Watching less-than-mediocre sitcoms on the WB led me to reminisce about that feeling you can only get from that person.
Memorable to me:
Running by the tennis courts into the bushes, and he got all scratched up by the branches.
The 8th Grade Dinner Dance: I can still feel the shoulders of your too-big-suit-jacket, I can still smell Safari on your neck.
I remember his hugs because they always felt like he cared, though we weren't that close, and now he's gone.
He was so nervous to meet my parents! He changed his shirt in the car.
I felt like no matter how badly things seemed to everyone else, it was still better be with him, and he felt the same way.
He was my best friend. He taught me how to know if a guy respected me (and then showed me what it's like when he doesn't).
When was the last time I had that feeling?
I'm not sure. I might have thought that it was in November, but now I think that it's been a couple years.
I don't remember the last time my heart was racing, my lips were dry, my throat was closed, my stomach was in knots. It may be a while.
Cindy, it was always you
It was you I wanted, too
Now you leave me haunted
-- Steve Wynn
Sunday, May 21, 2006
Monday, May 15, 2006
Snippets of my weekend
I like this Stan Beer guy.
That's just silly though. I think this is actually interesting.
Robin Givhan is sassy and witty.
My brother brought these guys to my attention. One day....
That's just silly though. I think this is actually interesting.
Robin Givhan is sassy and witty.
My brother brought these guys to my attention. One day....
Sunday, May 14, 2006
My "Man Hands"?
Last night I worked at a wedding in North Philly at a church. The service and the reception were both in the church, which means that the party was in the cafeteria. Very romantic. I feel lucky again to have had a hard working staff, though it was a hard set up and break down, the party itself was a pretty simple buffet.
There were three people who work for the church at the event:
Mr. Security Guard at least knew how to work the lights and refridgerator. Temple MBA and Ray Liotta's redeeming quality was that they helped us bring up the tables and chairs. Also, Ray Liotta called several cabs for guests who had come in from hotels in the city. Here is the problem with Ray Liotta:
After several short, work-related conversations (how do I turn off the stage lights, where is the switch for the hallway light, where do I put the tables, someone needs a cab, etc.), he found me sitting while filling out the paperwork, and told me that I am beautiful and am I mixed, because he is mixed Korean and Italian, and I look mixed. These questions always make me feel a bit funny. I responded in the affirmative, yes, I am mixed Chinese and Mexican. He found this very interesting and asked me if I knew my parents, assuming that I am adopted, and I was taken aback, so I responded that I had lived with them, they are my parents. He understood, and said that he was adopted. We then had to mop the floor and move some tables, so the conversation was put on hold. It resumed just as I was about to leave with Helen, Helen the Hard Worker, when he called me over and asked if I had a boyfriend, and could he have my number. I thought about this for a split second and quickly replied "I don't know."
I don't know? What does that even mean. Well, he also was unsure of what that meant, so he asked again if I would give him my number, and I said I don't think so. He said that he understood, and that it was nice to meet me, and that he hopes he runs into me someday.
What was that about? I found him interesting looking -- Ray Liotta with a Korean wash. The hair was pretty unflattering, but not so bad that it would actually turn me away. The track suit in general does not make a good impression on me, especially when in one's place of business, and when in view of a wedding, but also not enough to turn me away completely. In the end, I realize this time and time again, I am unattracted by people who find me physically attractive without having known my personality. I think this is partly because I really hate the feeling of being rejected or having a relationship fizzle after getting to know me personally. I am so much more comfortable being rejected physically than for who I am on the inside. This is why I expect such loyalty and reliability from people who last in my life. If they were going to reject me, they should have rejected me in the beginning, when things were shallow or not yet intimate, not after we have become friends.
My version of Jerry's "man hands" is someone who expresses their physical attraction to me before being attracted to Me.
P. S. Happy Mother's Day
There were three people who work for the church at the event:
- Mr. Security Guard (who must have brought his own flask, because our bar did not serve him, yet he was completely toasted, enough so to put his arm around me and speak to my cleavage)
- Non-descript-Temple-MBA-Student Facilities Manager (who was fairly unhelpful, and did not, in fact, know how to manage the facilities)
- Ray Liotta Look-alike (who was wearing a gray and white tracksuit and had a bad haircut that was too long)
Mr. Security Guard at least knew how to work the lights and refridgerator. Temple MBA and Ray Liotta's redeeming quality was that they helped us bring up the tables and chairs. Also, Ray Liotta called several cabs for guests who had come in from hotels in the city. Here is the problem with Ray Liotta:
After several short, work-related conversations (how do I turn off the stage lights, where is the switch for the hallway light, where do I put the tables, someone needs a cab, etc.), he found me sitting while filling out the paperwork, and told me that I am beautiful and am I mixed, because he is mixed Korean and Italian, and I look mixed. These questions always make me feel a bit funny. I responded in the affirmative, yes, I am mixed Chinese and Mexican. He found this very interesting and asked me if I knew my parents, assuming that I am adopted, and I was taken aback, so I responded that I had lived with them, they are my parents. He understood, and said that he was adopted. We then had to mop the floor and move some tables, so the conversation was put on hold. It resumed just as I was about to leave with Helen, Helen the Hard Worker, when he called me over and asked if I had a boyfriend, and could he have my number. I thought about this for a split second and quickly replied "I don't know."
I don't know? What does that even mean. Well, he also was unsure of what that meant, so he asked again if I would give him my number, and I said I don't think so. He said that he understood, and that it was nice to meet me, and that he hopes he runs into me someday.
What was that about? I found him interesting looking -- Ray Liotta with a Korean wash. The hair was pretty unflattering, but not so bad that it would actually turn me away. The track suit in general does not make a good impression on me, especially when in one's place of business, and when in view of a wedding, but also not enough to turn me away completely. In the end, I realize this time and time again, I am unattracted by people who find me physically attractive without having known my personality. I think this is partly because I really hate the feeling of being rejected or having a relationship fizzle after getting to know me personally. I am so much more comfortable being rejected physically than for who I am on the inside. This is why I expect such loyalty and reliability from people who last in my life. If they were going to reject me, they should have rejected me in the beginning, when things were shallow or not yet intimate, not after we have become friends.
My version of Jerry's "man hands" is someone who expresses their physical attraction to me before being attracted to Me.
P. S. Happy Mother's Day
Saturday, May 13, 2006
I have creepy travel dreams
Last night I was dreaming that I was at a friend's party in Colorado or something, where my dad had dropped me off, and all of the lights were off in the house. Well, my friend had turned off the lights in the areas where we would be. Her mom had the light on in the kitchen, where she was playing with her kitten in the trash can.
I followed my friend in the dark to the room where a bunch of people were hanging out. It was a nondescript room with a large bed on one side, and a couch facing it on the other. I was in high school, and the other people there were in high school as well, but were not necessarily people with whom I went to high school.
I was sitting on the bed with some friends who were too close for comfort (boys). They told me that I had huge monkey feet. This did not turn me on. I put the sheet over my head. One boy started kissing my sheeted head. This also did not turn me on, so I told him to stop because this was grossing me out.
When I took off the sheet, it turned out to be one of my x-mans. That made me super grossed out in my subconscious that was not leading me in the dream, and in the dream I was grossed out because apparantly I thought that he was too young for me (though everyone was in high school and I didn't know how old anyone was), and I said, loudly enough for everyone to hear, "Ew, I would never let you kiss me, I am like thirty and you are like ten."
Neither of us were those ages, but that's all I could come up with I guess. I left the room and went outside, where suddenly it was afternoon and not nighttime.
The house was in a neighborhood on a hill, where the architectural style was Ancient Rome. As I walked up the hill along the cobblestone path, I ran into two ogre neighbors and their very dirty black labs. I said hello politely and moved on up the path towards the gated entrance to the state park. People were renting canoes, tents, snow shoes, and bikes. This park seemed really cool, but the gates were closing in like exactly 2 minutes so I had to leave, or I would have to spend the night in the park.
Leaving the park, I ran into my mom in a car. She was there to pick me up. Her hair was gray. We drove downtown to a large intersection, where she had to let me out to do something shady, and I was supposed to wait for her. I did wait, then I saw her across the street, sitting at the bus stop, wearing sunglasses. In case you don't know, my mom is not shady and does not have gray hair or wear sunglasses. Anyway, we met up across the street and she gave me a box of cereal that I was supposed to eat, because that is all she could get since we were in Spain and she doesn't really know Spanish.
Then Kitty woke me up and it was 5:45 am.
I followed my friend in the dark to the room where a bunch of people were hanging out. It was a nondescript room with a large bed on one side, and a couch facing it on the other. I was in high school, and the other people there were in high school as well, but were not necessarily people with whom I went to high school.
I was sitting on the bed with some friends who were too close for comfort (boys). They told me that I had huge monkey feet. This did not turn me on. I put the sheet over my head. One boy started kissing my sheeted head. This also did not turn me on, so I told him to stop because this was grossing me out.
When I took off the sheet, it turned out to be one of my x-mans. That made me super grossed out in my subconscious that was not leading me in the dream, and in the dream I was grossed out because apparantly I thought that he was too young for me (though everyone was in high school and I didn't know how old anyone was), and I said, loudly enough for everyone to hear, "Ew, I would never let you kiss me, I am like thirty and you are like ten."
Neither of us were those ages, but that's all I could come up with I guess. I left the room and went outside, where suddenly it was afternoon and not nighttime.
The house was in a neighborhood on a hill, where the architectural style was Ancient Rome. As I walked up the hill along the cobblestone path, I ran into two ogre neighbors and their very dirty black labs. I said hello politely and moved on up the path towards the gated entrance to the state park. People were renting canoes, tents, snow shoes, and bikes. This park seemed really cool, but the gates were closing in like exactly 2 minutes so I had to leave, or I would have to spend the night in the park.
Leaving the park, I ran into my mom in a car. She was there to pick me up. Her hair was gray. We drove downtown to a large intersection, where she had to let me out to do something shady, and I was supposed to wait for her. I did wait, then I saw her across the street, sitting at the bus stop, wearing sunglasses. In case you don't know, my mom is not shady and does not have gray hair or wear sunglasses. Anyway, we met up across the street and she gave me a box of cereal that I was supposed to eat, because that is all she could get since we were in Spain and she doesn't really know Spanish.
Then Kitty woke me up and it was 5:45 am.
Friday, May 12, 2006
Oh, Friday night.
Today was interesting because I made plans with several people, and then cancelled them all so that I could stay home with Mr. Kitty and watch nothing good on non-cable tv. By the way, what are we calling that these days? Jordo and I used to call it Poverty TV, but now I think that I generally refer to it as broadcast tv. I just want to make sure that we are on the same page here. My version of the FoodNetwork and Travel Channel is WYBE, with its "Simply Ming," "America's Test Kitchen," and "Globe Trekker." Anyway, I am not even watching this, I am watching the sequel to "Legally Blonde" on FOX. I'm a winner.
I am just exhausted! I fell asleep last night before eleven. Before Sex [and the City]! Last night at ESL, I taught how to form a yes or no question with the helping verb, "do."
Ex.
Q: Do you eat three meals each day? A: Yes, I do eat three meals each day.
Q: Does he walk to school? A: No, he doesn't walk to school.
Today, [at school in third grade] Miss Dayzha asked me in reference to Mike, "Don't he have 2 more pages to do?"
To which I responded, in question, "Doesn't he have 2 more pages to do?"
"Yeah."
"Yeah, what?"
"Don't he have 2 more pages to do?"
"Doesn't he?"
"Yeah."
"That's not what you said. I don't understand what you said."
"Do he have... do he... doesn't he have 2 more pages to do?"
"Oh, doesn't he have 2 more pages to do? Well, that's not really your business, why don't you ask him yourself and see if he wants to answer you."
I am teaching English to people who are labeled as non-English Speakers, while the Native English Speakers sound AWFUL.
This construction is like nails on a chalkboard to me:
"Are you done your homework?"
"Yes, I been done my homework." "I'm done my homework, too."
NO!
"Are you done with your homework?"
"Yes, I finished my homework so long ago." "I'm done with my homework, too."
I'm sure I have blogged on my fear of the extinction of the preposition, "with," but this is tiring me today. This, and the fact that I have swimming at 9am tomorrow, followed by a wedding at 1pm, and it is likely to rain. Fab.
Anyway, I'm going to go wallow in my sorrows over the state of public education and watch me some good ole' PBS (well, some smutty FOX/NBC followed by PBS).
I am just exhausted! I fell asleep last night before eleven. Before Sex [and the City]! Last night at ESL, I taught how to form a yes or no question with the helping verb, "do."
Ex.
Q: Do you eat three meals each day? A: Yes, I do eat three meals each day.
Q: Does he walk to school? A: No, he doesn't walk to school.
Today, [at school in third grade] Miss Dayzha asked me in reference to Mike, "Don't he have 2 more pages to do?"
To which I responded, in question, "Doesn't he have 2 more pages to do?"
"Yeah."
"Yeah, what?"
"Don't he have 2 more pages to do?"
"Doesn't he?"
"Yeah."
"That's not what you said. I don't understand what you said."
"Do he have... do he... doesn't he have 2 more pages to do?"
"Oh, doesn't he have 2 more pages to do? Well, that's not really your business, why don't you ask him yourself and see if he wants to answer you."
I am teaching English to people who are labeled as non-English Speakers, while the Native English Speakers sound AWFUL.
This construction is like nails on a chalkboard to me:
"Are you done your homework?"
"Yes, I been done my homework." "I'm done my homework, too."
NO!
"Are you done with your homework?"
"Yes, I finished my homework so long ago." "I'm done with my homework, too."
I'm sure I have blogged on my fear of the extinction of the preposition, "with," but this is tiring me today. This, and the fact that I have swimming at 9am tomorrow, followed by a wedding at 1pm, and it is likely to rain. Fab.
Anyway, I'm going to go wallow in my sorrows over the state of public education and watch me some good ole' PBS (well, some smutty FOX/NBC followed by PBS).
Addicted.
I am addicted to books. Books, among other things.
Last weekend, I went to my favorite used bookstore.
I went looking for books as gifts for my favorite 3rd graders and for Ryry. The problem is that I want to have more and more children's books.
Last week, Erin and I were reminiscing about "The Story About Ping," when she reminded me about "Outside Over There."
On a side note, dolphins are so cool they have special whistles.
Also, this is what is going on in my head:
I will see The Early November this summer. If it kills me, I will see them.
July 11, Troc.
Last weekend, I went to my favorite used bookstore.
I went looking for books as gifts for my favorite 3rd graders and for Ryry. The problem is that I want to have more and more children's books.
Last week, Erin and I were reminiscing about "The Story About Ping," when she reminded me about "Outside Over There."
On a side note, dolphins are so cool they have special whistles.
Also, this is what is going on in my head:
I will see The Early November this summer. If it kills me, I will see them.
July 11, Troc.
Tuesday, May 09, 2006
Mister is back!
Sunday night, Mister and I watched the season finale of Jordan together in bed. He let me snuggle with him until he fell asleep with his little paw on my shoulder, just like my little fur baby.
Not my dirt baby.
Anyway, I came across this word that I like: otiose.
A lot has transpired in the past 10 days, but it is just too.
Happy Birthday Ma.
Not my dirt baby.
Anyway, I came across this word that I like: otiose.
A lot has transpired in the past 10 days, but it is just too.
Happy Birthday Ma.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
