chelleart

The Y Paradox

noreply@blogger.com (michelle) — Mon, 23 Jun 2008 03:10:00 +0000

I am staring at a blank page trying to figure out how to put him into words, or more accurately, how I'm going to put my feelings for him into words.

I never expected to feel this way. I never expected for any of this to happen. I keep wondering if I deserve more than this. It's not that he's mistreating me. I think I'm mistreating myself, by allowing myself to fall in love with someone who is beyond reach. He's the right person, and yet, he's also the wrong person. What is that? Irony? Paradox. He is both.

I weave my own web. The very fact that he's a flirt does not rid me of my duty to respect him and his girlfriend. I should not gloat from the attention he gives me. I am better than that, but I am as weak as they come. Another paradox.

On Friday night, we all went out dancing at Club CocoBongo in Elizabeth. Me, him, his sister, their cousins, and ofcourse his girlfriend. I still had to train with him for a few hours before we went out, and that time with him only aggravated my feelings for him. I don't know what was going through my mind. I was looking forward to going out with him to a club. I knew that I probably wouldn't dance with him. That was a fact. But I wanted to be part of his life outside the treadmills and the weights.

At first, I thought it wasn't going to happen. K called me and said the girls didn't want to go anymore. I had just gotten home from the gym and gotten out of the shower. 10 minutes later, she called back and told me to be ready by 11.
I rang the doorbell. My heart was beating like crazy when I heard him running down the stairs saying "I'm coming." He opened the door.

"Wow." First words out of his mouth. "You look really good."

I blushed, "Thank you."

He steps back to let me in and puts his hands on his waist. "So, this is the real me. Meet Y. You like?"

I wanted to say that I liked the Y at the gym. I wanted to say ofcourse I liked. I wanted to say a whole lot of other inappropriate things.

But all I said was that I only knew the Y I met at the gym, but that this was an improvement. I smiled and ran upstairs to join the rest of the girls. His girlfriend wasn't up there. She was most likely getting ready in his room. I was so glad that I didn't have to face her yet.

Everyone was getting ready in K's sister's room and I was sitting on the bed, practicing my Spanish with G. "Tu (umm) hair... es bonita." Y came into the room and asked me how my leg was doing. Earlier that night during training, he diagnosed me with shin splints. I started feeling the pain since Monday, but didn't say anything since I thought I was simply sore from the workout. Well, when I limped over to him, I got yelled at for not telling him sooner, because I could potentially get a fracture.

I told him I was fine, pointing my toes, explaining that I could even rock heels. Then he gave me THAT look, the half smirk, half raised eyebrows, half you're cute, half you're dumb LOOK. He got down on one knee. My heart skipped a beat. He started rolling up my jeans. I protested, "Y, what are you doing?!" I was afraid everyone could see my emotions straight away if he touched me, but he ignored my protests and started pressing down on my leg and massaging it.

This was not good. I didn't want him to stop, but I didn't want his girlfriend to walk in with him giving my leg a rubdown. Honestly, who does that? Perhaps it was an entirely innocent act for him. That's where boys are oblivious to rules of borders. That was crossing the line. We weren't at the gym. If we were, it would have been an entirely different story.

I'm pretty sure K's friend, who was sitting next to me, also thought Y's actions pretty strange and suspicious. I finally shook him off after a few minutes, and he only stopped with my promise that I would ice my leg in the car on the way to the club.

When G commented that I was losing weight, Y ofcourse took all the credit for it and called me his protege. I am so love with him.

We were finally on our way. I ended up sitting next to his girlfriend, but I stayed my sweet, friendly, charming Michelle self. The car ride was fun, UNTIL I saw Y reach back and hold his girlfriend's hand for a minute. I looked out the window. It happened twice. I felt myself closing in. I felt myself beginning to hyperventilate. What the hell was I doing? What was I thinking? How could I even think that I could handle witnessing them actually BE TOGETHER?

I vowed that this was going to be the last time. I would make it through the night. I just needed to breathe and ignore them.

We got to club. K's cousins passed around shots of aguardiente poured from 1 liter Aquafina bottles. I was ready to get wasted. After only 1 shot, I felt the alcohol surging through me. I was ready to get loose. I was in the zone. This club was exactly what I needed. It was crazy. In the middle of the dance floor, there was this bubble maker machine hanging from the ceiling... so people basically got soaked/soaped.

We started out on the outskirts of the dance floor, but everyone decided to move into the middle. I was following K, and Y was behind me followed by E, his gf. We started dancing. Our shoulders rubbed against one another. Our fingers grazed together. He was dancing closer and closer to me. I was moving further away. E got in front of him, dancing in between us. When E gave him some room on the dance floor, he would be right back next to me. This was the formula for the rest of the night.

I think I only looked at him maybe once or twice all night. I couldn't handle it, so I avoided it. I danced with a guy. But I knew exactly what I was doing. I saw him watching me. I wasn't going to allow him to ruin my night, but I knew that I was playing hard to get.

At one point, we were all in a circle, jumping up and down. E was standing next to me, so we were holding on to each other. Then Y moved her out of the way, and the two of us ended up holding hands instead. Every touch from him makes my heart beat uncontrollably. I thought I was going to pass out.

But I guess that's all I get. I don't get the whole thing. I get the small moments. The accidents. The leftovers? And I don't think I want that. But at the same time, I can't seem to get enough of it. That is the Y Paradox.

Can you gain heart weight?

noreply@blogger.com (michelle) — Thu, 19 Jun 2008 19:09:00 +0000

We’ve only been training together for 22 days, but I am falling in love with him. My overactive imagination has already presented various scenes of us as a couple, making dinner together, with him chastising me about the glob of butter I’m about to drop into the pan, and me not giving a damn, telling him that dishes need butter the way we need one another.

I’m imagining that I’m in a relationship with him. When we train in the early morning (6am) before work, I pretend that we’re working out as a couple.

This is not good. This is not healthy. This is a form of self torture. I really am a masochist.

I keep reminding myself that he has a girlfriend. That he’s been with her since November. But I’m human… and inherently selfish. So I continue to pretend that she doesn’t exist, that she’s not in the picture. I don’t want her presence to enter my time with him. If I recall her, then I would feel so wrong for feeling the way I feel. She existed only in the periphery, as a figment of the imagination, a ghost, intangible – until Monday.

Monday morning, I carpooled to work with his sister. It was her turn to drive, so I just relaxed in the passenger seat, wishing it were still the weekend, dreading the work waiting for me at my desk. She didn’t know about how I felt about her brother. I was afraid that it would somehow alter our friendship, so when she started talking about him in the car, beads of sweat started to form on my forehead. She told me that Y was telling her that he was really proud of me, because I was taking it really seriously, and because I ran on the treadmill for 20 min straight without taking a walking break. So that definitely put a smile on my face. I was safe. She didn’t speculate a thing.

Then she said, “You two are spending a lot of time together. What if you fall in love? You would be in my family!”

My heart stopped. I shifted my weight on the seat, and in a shaky voice, I told her “No, that’s not going to happen. He has a girlfriend.” She knew.

I didn’t know how to navigate how I felt about this. Should I have been anxious that she somehow discovered the secret I’ve been keeping for the past two weeks, or should I smile at the fact that she sounded pretty happy about me being a part of her family?

I decided I was a little bit of both, and spent the rest of the day walking around on cloud 9. I was untouchable. I was in love.

When I got to the gym that afternoon, I felt like I could run 10 miles on the treadmill, until I actually ran 2.25 miles and thought I was going to pass out. I flirted shamelessly. I laughed, batted my lashes, smiled when I saw him smile at something I said or did. This could actually be something.

But the apparition appeared. The gym was already closed. I just finished lifting weights, when she walked through the door. My heart dropped. So this was her, no longer in the periphery, materializing in front of me.

I introduced myself to her and Y introduced her as his girlfriend, leaned over to give her a kiss, and told me that they talked about me all the time.

I think I went deaf when he kissed her. Space was closing in on me. I needed to get out of there. I stayed friendly and charming, but I think my body language revealed how uncomfortable I was. He was still talking to me as I made my way to the door. That night, I had four delirious scoops of ube ice cream.

I wish I never met her. Her existence in the outskirts of my mind were working out for me. I was able to enjoy my time with him without guilt. But now, she’s real to me. The fact that he’s taken is real. The fact that I could potentially be destroying something is realer than real.

I was advised to treat this as an impossibility. It’s proving to be a difficult task. Probably because I’m not executing it whole heartedly. Maybe I’ll snap out of it.

Or maybe not. I’ve lost a little over 10 pounds since we’ve started training. But I think I’ve gained a lot of weight in my heart.

Tuesday Tidings - 10JUN

noreply@blogger.com (michelle) — Tue, 10 Jun 2008 14:24:00 +0000

Listening to

To The Spill Canvas’ All Hail the Heartbreaker

This song is so representative of my relationship with Y. I have to listen to it at least once every time I’m at the gym. It gets me so pumped. Below, I’ve included some notes as to how the lyrics apply to my crush.

This song is so representative of my relationship with Y. I have to listen to it at least once every time I’m at the gym. It gets me so pumped. Below, I’ve included some notes as to how the lyrics apply to my crush.

I had the notion that you'd make me change my ways (getting off my lazy butt)
An the bad habits would be gone in a matter of days (overeating)
I had the feeling that you'd open up my eyes (and my heart)
To a whole new world that had since been in disguise (the gym)

But that day will most likely never come for me
And it's just my luck to end up getting stuck
To everything you are (so true)

So tonight I'll sit and pick apart your pictures
And overanalyze your words
The truth is that I've never fallen so hard (!)
It's taken everything in me
Just to forget your sweater so far (your sweats so far)

I had the notion that you'd make me forget the world
But your undecisive mind shows me that
You are "just another girl" (just another guy)
I had the feeling that those looks you gave me were real (and muscle flexes)
What if I ripped your heart apart at the seams
Maybe then you'd know how I feel

But that day will most likely never come for me
And it's just my luck to end up getting stuck
To everything you are

So tonight I'll sit and pick apart your pictures
And overanalyze your words
The truth is that I've never fallen so hard
It's taken everything in me
Just to forget your sweater so far

I can honestly say
That I never, ever, ever felt this way
Your lips, your eyelashes, your skin (your lips, your biceps, your…:X)
These are the parts of your body
That cause my comatose to begin

I can honestly say
That I never, ever, ever felt this way
Your lips, your eyelashes, your skin (your lips, your biceps, your…:X)
These are the parts of your body
That cause my comatose to begin

I will sleep another day
I don't really need to anyway
What's the point when my dreams are infected
With words you used to say
I will breathe in a moment
As long as I keep my distance
I wouldn't want to go messing anything up

So don't go worrying about me
It's not like I think about you constantly
So maybe I do, but that shouldn't affect
Your life anymore
I knew it the moment you walked into the door

So don't go worrying about me
It's not like I think about you constantly
So maybe I do, but that shouldn't affect
Your life anymore
I knew it the moment you walked into the door

I'll let you get the best of me
Because there's nothing else that I do well
I'll let you get the best of me
Because there's nothing else that I do well

I'll be the giver and you'll be the taker
I guess that's how this one's gonna go
I'll be the giver and you'll be the taker
You've got me down on my knees and I proclaim
All hail the heartbreaker

Enjoying

My workout sessions with Y. He’s really pushing me beyond my limit. I whine and complain, but in truth, I’m grateful to him and proud of myself. I love that he tells me that he sees so much potential in me. There’s definitely some flirting going on, but I really am trying to control my emotions. I even declined his offer to stretch out on Sunday. It’s too touchy feely. It’s just so hard, especially since I feel extremely comfortable around him. Last night after my cardio workout, we just hung out and talked for an hour. He was telling me he went to culinary school, but couldn’t handle the pressure. Said he would make me pasta with vodka sauce. I really enjoy his company and by the way our conversation just flowed from topic to topic, it seems like he really enjoys mine too. But I don’t know how to interpret it. In fact, I don’t think I should even try to interpret that as anything more than friend talk.

But you know what’s weird… not once has he mentioned his girlfriend to me. My friend K (his sister) mentions it all the time, which is why I’m beginning to think that she senses that I have feelings for him.

Anticipating

My trip to Aruba with C and J! I cannot cannot wait. From August 8 – 14, I will be in the middle of paradise.

Hoping

My Celtics win tonight! Game 3 against the LA Lakers. I hope that rapist Kobe Bryant gets fouled out of the game.

Craving

Ice cream. Cheese. White rice. Steak. Pork. Potatoes. Y’s nutrition plan is nuts, literally. All I can eat are nuts! But I’ve lost 5 lbs. in ten days, so it’s definitely paying off.

Working Out My Heart

noreply@blogger.com (michelle) — Thu, 05 Jun 2008 18:27:00 +0000

I am falling for my trainer. In any other situation, in any other life, this would be the source of a great romance, or at least the context of a hot, summer fling. But of course in my specific circumstance, this is far from good news.

A few weeks ago, after knowledge that my friend S had a trainer to bulk himself up, I decided it was time for me to get motivated. I resolved to lose 50 lbs. in a year, an ambitious task, especially for someone like me. Food, lately, has come to the center of my life. I plan my week, my day, by what’s going to be on my plate. I figured it was time for a change. The real spark was lit after my cousin C and I decided that we would vacation in the Caribbean this summer. The best thing you can bring to the Caribbean is a hot body, so I decided to get myself a trainer.

And just my luck, my friend’s brother worked at a gym in town and agreed to train me. Our first session was last Thursday. It’s only been a week; we’ve only met a total of four times; and I already feel as though my heart is inches from the ground. I am hanging on by a thread.

He is handsome, has muscles, kind, has muscles, intelligent, has muscles, funny… did I mention he has muscles? I’m only joking… I don’t just like him for his body. In fact, I think the main reason why my heart is taking an extra beat every time we’re together, is because he genuinely wants to help. Of course, he is my trainer and getting paid to help me lose weight, but the more time we spend together, the more he’s turning into a good friend.

I feel a real connection with him, as though we met previously in a past life, or had known each other forever. I’m not sure if it’s just his personality, but I feel so comfortable with him, even though I smell like sweat every when we're together.

I wonder if I feel this way because I allowed myself to be vulnerable around him. My weight, my body, is personal to me. It is a sensitive issue, and I usually keep my insecurities about it to myself. So he’s really the first person, the first guy that I’ve opened up to about how unhappy I am with my body. And I guess it just amazed me that he didn’t judge me at all, that he is supportive, and that he applauds that I’ve resolved to do something good for myself.

He sounds like the guy in every girl’s dreams. What? Someone who actually treats you like a person, regardless of the fact that you wear a size 2 or a size 12? You may be wondering, so what’s the problem? If he’s hot, why don’t I just go for it?

This is where the family curse comes into play. I believe the women in my family are cursed with falling for impossible men, unattainable men, the perfect man who is too good to be true.

Because I know it won’t work out, I’ve listed some reasons below to help me wean my heart away from his biceps:
1) He is my trainer. Hooking up with your trainer, while it may be hot, is entirely unprofessional. But it’s still hot.
2) His sister is a very good friend of mine. If it didn’t work out, I wouldn’t want to ruin our friendship.
3) He has a girlfriend. And from what I’ve heard and from what I know, he is not the type of guy who would cheat on his girlfriend. I wouldn’t be falling for that type of guy anyway.
4) He would never go for someone like me. I know I previously wrote that he didn’t judge me, but someone as hot as he is would never go for someone as fat as me. It would throw off the balance of the world.
5) I could be imagining our connection. I mean, I am paying him, so of course he has to be nice to me.
6) He is probably turned off by how lazy I am and the all unhealthy (albeit, five star quality) food that I eat.

Ok, I think I’m going to end the list there. It’s starting to depress me.

I'm conflicted. I don't know what to do. I don't want him to stop being my trainer, but then again, I don't want to end up getting hurt.

Bittersweet, minus the sweet part

noreply@blogger.com (michelle) — Sat, 24 May 2008 23:30:00 +0000

So I am officially old... 25 years old... a quarter of a century old... that's a fourth of 100 years. And if yesterday is going to represent the culmination of 25 years or of the future to come, I don't think life is going to be too great.

My friend A at work told me that I would remember this day forever. She told me that as I grew older, I would definitely look back at what I did for my 25th birthday. And since it would go down in history, I should be out celebrating... having a good time.

My ex-best friend F and I are still not on good terms, so dinner plans with friends were cancelled about two weeks ago when the whole drama with her started. I thought I would at least spend time with my family... have dinner with my parents and little brother. But ofcourse, that got ruined. My mom pissed me off, and so I celebrated my birthday locked up in my room downing six shots of tequila with some tortilla chips and chili con queso. What an excellent welcome to the silver club.

There was nothing bittersweet about it. It was just... bitter, in the worst imaginable way.

F did drop off a present though, something she and R made, a calendar of pictures of all our friends and some friendship quotes. I haven't decided yet if it's sincere or if it's meant to be a slap in the face. She didn't call me for two weeks after I had called her to try and resolve things. And honestly, I think it's pretty arrogant for her to assume that some sentimental gift is going to make everything ok. I called her today, to try and feel out if she wanted to talk... and it sounded like she just wanted to get rid of me. I'm a bit confused. Does she want to be my friend or not? Does that present even have any meaning or value, especially since she's been treating me like shit?

It's hard... I feel it already, thinking of having to go through life on my own. It scares me, but I guess, in the back of my head, I knew that things would always end up that way. It's just that the realization of it is weighing me down. I feel dead. At 25. Dead.

I think it's time for me to start talking to someone again. No one is there. I scroll through the numbers on my phone, and there's no one to call. No one to spend a Saturday with.

I do such a great job of pushing everyone away. This is my fate. It's time for me to embrace it.

Tuesday Tidings - 13MAY

noreply@blogger.com (michelle) — Tue, 13 May 2008 20:48:00 +0000

Worrying

I got into a little fight with my best friend F on Saturday, and things between us are still a little shaky. Granted, I was probably the first person who overreacted, but regardless of that, I don't think the response I got from her today was warranted.

So the story begins with some Facebook pictures and a USB drive. Earlier that week, she had asked me to load some pictures onto her USB drive, because the ones she downloaded from Facebook had crappy resolution. I said I would get to it by sometime that week. When Friday comes around, I told her I’d get it done by Saturday.

The following is a list of my activities on Saturday:
1) P.S. I love you
2) America’s Next Top Model – Cycle 10 – Episode 6
3) America’s Next Top Model – Cycle 10 – Episode 7
4) America’s Next Top Model – Cycle 10 – Episode 8
5) America’s Next Top Model – Cycle 10 – Episode 9

I had a choice between the items above, and a first date with K (see section “”). So as you can see, I had a pretty eventful day. Thank goodness for S, who called and asked if I wanted to do some shopping. I’m always up for shopping, so I told him I’d be ready around 6. I wanted to invite F to go with us, so I gave her a call, and literally at the moment the connection was made, I hear a whining/screaming voice on the other end interrogating me about the pictures on the USB drive.

I was kind of taken aback. I had no idea that the world was going to end if I did not load these pictures onto the USB drive. I had no idea it was linked to catastrophe. Had I known, I would have gotten it done ASAP. So I told her "You didn’t tell me that you needed this urgently. I thought I had some time to get it done."

And avoiding the answer, she said that I promised to get it done yesterday (Friday). So ofcourse I replied that I made no such promises, that my closest promise I made was that I would try to get it done by Saturday. And the digital clock on my phone confirmed that it was, still, Saturday.

Not in the mood for such drama, I told her I couldn’t talk and had to go. I immediately set out to load the pictures onto her USB drive. I was working quickly. The world was about to end. Halfway into the project (15 minutes) she barges into my room. I am now even more pissed off. Wasn't it clear that by haphazard goodbye on the phone meant that I did not want to talk to her, much less see her?

I guess I understand her behavior somewhat. A few days earlier she was telling me that she wanted us (her friends) to tell her directly if they had a problem with her. And I told her, that I already did that anyway, if it were serious. So I that by coming to my house, she was trying to be proactive in dealing with the problem. That only works if both parties are ready. I was still annoyed, emotional. I need my space and some time. Had she given that to me, I probably would have shrugged it off. But by coming to my house, uninvited, and forcing me to talk, she only exacerbated the situation.

I didn't even look at her face or respond to anything she was saying, which angered her. She stormed out of my house saying that she didn't need the pictures anymore and that she'd work with what she already had.

It all sounds pretty juvenile after the fact. And I do admit that I did overreact, however I also see that I was not the only one at fault here. So I gave her a call today.

I asked her if she could talk. She said yes. I asked her if she was sure, since I knew she was studying. She said yes, yes. So I told her three things:
1) I didn't appreciate that she didn't respect my space. She barged right into my room, expecting that I was ready or wanted to talk, when I wanted nothing of the sort.
2) She never made her expectations clear. I didn't appreciate getting scolded for something I didn't know was an important matter. Had I known, I would've done it right away.
3) Her tone of voice and her demeanor that day really hurt me. I called her to ask her to hang out, and before I even got a chance to ask, she was down my throat about the pictures. I was actually supposed to be out on a date, but she never even asked why I was home. It was inconsiderate and it led me to think she only cares about herself.

Silence followed. I was waiting for her response. I said, well that's all I have to say. More silence. I said ok. She said ok. And the call ended.

I don't know what kind of game she's playing. We've been friends for over 10 years and she's never given me the silent treatment. She could be doing this to show me how I treated her on Saturday, which is petty. Too petty. And besides, I made it clear on Saturday I was not ready to talk. During the call, I asked her if she was able to talk - I even gave her the opportunity to say yes or no. She said yes. And to be totally unresponsive is, just, cruel. I even apologized and told her that I was sorry for overreacting, and it was met with silence. That's like, giving someone your heart, and then watching them eat it.

I wonder how this will unfold. I'm definitely NOT in a birthday mood because of this mess.

Anticipating

The Rebecca Minkoff Sample Sale. Preview night for family and friends (yes me! 'cause I'm a fellow TPF-er) is tomorrow night. There's nothing like a good dose of retail therapy to bring you to a brighter mood.

Loving

How nice the weather has been lately. The sun's warmth on my skin always brings a smile to my face.

Turning Into

An NBA fan. Go Celtics!!

My cousin has made it her mission to turn me into a "boy" or at least to learn how to speak "boy." I've watched almost every playoff game since the second round started. I get mad at the refs for making bad calls. My toes are on edge every time a field goal attempt is made. I yell "Rebound" at the t.v. The words paint, lane, and screen have totally different meanings.

However unlike her, Thursdays will always be a night for Ugly Betty and Grey's Anatomy. 50/50!

Regretting

I was supposed to go out on a date on Saturday, but that didn't work out because I'm weird.

K made plans with me to finally meet up for lunch on Saturday. I said yeah sure, give me a call. So he gave me a call a week before, and I was out having dinner with friends at the time. It was too late for me to call him back so I waited until the next day. I think I just have this weird hesitation about making the first phone call, so I ended up texting him while watching the playoffs. That was Thursday night. Our text conversation ended with "Im checking in. Gotta get up early. We talk 2morrow?" I responded "Ok. Have a good night."

I assumed that meant he would call me the next day, but he didn't call. And I felt strange calling him and asking about plans for Saturday. If he really wanted to go out, wouldn't he have called? I guess the same argument could be made in his defense against me.

So now I'm kind of regretting my timidity. I probably would have met a great guy and made a good friend. I resolve from this point forward, to be more courageous. One is only timid if she does not know what she wants. I think I know. I know I know. :)

Tuesday Tidings - 6MAY

noreply@blogger.com (michelle) — Tue, 06 May 2008 20:26:00 +0000

Reminiscing

Last night, I was looking through my high school yearbook. I almost drowned from the wave of nostalgia. To a surfer, it would’ve been like riding a Maverick, or wiping out from one.

All the seniors were given a space to include a list of their high school activities and a little message. I wrote the following:

And I wonder …
If everything could ever feel this real forever
If anything could ever be this good again …

Bonus points to the person who knows the source of those words.

It was late afternoon. Late Spring. Early Summer. I forget. We were in his car, driving down the street away from my house. We must have been going out to play pool or eat pizza. It's all irrelevant really, those details. The moment was in the car. Heading west up the street, we reached a lull, a valley in the road. It was early twilight. In its extremity, I imagined only seeing gray pavement on the windshiled, as if we were running into a wall. But like all illusions, the scene broke, and we hit a stop sign.

He looked right, always a cautious driver, flashing a sweet and innocent smile. No teeth. I called it a secret grin. Controlled joy. Secret joy. A toothy grin would have taken away from the serenity of the moment. A toothless smile gave away just enough charm for the smile to be memorable.

So he smiled. And I smiled back and looked forward. And the wall of pavement was gone. I remember a soft wash of pink and light orange on the sky and wispy clouds, behind a sillhouette of trees and houses. The warm yet breezy afternoon air filled the car with this magical tension one only feels when the moment is visceral.

In front of us, the sun was setting slowly. And I heard the words "And I wonder, when I sing along with you / If everything could ever feel this real forever / If anything could ever be this good again …" syncing up with this short moment in time, with the car crossing the stop sign in the middle of our quiet suburb.

It was a moment so mundane, yet so beautiful and perfect that it was beyond magical. It's one of those pages you tear from a magazine to store as a keepsake for the sheer fact that you were left captivated.

I chose those words to be my message in the yearbook because of the moment I shared with A, the simple happiness of being friends with him that afternoon. That's what high school was. That's what it will always be. A captivating moment.

I think what I miss about high school the most is the simplicity and purity in our happiness, in our friendships, in our lives. I am able to say that right now, at this moment in time, I have happiness in my life, but that happiness will honestly never compare to what I had in high school. It was a different life then, a life I would truthfully, if give the chance, want to relive.

Don't others share this same yearning for the past, or a past that represented itself as utopian? But the truth of the matter is, my high school experience was far from utopian. So why do I yearn for that moment in time?

Perhaps it is because I have this fear that I will never find that kind of happiness in the future. I do feel as though I have left it behind, and it scares me to think that it will never find me again. Or do I have to be the one searching.

Wishing

J could come out and play. But her one year house arrest is a small sacrifice to pay in exchange for the rest of her life.

Learning

My superficial and materialistic tendencies have been quite visible lately, that I think my colleagues at work may have a negative impression of my impulsive spending. I'm slowly learning that "things" cannot buy me happiness, well, long term happiness at least, unless the "thing" is considered a "classic" and will last forever. What was my point? Oh yes, learning to be less materialistic.

Anticipating

Summer and all of its energy. I plan to take advantage of my weekends. Drive off into the sunset with my iPod on overnight trips. Get lost in the forests. Tan to a golden hue. I am going to love myself again this summer, enjoy my youth, scratch that, enjoy my life. Maybe while I'm finding myself, I may also find a summer romance. Only a beach bonfire will tell.

Obsessing

Dexter. I am prepared to subscribe to Showtime, in order to watch Season Three in the Fall. This show has totally skewed my understanding of good and evil, of murder, of vigilantiism, of the sublime. Dexter is a serial killer, redefined as a local superhero, as his victims are "bad" people, i.e. murderers themselves. A part of me would honestly be supportive of such a figure, if he did in fact exist in this world. I wonder if that makes me evil.

Lonely Sniper

noreply@blogger.com (michelle) — Tue, 29 Apr 2008 01:22:00 +0000

There are moments during the day when I feel utterly alone. And it's funny, that those moments happen when I'm surrounded by a swarm of people, friends, family. I'll be listening to someone telling their story, half listening, because the other half of me is in my own mind. I don't know what it is, if it's selfishness, pretentiousness.

Actually, I do know what it is: self-centeredness - that's what. When someone shares a story, I feel this need to tell mine. And it's not the writer in me, it's not that I want to be heard. There are moments for that, there are other times and other places to be heard... except that I want to be heard ALL the time. I interrupt. I butt in. I can't stop saying "I" to save my life!

That's really one thing I'm starting to discover about myself, as I'm growing into what I really am. And in truth, I am, this pretentious, overbearing, controlling, self-centered girl. And because I know that I am who I am, I also know that my loneliness is my own fault. I keep others at bay, in order that they don't see what's really under my skin, behind my eyes. But the more I treasure my solitude, the more I hunger for companionship.

Loneless can be deadly, not deadly in the sense of murder, but deadly like cancer - slow, strategic - a sniper behind the glass window, waiting to take its shot - only, we control the trigger.

I used to think I was a people person, that I loved being around others and having company. But I think I value my solitude much more. I relished the five days I had to myself last week, when my brother and parents were in Florida. I was having a party - with myself! I know it sounds all pathetic written down that way, but I honestly had a good time being on my own. I kept telling myself, I can do this, live my life on my own, without anyone around. I can make it.

Then day five came, and I felt lonely to the point of strangulation. Loneliness has a more suffocating effect than a crowded room of people wearing cheap perfume. Loneliess smells like nothing, looks like nothing, is nothing - but this pressure in your heart that closes in on you.

Why is it suffocating? When I'm in a crowded room, I feel empty. When I'm lonely, I feel crowded. Why can't my body, my mind, my heart adjust properly? Why is it about opposites and not about equilibrium? Is there even an answer? Am I ever going to just be content?

Sometimes, I feel like the suffocating effect of being alone is just your heart's way of saying that it's got lots of love to give and no one to give it to - so it triggers you to find a recipient. Trigger. So we do control the shots of our lonely sniper's hit.

I am grieving, for a lost self. I want to find this person I never knew but always knew. And I think I'd be content if I found that in myself. I always thought that someone else could complete me. A boyfriend, a husband, a lover, a friend. But I know now that I am the only one who can complete me. And this knowledge is giving my loneliness boundless freedom. It is free to roam. It enjoys solitude in my bedroom, watching the first two seasons of Dexter. It enjoys the feel of a 3000 page book in its hands. It enjoys a long drive with empty passenger seats, an iPod hooked up to Jake (i.e. my car).

Right now, loneliness is my friend. But I am afraid of that day, that fateful day when suffocation is going to be too much to bear.

The day I choke.

Tuesday Tidings - 22APR

noreply@blogger.com (michelle) — Tue, 22 Apr 2008 15:34:00 +0000

Enjoying
Dane Cook. Laughter truly is the best medicine. A smile, a giggle can heal a wound better than any band aid can. I even shrugged off the fact that a white Mazda or BMW slightly cuffed my right side mirror on the highway today. My friend was trying to divert my attention to the fact that a car just hit mine, but I didn't want to miss the punch line. No damage done to my baby Jake, thank goodness!

Worrying
About nothing at the moment. It's an oddly wonderful feeling, like water on the beach creeping up to your toes just enough to give you a smile on your face, before it recedes back into the ocean.

Craving
A Colombian empenada from Rico Pan Bakery in Queens, enough so that I might take a little drive over there on Saturday. I don't care what anyone else says. Our stomachs control our lives.

Missing
My family. My parents tailgated my brother on his High School Band trip to Disney, so I've had the house to myself since Friday. It's getting a bit too lonely for my tastes. I'm used to a lot of people around me, that the solitude gets quite depressing sometimes. That, and I've just had about enough of take out. I miss the home cooking.

Infatuated
With someone who's probably not good for me. Why do I always fall for the wrong ones? I think it's some kind of curse. There must have been something I did in the past to deserve such karma.

Pouncing Prey

noreply@blogger.com (michelle) — Mon, 21 Apr 2008 04:38:00 +0000

When I see your raw
flesh, I prepare my mouth,
for a meal:
lick my lips,
allow my tongue to stroke
the sharp point of teeth
as if sharpening a knife.

I hunger for
you, the way
a predator would
for prey.

My desire, base, driven
by lust and luster,
by hunger pangs in
the belly of a heart.

But all I do is salivate,
stay skeletal, as
you save the best cuts
for the highest bidder.

And I continue the hunger
for you, the way a predator
would for prey - only now
I am a scavenger.

I cannot pounce.

the progression of D

noreply@blogger.com (michelle) — Tue, 15 Apr 2008 21:16:00 +0000

is dead. 'nuff said.

Well, perhaps I should elaborate. Below, I have listed the main reasons as to why I have lost my love and respect for D. He is nothing but dirt between my toes. You all know how much you hate that dirt and wish it to be gone.

Reason #1 - He only contacts me if he needs something, like a photo shoot or a question answered about J.

Reason #2 - He's rude. When he does contact me (please refer to #1), he doesn't even have the proper etiquette to start the conversation with a socially acceptable greeting as in "Hey, how are you?" or "Hey, how are you been?" He's in and out. And while we all sometimes appreciate brevity, we also appreciate good manners, the latter of which he has not been graced.

Reason #3 - I have reason to believe that he may be a male slut. Eww.

Reason #4 - He's in love with J. She'll disagree 'coz she's all innocent like that. But there's just a scent of the past that you can still smell in his eyes.

Reason #5 - I also have reason to believe he doesn't have much respect for women and likes to play games. Double Eww.

Tuesday Tidings - 15APR

noreply@blogger.com (michelle) — Tue, 15 Apr 2008 21:08:00 +0000

Reading

Beowulf. I'm already behind schedule for my GRE prep reading. It's time to play catch up tonight!

Anticipating

A weekend of solitude. My brother is going down to Florida with the BHS Band to perform at Disney, and my parents have decided to tailgate. So I have the house all to myself for about five days! I've been looking forward to this breathing room since January and can't believe it's only a few days away. First thing on the agenda? - Rock Band party!

Eating

A banana and this amazing Peach Papaya Mango juice.

Wishing

It was a little easier.

Longing For

Some peace.

the grave i dig

noreply@blogger.com (michelle) — Tue, 15 Apr 2008 15:49:00 +0000

My cousin J is finally back from the Philippines, and I couldn't be happier! There was such a void in my life when she was gone. I would see her every week and drive her to her dialysis treatment in the hospital. The first few months she was away, I started to miss taking that 30 minute drive, stopping by McD's on the way back so she could binge on fries, nuggets, and a McChicken.

I guess I was naive in thinking that after the surgery, everything was going to be perfect from that point forward. But in truth, she has to be more careful than ever now, in order that her body does not reject the kidney. She's got so many restrictions placed on her, down to who she sees and what she eats. We don't value the freedom that a healthy body gives us. We're all free to come and go as we please, eat whatever we want, and do whatever we want to do. I really admire her sometimes, the way she can put on a smile amidst all of what she's gone through. Because honestly, if it were me, it would be much darker.

Right now, I feel this strange pressure from her brother to help him land a job. I want to help him out... he's family - of course I want him to be successful. I've already submitted his resume and a referral form to our Recruiters, but I think he believes that it's a closed deal. I'm torn between feeling annoyed that he expects it will just come to him and feeling guilty for being annoyed at him. I would love to be able to just go up to one of the managers here and ask them to hire him, but I don't have that kind of relationship with those people... and the hiring process here is so rigorous that it's not something I can guarantee. I feel like I've already done what I can, and now it's really up to him to search for a position. And now I feel like his family is also expecting me to follow through... and I feel guilty for not being able to do more, but it's really out of my hands.

It just bothers me because I can't really verbalize these feelings to anyone. I've never really had this kind of problem with my family before, and I don't know how to deal with it. I don't know if he has said anything to his parents, but I'm feeling the strangest vibe from them, as if I'm not welcome in their home. I got that sense all weekend and I tried to rationalize, thinking that maybe I was just being too sensitive. But I felt like all the questions being asked were going back to my job, and henceforth, how I could get my cousin a job.

And all this is starting to spiral downwards, spinning in my head. A few days ago, I came to the realization that I don't think my parents are proud of me. For years, I've tried to forgive the fact that my father didn't even come to my high school reunion. He did come to see megraduate from college, but I'll never forget that he didn't attend the BHS ceremony. That action, that negligence hurt me to the core. His excuse was that he had work. But a daughter only graduates from high school once. I thought I had forgiven him, but I guess all I really did was bury it - which isn't the same thing. I don't know how to forgive anyone. The only thing I really know what to do with pain is to bury it, dig deep and hide it, and hope that it doesn't surface. Hope that it gets buried deeper and deeper as I shovel more dirt over it.

I've always been the kind of person who holds on to the past... but now, I see the past as nothing but a corpse, asking me to revisit painful memories.

I've deluded myself into believing that my parents were proud of me graduating, proud of me getting a job. But honestly, they've never demonstrated it verbally to me. I know that most Asian parents have difficulty verbalizing "emotions" and "feelings," but I'm not asking for anything sappy. Even the smallest acknowledgement would move me to tears at this point.

We tell ourselves all the time, mostly in relationships with friends and lovers, that we will not settle for anything but the best. But for family, it's so different. I don't know what it is about a blood bond, what it is that ties individuals together by name, but we settle for the smallest inkling of love from a family member. Most people don't have to settle for that, they get unconditional love and care, but the people who aren't as lucky, settle. And honestly, I would be happy with whatever I can get.

Even when I told my parents that I had started studying for my GRE English Lit exam, I felt like I was talking right through them. I am, after all, still their child. I want and need acknowledgement, praise, and love that only a parent, that only family blood can give. And it hurts me to think that I have to work so hard for it, when it is something that should be given freely by a mother and father.

In a few days, I'll bury this.

Dandelion Hair

noreply@blogger.com (michelle) — Thu, 13 Mar 2008 21:14:00 +0000

My former co-worker is dying. She talks of loneliness, and I grieve with her. Sometimes, I see myself in her. Imagine myself as that woman in that bed with the wig and the pale face and sagging skin and bedsores all over my body. Childless. Loveless. The fact that she has no children speaks to me, especially because of the whole PCOS thing. I wonder if my condition is punishment for a wish I made at a time in my life when I didn't really believe that wishes could be granted.

This is the first time death is actually facing me, breathing near me. In the past, I’ve toyed with death through suicide attempts, by playing a joke to friends and family, by being reckless and careless. Death was an abstract thing, intangible. But this time, death is an actual thing, real, in a form that I can touch and speak with, and it scares me. It scares me because I see that it is full of despair and regret and this feeling of panic, a mad rush to dig oneself out of the wrongs and misgivings of one’s life, or one’s lost life. Dig dig dig. Call this friend to make amends. Call that one to forgive. Dig dig dig through the address books and the photos and the past and the now. And all it is… is a mad rush to dig oneself out of a grave only to be dug back in, 6 feet deep.

I don't think I've ever fully grasped the idea of death. It always happened far away... to someone else. I mean, this is happening to someone else - but in closer proximity than any other encounter with death.

A group of us went to visit her a few weeks ago and she was filled with joy. The simple reminder that we had her in our thoughts, that we made time to visit her lifted her spirits. The day after that, she went into cardiac arrest and was resuscitated. She did not sign a DNR form. It's strange, how Death breathes. Just the day before, she was full of life, talking to us, gossipping about the good nurses and the bad nurses, about the handsome priest from the church across the street who came to visit every day, about how the ensure gave her gas, which is why there was a stack of them beside her bad, unopened, untouched. She told us she didn't like that nursing home by work because of the old ladies who worked the reception desk... the three dandelion haired ladies, she said specifically. I'm keeping that image forever... dandelion hair.

I expected that after that visit, she would make some kind of miraculous recovery. She would beat it and be back to work, wig and all. But her health took a different turn, and now she's in a hospice. And everyone knows what it means to be in a hospice, so I honestly, just don't understand why and how health can take such a turn.

I'm forced to think about my own life and my choices at this age. She never said this directly, but I hear it in her voice, that her only regret is that she did not start a family of her own, that she was not a wife or a mother. She worked all her life, passionate about her career. She used to come in to the office pale faced from the chemo or this treatment or that treatment, and I always used to say to myself, now that is someone who is committed. You almost feel guilty calling out sick for a little cold.

It seems as though that one's fear of death is more linked to the past, than to the future... if that makes sense. When death faces us, we look back and think of "what could have been" and not "what still can be done." On my deathbed, I think I'd rather say the latter. It is a less tragic end.

I guess all this just shook me. The time really is now. I don't want to be 60 and wonder if I could have gotten my Ph.D. If I could have written that novel. I want to say, I can still write another.

MEGU

noreply@blogger.com (michelle) — Wed, 20 Feb 2008 19:02:00 +0000

On Saturday night (prior to meeting Mr. Jizz), F, H, and I ventured out into the city to dine like princesses, ok more like celebrities, at a modern Japanese restaurant, MEGU, in Manhattan's lower west side.

This is a chronicle of our dining experience. Please note that this post is not for the faint of heart, or should I say faint of stomach. Your mouth should prepare to water.

Umami Prefix Course

1st course - Wild Madia Salad

red snapper, grated carrots and radish, bean sprouts, peanuts, pine nuts, a walnut, and dressing mixture of sesame seed oil and soy sauce

2nd course - Omakase Sashimi

two pieces each (l-r)of hamachi (yellowtail), akami (tuna), and sake (salmon)

3rd course - MEGU Signature Dish Samplers

(l-r) four herbs crusted premium chicken with a sprig of rosemary, sauteed mushroom medley, fois gras in crispy kobe beef croquettes, and baked spicy unagi (eel) with avocado

4th course - Main Entree - Kagero Kobe Beef Steak

slices of kobe beef with slivers of fried garlic, served on a stone grill then flambéed. steak can then be left on stone grill to be cooked to your personal liking

5th course - 5 Pieces of Traditional Nigiri Sushi

(l-r) sake toro (fatty salmon), madia (red snapper), shiro mahuro tataki (seared white tuna) with a sliver of jalapeno, akami (tuna), hamachi (yellowtail) and served with miso soup

6th course - Dessert - Green Tea Crepes

twenty layers of green tea crepes

drinks:
Bellini - champagne and peach puree
Blessing - pomegranate juice, strawberry syrup, and vodka

All the dishes served were meticulously delicious. Every single detail, every texture, flavor was just right. I can not recall any other meal that will compare to this experience, nor can I recall ever paying that much for dinner. I would say the highlight of the meal was the sashimi. The seafood was so fresh, I felt like I could still taste the saltwater. The Kobe beef was also divine. Meat was very tender, and because it's served on a stone grill, you don't have to worry about the chef getting it to medium rare, medium well, or well done. You have full control over it. The waiters and servers were helpful. They explained the dishes and were not pretentious about it, explaining to us as if we were connoisseurs of Japenese cuisine. I would definitely go back, perhaps not order the tasting menu. Their lunch prix fix meals are somewhat more affordable, but on your first trip, I suggest going all out for the dinner.

The only down side was the acoustics. It was a little loud and we had to lean over the table to hear/speak to one another. It's probably because of where we were seated. On my next trip, I would definitely request a booth table along the wall, providing a much more intimate setting.

No other sushi place will ever be the same for me, until ofcourse I venture to MASA after getting my tax refund. That won't just be a dining experience, it will be a vacation! -=o)

I think a food blogger has been born.

Sexy Back and Sexual Assault

noreply@blogger.com (michelle) — Sun, 17 Feb 2008 09:23:00 +0000

Isn't it funny when even though you know you did nothing wrong, you still feel as though you're at fault? Since this happened last night, I feel so helpless and violated. I don't understand what I've done to deserve this karma.

I can't help but question my actions from last night:
Was I being overtly sexual?
Was my outfit too revealing?
Did I give off some kind of signal that doing that was ok?
What's wrong with me?
Why did I let that happen?

For hours, I've gone back and forth about how I should feel and interpret last night's events. A part of me thinks that it was pretty comical... like something that would happen in a Ben Stiller movie. But another part of me thinks it's pretty sad. Tears are starting to drip slowly down my face as I write this, because I feel like I deserved being treated this way somehow since I did place myself in that situation.

Last night, two of my girlfriends and I went out to Webster Hall to dance and work off all the food we just downed after dining at Megu. We're not really club-goers, so I guess we didn't exactly know what we were in for. This was actually only my third time at an NYC club.

We got to the club and started milling around for about half an hour or so. We picked a pretty entertaining night to come: singles were being auctioned off, so we were eager to hear the drag queen's comments as she sold off men and women like antique furtniture. We weren't really there to try and meet someone, but to just dance and end the night energized and hyped up.

As we circled the dance floor, basically poking fun at others, I noticed that this really hot hot hot guy was checking me out. I'm kind of a shy person and don't respond so gracefully to attention, so I just pretended I didn't notice. In fact, I rationalized that maybe he was checking someone else out. I think I'm pretty decent, but he looked way too hot to be interested in me. So I simply didn't entertain the idea that he might be feeling me and continued to dance with my friends.

We probably went back and forth to the different rooms at Webster about five times, and each time, this guy with his piercing deep eyes, was in the same room. Finally, my friends noticed his presence, and told me that he was obviously checking me out. Ofcourse I got excited over the attention of a hot male. I broke up with H two years ago and haven't really dated anyone ever since. Seeing that someone was interested in me made me let go of a lot of my inhibitions. After doing a little dance of our eyes meeting one another's and me blushing and looking away, and him saying "hey" and "damn baby you're too much" - or something like that to me in passing, he finally came over and stood right behind me.

At the time no dancing was going on. Singles were being auctioned off and we were enjoying the profanities exiting from the drag queen's heavily lipstick lined mouth. When the music started up again (Britney's Gimme Gimme), the guy finally found the nerve to dance with me. After a few minutes, he got closer and closer and closer. Five or six songs in, we were bumping and grinding, my back facing him. My friends told me that the two of us started looking hot and heavy. I was really feeling good with him, having fun, and just moving with him and the music. At times, it felt like it was just the two of us dancing. He had his arms wrapped around me at some point, and he didn't resist when I took his hands off my body and held hands with him as we danced. I've never really danced like that with anyone, but I instantly felt comfortable with him. It wasn't alcohol speaking. I only had a Bellini during dinner. It could possibly be because I was feasting on the attention that I haven't had in two years. Regardless, I thought, ok, this may be a real connection.

So Sexy Back by Justin started playing and we were both still into it when all of a sudden he just stops and says "Oh shit" and runs away, retreating back into the darkness of the nighclub crowd. My emotions suddenly took a sharp turn. I was feeling good one moment and totally and utterly rejected the next. Why did he leave like that? What happened? Did I do something wrong?

Instead of stressing about it, I go back and dance with my friends. Another guy tries to dance with me and at this point, I'm super bummed so I ignore the guys that are trying to meet my gaze or dance with me. My friends and I dance a few more songs and decide to switch venues and check out what music is playing in the other rooms. On our way to the another room, I fix my dress and notice that something is sticky on it, right around my butt.

My mind races. Did I just have my period? Is that why he ran away? I automatically assume that it's something that I did. I run to the bathroom. And ofcourse, it's not my period. I try and rationalize, hoping that maybe, just maybe, someone spilled their drink on me. That, I can deal with. So my awesome and loyal friend does something only a true friend would do. She smells it. Yes, she smells my butt basically and deduces that the sticky substance is, in fact, what we only could imagine to be the worst possible thing.

I guess while we were bumping and grinding and getting all hot and heavy, he got a little too excited and came right behind me., right on my dress. And I was clueless and totally unaware that all this action was occuring with me, yet without me. I finally understood why he said "Oh shit" and disappeared faster than a magician's bunny.

Part of me is laughing at the whole situation. Part of me is embarassed, violated, and ashamed.

I think, had he apologized, I wouldn't be feeling so bad about myself. I understand that accidents can happen. Maybe he really couldn't control it. Maybe he had no idea himself until after the fact. But a good, decent guy would at least apologize. He wouldn't leave me totally unaware that he left me a little present on my behind.

A decent guy would say "Oh damn. I am so sorry. I honestly, truly couldn't help it. You are so hot. We were getting too hot. And I'm so embarassed coz I'm really feeling you and definitely didn't want to leave with this impression. I'll pay for dry cleaning, get you a new dress (which was brand new! first time I wore it). I am so so so mortifyingly sorry."

Now that is an apology. But ofcourse, he just ran away.

I guess most of what I'm feeling is just disappointment and anger with myself now. I really know how to pick 'em huh. Did I emit some kind of sexual energy that made him think it was ok for him to do that? Is this something that happens often at nightclubs?

I did a little google search and only found one similar instance. The difference is that in my situation, I consented to the dancing. In this situation, it's unclear as to whether or not she consented to the dancing or not. But it's labeled sexual assault. And the guy went to jail.

I spoke with a guy friend of mine, who ofcourse, after laughing about it and trying to get me to laugh about it, confirmed that men do have control over this. He said, the loser probably didn't have any action in a long time if he lost control just like that. But somehow I don't buy it. The dude was hot. Smoking. He had amazing eyes, looked good, dressed well, sounded normal. We didn't do that much talking ofcourse, but I absolutely believe in positive energy. And I trusted myself and believed that he emitted some positive vibes.

I don't really know what kind of lesson I learned from this. My best friend, who is Muslim, ofcourse would want to to conclude that I shouldn't go to nightclubs anymore. But honestly, what is wrong with going out to have a good time dancing? And I don't want this experience to be emblematic of my life as woman in her 20's. So ofcourse I'd return to a club, but I probably won't be as quick to start dancing with a guy, even if I'm into him.

I guess the only thing I can take away from this experience is a little humility. It is a pretty classic story to tell, like the "one night at band camp" line except I would say "one night, at Webster Hall..."

And it's also sort of an ego boost. After all, I'm hot enough to get a guy all excited to the point where he just lost control, and all we did was dance.

Across the Pond

noreply@blogger.com (michelle) — Sun, 11 Nov 2007 19:06:00 +0000

7 Favorite London Moments

7. The Tate Modern. It's a statement in itself. I especially will never forget getting that little tap on the shoulder after taking a photograph of a piece of artwork.
6. Pro Bumble and Bumble Salon haircut at Virgin Atlantic's Heathrow Clubhouse. And it was complimentary! I don’t think I’ll ever go back to flying coach.
5. Getting mistaken for a local while taking a late afternoon walk in Hyde Park.

“Excuse me… do you know where the nearest tube station is?”
me - blank stare followed by a slight slight smile
In my heavy American accent, “Sorry, I’m not from here.”
them - disgruntled look

4. The alcohol - Sipping champagne in my comfy Virgin Atlantic upper class seat. I never felt more relaxed before take-off. Getting tipsy on white wine at Albannach on my last night. London turned me into a huge wine lover. *I can't complain about most of the food either. The filet mignon at The Savoy was delicious. Who knew medium rare tasted that amazing!
3. Shaking hands with our U.S. and International Chairman. In fact meeting all the leaders and seeing our new partners wild out on the dance floor demanding an encore from the band was pretty awesome.
2. Watching the sun set behind the Tower of London and Palace of Westminster, while riding the London Eye. Absolutely breathtaking.
1. Developing some ultra cool independence and confidence. After having some solo meals, I learned that it is important to enjoy your own company, that I can have fun with… “me! And just me!”. In fact, I felt kind of sexy at times; sipping wine, eating my meal, writing in my little black Moleskin, and finishing up that crossword puzzle (ok nix the crossword puzzle – that’s not so sexy). I redefined my solo meal, transforming my identity and pretended to be a food critic, sampling the cuisine, or as a secret agent, trying to pass off my journal scribbling as documenting some top-secret notes. *An extra bonus – Scoping out and flirting with the hot waiters, especially at Carluccio’s!

And of course, there were some sour grapes along the way.

6 Not So Favorite London Moments

6. Asking strangers to take my picture for me at London landmarks. I wish I took a friend with me! A friend whose camera skills I trust. Some people off the street just don’t understand the idea of composition!
5. Burning out my two hair straighteners. I could not achieve perfection for two whole days, but my free haircut at the Virgin Lounge totally made up for it.
4. Eating my money. In the U.S., a nice dinner at a decent restaurant is $30. In London, a nice dinner at a decent restaurant is £30. £30 = $60. My paycheck is still swimming in my stomach, next to all the wine I gulped down. Although, the duck wrap with hoisin sauce was totally worth the money.
3. Feeling a little left out from the rest of the group. Most of the people there already knew one another as they are part of the same department and see each other at most international meetings. I was a newbie. I was an outsider. And only five people (you know who you are because you rock!) made an attempt in trying to make me feel welcome. Case and point? End of meeting secret party at _’s hotel suite. I was sitting RIGHT NEXT to two people who were talking about it and they failed to throw out an invite. As Jay Z would say:

You gotta take that dirt off your shoulder.

2. The awkwardness of eating dinner by myself. Having lunch solo was not too bad, but having dinner solo was an absolute horrible experience. The atmosphere is so different at night, because you’re surrounded by couples and groups of friends. It was just awkward sitting at a table, staring into the empty seat next to me. But I turned the tables around (please see #1 above).
1. Dragging my three pieces of luggage up 8 sets (4 floors) of stairs! After staying in the luxurious Marriott Park Lane, I moved to a hotel within my budget since I stayed a few extra days after the business meeting was over. Saying that I dearly missed my £200 Marriott hotel room is a pure understatement. No lift, no bellboy, no fun... especially the day I was in heels!

burn that fat

noreply@blogger.com (michelle) — Wed, 12 Sep 2007 03:28:00 +0000

I've decided that I'm going on a diet. My goal is to lose 10 pounds by the end of the year. I think that's a resonable goal for a 3 month period.

It's funny how easily we fall subject to old demons. I thought I was past self hatred and self loathing, but the other day, as I was changing my outfit to work, I noticed how much weight I gained since high school, and it honestly repulsed me.

Well, it's time to get rid of the extra demon pounds! With the help of myalli pills, exercise, and a lowfat/lowcal diet, I'm going to shed the pounds.

What I'm going to miss about the non diet life:
eating whatever I want, whenever I want
being a couch potato
food

What I won't miss:
fluctuating weight
not being able to fit into my favorite pair of jeans
feeling insecure about how i look

I think giving up the extra cookie for my health will eventually be worth it. I don't think I'll be a believer of such reasoning anytime soon, but I'll work on it. In the meantime, part of a healthy diet is getting enough rest. So goodnight.

Post Potter Depression

noreply@blogger.com (michelle) — Sat, 08 Sep 2007 13:00:00 +0000

I'm seriously suffering from Post-Potter Depression. I read all seven books within a four-week span, and I think that was a total Harry Potter overload. When I finished The Half Blood Prince, I could not stop crying. I called Caresse and left a distraught message on her voicemail, half choking from tears. I dragged myself downstairs to tell my little brother that the beloved Dumbledore died (DIED!), while still gasping for breath within sobs. I nearly gave my father a heart attack when he saw my face drenched in tears.

It was a very good cry. Dumbledore is one of those characters who is filled with so much goodness in his heart that sometimes he's a step above from being human. Every time he speaks to Harry, I prepare myself for another philosophy lesson. I think he's the mentor I've always wanted to meet, the professor you thought you would befriend in college, offering you knowledge, energy, inspiration.

How did all the other Harry Potter fans continue with their lives while they were left hanging for one to two years while Rowling was writing the next book in the series? I immediately started book after book after book, not taking any time to breathe, hungry to see what happened next, hungry to live Harry's life.

This collection really unnerved me, in a positive way. It really is more than just a children's book, more than just a fantastic tale. The arguments waged by religious fanatics that Rowling's writing is anti-christianic absolutely has no bearing or weight because after reading the first few chapters, the story is not about magic. It is about love, courage, loyalty, confidence, wisdom, choice, change, second chances, bravery, friendship, respect, honor, compassion, fear... and how to overcome it, death and loss, life. There were moments in Deathly Hallows that brought my mind to stillness, that made me question my own abilities, my own limits, that brought my own life into perspective. In the kind of situation where my life, my family's life, my friends'... neighbors' lives are at stake, will I have the courage to face fear, to face death, to sacrifice what I need to? I wondered if I would find the courage to fight? Will I be prepared for it, or will I be one of the ones unwillingly thrown into it?

Dumbledore reminded Harry that there is a clear and distinct line between people who are thrust into the face of battle and those who walk into battle prepared. I want to be prepared. That is not to say that I am looking for trouble, but rather it means that I... we need to understand the socio-political context of our world. That any day, any moment, something could happen that can burst the bubble of our consumer driven lives. And when that day happens, I not only want to have the skills and knowledge to rally against evil, but also would like to be able to say that I worked and did my best to prevent the world from shattering and falling into the hands of those who abuse power.

We are very close to that place. America, the land of the free, is really the land of the ignorant. We are so blinded by our self righteousness that we fail to notice that our system is far from democratic, that the people's voice is lost, shrouded by pop culture society. Our generation does not see the Voldemort who is currently sitting in the highest office, his Death Eaters doing his bidding, not only in the U.S. but overseas. It is a troubling analogy, but it is the truth. Americans would rather stay blind to this, as if Confunded! than believe that our system, that our nation-state is on the brink of collapse.

These books have sparked the Revolutionary in me, the semi-Socialist, the Activist!

I began to think about where I can really make a difference in this world? Holding on the spine of Rowling's novel, I wondered where my talents would be most effective. And ofcourse, the answer was right in my very own hands. I belong in books. I belong in my writing, as does my writing belongs in me. MFA programs are starting to look quite good.

Pour me a drink

noreply@blogger.com (michelle) — Fri, 07 Sep 2007 04:03:00 +0000

Work has taken hold of me these last few months, that I have barely made any time to sit and think and write down a single word. I wonder if this is one of the ways which we lose love in our lives. I wonder if we lose love after we get caught up in something else, after we get caught up in the regularities and monotony of life.

I like to think that the mundane moments of life can be quite beautiful, engaging, and at odd times, even spectacular. I am sometimes moved by a pitcher's pouring of liquid into a glass, the simplicity of the action, the fall, the cascade, the splash, liquid's few moments of freedom in the transition from pitcher to glass, then the trap, encasement, as liquid forms into the shape of its container. This is what we are, constantly being passed off as one drink or the other, from pitcher to glass, from lip to lip, ravenous for the freedom of transition, that in between that suspends us in the air, in the moment. I'm laughing at myself as I write this. It is just like me, so characteristic of me, to find/create some deep meaning out of something so mundane and simple and ordinary as pouring oneself a glass of water. But lately, mostly because of my recent obsession with Harry Potter, I have allowed myself and my imagination to run free. And I fear it as much as I relish its vastness.

This image of liquid falling from pitcher to glass is really just about beginning and end, that the beginning is an end as much as an end is a beginning. Life really occurs in the area flanked by these two borders of life and death. I feel as though we only really have these few short moments "to live" and I look back at my life and am angry at the time I've wasted. I could have done, been doing, so much more. There were so many wasted opportunities that I failed to recognize and failed to seize, all because of inhibition, of fear, and angst.

I realize now that all of that is going to be a constant in my life. Courage, boldness, gumption... these things will not be constant factors unless we seize them ourselves.

I'm ready. I'm finally free of H. I'm over this whole D nonsense which was more trouble than it's worth. I've moved on, realized that I love who I am and don't need to prove to anyone how simply amazing I can sometimes be. I'm going to be bold and see where life takes me.

First journey is this whole ordeal with a cute Sushi chef at East. He makes my heart melt, the way he makes Salmon sushi with three beautiful strokes. A master of technique. And so, so incredibly humble. I love that.

I think I'm just looking for some innocence in my life, which H and D really failed to provide. I want something genuine, and quiet, and just soft. And circumstances dictate that this fling may end in a few weeks, but at least I lived in the moment. I won't have to look back and regret that I didn't act, didn't seize the moment. He really has the sweetest smile in the world.

pucker up

noreply@blogger.com (michelle) — Tue, 10 Jul 2007 00:30:00 +0000

I've decided... or have come to realize that life is short. I need to live in the moment and stop worrying so much about tomorrow. I've decided that life's not going to wait for me... that sometimes, I have to stop being so afraid of what's going to happen next, otherwise I won'teven be able to enjoy what's happening now.

And because of this newfound fervor... I've decided that I am going to kiss him. Even if I know it's a stupid choice, because I really just can't live with the fact that I didn't try to see if something was there.

Even if I am semi-in-love with him right now, I know I can bounce back from this. I'm resilient.

And I'm going into this with the understanding that I'll accept whatever happens.

If it turns out that he's actually semi-in-love with me too, then yipee! If not, then oh well. That's life (that's life). That's what all the people say. You're ridin high in April... then shot down in May.

Yeah, you like that Sinatra there, don't you?

Rawr

noreply@blogger.com (michelle) — Thu, 05 Jul 2007 00:28:00 +0000

I'm fooling everyone.

The stint was nice and long, but I feel it. I feel the change coming, that first crack in the glass. The one you can't see, but can feel only with your fingertip. You have to be careful not to get hurt.

What am I talking about? Fear. This fear of life crumbling and falling apart. I was telling D this a few weeks ago. I was telling him that I carry the habit of ruining good things, because at least I'd know I was in control of the situation. I ruin it before it gets bad, even if it's not going to get bad at all. What's "it?" Friendships, interests, talents, love... life.

I've been coasting since graduation. I'm comfortable. Too comfortable. I feel it coming to an end. This is the kind of fear that destroys people, relationships. Maybe I'm just finding solace in my insecurity right now. Maybe it's healthy that I'm second guessing the stability in my life. Maybe it won't pour, even if there are rainclouds in the sky.

The trip to Ghana jolted me back into reality. Before I went, I had a routine going. Worked during the week, read books or wrote in the evenings, had weekly Grey's Anatomy nights with the girls, spent time with family and friends on the weekend - and then the week would start over. I was becoming this normal person. I was happy with the simplicity of my life. I looked forward to my morning drive. Breakfast with coworkers. Lunch out at the pond. Thursday barbeques. Life was good. Life was great. And that was/is the problem.

I have always been a firm believer that when things can't get any better, they get worse. And I think I'm coming close to that line. I feel the breath of sabotage on my neck, and it's making the hairs on my forearm stand on end.

Maybe I really do have masochist in me. Truthfully though, it's not that I like being unhappy. It's just that I've been unhappy for so long that happiness is not a comfortable place for me. I've been unhappy for so long, that when I do taste happiness, I enjoy it so much that I fear it will be taken away from me. And I force myself to believe that I am being noble by giving up my smile.

I am just lost. I'm fooling everyone. I act all secure and sure of myself, when really, I have no idea what I want out of life right now. When everyone asks why I went to Ghana, I tell them it's because I wanted to teach. And the next logical question coming from these inquisitors was "So are you a teacher?" And I proceed to tell them I'm an Associate for an audit firm. And they answer me with quizzical faces.

I know exactly what's going through their minds, because it's the same thing that's going through mine. If you love teaching, then why aren't you a teacher?

And my answer to that is insanely pathetic. I'm afraid of failing. I'm the cowardly lion. You won't hear me roar.

The dust is settling, but nothing is clear

noreply@blogger.com (michelle) — Sun, 13 May 2007 12:56:00 +0000

Carrying Sand

I pick up particles, so small, they fit
between fingerprint ridges.

Particle thoughts slip, sharp.
A bare leg through a slit skirt,
a knife through ripe fruit.

My mind is like the movement of sand on
dune or beach, slow and sudden, shaken
by wind and water. At the end of the day
altered, but ancient, as if its shape
had been that way since the neolithic.

We dig through thoughts as archaeologists,
dusting bones and fragments, remains -
not realizing that truth is found
in swept dust.

mad mad world

noreply@blogger.com (michelle) — Fri, 11 May 2007 05:36:00 +0000

I think my world is falling apart and I don't know what to do.

It's funny when you do so much for other people, and those people just care about themselves. I think I'm just looking for a little support. I think I'm looking for some follow through. For a friend to be there when (s)he says (s)he's going to be there. Yeah it's really about the follow through. It's about making plans and keeping them. Not about who and what and when and where.

But it's cool. I don't need to be your pro-bono charity case. Seriously.

and I find it kind of funny
find it kind of sad
dreams in which I'm dying
are the best I've ever had
find it hard to tell you
find it hard to take
when people run in circles
it's a very very
mad world

mad world - by gary jules

clear liquor and cloudy eyed

noreply@blogger.com (michelle) — Sat, 05 May 2007 04:40:00 +0000

I can't express myself through concrete prose right now. I am in love. It is an evil thing. I forgot that love is a solitary act. The below is what I'm feeling right now, expressed in verse.

The bloom

My heart constricts in its daffodil bloom
weakening my fingers to thin petal edges.
Excretes paralysis and simulates a smile
to wash away the bruise of whipped words.

*
I'm a little out of practice. Inspired by Dashboard Confessional's "Stolen", my feelings for D, and loosely based on my daffodil plant that died before it lived. Its death was strange. Half of the plant was in full bloom, half with buds. I overwatered it, but when it wilted, it appeared dry, barren. I remember, a few days before the daffodils died, I was hopeful that maybe the buds would blossom. The flowers that were already in full bloom were brittle in death, but the buds looked alive, soft, supple, like swollen fingertips. The sepals protecting the bud were a translucent green, had a pattern of crisp vertical lines, like fingerprints. So translucent that I could see small pebbles of water inside the sepal wall itself, like eggs attached to an ovarian lining. I guess when we fall in love, our hearts bloom the same way, half filled with joy and pain, live and die similar deaths.