’re fast asleep
In dreams you will lose your heartaches
Whatever you wish for, you keep
Have faith in your dreams and someday
Your rainbow will come smiling through
No matter how your heart is grieving
If you keep on believing
The dream that you wish will come true