cindy's world

This is seriously freaky. While I was collecting photos to put in my mom’s photo frames, I had looked thru all the albums at my disposal. I had some fairly recent stuff that I’d taken, and my mom had also assembled my infancy and childhood photos and given them to me in several albums a few years ago. I had enough for my mom’s frame set, but not for my dad’s. I’m doing the same thing for him, in an identical frame, for Father’s Day. The day that I was to go with Vanessa to scan and enlarge the photos for the frames, I found an album, or maybe it was a portion of one, that had a bunch of photos of me in the later elementary school years, which was a stage missing in the collection I was building for my parents’ frames. I remember telling Mr. W over the phone that I’d finished selecting the photos and I had discovered all these pictures in an album that I didn’t know I had and that I was happy I filled in the age gap. That, incidentally, is also where I found the Halloween pictures of me with Vicky and Karen. Now, having completed my dad’s frame, I’m putting the originals away back into the albums. I can not find the album from whence those later elementary school photos came. I’ve gone through my albums several times already, one by one. I’ve scoured my bedroom and the living room just in case I’d pulled the album but didn’t put it back on the shelf. Nothing! Now I have a bunch of scattered photos on the floor and no album to put them back into! Where was this album when I was first searching for photos? And where is it now? Why has it only appeared for one day, the day I needed to make my duplicates? I would be freaked out if it turns out those photos belong in an album that’s still at my parents’ house. Or if I were to go upstairs right now to check the shelves for the umpteenth time, and those loose photos are missing, having evaporated back to the nonexistent space from which they came.

I’m scared now! And all alone! Waaah!

I don’t know why it surprises me, especially considering how I am, but it does. Telling someone my frustrations or other little complaints bums the person out. I guess I’m just used to being ignored or not taken seriously, because my experience is that when I bring up concerns to another person, these complaints tend to float in one ear and fly out the other. They are quickly forgotten, if even acknowledged in the first place. I just figured that, especially with guys, whatever displeases them are waved off. Except that today, after my observation of, “Are you upset about something?”, it turned out that my prior unhappiness had gathered and stacked up not only in my own head (which is really where I expected it all to remain if it were to remain anywhere), but on the shoulders of the other person, too. He said he feels that there are so many things about him that I’m unhappy about. I was so shocked that I didn’t know what to say. A guy? Keeping track? To the point that it bothers him? I asked him why he didn’t note the things that I am happy about but happened instead to focus on the unhappy things. He shrugged. Should I make him a list of the good things, I asked? He gave a half-laugh.

I’m not sure how to feel about the fact that my being unhappy actually affected someone, because wow, someone actually gives a shit about my feelings. (My expectations are so low.) On the other hand, I didn’t take into account that what I do or feel has any remaining impact beyond the actual conversation or fight or whatever deals with it directly.

This is a hard post to write. It’s all muggy in my head, too. I just feel bad.

This is Vanessa (Navy Girl) making a special guest appearance. Thanks you for the applause! 😮 j/k

What is a girl to do when she does not have a printer, the print online to a local FedExKinkos software will not download and you have less than a couple of hours to print mapquest directions to 20 different sites for Japanese business guests in the AM? Now picture mighty mouse theme music playing in the background . . . We are here at Cindy’s work and she saved the day CINDY IS DEFINITELY MS. WONDERFUL! THANKS GIRLIE!!! YOU ARE AWESOME! Peace out!

I think someone may have wished me peace over the weekend. Or maybe I wished myself peace. Maybe the gift I was given is not peace, but perspective, because after all, all this layered drama has been going on around me and for once, they’re not MINE! All I know is that as much as my head acknowledged what was going on, my emotions were steady on Friday morning. I’d sat there alone and smiled in retrothought. Again, tonight. I’m not happy about things, but if it were a month ago, I’d have been distraught and bedridden with emotional angst. Instead, I’m sitting at work (yes, at work), happily joking with Vanessa and arranging flowers and printing out stuff.

I deserve some emotional stability, man.

Since Mr. W’s parents live out-of-state, I made him take my parents out for Mother’s Day. Well, actually, I invited him along, he very graciously accepted, there was a slight misunderstanding on the phone when I spoke with my mom about our taking them out and she thought he was going to take everyone out, I didn’t correct her but told Mr. W that I’d pay him back since I’d told my mom that money was no object, and he insisted on paying anyway. My mom strangely had a craving for pizza, then changed her mind and decided on Italian, and Mr. W suggested Portofino. To avoid the crowd, we made reservations for Saturday at 5:30p altho Mother’s Day was on Sunday.

Mr. W and I met my parents at their house first, and I presented my mom with the 8-photo 3-D frame that I’d been working on all week. She seemed to like it. I dunno. Asian parents are so stoic. The photos are of me with my mom at various ages from infancy to early adulthood. Some are cute, some are tender, some are silly. I’d scanned the photos in at a Sam’s Club kiosk and enlarged them to fit in the frames.

After that, Mr. W drove us to Portofino where we had a fancy schmancy Italian dinner, a bottle of wine, and dessert, then went back to my parents’ for tea. You can’t escape the Asian-ness, haha. Mr. W attempted to fix my parents’ leaky kitchen faucet when we returned, and altho he couldn’t find the leak to fix it, the effort gave him big brownie points. He offered to return and change out the entire faucet if they’d like.

Oh, I did receive an email from my mom today. She said she couldn’t sleep last nite so she was tampering with my photo frame and tried to switch out a photo I have in there for another one in her possession, but discovered that the sizes weren’t right. She asked if I’d enlarged the original photos, I responded that I had, and then she seemed to appreciate the gift a bit more as more work than she’d originally thought had gone into it.

Friday night, Mr. W took me to the Stella Adler Theatre in Hollywood to watch “The Body and Soul of a Chinese Woman,” the latest play by C.Y. Lee, the same guy who wrote the hugely famous “Flower Drum Song,” which was later made into a Rodgers & Hammerstein Broadway musical. Here is the synopsis according to theatremania.com:

The Body and Soul of a Chinese Woman follows a young, traditional folk dancer from China as she deals with inner conflicts and struggles to free herself from her cultural binding so that she may live the life that she craves. Her body and her soul are clashing all of the time and her soul constantly provokes and encourages her into discovering herself as a woman by exploring her sensuality and liberating her intellectual being. Her ultimate search for happiness and for true, deep emotional love and freedom is told with humor, sadness, tenderness and pain.

Altho Mr. W felt the play was lacking on depth, I found the play absolutely delightful. And the main character’s living room, I immediately noticed, could’ve been my parents’ living room, or my friends Vicky & Karens’ parents’ living room, or college roommie Diana’s parents’ living room. “All parents’ living rooms, and not the kids,” Mr. W noted. You got that right. Here’s a photo of the set:

We got to Hollywood in the early afternoon and walked all around l0oking at the sights (Mann’s Chinese Theatre, the stars on the Walk of Fame?, most of which names I didn’t even recognize), watching street performers, checking out the many whore outfitter stores (I was SO tempted to buy stuff, but those cheap costumes were hideously overpriced for the quality), had a great Shabu Shabu dinner at Koji’s.

This guy walked up to Mr. W as we were walking and asked if I was his girlfriend. Mr. W actually entertained this guy in conversation as I refused to even make eye contact. He asked Mr. W what his haircolor is, accused him of being old so how did he get a young girl like me?, asked if I had a sister, said I’m pretty, then asked if I was Korean. I found all his questions really offensive. The guy followed us chattering for like 2 blocks. After that, Mr. W for the remainder of our Hollywood trip made sure I walked on the inside of the sidewalks with him on the outside. Oh, in response to the guy’s question about how he got a “young girl” like me, Mr. W had said, “Because men age like fine wine, we only get better with time. Don’t worry, you’ll get there.” I’d rolled my eyes.

Vanessa took me to Lake Shrine in Santa Monica on Thursday, which is a meditation garden and lake honoring every religion through spirituality and nature.

I snapped away with my camera cuz the grounds are just too beautiful not to try to capture it in some small way and take with me. Rest mouse over photos for captions.



Altho ripples on the water catching gleams of sunlight were attractive enhancements, I couldn’t help but wonder what was causing all that bubbling in the middle of the lake. There were several spots like this. Natural springs, I hope?

One of many pretty pathways:

This was a trip: Mahatma Ghandi is actually there. Well, a piece of him, anyway. They built this shrine around the aforementioned piece:

An across-the-lake view of the Ghandi shrine:

Visions of heaven on earth…


No kidding, eh?

Just finished watching The Wedding Date starring Debra Messing (Grace of “Will & Grace”) and Dermot Mulroney (the groom in My Best Friend’s Wedding). It’s kind of a reverse Pretty Woman, and unbelievable in the same way. But sweet and fairy-tale-like in the same way, once one suspends disbelief. It’s probably one of my favorite feel-good movies already. Here are some of my favorite lines that Nick (Mulroney’s character) got to say:

* While giving a toast to the women at the bachelorette party – “Here’s to the husbands who’ve won you, the losers who’ve lost you, and the lucky bastards who get to meet you.”
* Consoling the drunk groom-to-be, who was offended that his best man broke the no-stripper pact and hired strippers to his bachelor party, “as if I would sleep with a prostitute; I’m about to get married!” – “It’s been my experience that a man in love doesn’t want a prostitute. Eddie, you did the right thing.”
* Laying down next to Kat (Messing) on a large bed that she flounced on, after she complains that she spent the whole weekend complaining about her life and she doesn’t know a thing about him – “I’m allergic to fabric softener. And I majored in comparative literature at Browne. I hate anchovies. And I think I’d miss you even if we’d never met.” Reaches out to hold her hand.
* In explaining to Kat why he came back to her after they fought – “When we were fighting, I thought this was over. And I was gonna leave you alone and just take off, but…then I realized, I’d rather fight with you than make love with anyone else.” They kiss sweetly.

siiiiiggggggghhhhhhh…

My old friend Vicky (hugging the bunny [me] below) turns 30 today!

In 3rd grade, I came home from school one day and told my mom that there’s a new girl in my class who’s Chinese and she has a younger sister who’s in kindergarten (Karen, left in the above photo). My mom strangely became very interested and started asking all sorts of questions like where they live and whether her mom works. It was strange. But nevertheless, I went to school and relayed the message to Vicky that my mom would like to meet her mom. We kids were very excited to become family friends. And that’s how the business deal was struck. My mom would wake me up way early in the morning and drop me off at Vicky’s house before school on her way to work, and I’d hang out there until Vicky and Karen were up and ready to go to school, then we’d get dropped off by either their mom or dad. As the weather got nicer, we’d walk to school. And after school, we’d walk back to her house, where I’d hang out, cause trouble, do my homework, until my mom came by to pick me up at 5:30p or so.

For awhile there, my mom called Vicky’s mom her best friend. Vicky and I declared ourselves mortal enemies. Decades later, I was sitting with Vicky in her mom’s kitchen before going off to play Bingo at our alma mater high school, and her mom said how she hadn’t seen me in so long and how I’m always welcome in her house because she watched me grow up and I’m like her “second daughter.” There was an small silence, broken by Vicky: “But mom, you already have a second daughter.” Now the silence was awkward. “Oh!” gasped her mom, “I forgot about Karen!”

Happy 30th to Vicky, my long-time friend since 3rd grade, with whom I fought like sisters and still ended up being her bridesmaid at her wedding, just like a sister. (Her actual sister was maid of honor.) I’ll see you on Friday!

(Sorry for the bad quality in photos…all I have is my cameraphone cuz the digital camera was even worse!)

Man, in the past year, I’ve eaten at a lot of restaurants, and gotten a lot of massages! The coolest receipts are the massage receipts from Cancun’s Dreams resort. One says “IMPORTE $1,550.06” and the other says “IMPORTE $1,880.02.” Things look so expensive in pesos! I have no idea how much that actually is in American dollars.

I love this. Windows open, airing out the smell of bills and the incoming breeze distributing the scent of honeydew melon from my large jar candle burning in front of one of the windows. The radio alarm lightly playing “Slow dancing, swingin’ to the music…”

And to think, if I hadn’t procrastinated on a year’s worth of receipts, I wouldn’t be having this nice time spent in my room doing this with the great breeze and great music and great scent. I’d be, uh, at jujitsu. *sheepish*