cindy's world

I slept on and off all morning into the afternoon. Then I woke up in a panic and realized I was late going to my parents’ house for Father’s Day festivities. Alas, my house is still neglectedly unkempt.

My dad seemed to really like the liquor dispenser. He assembled it right away, then started playing with it with tap water. All the fun with liquor dispenser sans liquor made me want a drink, so I poured myself a shot of some Mexican coffee-flavored liquor I found in my parents’ cabinet. GAAACK! That crap’s strong. I should’ve gone for the Kahlua next to it. My Asian can’t-waste-food gene kept me from pouring the drink down the sink, so I tried to save it. Milk would be a good idea, I thought, and rummaged thru my parents’ fridge. Of course, no milk. This is an Asian family’s fridge. And soy milk just seems wrong. My dad suggested I water it down with ice or water, which I did, and it was still nasty. Finished it anyway.

Dinner was cool; my parents, maternal grandma and I went to a Chinese restaurant with my godbro’s family and my grandma’s sorta-relatives. My little godbro is now almost 18, has a hilarious sardonic sense of humor (actually, he always did even as a kid), is starting his freshman year at Berkeley in the fall, and drove me back to my parents’ house in his BMW. I smile wryly. How time flies. “Twenty-nine…the big TWO-NINE,” he rubbed in as we drove back. Hey, I’ve got almost 2 weeks before I’m officially the big two-nine. I had a blast bonding with my godbro, and we tentatively set up some future things to do together (such as working out).

The massage was great! I had a nice chick bonding chat w/my massage therapist thru the session. The spa itself was far inferior to Burke Williams Spa, tho. This spa had no real “lounge” area, just a tiny waiting area for massage clients; the locker room area is tiny with one small steam room, one shower, two restroom stalls. No whirlpool or jacuzzi.

My friend and I wandered around Old Town Pasadena after the spa, all relaxed and happy. (In truth, the aromatherapy fumes probably did their thing on our neurons.) We walked to Afloat Sushi for dinner. The sushi bar there is very interesting. Everyone sits around a large revolving moat, and the moat surrounds the sushi chefs who are working in the middle of the room. Circulating within the moat are the wooden Japanese boats that “boat combination meals” are typically served on, and there are 3-4 little dishes of different types of sushi, sashimi, salad and dessert on each boat. As the boat drifts past you, you just pick up whatever dish you want to eat. The items are color-coded by the little dishes, from $1.99 to $6. I spent about $20 on dinner and was totally full. It was a lot of fun, and everyone’s just in-and-out since you don’t have to wait for the sushi chef to make your order after he finishes the other orders.

We went back to my friend’s house after dinner/shopping, met up w/her husband and the three of us shot the fecal excrement. Then around 11:30pm, when I was ready to go home and fall asleep, my friend decided she REALLY wanted supper and I somehow got talked into going to a restaurant in Monterey Park for congee (Chinese porridge). We got there close to midnight, and I was shocked to see the place packed with patrons – not teenagers or college kids who are up all night anyway – but like 50-60 yr olds! Since when did people my parents’ age hook up and go out for supper at midnight? I wondered as I stifled a yawn, painfully past my bedtime.

I didn’t get home until about 1:30 am, and when I did, I had a big surprise waiting for me. It seems that I had quite a few people worried to death about me since I forgot to take my cell phone on my outing that day. Well, I did survive the ensuing drama (which lasted until almost 11am this morning). Boy, am I tired.

The mounting list of coincidences are so positive and affirming. The college roommie and I were talking about spa treatments, which had been on both our minds recently. We need pampering, I guess. And today, my elementary school friend (we’ve been tight friends since 3rd grade) called me up and we’re going to Amadeus Spa in Pasadena! She just booked our hour-long massage appointments. Mine’s at 3pm. Check this out:

Amadeus Signature Massage
Forget your cares and leave the world behind as you unwind with our Signature Massage. This special treatment includes Aromatherapy Oils customized for your needs, Hot Rocks laid along key relaxation points and our Lemongrass Foot Scrub. From temples to toes, enjoy your best massage ever!
1 Hour & 15 Minutes…. $140

I’ve gotta go! Don’t wanna be late!

Today marks the end of life as I know it. Transitional life. The time bomb was put in place in the first week of the Past, already pre-set to go off May 2, 2005. The Past ended May 2, 2005; the Present began on the same date. Yesterday, June 16, 2005, makes it six weeks to the day. In those six weeks, I had struggled to find myself and to set up my Future life, altho I didn’t know it at the time. Now I have these plans and activities in motion, just waiting for me to be ready.

I drove to work today in silence, surrounded by only my thoughts. I brought my digital camera with me to document the day. I wanted to wear all black and be in comfort clothes, then at the last minute opted for an outfit that was better for my self-esteem. Black and white. Yin and yang. Hope and despair. The death of the phoenix in flames, and from the ashes, a new bird shall rise.

I looked into the jury room and paused in confusion. Cake laid out. Presents. “Your birthday! You didn’t forget, did you?” my court reporter asked. I did indeed forget that they had planned to celebrate my birthday early because of everyone’s vacation plans. The way things fall into place, the symbolism, the precision of it all. Me with my camera, wanting to document my rebirth, dressing for the part.

Chin up, Cindy. Turn those puffy eyes forward. I’m finally done with this phase. Finally.

Holy cow. What an emotional wringer I was put through tonight. It’s so hard, I’m so sad, I can feel the weight loss coming again. In one hour I lost so much. But the loss came on the coattails of inspiration. So it was major lack of sleep, then anxiety over what I thought would be a pivotal exposure and potential bonding, then earthquake, then inspiration, then the absolute white-hot shock of death #1, then the immediate and dramatic 2nd death, then epiphany.

I don’t care that I appear insane. I haven’t slept and I can’t think straight. Or maybe this is the straightest I’ve thought in a long time. I know that the writing isn’t coming out as well and smoothly as I’d hoped, but I have nothing left in me right now. Nothing. This is the best I can do for now.

I am again facing an uphill battle. Written in my journal on 5-4-05: “It’s the moment-to-moment emptiness that’s hard. It’s the getting through the ‘now.’ It’s the lack of something to look forward to. It’s the loss of things anticipated. It’s the fear of the future – not the far future, but the immediate future. What will I do with myself the next 10 minutes? The next hour? Day? Week?”

I was looking forward to writing to you. As much as stepping into an unknown is terrifying, I will trust you. I once looked to the past and could not bring myself to understand why it had to be. Now I know. Every tear that fell, every second spent lost and suffering, every bit of character-building pain, will be worth it to bring me to you, and to prepare me for you. My flaws will cease their existence with you, because you will not see them. I will be radiant, because you will make me glow. The past had destroyed its own future. The present falls short on inspiration. The future makes me want to be a better person. It may be a cliche, but I want to be better for you. I want to deserve everything that you are, because you will be perfect in my eyes. You will “get” me and love me with all my quirkiness, I will appreciate you with all of yours, and my God, what I wouldn’t do for you. The memories we’d create together, the thoughts and actions we’d inspire in each other, and the connection and conversations… I wrote you a plea on 10-24-03:

Plea/Prayer to the One

Where are you, my love?
I pray to you to rescue me
I grow weary, I grow wary
I grow disillusioned and disheartened
I feel discouraged and, I fear, hardened
Are you somewhere waiting too?
Are you like me, sad and blue?
The lessons I feel lead to you
Are you prepping for me, too?
Please come ready to be good to me
Filled to the brim with integrity
A man when you need to be
A friend who’s always true to me
A husband effective and adoring
A valiant example to our offspring
Talented, generous, educated, open
Fair, reasonable, flexible, handsome
Someone I respect and trust
Worthy of all I am and will be.

Okay, looking at it now, that was awful. Nowhere near some of my better work. But it was written at a time when I was at the brink of losing my mind, and I’ve come full circle back to that tonight. That’s gotta mean something, right? When you’re ready, my future best friend, confidante, protector, supporter, lover, hero, hello.

It was some magic we shared. The intensity was unrivaled. Your timing for appearing in my life was impeccable both times. You opened my eyes, and most importantly you taught me that the past is a choice I don’t have to keep making. You showed me that things I find important really do exist in people out there. Integrity. Passion. Tenderness. Loyalty. Fun. Temporary suspension in mid-air. You seemed to exist for one purpose only. Thank you for being my balance. You knew before I did that our time is done. As much as I began this wanting to keep you at arm’s length, I fell into the girl trap of ignoring all the signs otherwise, and convincing myself that we could work. You were clear-headed as you always were and you knew when the magic disappeared. I don’t know why we had a breakdown in communication and started having misunderstandings and oversensitivities. Things weren’t the same anymore, but I chose not to acknowledge that and chose instead to overglorify signs that we are on our way somewhere. I don’t know why you couldn’t hear it when I thanked you for having these talks with me, when I told you how smart you are, how you remain the only person who was ever able to kick my ass in my own analogies and arguments, how I want to help you take your stresses away by volunteering whatever skills or experience I have. Maybe you didn’t hear it because you weren’t supposed to. You sensed that the road stops here, you guided me here, and tonight you left me here. So goodbye, my magical fated friend, goodbye.

As I sat curled up in fetal position on the corner of your couch, your fury raining down around me in the form of CDs, remote controls, whatever else you could grab and throw, the eulogy was already forming in my head. The painful din of the rock music you blasted through your stereo system, your wailing sing-along echoing off the bare walls and hardwood floors, the insane dancing and wild arm gestures you threw. Your beer-drenched breath spilling over me as you yelled your psychosis – you went through months’ worth of my phone bills; you recorded and called numbers foreign to you; you had Joe abuse his credit bureau power to get his information; you found additional addresses and phone numbers for him. These are to form my last memories of you. You want to believe I cheated on you. You want to believe I dated him for revenge. You want to believe I was played. None of these are true, but they help you hate me. Your rage is understandable. But all of it, all of tonight, confirms as I watched you what will never be. Your threats about him, your dedication to your lifestyle, your promise of a near-future drunkeness, all of these things are nothing new and reaffirms that things will never change. I no longer struggle to make sense of the hows and whys. So goodbye, my best friend of two years, my lover of two and a half, all the potential I thought I saw, goodbye.

Gary, I apologize for the bloodbath you waded through briefly earlier tonight. We’re cool, right?

5.3 earthquake centered in Yucaipa about 15 mins ago. I’m not even sure I’m spelling that right cuz where the heck is Yucaipa? Somewhere in San Bernardino.
We Californians are so cavalier about earthquakes. My bailiff and I just talked thru it, sitting at our own desks, not even ducking.

Me: Hey, here’s an aftershock from the San Diego quake.
Bailiff: Yeah.
Me: Hmm. It’s getting bigger. [something on my desk falls over]
Bailiff: This is a Whittier fault line earthquake.
Me: You think so?
Bailiff: Yeah. It’s too big to be a San Diego aftershock.
Me: [pausing with head tilted, feeling the building roll] You’re probably right. Altho we’re in a multi-story building so it probably feels stronger cuz the building shakes.

I also received an email blaming me for the earthquake because I had supposedly written something mean right before the quake happened. “Wow, I’m pretty powerful stuff,” I emailed back.