New Year's Eve, '07

My attempts at Cathedral Windows have yielded a disastrous pink gloop, inspiring Farah's First Law of Holiday Cooking: No recipe shall be prepared for a social occasion without having been tested prior to the day itself.

I'm running on just four hours of sleep. I'm tired and frazzled and not entirely here. My neural connections are misfiring. I said "dived" to a coworker who just might be becoming a friend, one who I would have liked to have think of me as intelligent and articulate and all that jazz but today I blurted that "I dived into the deep end of the pool..." and didn't even realize there was anything wrong with that. Blearrgghhh.

I'm taking a nap.

Real World

Matchbox Twenty
Yourself or Someone Like You

Well I wonder what it's like to be the rainmaker
I wonder what it's like to know that I made the rain
I'd store it in boxes with little yellow tags on everyone
And you can come and see them when I'm...done, when I'm done

I wonder what its like to be a super hero
I wonder where Id go if I could fly around downtown, yeah
From some other planet, I get this funky high on yellow sun
Boy I bet my friends will all be stunned, they re stunned, (yeah, yeah)

Chorus:
Straight up, what did you hope to learn about here
If I were someone else, would this all fall apart
Strange, where were you, when we started this gig,
I wish the real world, would just stop hassling me

And you
And you
And me

I wonder what it's like to be the head honcho
I wonder what I'd do if they all did just what I said
Well I'd shout out an order, I think were out of this man get me some
Boy don't make me wanna change my tone, my tone (yeah, yeah)

(chorus)

Please don't change, please don't break
Well the only thing that seems to work at all is you
Please don't change, at all from me
To you, and you to me (Yeah, yeah)

(chorus)

Well I wonder what it's like to be the rainmaker
I wonder what it's like to know that I made the rain
I'd store it in boxes with little yellow tags on everyone
And you can come and see them when I'm...done, when I'm done

I wonder what its like to be a super hero
I wonder where Id go if I could fly around downtown, yeah
From some other planet, I get this funky high on yellow sun
Boy I bet my friends will all be stunned, they re stunned, (yeah, yeah)

Chorus:
Straight up, what did you hope to learn about here
If I were someone else, would this all fall apart
Strange, where were you, when we started this gig,
I wish the real world, would just stop hassling me

And you
And you
And me

I wonder what it's like to be the head honcho
I wonder what I'd do if they all did just what I said
Well I'd shout out an order, I think were out of this man get me some
Boy don't make me wanna change my tone, my tone (yeah, yeah)

(Chorus)

Please don't change, please don't break
Well the only thing that seems to work at all is you
Please don't change, at all from me
To you, and you to me (Yeah, yeah)

(Chorus)

For some of us, there is a solitary path, assigned at birth. We live our childhood in books, our adolescence in film, and arrive at adulthood by chance, not seasoned or steeped in reality as our contemporaries, merely having reached the age to stand alongside them. We live in dreams.

We will never truly connect to others, not in the usual way. Yet we long to, for we are only human. And so we turn to the canvas, the blank page, the keyboard, the unmolded clay, and begin our work.

dumdum and dumber

A coworker for whom I have no respect called me an idiot today, though I know her IQ is two-thirds or less mine, and maybe even as little as half, the incident still rankles. What the hell am I doing, going on my seventh year as an hourly Wal-Mart associate, having my intelligence questioned by people who never finished high school or learned the proper spelling (never mind management) of the departments they've "managed" for years?

And why, after all these years, did I never learn to debate, to argue, to muster up sassy comebacks?

Above is a picture of a woman named Sarah, who died on one of the happiest days of her life.
Killer Wave Sweeps Away Wife

~*~*~*

If I were truly honest, I would say that most of the time, most days, I feel sad, dejected, depressed. My life, such as it is, is unimportant, forgettable, disposable, deniable. If I were gone tomorrow, people might feel sad in a "She was only 28, she had her whole life ahead of her" sort of way, and a handful who actually knew me might miss me for a while, but they'd get over it.

I am an ant. I have made no difference. If I died tomorrow they'd promote someone else to Department Manager, Patrick would move out and someone else would live in this apartment, Cocoa might mope for a few days, but then she'd be fine. None of it matters. At all.

I'm not trying to hurt myself. But if someone pushed me out the door of a speeding car and into oncoming traffic, and oblivion followed, I wouldn't particularly mind.

It's funny, the nature of fear. I left the church a long time ago, but sometimes I wonder if there is a hell and if I'm going to burn in it. Most days I don't believe it, but with my luck the afterlife will be something like that movie, "Defending Your Life," and I'll be stuck with having to justify a dispensable, indefensible life.

I don't know where I'm going with this. I guess I'm tired of limping along, and no one can or should help with this anyway. Patrick's known for a while that I'm depressed but yesterday in the car I said something that I guess overstepped the line for him. So I'm packing it away again, putting on a big smile and swallowing the bitterness down whole. Most of it is just poor self-care anyway. So I've resolved to eat salads for lunch, sleep 8 hours each night, and work out at least thrice weekly. We'll see how I feel after three weeks of this.

Home sick.

I sit at my cluttered computer desk and munch on what has become my weekend breakfast of choice: orange marmalade generously slathered onto two slices of buttered cinnamon-raisin toast. I'm back to drinking green tea, this time from my black new mug, a capacious ceramic piece that goes for just a buck at any Wal-Mart.

I slept through most of yesterday, missing out on a Six Flags trip and a backyard barbecue. It was just one of those days when I wish I could curl up inside the womb, rocking in the roiling tides, comforted by the beating of my heart.

We finally ventured out just before six, to return library items and check out new ones. I had that strange overly sensitive feeling one gets when feverish: my clothes felt too rough and restrictive, and the lightest breeze gave me chills.

Patrick and I got haircuts, too: him because he needs one, me because he's been telling me for the longest time that I do too. I'm indifferent, for once. He tells me now that it looks the same; I basically just got my layered cut a long-overdue trim. The lady hairdresser told me I'm pretty and Patrick's sooo nice, that I'm lucky that he's neat and that we don't have kids yet, because as they grow problems grow with them.

I'm done dreaming. I don't know what to wish for anymore.

His name is Kyle.

My Music Monkey, that is.

Though I live for Ugly Betty, life cruelly and indifferently goes on. It's all senseless and meaningless, and no one has time anymore, everyone's oh-so-nice and well-meaning, but they're all just so busy. And still someone asked me to smile, because when I smile it means it can't be all that bad. And to think, he's not even a friend.

That's not the first time I've gotten that either. What the hell is wrong with people. Ano ba 'ko - aliw?

Hi-hello-howareyous and i'm-fine-thank-yous, but if I keeled over tomorrow you might be sad for a little while but you'd get over it. Everybody would.

I just want to stay home and nibble at frozen strawberries and watch my Netflix DVDs. I wish the world would just go away.

Currently...

Still depressed.

Watching: Jeff Dunham's Arguing With Myself and Spark of Insanity; Ugly Betty.

Listening to: Sara Bareilles, Josef, Bryan Adams, plus the usual: Nickelback, Daughtry, Matchbox Twenty.

Excited about: (or, as much as you can be when the overriding feeling is still detached, depressed, hopeless)
Elizabeth: The Golden Age; Exile on Mainstream; the next Ugly Betty disk from Netflix.

Wanting:













a Matchbox Twenty USB wristband of their album, even though I don't need it;















a Rob Thomas tee, which I may just get away with wearing at work;

This house, even though it's been ebby.com forever and the price keeps going up;

A limited edition Lagerfeld Steinway grand

~*~*~*

Been asked what's wrong, why I'm not "the usual happy Farah". What the fuck. What makes people think I'm happy? What makes them think they know me at all? They think because they see me every day, and I'm singing, that it's all sunshine and good cheer. I'm short with customers and coworkers both. It's all I can do not to cuss anybody out. I really don't want to be anywhere but at home.

135 lbs, a light weight attributable to lost muscle mass. Haven't been back to the gym since weeks before Inventory. My clothes are just as snug and I'm tired and achy all the time.

I made arroz caldo tonight, the first time in a long time. Yesterday it was Manwiches, which it's true are not like my sloppy joes. Not better or worse, just different. And easier.


On a friend's recommendation I got an adorable iFlops Monkey to replace my speakers at work. I haven't decided on a name yet.













I want new shoes, red ones. None have really grabbed me yet, though. I don't know if I want to dress up for Halloween this year.

I was surfing ToysRus.com and found this pic.

B-Daman Battle Basic Figure: Wing Ninjaby:

Yeah, okay. So my mind is in the gutter. I get that. But really now.

The housewarming went better than I expected.

Most people treated it as a cookout, and there were only a handful of gifts, but everyone did bring food. Though there had been some guest list concerns early on, the final mix turned out just fine.

I got to meet Faith's kids Chad and Diaz for the first time. Imagine if you will a chest-high 3-year-old and a waist-high 2-year-old. Chad is a handful, and little sister Diaz is, as she declared when she approached me, "a princess". Apparently she'd decided I was her throne for the evening, and squatted in my lap to draw and watch people, when she wasn't styling my hair or asking to be flipped or spun.

~*~*~*

We returned Amy the chow chow to her owner last week. Apparently her real name is Onyx, she's 13 years old, and had wandered from housing community across the street and into our apartment complex. I do miss her, even though she was temperamental and didn't get along with Cocoa.

~*~*~*

We picked up the Legendary edition of Halo 3 at Best Buy on Friday even though we don't have an XBox 360. Dean does, and we thought we'd be able to play the much-vaunted 4-plyear co-op. As it turns out, you need 2 XBoxes and Xbox Live or System Link for 4-player Campaign mode. Patrick of course will be Master Chief, Dean I suppose will want to be the arbiter, which gives me a choice between the two new Elites. Around Thanksgiving, when Patrick and I can comfortably afford to buy a 360 of our own. The graphics are amazing though, and the story and gameplay as entertaining as one would expect - if not more so.















Pic snagged from the Bungie forums.

~*~*~*

I swear I can't write English good no more.
Fk.

It seemed like a good idea at the time.

It's been a long workweek. Six days and 60-something hours long, with Inventory smack-dab in the middle of all that. And what could be better than a housewarming, a convenient excuse for a casual get-together with coworkers after all that hard work?

Except that we've seen more of each other this week than we're accustomed or inclined to. I'm worried that Faith not might have fun at her own party. At this point, I'm committed to the event and need to start getting ready. I made brownies and chili, and am having Patrick drop me off at Dee's house so she can teach me how to make pancit before we meet up with the group.

Permanently or temporarily, we've adopted another dog.

It's been nice and cool lately, so I decided to open the windows. From my second-floor vantage point I saw a little black chow casually roaming the apartment complex, stopping to sniff a bush here, urinating over there, then continuing on its way. It was on the other I went outside to pet it, and it followed me halfway home. We stopped to ask a neighbor if she knew the dog, or of anyone looking for it. Neither of us had seen this particular chow before.

She's lying on the kitchen floor right now, panting and drooling onto a deep purple towel that was supposed to be Cocoa's next chew toy. They've both been fed and walked and provided with water. They're not getting along. The chow has established her dominance already, even though she's half Cocoa's size (and probably age) and has been here about five minutes. She's friendly towards Patrick and myself, but barks and growls when Cocoa gets too close.

The cat is freaking out. And having to play bouncer during the occasional dominance spats is no tea party.

2 a.m. again

As always, my depression is due in large part to poor self-care: lack of exercise, irregular and inadequate sleep hours, and poor diet choices.

The new Matchbox Twenty album, Exile on Mainstream, is coming out Oct. 2. It's a greatest hits album of sorts, with six new tracks. I don't really care for "How Far We've Come".

I feel heavier than ever, and yet guys circle me now: in cars here at the apartment complex while I'm walking Cocoa, and at work.

I'm badly in need of a vacation. Some days I wish I could just lapse into a coma for a few days. With any luck I'll awaken refreshed with no need to explain myself.

3 a.m. and I'm up making Spam fried rice.

Yesterday Faith, Keldric, Will and I were at Store 880 in Irving, helping out because tomorrow's their post-remodel Re-"Grand Opening". I had fun, though I got dusty and it was a little scary being in a "ghetto" store. Still, I didn't see used needles or crack pipes in the parking lot.

Afterwards we met up with the monthly after-hours group at Mexi-Go. I only had time for one margarita before Patrick arrived but I'd been up since 4 a.m. so it was time for me to leave. I hit the pillows almost as soon as we got home.

Now in the wee hours of the morning I find myself wide awake. I've paid bills, taken out the trash and put away dishes. I think I'll enter contests for another thirty minutes and then try for a nap.

I'm battling depression again.

There's nothing really wrong. These feelings will pass, I know.

Patrick's taken up golf. He's been to the driving range twice this weekend. A friend gave him a set of Wilson clubs, and I bought the matching golf bag from Walmart.com. It should arrive by next weekend.

Thursday's after-hours gathering will be at Mexi-Go. They have excellent margaritas, I am told, but since I'm going to be making some of my own for a cookout tomorrow, I don't know if I want to go.

My sales associate will be away on medical leave during the 2.5 weeks leading up to inventory. I'm starting to panic.

In other news, we didn't win the $330 million lottery jackpot this past Friday, though some lucky Houstonian did. I'm a little more addicted to my contests than usual: resentful of time spent away from the computer, anxious to check my email to see if I've won anything interesting, angry that I still haven't.

When I allow myself to wallow in my darker moods I feel it's all so pointless anyhow, that I'm a waste of time and money and potential, that no one needs me or is dependent on me, that none of it makes a difference.

Some days just feel like killing time.

new shoes!

AK Anne Klein's Maconcave (?),

Cream-colored leather with very Chanel quilting, finished with black piping, ribbon and wedge.

$29.97 plus tax at DSW

The first stanza of Mariah Carey's "Someday"

Fiona Apple's "Criminal"

Just as work begets more work, I've found that socializing begets socializing. And more opportunities to meet, understand and learn to live with people. I used to think you had to be interesting and engaging and, well... talkative to be popular. I've since found that the key to being friendly is listening. Really listening.

I'm still frustrated by my (own perceived) blunders in the social realm. I still don't know people. At my age, I feel I should, even though I really don't have the experience that might have allowed me that knowledge.

Most days I feel like a 28-year-old know-nothing. Only older.

Gravity

Gravity, from Little Voice by Sara Bareilles

just now

I've been overcome with an unexpected wave of exhaustion, doubtless attributable to the twelve hours (6 a.m. to 6 p.m.) I spent in the store today. Being this tired is not a good thing for me. I am indifferent to everything, my life has neither hope nor meaning, and tomorrow will not come. Not that it would make a difference anyway.

I need to shake this off.

vacation recap

All-in-all it's been an eventful vacation. My first audition. My first club experience here in the US. Meeting Eden and Gilbert and Christy and Jen's dad. Getting to know Ferdie and Jen and Frankie and Keldric and Faith and Dee a little more. Going to Kirin Court and Texas Stadium and Chaucer's and Carson's for the first time.

I don't want to go back to work tomorrow.

Carson's

Last night Jen and I met up with a bunch of people from work plus assorted friends of Faith. I had a Malibu and pineapple, a few Coronas, half a vodka and water, and a sip of a chocolate martini. I wore my red satin "pop star" pants and was told by two perfect strangers that I'm beautiful. Well actually, one said I look "beautiful for a 28-year-old" and the other said I look "insanely beautiful" which I think averages out.

We partied till 2 a.m. It was fabulous and fun and next time, we're going line dancing.

hindsight

I still don't know what I did wrong. Not really. A girl in green face paint and witch getup made it through, as did a manly man in a black wig and full makeup. Maybe I should have gone as Wonder Woman.

I realize I wasn't the best singer there. Scores of more talented people were passed up. Still, I'd hoped I'd had some sort of je ne sais quoi that would set me apart. I so thought I had it. Mr. Unknown Judge kept looking at me while I was in line, and nodded with what I thought was approval as I sang. In hindsight it may have been more like "Yes, yes get on with it" so he could dismiss my entire row.

I wish I'd gotten some kind of feedback. But I didn't want to be another one of those Idol rejects: desperate and/or completely oblivious to my lack of talent. Of which I'm neither. There are other avenues, they just involve more time and money.

Linda Septien says that it helps to play opposite the judge: if they seem extroverted, play demure; if they seem shy, be confident. I still believe that if you can figure out your judge and what he/she is looking for then you'll definitely make it through to the next round. I just couldn't read him. He was really quiet, almost whispering directions, and asked one girl in the group before mine not to sing so loudly because he was right in front of her and could hear her just fine. Then he let her start over, and finish her piece. He had one girl from that group stay and sing another song, after which the lady he was with thanked her and told her she had a nice voice, but it was perhaps a little too sweet and not right for the show right now, but that she should definitely try again next year and it might be what they're looking for. Then Ms. Judge Lady left.

And so I stepped up with Mariah's "Someday" and mustered up all the attitude I could in spite of my nervousness. I'd been waiting for hours in the 95-degree heat and I'd be damned if I'd go down without a fight. And then he motioned us all forward, lifted his clipboard and gestured to a note that said "I lost my voice." Thank you but no. Sht.

Still, I forgive you, Mr. Unknown Judge. Not just because you'd lost your voice or because you kept glancing my way (thanks a lot for the false hope, btw) but also because you kinda sorta look like Rob Thomas.

And so the only thing to do is keep on trucking, keep at my music and maybe someday write songs that other Idol wannabes will be singing at the auditions and maybe even on the show.

i didn't make it.

We bought lottery tickets on the way home, in hopes of trading my Idol fantasies for champagne wishes and caviar dreams.

i lost my voice today.

I'd decided on Mariah Carey's "Someday" as my audition piece. This morning in the shower I was working on adding a few grinds and that whistle-register finale. My throat felt only slightly itchy afterwards.

We spent the day with Ferdie, Jen and Frankie; and new friends Eden and Gilbert. Kirin Court is a great Chinese restaurant but regrettably too loud, and after lively lunch conversation I was hoarse.

By 5 p.m. my voice was completely gone. I stuffed my mouth with lozenges to to keep from humming, talking or otherwise straining my voice. I've been mute since 5:23.

A hearty bowl of kare-kare helped soothe my vocal cords, but I'm still worried what I might wake up to in the morning.

2 a.m.

Nerves and activities are killing me. And to think, I'm on vacation.

4 a.m. and I could not sleep.

It's now six. I've showered and dressed for work; taken out the trash; had some leftover Chinese takeout; made some green tea, pot roast and steamed rice. I'm about to feed the pets. I'm bringing sloppy toms for lunch today (joes substituted with ground turkey). I feel woozy.

Dallas Idol auditions are on Monday. I know it's a long shot, and I'm scared as hell, but wouldn't it be frickin' awesome if I made the cut?

Download iTunes 7.2 here!

iTunes 7.3.1 has a glitch. It does not recognize blank DVDs for backing up your library. It will look like it's reading it, initialize burning, then eject the disc and request a blank DVD. Over and over.

Solutions?

A. Back up to CD, or

B. Downgrade to 7.2 until they solve this issue.

1. Uninstall 7.3.1:
Quit iTunes.
On the Start menu, click Control Panel.
In Control Panel, open Add or Remove Programs.
Select iTunes from the list of currently installed programs, then click Remove.
When asked if you would like to remove iTunes, select Yes.

2. Download 7.2 from oldapps.com
Run the download to install, then get happy backing up!

I've resumed recording and uploading my voice.

It's been over a year now. I'm unhappy with my sound. My voice used to be so much clearer.

Today's contribution:
You Don't Know Me (pick a stream and go with it)

I still don't have an audition song.

Currently listening to:
Daughtry - Daughtry
Nickelback - All the Right Reasons
Sara Bareilles - Little Voice

...and kicking myself for even thinking about a career in music, when there are so many others who are better singers, actual songwriters, and all-in-all people with more of a right to put their sounds out there.

Miyoshi

Around 5 p.m. yesterday my older sister-in-law called us up and asked if we had plans for the evening. Nothing, really. "Okay, tonight's Miyoshi's one-year anniversary. There's a $30 buffet, my treat. Let's meet at the restaurant at 9. Don't eat anything else until then." I hadn't eaten since 3.

By 7 I was feeling light-headed, weak and nauseous with hunger but, being the obedient girl that I am, I still didn't eat anything. It was all I could do to go online and try to google what the fuss was all about.

Miyoshi is a Japanese restaurant my sister-in-law, Ate Kristine, frequents biweekly. She mentions it often though Patrick, the in-laws, and I had never gone. Dean's been there a few times now, and always orders nabeyaki udon and a Ramune.

For some reason none of my usual sources had any information on the one-year-old restaurant. No reviews at all. All I could find was contact information via some site called Pegasus News.

I don't know why we were there at 9, except maybe because Ate Kristine had to pick up her boyfriend from the airport and couldn't meet us any sooner. Miyoshi is tucked into a little strip mall, and when was pretty packed when we arrived. Outside, a blackboard stand with multicolored chalk script informed us that the night was reserved for regulars interested in attending Miyoshi's one-year anniversary dinner. Inside, the tables had been pushed together to make four long rows. In addition there were two circular bar-height tables, and a pseudo-tatami corner (a wooden platform with a low table, where customers can dine in traditional Japanese style). Kristine and Mike waved from the bar tables.

Karaoke was in full swing, with video and lyrics projected on the wall above us. Apparently everyone else had been there for a while; having finished with the buffet they were nursing Japanese beers and taking turns at the mic. We started with the usual green tea and miso soup, then checked out the buffet. It consisted of mostly various maki. Nigiri-zushi was limited to salmon, red snapper and eel. No gunkan, which disappointed me because I do like popping the salty bubbles of salmon roe. Other than that there was a simple salad, fried rice, sweet teriyaki beef, and fresh grapes and honeydew for dessert.

I thought the food was just okay, not stellar. It was the ambience that won us over. The lively little place was charming and cozy. Ken the owner is also primary sushi chef, yet still took time to sing one Korean song. His brother-in-law Scott casually played emcee for the night.

I sang "Eternal Flame" and got cheered. The karaoke program had been set to its most forgiving it seems - the lowest score of the night was 89, for a patron who chanted the first two lines of a song then realized he didn't actually know it. Most got 99s. Scott came back to me with the song listing. "You should sing another song. You did a really good job."

My second number was "Hooked on a Feeling", which I don't think I did justice because the arrangement and lyrics were for a male, and I could barely hear the music. But our server Soyung (?) came by later to tell me "You have a nice voice. I was surprised!" She was the second person to tell me that, and in those words. Don't ask, because I really don't know.

There was a table with kids in their late teens, early 20s maybe, who surprised us by singing Journey, Coolio, 4 Non Blondes and Will Smith's "Gettin' Jiggy Wit' It". How could they know these songs? It's been a long time since I've heard "Yes, yes y'all."

Ken went table-to-table towards the end of the evening, thanking everyone for their patronage, taking pictures, and sharing a tall bottle of smooth Zojirushi, which he cradled and declared his new favorite sake. Patrick leaned over and said, "We should come back. Masaya dito."

After two cups of the good stuff I was ready for a grand finale: song 20155, Gloria Gaynor's "I Will Survive." One of the kids at the other table came by just to sing along and dance beside me. I'm still not sure if he was drunk or just naturally convivial, but he was tremendously encouraging and looked like he thoroughly enjoyed himself. I think I remember him singing "What's Up" earlier in the evening.

We left in good spirits. I got a pearl-pink balloon, Ken kissed Dean, and a wayward drop of soy sauce landed on Ate Kristine's wrist. I survived my first American karaoke experience, and wasn't half-bad.

saying too little.

This week I:

bought Patrick his dream car Wednesday;

attended a 9-day-old's funeral Friday;

and sang karaoke in a public place (restaurant) Saturday.

Hurt

Nine Inch Nails
The Downward Spiral

I hurt myself today
To see if I still feel
I focus on the pain
The only thing that's real
The needle tears a hole
The old familiar sting
Try to kill it all away
But I remember everything

What have I become?
My sweetest friend
Everyone I know
Goes away in the end
You could have it all
My empire of dirt
I will let you down
I will make you hurt

I wear this crown of shit
Upon my liar's chair
Full of broken thoughts
I cannot repair
Beneath the stains of time
The feelings disappear
You are someone else
I am still right here

What have I become?
My sweetest friend
Everyone I know
Goes away in the end

You could have it all
My empire of dirt
I will let you down
I will make you hurt
If I could start again
A million miles away
I would keep myself
I would find a way

Thursday night I did something I thought I'd never do.

I asked to borrow money from my Mom.

It was hard for me to ask, and it was hard for her to say no. We ended the call in tears. I've been crying ever since.

I asked because we need it, because Patrick asked me to, because I kept telling myself I was just asking and that the worst thing she could say is no. But family conversations are never that simple.

If I am honest I might say I resent Patrick for all of this: for not managing the money properly, for putting me in this place, for asking me to call my mom, for insisting I do it the day before the remodel and 20 minutes before I was supposed to be back at work. But all this completely overlooks my own part in all this.

He says he knows that he was asking me for something difficult, but I still don't feel he entirely understands. It is an admission of failure, of weakness. It is the shattering of illusions, the disappointment she always thought I'd been hiding. It is her bailing me out yet again and me still not getting it. It's all of that and none of that yet exactly how it feels.

I told him in the days before that he's making me cut the only thing I have left to stand on. And afterwards I told him I had no more self-respect left.

It's funny, isn't it? It's just money, we say. What happened with it these past six years, you might ask. To be honest, I just don't know. I trusted that he did.

The weekly mishmash/rehash:

Still depressed. Strolling down the aisles looking for God-knows-what and not finding it, of course.

Saw "Transformers" today. Started crying when Bumblebee was being taken away. I look for things like that, little ways of bleeding myself emotionally just to feel the sting, just to know I can still feel, that I must still be alive.

Nothing matters. That's a really bad thing, I know.

Just came from the dentist, where I got my teeth whitened slightly. I've requested the baking soda sandblasting-type treatment as an alternative to regular polishing. Workouts have been alright: I've upped the weights again without any injury or strain on workout day, but these past couple of days my joints do give the odd, occasional twinge.

Currently listening to Bon Jovi's "Have a Nice Day". Am particularly liking "Wildflower", "Last Cigarette", "Dirty Little Secret" and the duet with Jennifer Nettles.

Shoewawa's put an eBay watch on these gorgeous Christian Louboutins:



I want.

i'm sad.

I got into a shouting match at work, with the resident ***(insert your own putdown here)***. That she carried it over into a heated discussion with our manager didn't make me feel any better. Until this afternoon we were almost friends.

These types of incidents tend to remind me that at my age I am still incredibly callow, that I really don't know people at all.

Kody

Matchbox Twenty
Yourself Or Someone Like You

Kody sat down on the avenue
He tapped his feet to the humming of the highway
He watched the light shine down on the broken glass, and thought
Well I don't got no reasons, yet
And there it is and there it was

Now it was clear to all of us
We kept this hat of broken dreams
And we pulled them out when we needed them
Around

So please hand me the bottle,
I think I'm lonely now
(Lonely, you're lonely now)
And please give me direction, I think the hurt set in
And I don't feel nothing, yet

There's a squeak hinge down on the back gate
It lets us know if he comes around
Well, I don't sleep that good anyway,
Now, if you've never heard that silence,
It's a God-awful sound

So please hand me the bottle,
I think I'm lonely now
(Lonely, you're lonely now)
And please give me direction
I think I just caved in
And I don't feel nothing
And I don't feel nothing
And I don't feel nothing
There's nothing to feel good about here

And I don't much get down to the avenue
And I could drive, but it takes so much to get there
Don't get off on all the broken glass, the Cadillac scene,
No, I've seen a lot of good things die and I'm
In an over emotional way

So please hand me the bottle,
I think I'm lonely now
(Lonely, you're lonely now)
And please give me direction
I think the hurt sets in

So please hand me the bottle,
Well I think I'm lonely now
I'm lonely now
I'm lonely now
I'm lonely now
(Lonely, you're lonely now)
And please give me direction
I think I just caved in
And it ain't nothing

yesterday was a good day.

We watched "Ratatouille" with Ferdie, Jen and Frankie. It's a great movie, particularly for foodies, and I highly recommend it though I cried through the last third. Afterwards the trio had their picture taken in front of the display for the upcoming Simpsons movie. Lunch was at our favorite Japanese bufffet, then we headed to Allen Premium Outlets.

Last Call Neiman Marcus is always a special treat for me because I get to try on luxe designer shoes. Apparently American designer brands such as Cole Haan and Stuart Weitzman are true to size for me but I'm more like a 7.5 to an 8.0 in Manolo Blahniks or Christian Louboutins.

Today we had brunch at The Cheesecake Factory, and though I had three cavernous mugs of coffee, the jitters and cold sweaty palms didn't hit until Jen casually mentioned that American Idol's Dallas auditions will be Aug. 6th.

Fk.

lopsided

I've been depressing myself listening to too many better singers, wondering what I was thinking, why on earth I ever thought I stood a chance of going pro. Noticing too that I have far too many bad vocal habits: pizza, chips, spicy foods, cereal and milk, shrieking in surprise and laughing too loud, grunting and gasping during strenuous activity such as workouts, straining to reach notes, continuing to use my voice when I've gone hoarse...

Marc (or is it Mark?), one of the Remodel Supervisors, is Filipino and from California, from whence all things Flipside are more easily procured. He loaned me over a dozen OPM CDs for the weekend, of which only two did not come with track info. I hate Sarah Geronimo for being 18 and so good: she's like a mix of Regine Velasquez and Celine Dion. She's guilty of being breathy and shrieky depending on the song, but mostly I think her biggest problem is that she is such a copycat singer. Then again, she's only eighteen, and has her entire future ahead of her, while here I am ten years older though not that much wiser.

I've been missing my Define workout classes at the gym, and am actually better for it. It's always hard to gauge what level equipment (dumbbells, bands, and bodybars) I need to use, because the trainers change up the routines each time. This past week I did my own training mostly making use of the circuit machines. I can proudly say that I now squat press at 60lbs and donkey calf raise at 100. I still wander into the aerobics room for the abs, though.

I was talking to one of the remodel guys about how I live such a quiet life: work, home, workouts at the gym and dinner with the in-laws. He nodded in understanding and said "I ain't mad at ya."

Excuse me?

I was confused and somewhat indignant, and when someone else came by he told that guy what had been said. As it turns out, it's another way of saying "I understand". WTH. Just say that then.

I was stretching after my Tuesday workout when Patrick called to say he was waiting outside for me, and that he'd promised we'd be at the in-laws' in half and hour. I left the gym floor immediately for the locker room, and mentioned in the car that I felt a little uneven, having only done hamstring stretches on my right leg. Being that Patrick is more than a little obsessive-compulsive, he argued that I could have taken the extra half-minute to do the left leg despite being rushed, and then he hurried us home so I could complete my stretches.

I've been skewed a little depressed, mostly due to poor self-care. This past week I've been forgoing the LAN games in favor of sleep, working out every other day, and eating breakfast, and have been able to steer clear of the pit. For now.

I had a dream last night that we had a male calico cat that was mostly white with some orange. I tried to brush it but not much fur came off.

Lately I've been stuffing my face with Nestle Drumsticks in Cookies and Cream, though what I've been really craving but cannot have are the Mangoes and Cream ones we sell back home, as well as Jollibee's Peach-Mango pies. Dammit. Now I want Jabo spaghetti too.

The remodel is pretty much for over for me. Monday our Market team is coming through to walk off our mods and see the improvements and changes for themselves. I'll have two 7-day old mods, and a couple that are just counting.

The remodel will be over by July 13th. Thank God. I'm tired of people asking me about my shoes. "Do you wear two-inch heels every day?" "How can you work in those?" "Don't your feet hurt?" A couple of the remodel people hope to stay/transfer over when all is said and done. I never really talked to any of them, and I don't think I'll miss anybody except may drummer guy because he's been so encouraging. I'm betting they'll want to keep him, though, because he's sort of the go-to type.

My original dream house is now 5k for expensive, my new one is 100k cheaper, and 2004's much-hyped Zero-Energy Home in Frisco is on the market for only 750k from close to million 3 years ago, which isn't a bad deal esp. considering your utility bills will be next to nothing.

I'm on the lookout for red shoes, because my Rampage D'Orsays are dying.

I really like these:



Jimmy Choo shoes, $750, Jimmy Choo, NYC, 866-524-6687
Via Glamour.com

~*~*~*


Caligarius' Alanda is only $79.99 from $155 at Shoes.com
In 6.0 W and 7.0N

I wonder if I can squeeze into a 7N?

~*~*~*

What I've been looking for but cannot find anywhere is:


Jessica Simpson's LaDonna pump in Scarlet

I know, I know. I should have bought them when I had the chance.

~*~*~*

Red, red, RED!!!


Balenciaga Chad Red, 269 GBP at Daniel Footwear
Via Shoewawa.

~*~*~*

I've kind of also been wanting to get a pretty little Chinese blouse in a solid dark blue or navy, so I can wear it to work. Thing is, I don't know where to get that sort of thing here. The custom tailor next to the Asian mart nearby charges $85 and takes a month to make it, and since I don't really know what I'm ordering and she doesn't speak much English I don't know that I'll be happy with the outcome.

nothing, really.

I'm tired. I clocked in for work at 7:09 a.m., and out at 5:58 p.m. Yesterday was Dean's 11th birthday, which we marked with a black forest cake and his first Percy Jackson book: The Lightning Thief. I expect he'll enjoy it immensely; he's always been a mythology buff.

We've been leaking fuel. After dinner and candle-blowing Patrick worked on the car, after which it was too late for a Dark Crusade LAN game with Dean. We'll be making up for it tonight.

It is by believing in roses that one brings them to bloom."  ~ French proverb

In the mirror at midnight my body is my enemy
As are all women to whom I might compare it
It is a curse and a cruelty, to be woman.

A coworker's wife stopped by the store one time, and a number of ladies crowded around him afterwards, offering congratulations. "You're so lucky." "She's so pretty." "She looks so young!"

Why is attractiveness an achievement for a woman, and a trophy for the man who is her partner? We know nothing else about her: is she faithful, supportive, intelligent, kind?

We do this to ourselves, y'know.

Rain girl

I cannot tell you how I happened upon
a life that feels
hermetically sealed.

What I can tell you is that
I woke to the sound of the pouring rain
and realized
there is no one to invite outside
to come play.

It's been a long time since I've
danced in the rain.

Currently listening to:

Vault: Def Leppard Greatest Hits

In particular, "Love Bites" and "Have You Ever Needed Someone So Bad".

~*~*~*

I've been so busy at work this past week, trying to work through the changes this remodel has wrought on my departments. I built some bridges, introducing a new Filipina lady on the remodel crew to a friend of the in-laws, who might help her get more permanent work. I also met a guy in a thrash (whatever that is) band called Red Jealousy, who tells me that I have a good voice and that if I want to sing I should just go for it, in spite of my fears.

We marked Bianca's birthday with beans and Mexican rice, fajitas and chocolate cake, even though she didn't feel like celebrating. The theme for the month seems to be the passing of women without close family ties. Mary Harris, a grumpy granny lady from the Carrolton store who loved to gamble, passed away recently. I never knew her, but a number of people at my store miss her dearly. Rest in peace.

it seems I'm always playing catchup.

I have a laundry list of things to do, both at home and at work. Running as fast as I can just to stay in place.

I still don't know what I'm doing.

All this busyness, yet none of it feeds the soul.

~*~*~*

Currently listening to:

Lauren Whitener - You Don't Know Me
Reba McEntire - Does He Love You
Martina McBride - Concrete Angel
Def Leppard - Have you Ever Needed Someone So Bad

My latest preoccupation has been homestudy with American Idol Singer's Advantage. My kit arrived over the weekend, and I'm practicing Mariah Carey's "Hero". The project has renewed my interest in vocal study, though the nagging thought is that there is just no way I'm going to be ready for American Idol auditions this fall. It's my first and last chance, I know, but I just don't see how it could happen for me. I've got so far to go.

the buzz

Some coworkers and I headed over the Snuffer's after work: for gossip, an alcoholic buzz, and deliciously off-color jokes so uproarious that David the manager had to walk over and ask oh-so-nicely that we please keep it down.

We had so much fun, we've decided to make it a monthly thing.

i'm not going to lie.

I was heartbroken that Melinda didn't make it into the American Idol finale.

Quite frankly, I don't care who wins now. I watched avidly this whole season, looking forward to the next new performance by the backup singer who'd finally decided to step into the spotlight. I wish you the best of luck, Melinda. Can't wait to get your first album!!!

I lurk on her fansite: Melinda Fans

YouTube Highlights of AI Season Six:

Melinda Doolittle, "I Believe in You and Me"

Jordin Sparks, "A Broken Wing"

Blake Lewis, "You Give Love a Bad Name"

Lakisha Jones, "This Ain't a Love Song"

Gina Glocksen, "Call Me When You're Sober"

Loved her too! Reviewing the video, I found myself wishing she were a better singer. Maybe in time...

muddled

Recently viewed:










8 Mile, starring Eminem.

Everything's starting to meld. Mekhi Phifer = Akon, Eminem = Rob Thomas, and Brian McKnight = Blair Underwood, I don't know why. None of them are anything alike, I think. And neither person in the last pairing was even in the movie.

It's almost halfway through the month and I haven't made any headway with this month's resolutions. There was a dead bird near the dumpster this morning; Cocoa and I saw it during our morning walk. A fly hovered around the body. It's 2:46 p.m. and Patrick's still asleep. I should probably wake him so we can go to the library.

Patrick's taken over the laundreary duties, since I haven't been able to keep on top of things. I still change the linens, though.

Everyone's been so snappish lately, so stressed. I laugh in the face of all the tension: because I'm helpless, because I'm not as overwhelmed, because we knew it was coming and we just have to deal with it. It's draining though, being the only one smiling.

Tasks for the rest of the day include:

vocal exercises
vacuuming
library run
cleaning out the dishwasher
calling up my mom (to wish her a happy Mother's Day, naturally)
cleaning out one Bankers Box

and maybe a strength training workout and a LAN game of Dawn of War: Dark Crusade.

Sweet satin shoes

Via Shoewawa.

I WANT:












Rainbow twirl espadrilles, $138 at Anthropologie
These summery beauties are anything but clunky.

















Manolo Blahnik Lokate, $585 at Bergdorf's

The master shows us how a ballerina flat is done: pretty pink satin in girly pleats.

If You're Gone

If You're Gone lyrics
Matchbox Twenty
Mad Season

I think I've already lost you
I think you're already gone
I think I'm finally scared now
You think I'm weak
I think you're wrong

I think you're already leaving
Feels like your hand is on the door
I thought this place was an empire
Now I'm relaxed
I can't be sure

And I think you're so mean
I think we should try
I think I could need this in my life
And I think I'm just scared
I think too much
I know it's wrong
it's a problem
I'm dealing

If you're gone
Maybe it's time to come home
There's an awful lot of breathing room
But I can hardly move
If you're gone
Baby you need to come home
There's a little bit of something mean
In everything in you

I bet you're hard to get over
I bet the room just won't shine
I bet my hands I can stay here
And I bet you need more than you mind

I think you're so mean
I think we should try
I think I could need this in my life
I think I'm just scared that I know too much
I can't relate and that's a problem I'm feeling

If you're gone maybe it's time to come home
There's an awful lot of breathing room
But I can hardly move
If you're gone
baby you need to come home
There's a little bit of something mean
In everything in you

I think you're so mean
I think we should try
I think I could need this in my life
And I think I'm scared
Do I talk too much
I know this is wrong, it's a problem, I'm dealing

If you're gone
And maybe it's time to go home
There's an awful lot of breathing room
But I can hardly move
If you're gone
Hell, baby you need to come home, come home
There's a little bit of something mean

In everything in you (Something mean)
Everything in (Something mean)
In you

The lady in red

Pix from the fashion show, i.e., Totalmente Latina tour at Dallas

Amateur pictures taken with an unfamiliar picture, hence the regrettable fuzz.













Waiting in the wings...










My turn in the spotlight









Heading for the catwalk










The group's final turn down the ramp










The full cast bids goodbye

i live, after all.

instant feedback:

~much better the second time around

~the most powerful voice of the group

~your voice cracked a couple of times

~parts of that were really good

~when you sang I felt like I was watching Pocahontas or Mulan or something

~great movements, great facial expressions -- you just need to work on your (diaphragmatic) breathing

I set out to accomplish certain goals, and I did:

* I sang in front of an audience
* I remembered all my lyrics
* I didn't make any faces while singing, even when I messed up
* I poured myself into my song (at points, but y'know: baby steps)

I dread seeing the recording, tho. I don't think I did nearly as well as I feel I did.

I'm dead.

I'm dying, I'm dying, I'm dying, I'm dying, I'm dead.

I've been counting the minutes since noon. Two hours till the showcase. I am a nervous wreck. Can't think straight, can't wait for it to be over, hoping it'll never come. I used Patrick's toothbrush by mistake.

I am not going to be able to squeak out a single sound. I will clamber onstage and pass out, unconscious. A heart attack at 28. I cannot do this, I think.

it's occurred to me

that it's still the same shit with me, different year. Started the day blow-my-brains-out-bored again, read through last year's blog entries and looked up a few singing prodigies online. I gained 20 pounds instead of losing 10. How depressing.

I've decided to do a monthly goal list thing.

Personal goals for the month of May:

1. South Beach diet phase one
2. Drive myself to and from work
3. Kill the repack boxes at work
4. Get a fab new hairstyle
5. Do three strength-training workouts a week

6. Lose five pounds.
7. Clean up and organize one storage box and one apartment area a week.
8. Blog more intelligently.

Granted, I don't know you.

Maybe you watched a lot of Disney and Hollywood movies when you were growing up. Maybe you were saving yourself for "The One". And when he swept you off your feet, you made the sort of decision only a woman who knows herself should make. You said "I do".

And now, a decade and two kids later, you decide you've outgrown him. Get real. You flatter yourself that you've matured and he hasn't. In truth, you don't know who you are or what you want, certainly not enough to throw it all away and break up your family.

I know you are searching. You need a life that it is meaningful and fulfilling to you. I understand completely. You should have done this long ago, long before you settled down. It's not too late. But you don't have to write off the last ten years either. Find what you are looking for without hurting the ones you love.

the showcase has been postponed,

due to half the class being sick, as well as inclement weather.

I was supposed to write a Dear abby type post, but for now, lemme just say before I forget:

the problem's not with him,
you haven't outgrown him
he's happy, perfectly fine, and exactly who he needs to be.

You're the one who's got some growing up to do.
A lot of it.

Clarifications to follow.

I am emotionally wrung-out today.

I have been touched, disappointed, angry, confused, sardonic, surprised, grateful, embarrassed, exhausted, resentful, and indifferent. I realize I could just have been trying to distract and sabotage myself -- only a day to go till the showcase, I don't quite have my lyrics down, I don't know where the burned CD with my track went, and I still need to write my little intro which in voice class we refer to as a "slate". Finally all these other concerns have given way to panic and focus on the immediate problem: tomorrow's performance. All else is mere fluff.

I still find that Rob Thomas/Matchbox Twenty is the best cure for a troubled mind.

This day, the 16th of April 2007, a Monday:

~ 33 die in Virginia Tech shooting rampage

~ Mandla Mandela reclaims the traditional leadership role his grandfather renounced

~ Patrick and I mark our sixth year of marriage.

Happy anniversary to us.

Rest Stop Lyrics

Matchbox Twenty
Mad Season

Just three miles from the rest stop
She slams on the brakes
She said I tried to be but I'm not
So could you please collect your things
Well, I don't wanna be cold
I don't wanna be cruel
But I gotta find more
Than what's happening with you
If you'll open up the door

She said, While you were sleeping
I was listening to the radio
And wondering what you're dreaming when
It came to mind that I didn't care
And I thought, Hell if it's over
I had better end it quick
Or I could lose my nerve
Are you listening
Can you hear me
Have you forgotten

Just three miles from the rest stop
And my mouth's too dry to rage
The light was shining from the radio
I could barely see her face
But she knew all the words that I never had said
She knew the crumpled-up promise of this broken-down man
And as I opened up the door

She said, While you were sleeping
I was listening to the radio
And wondering what you're dreaming when
It came to mind that I didn't care
And I thought, Hell if it's over
I had better end it quick
Or I could lose my nerve
Are you listening
Can you hear me, yeah
Can you hear me, oh can you hear me
Can you hear me

While you were sleeping
Well, I was listening to the radio
And wondering what you're dreaming when
It came to mind that I didn't care
So I thought, Hell if it's over
Well, I had better end it quick
Or I could lose all my nerve
Are you listening
Can you hear me

While you were sleeping
Well, I was listening to the radio
And wondering what you're dreaming when
It came to mind that I didn't care
And I thought, Hell if it's over
I had better end it quick
Or I could lose all my nerve
Are you listening
Can you hear me

i'm in that place again.

Nothing matters.

I want to just pick up and leave it all behind me. I've tired of talking too much and saying so little. The things that bother me I am not to talk about, should try not to think about. Or so I'm told.

I miss having friends, it's true. But having none is better than having fake ones.

People think we're okay now. We both deserve Academy Awards. It's all so plastic, because we're both afraid of confrontation, I guess. God forbid that we should actually say what's on our minds.

I just paid my taxes. H&R Block's offering free e-filing for taxpayers under 50 with an AGI of $52k or less. Money's tight. Voice lessons are okay -- I can feel my throat starting to open up. Everything's just so blah.

It rained today.

When I was in college nothing ever happened to me. I didn't have family around me, didn't have a boyfriend. I would go to the movies by myself just so I could cry. And on rainy days I would sit at the window and watch the raindrops fall, thankful that the heavens were pouring down tears, so I didn't have to.

I cannot tell you why
but it's hard for me to feel
alive.

I guess I've always been this way
I've always felt like I was living
in retrospect
powerless to change
or choose
anything.

I need sleep.

Saturday night was fun: we stayed till the wee morning hours eating Filipino food, talking, drinking, dancing and singing karaoke. I did most of the singing, and they danced and sometimes joined in or gave me a breather. It was an Air Supply night, with Gloria Estefan and the Bee Gees tied for second.

Finally got home and to bed at 2, and was up again at 6 for work. I was numb, cranky and clumsy, but had fun anyway. WE spent the morning condensing Easter, picked up Little Caesar's $5 Hot-N-Ready pizzas for lunch (my brunch, really) and clocked back in for an hour to restock the juice aisle.

Patrick picked me up at the store and we rejoined the rest of the troupe at our usual sushi buffet. After that was souvenir-shopping at Wal-Mart (because the mall was closed), a brisk and bracing hour at the Dallas Arboretum, and dinner at the McKinney residence of another Filipino family. Final goodbyes were at the in-laws', after coffee and tea and Goldilocks' Brazo de Mercedes.

I've been so groggy today, people have been asking me what's wrong. I'm taking Tuesday off.

It's snowing today.

The day before Easter. In Texas.

Ah well. We're off to the in-laws tonight. Some friends of the family are in town for the next week or so. One couple's from Vancouver, the other from LA, and they are raving about the in-laws' house, which would easily be worth a cool million in their respective cities. They only vaguely comprehend that there are no Filipino stores around here, though.

I'm bringing flan tonight, as it is always well-received -- even by the best of cooks. I don't doubt that (aside from dinner) Patrick, Dean and I will be spending the rest of the evening playing Dawn of War: Dark Crusade. It's a Warhammer 40k RTS, and our latest LAN party game.

~*~*~*

In other news, the cat and dog are behaving like, well, cats and dogs. The cat's always trying get get at Cocoa's food, and Cocoa's always offending the cat by trying to sniff at its um, rectum.

But at least they're both eating, unwounded, and in good health.

~*~*~*

I'm definitely doing "Reflection" from Mulan, but I haven't decided if I'm doing the soundtrack version (Lea Salonga's) or the pop one (a la Christina Aguilera). I'm favoring the former.

I still need an up-tempo song. Current favorites are Cher's "The Shoop Shoop Song (It's in His Kiss)" and Deniece Williams' "Let's Hear It For The Boy".

~*~*~*

I'm going to work tomorrow, if only for a few hours. I was planning on bringing the second flan, but I'm beginning to think there won't be any leftovers.

Vocal Gymnastics

So last night was my first vocal gymnastics class. Fun, fireworks, and a bundle of nerves. The "showcase" (i.e., graduation) is in three weeks. I was going to do "Against All Odds", but since the class is small we might do two songs each, in which case I think "Reflection" might be better, and either "Respect" or "Signed, Sealed, Delivered".

Just thinking about the performance has me so nervous I feel sick.

retail therapy

Twelve hours and a few hundred dollars later, I feel much better. It's amazing what a shopping spree, a blended coffee and Krispy Kremes, pad thai, and a cheesecake torte can do.

My usual DSW is overflowing with Steve Maddens and some brand called "Nyla". I happened upon a pair of Nicole Miller's Natalie in luxe chocolate brown. It's the same style as this eBay listing by seller tapsipoodle:



I also saw a pair of Mootsies Tootsies' aptly-named Party Girl. Though the ones I saw were champagne-colored, I remembered admiring a ruby-red pair once on a customer, who said she got them on sale for $20 at Kohl's. Online they only seem available at Peltz Shoes for $27.99 in a black 8M:



It's too bad this was the only color I could find online; in either red or champagne they are fab.

stressed

It's 2 pm.

Today we picked up the stray cat that lives in the fixture cage behind my Wal-Mart. We took it and Cocoa to the vet, where they both got shots, and we learned that the gray cat is a nine-year-old female American shorthair who tests negative for feline leukemia and feline AIDS. She'd been declawed and probably spayed too, but not microchipped.

They're not getting along.

The washer, dryer and dishwasher are running, as is the vacuum in the garage downstairs, where Patrick is busily cleaning the car of all the fur. The cat's been crying nonstop since we got home. Cocoa's whining, not knowing who or what this new thing is, why it's making the sounds that it does, and why it won't stop.

~*~*~*

I lost my voice Thursday night over dinner with the in-laws. I called in sick yesterday, with sore throat, and slept through most of the day. I'm still not entirely well. My music class is on Tuesdays instead of Mondays, which gives me just three more days to get my voice back.

My usual disease is back: that feeling that everything takes too much effort, that it's all so much more trouble than it's worth, and that I really shouldn't even bother.

I have sensitive skin.

Who knew?

The $7 foundation I smeared on for the fashion show left me with tiny adult acne all across my forehead, and a large red bump on the tip of my nose that instantly brings to mind Rudolph, the Red-nosed Reindeer. Thankfully, no one at the store commented on my new growth. Until today, that is, and only because Ate Jerushah wanted to commiserate.

Customers have been most kind. Yesterday some old guy approached me, asking where the desk clocks were. I gave him directions, after which he apologized, "I knew that. You know men -- we look for any excuse to talk to a pretty lady."

This isn't vanity, in case you were wondering. It's just incredible and humbling that even on a week when I have particularly bad skin and frizzy hair, I get unexpected compliments. And yeah, I can't help but think that maybe I just look like I need them.

CNBC.com's Million-dollar portfolio challenge

My portfolio's been doing...alright, these past few days. Last week I'd invested $250k and, with about $750k in cash I was in the top 31% of players. By Monday, having spent all my money, I was down to the top 83rd.

Having offloaded some losers and bought up Zoltec (ZOLT), SanDisk (SDK), and Fremont (FMT), I've risen to the 57th percentile.

~*~*~*

In other news, I'm sort of in a fashion show at the Hyatt Regency this Saturday. And, I want these shoes:


Dune Pancake

Currently 75 British pounds, or 105 euros
Via Shoewawa.

PS- Tomorrow is free iced coffee day at Dunkin'. Enjoy!

loneliness

It's 2 a.m., and I'm wide awake.

I talk to so many people now in the course of my day, and yet I am lonely.

Cocoa puked on the rug and there are dirty dishes in the sink and it seems that all I ever do is invisible work.

I'm so tired of people saying I don't work.

I don't know anymore what it would take for a rewarding and fulfilling life. It seems like it all requires so much effort, and that it would be so much simpler to fast-foward to the end of it all. How many sleeping pills would it take, I wonder absently.

I'm not suicidal. I'm just bored. And, just maybe, in despair.

He left angry, and I find myself once again wondering what has become of our marriage. He will be back in a few hours, insisting he was merely annoyed, and that I trouble my head too much about such things.

I worry we are growing apart. I am the one who's changing, so I guess I'm growing away from him. There is a push-pull that comes with it -- you don't wake up overnight and find yourself completely remade. There are justifications, subtle jabs, prevarications, and the sad, quiet days when there is nothing to do but lay down and let it all run your over. If only you could see it coming, you think. But no, things are never the way we'd like them to be, are they? They are interspersed with calm days and giddy days and surprisingly normal-like-the-old-days happy times that make the rest of it that much worse, smoothing things over so the next wave will catch you completely by surprise.

I tell myself that the waiting has got to go, and that for as long as I still look to be cared for, I will never be happy. But the old me waited and wanted to be coddled and was, for a long time, happy.

Or maybe there are just the growing pains that come with this latest self-reinvention. I will weather these changes. I will let them pass.

4 wisdom teeth extracted today.

All I've had to eat since dinner last night has been one bottle of Ensure, a single Lay's potato chip and the filling from one Totino's pizza roll.

I was in the dentist's office at 12:40 pm, and all done by 1:30. Got home and slept till 5, and am fine for the most part. If I feel like I have gauze in my mouth, it's because I do.

Two of the extracted teeth came out whole and quite pretty. The other two had to be removed in two large pieces.

At this point I'm only taking penicillin, and rinsing every 6 hours with chlorhexidine gluconate. I have hydrocodone tabs on standby in case I need them for pain, and promethegan suppositories in case the hydrocodone makes me nauseous. Luckily I'm not in any pain.

irresistibly cute pumps!

Introducing Scottie, by Charles Albert. $34 at Delias.com
Via Shoewawa.

In multicolor plaid,


Monochrome plaid,


And black-and-white:

i don't mean to be a stranger

For the most part I've been bombarding myself with all kinds of music. What's been sticking:

Lisa Tucker's AI rendition of "Signed, Sealed, Delivered"
Kid Rock and Sheryl Crow's "Picture" duet
Rod Stewart's Great American Songbook series
KT Tunstall's "Black Horse and the Cherry Tree"

Mondays I now have an early potluck dinner with the (mostly Filipino) 5 pm crowd at work. Tomorrow's menu is paella valenciana, chicken and pork adobo, carrot-raisin salad and fruit salad. I'm thinking of throwing together a strawberry-spinach salad.

I don't think I ever mentioned Martha. She's my new favorite trainer, leading the Thursday Define classes at my gym. She's five-foot nothing and solid muscle: cut but not ripped. I die every Thursday but come back for more the following week, in hopes that by the time I reach her age I will have abs like hers.

In other news, Friday was blondes-in-Uggs day. I clocked in from lunch to find a handful of male coworkers helping a pretty schoolteacher with pin-straight hair shop the Stationery bins. WTF? Customers are not allowed in the backroom, but there she was, with a couple of sales associates and two assistant managers, looking for supplies for her grade-school class or something.

I got home early and took Cocoa for a walk. We passed a lady in tan Uggs and matching too-short skirt picking a fight with some guy for not being there when she arrived, or not giving her a key or something, making her look like a Friday booty call.

Who wants to be a millionaire?

If you top CNBC's upcoming stock trading game, you could win a million bucks. Lemme know if you're interested, and I'll send you a referral invite. Registration deadline is March 5th.

call me an attention whore, a brat, or a doormat,

but i am so fucking pissed right now i can't stand it,

there's no one to pick a fight with,

and i'm exhausted so,

i'm just gonna sleep.

But really.

!$#(&%!(&$*#!!!

Shoba passed on today.

She'd been battling cancer for years

and her tiny body finally gave out.

Rest in peace.

~*~*~*

The universe gives you what you need,

not what you really, really wish for, or what would make your life easier.

If you pay close enough attention, you will realize that the recurrent themes in your life are the same growth opportunity hitting you over the head yet again, so maybe this time you'll get it right.

And if you are centered and grateful, you will see each new day as a gift chosen expressly for you.

~*~*~*


“We are not human beings on a spiritual journey. We are spiritual beings on a human journey.”
Stephen R. Covey

disappointments

I'd forgotten how quickly gossip spreads and convolutes itself at work.

I casually mentioned to a few coworkers that I'd given serious consideration to auditioning for American Idol this year, since I'm now 28 and this would be my last chance to try out. The current talk is that I'd auditioned last year for the show airing next year (?) and that I'm under some sort of contractual obligation not to discuss what had happened, but I'd actually already met Paula and Randy and Simon.

Anyway.

I'm planning on taking lessons at the Septien Center for Artist Training, using my forthcoming bonus towards tuition. I called last Friday and learned that I'd missed the window for enrollment for the current session, which began today. I wasn't prepared to start so soon, but I kinda feel I got left behind. The next class starts in April.

I have doubts. And Patrick is not so much supportive as merely accommodating, stepping aside to make way for these tentative steps when a (morale) boost would have been more to the point.

I dunno. I don't know I don't know I don't know .

In other news I lost another friend. It was a long time coming, and it's been over for a month now, I guess. Or has it been two? Almost. She exited gracefully stage left, assuring me that she'd already taken her breaks and lunches long before I needed to go, and explaining that she needed to be elsewhere running errands and such. How Texan.

I worry that the primary barriers to my happiness are my inability to identify and ask for the things I want, and my reluctance to fight for such things.

technical difficulties

I've had a system upgrade, which incidentally led to a rewrite of my music collection. Finally back online and plugged-in musically. I've since imported Andrea Bocelli's "Amore", which includes "Somos Novios", his duet with Christina Aguilera.

I'm such a sucker for love songs.

~*~*~*
Somos Novios (It's Just Impossible) - Andrea Bocelli ft. Christina Aguilera

Andrea:
Somos novios
Pues los dos sentimos mutuo amor profundo
Y con eso ya ganamos lo mas grande de este mundo
Nos amamos, nos besamos, como novios, nos deseamos
Y hasta aveces, sin motivo, sin razon, nos enojamos

Christina:
Somos novios
Mantenemos un cariño limpio y puro
Como todos, preocuramos el momento mas obscuro

Andrea & Christina:
Para hablarnos, para darnos el mas dulce de los besos
Recordarte que color son los cerezos
Sin hacer mas comentarios
Somos novios
It's just impossible
Nos amamos, nos besamos, como novios, nos deseamos
Y hasta aveces, sin motivo, sin razon, nos enojamos

Christina:
Sin motivo, sin razon

Andrea:
Somos novios

Andrea & Christina:
Mantenemos un cariño

Andrea:
Limpio y puro

Andrea & Christina:
Como todos, preocuramos el momento mas obscuro
Para hablarnos, para darnos el mas dulce de los besos
Recordarte que color son los cerezos
Sin hacer mas comentarios, somos novios
Somos novios
Siempre novios
Somos novios

~*~*~*

Somos Novios - English translation

Andrea:
We are lovers
Therefore we share a profound, mutual love
And with this, we gain the best of the world
We love, we kiss, and like lovers we desire each other
And yet, at times, without motive or reason, we get mad

Christina:
We are lovers
We maintain a love so clean and pure
Like all, we worry in moments of darkness

Andrea & Christina:
To talk and to give the sweetest of kisses
Remebering you as the color of cherries
Without making comments
We are lovers
It's just impossible
We love, we kiss, and like lovers we desire each other
And yet, at times, without motive or reason, we get mad

Christina:
Without motive or reason

Andrea:
We are lovers

Andrea & Christina:
We maintain a love

Andrea:
So clean and pure

Andrea & Christina:
Like all, we worry in moments of darkness
To talk and to give the sweetest of kisses
Remebering you as the color of cherries
Without making comments
We are lovers
Always lovers
We are lovers

~*~*~*

If the tune sounds somewhat familiar, it's because it's the same melody as Perry Como's "It's Impossible".

i went to the mall today

to check out Jessica Simpson's Ladonna pumps. They are fabulous, though you need to go a half-size up. I was going to blog about tortoiseshell pumps, but an IE imp shut the window after I'd already scrapped all my links. Sht.


Anyway. I left Sears with a $20 circle skirt that I love love love. Do stop by JC Penney's, where clearance items are currently 75% off the original prices.

I started Jonathan Safran Foer's "Everything is Illuminated". I feel like I've been conversing with Borat after he'd swallowed a thesaurus.

packing up the pity party

Currently reading:

How to Get What You Want and Want What You Have
by John Gray


Chapter 11: Letting Go of Negative Emotions

Four Ways to Process
1. Change the emotion.
2. Change the content.
3. Change the clock backward or forward.
4. change the subject altogether; shift from feeling your pain to feeling the pain of another.

The twelve emotional states we naturally feel to find balance
1. Angry
2. Sad
3. Afraid
4. Sorry
5. Frustrated
6. Disappointed
7. Worried
8. Embarrassed
9. Jealous
10. Hurt
11. Scared
12. Ashamed

slipping

Boredom doesn't help. Being unuseful and unnecessary doesn't help. The pit is so familiar, and so welcoming. Come back, it calls, you know you belong here.

God,
save me
from myself.

i worry sometimes that I will never be happy, that i will always be bored and/or frustrated and/or sad and/or depressed because I don't know how because I enjoy it too much because it always takes that one last thing I just don't have, that one glimmering hope that's just out of reach right now.

in more magnanimous moments I feel that maybe I am one of those people destined to be an outsider, eternally sad, so other people can live happy, normal lives. I will live to write about pain, so you can call it beautiful and feel smug and secure in your happiness.

Of course, the truth is I'm not that special.

Hours later,

a caramel white chocolate latte in one hand, a Famous Footwear shopping bag in the other, I felt much better. I caught the chorus of "Bent" as I passed AE Outfitters. Matchbox Twenty is everywhere, it seems. I heard "If You're Gone" at Wal-Mart yesterday.

These are my new babies:













Naturalizer Buttercup. Via Like.com
$5 at Famous Footwear


Ann Marino Bold Knot via UcanHealth.com.
$10 at Famous Footwear

i am so

so
soooooo
sooooooooooooo

freaking bored.
and lonely.

I came clear across the country
to sit at home, in front of the computer
and there is no one to talk to.

Bloody fucking hell.

I was thinking about going to the mall, but it seems there aren't any theaters. There's no Steve Madden in this state either, which is doubly tragic because not only do I have time and access to shops for once, but the brand is also on sale. Anyway. If you've been drooling over platforms -- particularly the designer knockoffs -- check out the deals at SteveMadden.com. Most of the fall styles are now a half to a third of their original prices. I am so over leopard, but the zebra is calling to me...




LIPSTIK2, $39.99 from $109.95

~*~*~*

Dollar day at Value Village

It feels like Saturday. I spent the whole day doing laundry, eating and surfing the net.

~*~*~*

Mondays are $1-an-item days at the local thrift shop. I figured out a system pretty quickly: for consideration all items needed to be tagged for a buck, in good condition (no stains, tears, or obvious wear), my size, and a good fit. Everything else was passed over. I got a lot of khaki, I know. We're switching to a dress code at work: navy blue tops and khaki bottoms. No luck with tops yet.Yesterday's haul, for a grand total of $9.86 with tax:

1. Lightweight classic beige trench coat with detachable hood

2. Danskin black nylon tee

3. My Michelle black velvet shrug

4. Carriage Court white oversize knit sweater

5. Liz Claiborne khaki clamdiggers

6. Gap flat front straight-leg khakis

7. Gloria Vanderbilt bootcut jeans in putty

8. Abercrombie and Fitch hooded sweater

9. Riveted by Lee khaki capris

~*~*~*

Catholic church and the Chinese buffet

I went to mass with the rest of my family, and I'm a little surprised I didn't spontaneously combust as I stepped through the doors. Apparently, unfulfilled Catholic obligations are just between you and Him.

I got an ab workout towards the end of the service. If you are familiar at all with Catholic mass you know what comedian Larry the Cable Guy complains about: that you've got to be pretty fit to be Catholic, what with all the standing and sitting and kneeling going on. Anyway. I got back from communion and, while still standing, tried to hook the kneeling pad with my foot to set it down, as I'd been doing throughout the service. I was encountering resistance but couldn't seem to snag the part above my feet. My brother sitting to my left looked at me askance. As it turns out, the guy in the pew in front of me was knelt in prayer and he'd been ignoring the fact that I'd been kicking his feet. Mortified, I set the pad down by hand, knelt, covered my face with my hands, and tried to stifle my laughter. My shoulders were shaking and my abs hurting from the effort. My mom, who was sitting next to me, thought I was crying. She began rubbing my back and asked, "Are you okay?"

~*~*~*

Dinner was at King's Wok, a family- and pocket-friendly Chinese buffet in Silverdale. Ten bucks and change gets you all you can eat: their lauded egg drop soup, wontons, a limp sushi bar, the usual Chinese sweet/sour-friedrice-lomein fare sans fortune cookies. The seafood is satisfying: crab legs, fried shrimp, shrimp with pineapple, steamed mussels, Pacific salmon and even strange creations like crispy (breaded) oysters and a casserole of imitation crab meat baked with cheese. Fountain drinks, coffee and tea are included in the price.

I particularly liked their dessert offerings: notably the buchi (a sticky doughball filled with sweet bean paste, then rolled in sesame seeds); an interesting cookie made with crispy rice; fresh fruit, including not only pineapples and oranges, but more uncommon lychees and loquats; and even soft-serve ice cream (!!!). Both chocolate dispensers were out of order though, and I had to settle for vanilla. I thought their fruit salad was weird -- it had citrus fruit. There were also sweet rolls which seemed like siopao minus the filling.

~*~~*~*

Caffeine kick of the day:
Seattle's Best 16 oz. creme brulee latte

Satisfying, but so sweet my mouth stayed puckered for an hour. Did you know that Starbucks bought out Seattle's Best in 2003?

Firsts of the day:
Going to Catholic mass for the first time since Benedict became pope. It was...odd, not hearing "John Paul, our pope..."
My first carob bar, 38 cents for three morsels at Fred Meyer

The high cost of flying

Bottled water from the vending machines in the boarding lounge: $1.75
Rental of a digital entertainment system for the duration of the flight: $10
In flight breakfast: $5

What is free?
Cougar Mountain apple oatmeal breakfast cookie from Seattle. Oh, and two beverage servings.

~*~*~*

We just got back from the Fil-Am Association event, which was a bigger deal than I realized. Tickets were $40 and the dress code was semi-formal. Dinner was a salad of mixed greens with raspberry vinaigrette, teriyaki steaks, grilled salmon and steamed vegetables. Dessert cakes were coconut cream, carrot-raisin, German chocolate, and a rich chocolate.

After dinner and a program that included various Filipino cultural numbers and speeches, came the dancing. It was the usual dance mix for the older set: cha-cha, cumbia, salsa, tango and the apparently still-popular macarena, toro and electric slide.

~*~*~*

Cafeeine kick of the day:
Seattle's Best coffee, 2 sugars, 2 creams

First of the day:
My first cuppa coffee this year. I'd steered clear of coffee and tea since since my dental hygienist sandblasted between my teeth with baking soda to get rid of the tea stains.

a mixed bag of emotions

It hasn't been so much a rollercoaster as a messy assortment of moods today. They're changing assistant manager assignments again at work and I am not happy. When I come back from vacation Kristin will no longer be over our area, and the guy replacing her I have little respect for. Plus, he creeps me out. Fk.

I'm beginning the stirrings of elation over my coming trip, yet it's so easy to make me sad right now, so easy for me to remember that I'll miss Patrick and Cocoa and my friends.

It's the first time I've been away, since I got married.