cindy's world

Good gawd, when have I become one of those people who felt guilty for not working out twice a day? It’s past 4am, and I’m mad at myself for falling asleep until now. I did abs and weights at lunch for 45 minutes, and now I’m considering hitting the gym to do cardio for an hour or so. Should I go back to bed, or do cardio? I know in 8 hours, I will be at the gym again. I figure I’m one of the two below:

1.) guilty for carb intake yesterday – a generous quantity of homemade ciabatta bread my court reporter made, consumed with actual butter; more Japanese rice crackers; 3/4 graham raisin bagel; lots of Trader Joe’s pumpkin flax seed cereal (omg, new favorite cereal) w/1% organic milk (can’t tell the difference)
2.) getting that weird OCD/anorexic overexercising thing where people think they’re fat but instead of starving or puking they try to burn the calories off by obsessively exercising, all tracing back to some underlying feeling of inadequacy and loss of control.

There was a bailiff in here earlier talking to my bailiff. The conversation (in which I did not participate) was about whether money makes people happy. My bailiff said he had the house, the family, the life, but the problems and betrayal surrounding his wife made life very difficult and unhappy. The other bailiff said that he’s seen all kinds. He’s seen people who are rich and miserable; poor and happy; poor and suicidal because they can’t get their life together and move up; and rich and happy because they don’t want for anything. “But by far, the category of people I’ve seen who are the most happy,” he said thoughtfully, “are women who don’t need men and are completely content with themselves without having a man around.”

I perked up. That’s been true of both me and my court reporter. We’ve both been miserably hurt in our relationships, and she said (referring to her daughters) once a girl gets to dating age, there is such a world of hurt and disappointment opening to her. My reporter and I don’t need a lot; we’re self-sufficient. We don’t need a man for money or for gifts. We don’t need someone so hot he’d make all our friends jealous. We’d just like someone we get along with whom we can respect and love, and all we ask in return is that he be there for us and not hurt us. And they can’t even do that.

Does life get lonely or boring for me as a single woman? Of course. Sometimes. But now my laughs flow more easily than the tears. My food goes down easier without the lumps in my throat and the dryness in my mouth. The colors are brighter, the small things are more lovely, birds sing louder, music sounds more upbeat, life is more vibrant. My mind is able to expand and be open to things, no longer locked down and smothered by fear, anxiety, and pain.

On the drive back from Orange last nite, I called my friend Andrae and that ended up being a 1+ hour lecture on how I’m too nice and give too much of myself and need to stop it. He’s right. I’m sick of mind games and don’t care to play them, so I didn’t, but what I did wrong was give too much too quickly (what else is new?). There’s a difference between playing manipulative games with someone else’s mind and simply keeping yourself more discreet to maintain some mystique, he said. It’s like bluffing vs. displaying a poker face and keeping y0ur cards closer to yourself. The reason I didn’t put any effort into creating a mystique is because at this point in my life, I’m tired and I don’t care what people think. If my quick response time makes me appear too available, accessible and desperate, then fine, a Potential can go look for a player elsewhere and not complicate my life. To me it’s just courtesy and honesty. I will, however, listen to Andrae in this as it appeals to my present low tolerance for games: I’m just going to stop my efforts and courtesies. If a Potential is interested enough, he can be a man and step up. If he isn’t and doesn’t, then I haven’t lost a damn thing except trouble in the long run. It’s win-win for me. “It’s not your job to pursue, it’s the guy’s,” Andrae said. “You gotta see the value in your time and yourself.” It’s not like there aren’t people around fighting to get their foot in the door the second they see an opening, none of whom I need. It’s nice to just be open to the possibility and not want for an arbitrary relationship on a physical or emotional level.

I knew there’d be a reason this song has been playing nonstop in my car for the past few weeks:

Someone To Call My Lover– Janet Jackson

Back on the road again
Feeling kinda lonely and
Lookin’ for the right guy
To be mine

Friends say I’m crazy ’cause
Easily I fall in love
Gotta do it differently
This time

(chorus:)
Maybe we’ll meet at a bar
He’ll drive a funky car
Maybe we’ll meet at a club
And fall so deeply in love
He’ll tell me I’m the one
And we’ll have so much fun
I’ll be the girl of his dreams, maybe

(bridge:)
Alright maybe gonna find him today
I gotta get someone to call my lover
Yeah baby come on
Alright baby come and
Pass my way
I gotta get someone to call my lover
Yeah baby come on

I spoil them when I’m in love
Givin’ them what they dream of
Sometimes it’s not a good thing
But I’m blind

I love hard with everything
Giving my all more than they
I’ll take my friends’ advice this time
I’ll do it differently

(chorus and bridge)

My my
Looking for a guy guy
I don’t want him too shy
But he’s gotta have the qualities
That I like in a man
Strong, smart, affectionate
He’s gotta be all for me
And I’ll be too
You’ll see happily

(chorus and bridgex2; chorus and bridge)

Foodwise, Wednesday was terrible. Whilst discussing a technical deficiency in a divorce case I’m working on, I mentally counted that as of 3:30pm, I’ve already had seven pieces of chocolate. They were all bite-sized stuff, like those individually wrapped rectangles of Hershey’s and Dove chocolates, but still. Seven. I decided I had to eat healthy that point on, so I went to Trader Joe’s after work. I bought flax seed cereal and organic 1% milk, among other stuff. I’ve never had either one. But did I open either package? No. Instead, for the next 15 hours, I continuously ate those soy sauce coated little Japanese rice crackers to the point where I am so bloated right now that my internal organs hurt, and two dots of sores or ulcers appeared on my tongue. Probably abrasion cuts from the rough crackers and add to that the toxic amount of sodium replacing my blood/platelet supply.

Exercise-wise, Wednesday was not bad. I did 50 minutes on this insane elliptical trainer at the gym at lunch, which should’ve burned at least 400 calories, or 4 pieces of chocolate. =P After work, I drove really far to Orange to brush up on jujitsu. Haha, you can always tell when I’m doing jujitsu. 3 new bruises on the inside of my left arm, huge already-purple bruise on the side of my left knee, three forming bruises/swellings on my right shin. After the class (in which I led the cool-down stretches), the instructor, 2 blackbelts (yes, including “the”) and 2 students (me and another girl) went to a nearby Japanese restaurant and had sushi. At least I don’t have to feel guilty about that meal. The dinnertable conversation was fun and funny.

Is today a productive day? I worked out at lunch, got a haircut after work, paid a bill online when I got home. Turned down another guy from my past who wants to try again. My house is still clean from my efforts last weekend, not even enough laundry to fill one load. No good TV on.

I feel empty.

I hope tomorrow will be better. My jujitsu instructor left me a voice mail today inviting me to go work out with them at another studio in Orange tomorrow. I think I need to go, just to keep myself from going crazy.

USPS Label/Receipt Number: 0304 1560 0005 4094 0535
Detailed Results:
Delivered, August 03, 2005, 6:40 am, PITTSBURGH, PA 15250
Acceptance, August 01, 2005, 1:04 pm, NORWALK, CA 90650

YAY! I hope to see my passport soon.

I was talking to a friend earlier, and he told me about the death of some guy who had a beastiality fetish. The guy apparently went up to some farm that caters to beastiality fetishes and he was being screwed in the butt by a horse, and because horses are really well hung, he ended up with a ruptured colon and had to be rushed to the emergency room, where he died from its complications.

But when my friend told this to me, he didn’t say that the guy went up to a beastiality fetish place. He just said the guy went to a farm and got screwed in the ass by a horse and that gave him a ruptured colon. So I was really confused, and I asked, “Wait, how did the horse get his clothes off?”

He said, “No, you ‘tard! It’s a beastiality farm! The guy went there TO get screwed by a horse. A horse didn’t come up to him and say, ‘Hey, how you doin’? Can I buy you a carrot?’ ”

HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!! I’m STILL laughing at that mental picture, and this conversation was over an hour ago! You know how sometimes something someone says just hits your funny bone and every time you think about it for the next year, you bust up? I can’t stop laughing! I re-read what I wrote and I laugh! HAHAHAHAHA! Omg, I’m sweating, I’m laughing so hard! *gasp gasp* *tear falls*

While sitting in the mechanic’s empty waiting room/office as my car was getting its screeching brakes replaced, I rifled thru my purse looking for a bar napkin on which I had written the recipe for a Sexy Alligator. I pulled out a wad of square bar napkins, folded collectively in half, from the front pocket of my purse. In the first instant, I recognized them as doodles and notes my ex had drawn and passed to me when we were at a bar with his friends after the first time we’d broken up and were talking about how to work things out. On four napkins he’d written “I miss u”; doodled a few heart balloons with happy faces in them; written a fancy “Pookie2”; drawn a sad face with an arrow going thru it with a broken heart underneath; written the message “I’d rather sit in silence with you, than listen to all the noise with them.” In the next instant, I placed the timeline together that he’d drawn these the night before he and “the boys” went to Vegas in September, 2004, and mere days from the creation of these declarations of love for me, he would be in Vegas, meeting up with his student that he carried on an entire relationship with behind my back (whom he’d sworn up and down throughout the relationship that he was in zero contact with, and then when I found out differently, he yelled at me that “on principle” he can talk to whomever he wants and it’s none of my business since he’s not doing anything wrong), and they would make out in Vegas and she would perform oral sex on him in his car in the parking structure of a Vegas hotel, even as I sat at home and believed his words, sobbed to me through uncountable phone calls that weekend, redeclaring his love for me and his desire to leave Vegas early so that he could come home and be with me.

Less than ten seconds after unfolding these napkins that I used to treasure, I crumbled in tears. I only found out this May that the girl was in Vegas with them on that trip. Knowing what I know now about his betrayals in the relationship, so many treasures and happy memories are now tainted and rancid with the stench of decay and lies. I guess I’m not over it yet.

Since the past weekend has been so hot, I started dropping two cubes of ice in my cat’s water bowl. My Asian genes won’t let me turn on the central AC to cool down a 2-story house just for me and the cat, so I mainly hang out at home naked. One such day, I looked over to Dodo and thought if I’m this hot and I’m hairless, then my poor kitty in his little dense fur coat must be suffering. So I dropped some ice in his water. He very happily licked the bobbing ice from the bowl.

So now, he would come up to me and do his “I need something” meow. I’d get up, and he’d lead the way to his food area. There’s food still in his bowl, water still in the water bowl, so what could he possibly want? He just sits there staring straight at his food/water, waiting. The first time, I added a tad more food in the food bowl, but he didn’t make a motion toward it and just sat there staring. So that wasn’t it. I shrugged and returned to the couch. He came back, did the “I need something!” meow more urgently, so I again got up and followed him. He again led me to the food area. I finally got it and dropped the ice cubes in. He instantly positioned himself over the water bowl and lapped eagerly.

Man, does this mean that in the wintertime, I’m gonna have to nuke his water for him?

Horoscope:
In chess, all the other players on the board are nearly defenseless once the queen is in play. You and your friend have a similarly powerful and deadly weapon in your arsenal that can neutralize this potentially tricky situation once and for all, especially if you act in concert. The trick is to deploy it carefully and selectively. So what is it exactly? Hint: It’s smaller and a lot subtler than you think. Oh, all right — here’s another hint: ‘Kill ’em with kindness.’