Thanks to Tonya for posting about your training. The stuff you posted is really interesting and thought provoking.
Having been in what I now consider an abusive relationship (although it only once crossed the line into violence that I recognized as unacceptable), I have many thoughts on the items from Tonya's training.
See extended entries if you actually want to read further...
Background: I was in a relationship with someone for 5.5 years. We were really in love. That didn't mean that we weren't abusive to each other. I just didn't realize it at the time because:
A) I was young and hadn't had any relationships such that I knew that they could be different,
B) there was only 1 instance of real violence that crossed the line (at which point I did threaten to leave), but we were actually pretty violent with each other (lots of slapping/punching on the shoulder/pinching/tickling to the point of pain, etc.),
C) I thought that abuse was only violence, not verbal/mental abuse
D) Verbal/mental abuse is so insidious that you don't necessarily realize it's happening
E) If you don't have good boundaries (and you don't if you're in the position to be abused), you probably don't know it
F) You're conditioned to obedience, not thinking for yourself in the face of authority, guilt, fear
For the sake of fairness, I have to point out that we abused each other. We pushed each others' buttons - I did it because I thought I was striking back at him, but I'm sure I initiated fights/issues too. Also for the sake of fairness, this is only my side of the story (he won't get a rebuttal), so take it on those grounds. Also - as much as we were bad to each other, he's still the basis for much of my template of man I'd like to be with (someone who makes me laugh all the time, someone affectionate, someone smart, someone who calls me on my shit, a guys' guy, great hands, passionate in every sense, etc.). We loved each other a lot, and had many good times together even though there were always issues between us. And I still have to respect him for putting up with as much shit as I gave him because god knows I'm not easy to live with.
The points that Tonya's training brought up are below in italics. My responses follow (specific to my situation).
1) No financial access.
2) No transportation.
9) They have no friends.
These were not issues for me. I had access to all of those things (that was the one boundary I did have - not letting someone control my friends), so I think they all helped keep me a bit more grounded. I didn't realize it in this way at the time, but seeing friends who were in similar or worse positions than me made me think through my options a bit.
3) Children.
Thank god I was smart enough not to have kids, especially with him. Given our boundary issues, those kids wouldn't have a shot in hell of being able to cope.
4) Guilt.
5) Culture and religion.
6) Family.
7) Fear.
I think these all go together. In my case the factors that piled onto one another were traditional upbringing (Filipino mom, old fashioned sense of values), Catholic upbringing (fear/guilt/obedience). However, the biggest barrier was being a girl - there are things you do and don't do as a "good girl" and in a perverse way my competitive urge drove me to be the best "good girl" at the expense of thinking for myself, having boundaries, my own rebellious nature, etc. Thank god getting older gives you space and distance to figure some of that stuff out. I'm still working through the rest.
8) It's normal.
Sad but true - if you've not lived with good boundaries, you don't know what they look like, how to set them, etc. I didn't know that all relationships weren't like mine. I mean, I could see that some people did things differently, but we were different (in good ways too) behind closed doors, so I thought that other people had similar issues.
10) They think it will get better.
This one is seductive - you think the other person will change. He'll realize that what he's doing or saying hurts you, or that this is a bad time but the good times are just around the corner. (Besides, who wants to be a "quitter" - even if it's for the right reasons.)
The beginning of the end came when I started getting better boundaries, trying to set a framework for acceptable ways for us to work out issues (no name calling, each person gets to say what they have to say without interruption, talk about the actual issue, not bringing up the past and throwing it in the person's face, etc, etc.). I remember that for new year's (we broke up in March) we were at a party and fighting (what else is new, right) and I knew that would be the last new year's we'd spend together. I was trying to change, and he didn't want me to (who can blame him, it'd been working for him just fine for years). I probably could have worked at it with him more (he offered to go to counseling together), but at that point I was done and ready to move on.
No. I have not decided to jump the fence, switch teams, etc. But it'd be really nice to have a wife. You know, the person who will take care of all those pesky domestic details that suck the life out of you. Or take you away from blogging, or Tivo or anything else more interesting.
I'm not asking for much. Just someone (else) to do the grocery shopping, taking care of the lawn (watering is actually all I have to do and I don't do that), the laundry, etc. I don't mind being the breadwinner. I have to do it anyway, right? Kids would not be part of the deal unless I could just have the kid and let "mom" take care of the kid at home all day.
That's it. This just proves that I should have been a man. Except that (as all my male friends point out) I don't actually want to sit around playing with my breasts all day, nor am I attracted to women sexually. (Ok, most women... there are rare exceptions to the rule...) But I like guy stuff (gadgets, cars, now whiskey), all my friends are guys, I think (most of the time) more like a guy than like a girl. Did I get the wrong parts somehow?
You know you're good friends with someone when you can tell the person in advance that you have a bone to pick with them, and they still show up to lunch with you. You also know it's a friendship worth keeping when the person will stand up and take it like a man and also admit that he screwed up. You do have to wonder sometimes if the friendship is worth it if the same issue keeps coming up again in different ways, but at the same time, you both know that leopards don't change their spots - so something's going to have to change on one side or the other. Also knowing that you and your friend both are very stubborn people, that means that little is likely to be different, but the fact that you can both open a dialog about it and also let it go is a good thing.
Most days I don't feel like a grown up - I feel like I muddle along and people let me think that I do an ok job at the stuff I do, but today I actually felt like a grown up, and was proud of myself for confronting someone in an adult, constructive manner, in a way that I was heard and acknowledged, but also in a way that made us both feel better, and not worse.
More meditations on friends...
Many stupid maudlin cliches coming...stop reading if you have a tendency to hurl over that stuff.
I'm not sure what the distinction between friends and acquaintances is, except that I know which category I put most people in. The friends category (true friends, people who will be there for you for the long haul) tends to be a small group, but if you pick them well, they should last a lifetime. And if not a lifetime, then long enough for you to learn and grow and share some things (good and bad) and you're sad when they're gone, but you go your separate ways because it's the right thing to do.
I was talking to a friend the other day (by the way, most of my friends are male, go figure) who noted that he doesn't have a best friend. I'm not sure whether this is unusual or not, except that the person I call my best friend, really doesn't fit my definition of best friend. I'm not really sure what that definition is, except that it may have been formed by being a little girl - best friends were HUGELY important for some strange reason. I remember it was a huge, traumatic deal when you lost a best friend (who was stolen away by another girl - or worse - boy), and it could be a huge triumph to be officially named someone's best friend. I just remember that for some reason the role of best friend was imbued with almost religious significance, and seemed to have requisite duties and perks associated (which I can't really remember right now).
I think the closest thing I have to a "best friend" now doesn't really fit the definition in my head in that he's not someone I call all the time, and I don't share every detail of my life with him. But he's the person I want to run to when I'm feeling low and want someone to cheer me up and make me feel better. We can not see each other for a while and just fall into our normal "us" mode really easily. We like to be around each other, and he routinely makes me laugh. But at the same time I've always known that he's limited in what he can give me in terms of friendship - someone else in his life (although it rotates) always comes first. Of course that's going to happen when he has a girlfriend, but it's still disconcerting and annoying when he drops off the face of the earth, won't tell me what's going on his life, etc.
I know that I compartmentalize. I don't mean to be secretive, but I always have been, and probably always will be in some manner. There are things that I share with everyone (probably too freely, hence the blog is perfect), but there are also things I either share with no one, or share with very few people. Of course it's ok when *I* do it, but when other people do it to me, it bugs me. Especially when my friends do it to me. I'm such a little kid about wanting to be included and so easily hurt when I'm not, but it's not something you can call people on.
There are interlocking circles of friends among the people I hang out with, some of whom are closer than others. I still haven't figured out which strata I fit in among them - probably because they're not sure where to stick me either. If I were a part of a couple, then inviting me to places would be easier - it's round numbers, a set of two couples isn't awkward, I'd immediately have someone else to hang out with if it's a party, etc. But in terms of who invites me to what - I feel like I'm not invited unless it's a large group. This isn't a problem - I don't want people to invite me to stuff unless they want me there, but sometimes it'd be nice to be included in stuff that I hear about later.
Back to other friendship stuff... You know you have a keeper of a friend when you only talk every once in a while, but it's like you have a psychic connection when you do talk. You call her and she says she was just thinking about you. Or you send her an email with just the thing she was looking for but you hadn't discussed it.
But as a grown up - how do you go about making such friends? Everyone that I hang out with on any regular basis is in such a different place in his/her life that I feel a bit hard pressed to follow along sometimes. And after having met people a couple of times, that's probably not enough of a connection to then either reach out to them to invite them to stuff, nor enough connection to think that you'd be invited to stuff with them. But how do you go about strengthening that kind of connection/bond without being pushy about it? (Certainly being pushy is something I'm good at - and lord knows that that kind of neediness is not attractive.) I hate to sit back and wait for things to fall into my lap if I can take the reins and go get them. Hm... maybe that's what I'm supposed to learn - that you can't push or pull to get what you want - the right things will come to you at the right times. (d'oh!!!! I hate the very idea of that - I'm far to impatient to sit around and wait for things... d'oh!!!!)
Just because I'm a copycat and have no actual ideas of my own, I'm going to comment on Ken's post about lucid dreams.
I guess I'm sorta surprised that other people don't have them, or not very often. But I don't know if my surprise is really because I'm misunderstanding his interpretation (or mine) of what a lucid dream is, or if it's because of the lack or infrequency that other people have them?
See extended entry for my (rather long) rambles...
For some context, I don't sleep very well. Even if I'm trying, I seem to max out at 5-6 hours per night (even if I'm in bed longer). I've always had dream cycles where I remember my dreams and then don't remember them. I've also always had vivid dreams, and they have always been in color. I have lucid dreams fairly often right before I get up in the morning. I've even incorporated things I hear on the radio alarm into my dreams (like the time I was convinced until I was almost at work that I had one the lottery - but I never buy tickets).
I don't remember a ton of dreams from being a kid, but I do remember a couple. In one I know that I was sick, feverish while the dream was going on. I heard the lyrics to Comfortably Numb by Pink Floyd as an adult, and remembered this dream. In the dream my hands turned into big red hand-shaped ballons, and I was trying to find the string to bring them back down, except that I couldn't bring them down because I had nothing to hold them with as they were my hands. The other one I remember must have been after a trip to the City. I remember something from the TV show Streets of San Francisco showing a car coming down a hill onto the flat cross street and then catching air on the next hill. I think that (and the sensation that I remembered from riding in the back of the car) led to my dream that I was on my bicycle. I was riding down a hill in SF, seeing down the hill until I hit the flat cross street, and as I was nearing the edge of the cross street being unable to see the hill below me. I went down over a couple of these, gaining speed, until I flew out into nothing. There was blue sky and fluffy clouds below me because the city was up in the clouds. And then I woke up. I thought at the time that that was the coolest dream ever.
Also for the sake of disclosure, I've never really had very many nightmares, and especially not as an adult because as soon as I realize I'm scared in a dream, I wake myself up. The nightmares I have as an adult tend to be of me in the house with unknown scary people outside the house and trying to get me (pretty normal scary movie stuff). The dreams will start out pretty normal - going on a ski trip to a cabin in the woods. For some reason people all leave the house (or maybe one or two stay, but I don't see them in the dream) and I'm left alone. The dream usually starts out non-scary, I'm reading or hanging out doing something when something scary starts happening - a motorcycle KEEPS going by on the road outside, or something else indicates that something scary is coming. Usually at this point I go looking for either the other people in the house and I never find them (but sometimes hear them moving around and am not sure if it's them or the bad guys). That usually escalates into me looking for a place to hide. Usually at this point I know I'm dreaming and get to a secret hiding place somewhere in the house - usually someplace that other people could find too (the clues point to it), but they don't find me and then I wake up. (Do your own dream analysis. I already know I'm fucked up.)
The realllllllly scary one that I couldn't wake myself up from involved a bad guy that I could see. (I think he was some minor thug character actor in bad 70s dramas - think Kojak or SoSF.) In this one I was in my actual house that I lived in at the time (usually even if the house "feels" like it's mine, it doesn't LOOK like my actual house). In this dream it was my real house and started out mundane and normal. At some point I realize that a scary person is outside looking to get in. The curtains in my house at that point were all pretty sheer so you could see if someone was in the house. I tried calling out, but the phone line had been cut. I was barricaded in my room, but I could hear weird noises going on in the living room. I finally peeked out my bedroom door and could see that my mom was passed out and curled into a fetal position with her head on the hearth right below the woodstove and the bad guy was shoveling coals out of the fire onto her. I woke up screaming and didn't go back to sleep for the rest of the night. That was one VERY long day of junior high school - mostly because I didn't want to go home after school because it got dark pretty soon after I got home (living in the redwoods and all) and I knew it was going to be scary to be by myself until mom got home.
Other stuff I've dreamed that happens on a recurring basis tends to be of the I'm lost/finding myself variety, or the water/change dreams. The lost/searching dreams tend to be like I'm driving down a freeway, and suddenly it's unfinished in some ways and I'm threading my through obstacles on the unfinished roadway (sections are gone, sections are incomplete and I would get stuck if I went that way, etc.) - pretty literal dreams. A variation on that theme was that I started out in SF in a parking garage and there were the same obstacles, and there was the exit ramp which had no side walls or curbs so you couldn't really see very well from the car where the edges were - I remember that because I went from interior (gray concrete) to exterior (blue sky with fluffy white clouds) in this big circle after big circle. But I did finally get out of that one.
The other recurring dream (if you can really call it that - the dreams are all different, the recurring element is water) is the water dream. In one I remember this from the first time I went to Hawaii. You have to understand that I don't swim well, and am not comfortable in the water. So in real life my best friend and I went to Waikiki after graduating from high school. We could drink (that might have been the last year the drinking age was 18) and we pretty much laid on the beach all day like rotisserie chickens, and drank and danced our asses off all night. One day we bought cheapo inflatable rafts. I was out pretty far (by CA standards it would have been deep - maybe 20 yards off the beach) but I was on a little shoal where I could stand up. In the dream I was there lying on my raft and I looked up and to the right where a wave was coming. It was pretty high above me and I got a little scared about being swamped, but I figured if I just rode it out, I'd be fine. The next wave came and it was a little bigger, but I rode that one out too. The BIG wave came and swamped me and I woke up. The others are similar - on a raft on a lake and the waves from the jet skis come and start getting bigger and bigger until it's a tidal wave.
And the last one is me trying to swim along next to a stone breakwater. The waves are really choppy and I want to get out, but I'm afraid that if I get too close to the rocks that I'll get smashed up against them and get hurt. I keep getting more and more tired, and I can see someone (that I used to work with) up on the breakwater and I keep trying to call to him for help, but I keep getting water in my mouth and can't breathe. Finally I just float down under the water looking up at him until a big wave comes up and is about to thrash me onto the rocks and I wake up. All of these dreams happen when there is a lot of turmoil and change going on in my life (the one with the lake/jetskis was when I was leaving my last job to come to my current job - a bunch of my co-workers had gone on a houseboat trip 2 years in a row and that's the lake we were at). The one with the co-worker was when I was debating whether to leave a company we had worked at together and go work with him in another company or to stay where I was and work for a different group (I chose to stay and not work with him). I don't remember what was going on around the time of the first one, but I bet it was work related.
Anyway, about the lucid dreams - I have those at least a couple of times per month - sometimes 2-3 times/week depending on how much I'm dreaming. I don't always remember all of my dreams, but I remember the ones from just before I wake up usually. And since I wake up a lot in the middle of the night I remember some of those in the morning too (since I replay them until I fall asleep but can't seem to fall back into the same dreams). I should keep a dream journal, but frankly think I'll either forget or the act of writing will wake me up enough that I'll start interpreting the dreams instead of just recording them.
I think they are lucid dreams in that many times I know I'm dreaming, and if I don't like the direction the dream is going I'll either swim up to consciousness or take the dream in another direction. I know that I'll go for a couple of weeks where I'm dreaming pretty solidly and remembering them, but then I'll go into a week or two of not dreaming (or at least remembering) at all. I haven't figured out if it's linked to my cycle or not, but that's not a bad bet.
To mention something from PQBON/Tonya's blog - my dreams are usually pretty reality-based. I can't fly in my dreams (except in falling dreams, but those don't count) or do anything else extraordinary. Sometimes things are a bit more hyped-up (color-wise or sounds-wise) than in real life, but otherwise things are pretty normal. So normal in fact that I've awakened from many dreams wondering if I did the things in the dreams or not (like taking out the garbage, getting the car serviced, etc.). I've always wondered if that's my brain's way of clearing out the dead wood and leaving room for actual other stuff? Because many times those types of dreams happen when there is a lot of growth going on for me personally (either I'm realizing a lot of things or taking action about things).
I think this may be sharing too much, but I want to know if other people experience this - I know that I've added elements to spice up an otherwise boring dreams into a wet dreams. Basically it'll start as a romantic dream (holding hands, kissing, nothing really to get me particularly hot - except that the dream FEELS very real). There are times it's VERY good to be a girl - nothing better than having a orgasm in your dreams and going back to sleep. It's kind of reassuring to know that your body will tell you when you haven't been having enough orgasms and will give you one (or two) to get everything back in balance. So does this happen to anyone else, or am I just a freak? (A lucky freak, but a freak nonetheless...)
I'm back to the land of the living. THANKS to everyone who showed up at my birthday party!!! It was wonderful to see that many people show up all for little old me... (ok, or for the chance to party). I managed to have a great time, not hurt myself in any manner (must remember to wear flats the next time I want to drink a lot) and not do anything toooooo extreme (I think...).
I was not sick at all, though I came damn close in the morning. I felt a bit rough all day Sunday, and couldn't bring myself to eat until around 1:00. Thanks to Tonya for calling to see if I was up for brunch, but while I was AWAKE when she called, I was not able to do much more than lie on the couch. If I'd been out in public I probably would have hurled - just because it would have been embarrassing.
Thanks so much to my designated driver! I am very happy I didn't have to try to tell a cab driver how to get to my house... I would have made it, but it might have been a long, convoluted trip.
I did realize that apparently I'm a pretty highly functioning drunk though. I know someone whose verbal abilities are decimated after 1 drink, so I'm lucky in that regard. I don't think I slur much, even when I'm completely gone. And I managed to remember to drink lots of water, and to get myself into comfy clothes (which I inexplicably wore to bed - sweatshirts, sweats, socks... I'm surprised I didn't sweat to death). Is this a good sign, or a bad sign that I may be drinking too much? Well, it doesn't matter, the week of birthday is over, and my liver will get its much needed rest.
This is probably as bad as drunken texting. Except that I know of no one to drunken text. (Thank god for small miracles.) It is amazing A) how many typing mistakes I've made in the last 2 lines B) how many I've caught C) how many I'll sort of semi-coherently remember tomorrow.
Things to regret - things not accomplished - drunk or sober; missed opportunities; loving someone (or at least taking chances) no matter the cost.
Things to love that my friends (and work friends, and friends of friends) showed up to give me their love. As much as I might forget, my friends love me, and support me, and show up for no other reason than that I asked them to. XOXOXOXO to everyone (who should know who they are) tonight.
I must say that I am soooooooo drunk that if I manage to show up to brunch tomorrow that it's more thru fortitude of will than thru any actual ability to be this drunk and live. Just for the record - I'm planning to unplug all phones and any accessory that might pretend to make any mfing noise at any point before I'm ready to deal with anyone. Furthermore for the record - I've taken my glasses off and put my hair in a ponytail. And I also don't have a spellchecker - so any typos are actually typos - not because I didn't know better or because I couldn't work the spellchecker. Fuck I scare myself with my actual drunken writing ability....
Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuckity fuck, fuck. I hate everything and everyone, but most especially happy people. They should be fucking shot. [/rant]
Some day I'll start a catalog of the various pits of despair. For now it's knowing that you are last fucking single person. EVER. Another pit of despair - no fucking Diet Cokes in the entire building. I think this pushed the other pit of despair deeper. I hate. I hate hating. I hate hating, and the person that usually slaps me out of my hating by making me laugh (or at least realize how ridiculous my hate is) is now one of THEM - the happy couple people. Fuck. The fact that I am using bold should underline exactly how pissed off I am at the world. I'm glad there's no alcohol within reach. Then I'd be pissed off AND hung over. Fuck.
You know you've worked somewhere too long when you see someone in the hallway (from across the building - hallway runs the length of the building) and you marvel that his hair is that long, and that you remember it a number of inches shorter. So not only is his hair too long (and kinda scary to be frank), but I've been here too long that I even knew that about him when he's someone that I have to interact with maybe twice per year. Weird.
Having a great day, and it's not even over with yet.
Went drinking in the City last night. Fun, fun, fun. Not hung over today, even more fun. Got a mexican mocha and a chocolate croissant - yum. Went shoe shopping with Meta and bought a pair of (surprise) black shoes. Got a yummy sandwich in her neighborhood.
Was going home on 101, then decided that 101 has boring scenery so I went over to 280 instead. Then decided to prolong the drive a bit and took 92 to 1 to 84 to 35 to 9. That's a lot of highways in one day. But the weather was beautiful and clear at the beach. I got a bit of sun, and a bit of relaxation and clarity (I need to go to the beach more often - especially on weekdays when there's no one else there). Came home and took a nap. (Well, tried to nap and wasn't successful, but the trying was fun.) Got a couple of happy birthday voicemails from work, complete with singing.
Going to dinner tonight with friends. That should be fun. And that will complete a wonderful birthday.
Here are some birthday wishes for myself (and sometimes others) for the next year. (Yes I'm being incredibly childish and self-centered. It's my birthday week, dammit!)
Hot sex. Yes, I said it, I'm wishing for some hot sex - not just on my birthday, but all year round. That said, it doesn't mean I'll get the birthday boner, but the daydreaming will be fun.
Hot sex with the same guy for the next year (or more). If hot sex is good, then lots of hot sex with someone whose body I get to learn would be even more fun, right?
A job for my mom. Then I wouldn't have to worry about her.
Laughter - the kind where you snort stuff out of your nose. The kind where your stomach muscles get all rubbery from laughing. The kind where you can't stop giggling for the next 20 minutes. The kind where every time you look at someone you start laughing again. Even the occasional giggle, chortle, snicker, chuckle, guffaw, twitter, roar, smirk would be fine. I just think that more laughter in my life would be a wonderful thing.
Adventure - I want some new adventures this year, either stuff I've never done, or stuff I haven't done in a long time (sailing?). Travel is always good for adventures, but they could be adventures in food, or wine, (or like this weekend whisky) or art or nature - I'm open to anything. I can't wait for my doors to be blown by something (or someone) amazing.
A raise. Or stock. I don't really need much more money, it's not about that (although I obviously wouldn't turn it down). It's about the recognition, the validation. I want someone to pony up and SHOW me that my contributions are appreciated.
To lose weight - ok, I know I'll have to put in some effort on this one (and I have been). But it would be so fun to wear a cute little mini skirt and fishnets and high heels and flash some cleavage and feel like alla that AND a bag o' chips. While I can feel like that anyway (attitude is a wonderful thing), feeling it because I KNOW I'm not (not just cuz I think I'm hot) would be just that much better. Besides, it'll aid in the whole hot sex thing.
More friends - I've been meeting new people the last couple weekends, and it's fun. I like getting to know new people, and would like to get to know more. For someone who is both outgoing (usually) and shy (sometimes), this would be a good challenge.
More feistyness. I know, the people who know me as feisty won't be able to stand any more from me. But the people who think that I'm shy, quiet, retiring, sweet and sensitive will just have to get over it. I am all of those things, but not all the time - and while the wild side gets me into trouble, it's definitely the most fun and challenging. More whisky, coming up!
More time. Ok, I know you can't really get more time, but I do want more time doing stuff I like and want to do (reading, hanging with friends, hiking when my allergies let me, etc.), and less time doing stupid stuff (like work).
...than to read my work email after I've sent out a big alert. I'm a fucking idiot. Now I've allowed the assholes with the stupid questions to interfere with what was a perfectly normal, boring (lovely) evening. The morons have managed to get in the way of my blogging about my birthday. How fucked up is that???? I'd rant about the fuckwits further, but I don't want to give them any more energy. Bah.
Oh, hell... maybe just a little rant... I was all happy and deciding to stay where I'm at. Until the morons came out in force tonight. As they will at various times if I am the mouthpiece for the crappy stuff that happens (which, sadly, is what my job is about). So do I stay here (where I've been happier for the last minute and a half), or move on to another group where it'll take me at least 3 months to figure out that I'm miserable?? Ok, I feel a little better now, back to my birthday.
I'm so tired I can't stand myself. I had a great weekend, but I'm very tired. So the wrap up will be quick.
Friday - poker
Saturday - Whiskies of the World
Sunday - shared bday celebration - Beach Blanket Babylon
See extended entry if you want the actual gory details...
Friday - played poker. I won a bit this month, unlike the previous, oh, 7 months or so. Got to talk to Jay on the ride up - that was cool. I have decided that perhaps instead of paying to talk to a psychologist weekly, I should have a really good talk with Jay about once a quarter or so, and save a lot of money but get the same amount done. Got home 1:30ish, but was hyper and couldn't get to sleep (ok, didn't bother to try) until 3AM.
Saturday - Got up around 9. Tried to sleep longer, couldn't. Puttered around the house, finally got hooked up with Meta as to what the plan was to meet to go to Whiskies. Wasted inordinate amounts of time trying to figure out transportation options. Figured out that driving and parking in the City was going to stress me out enough that I wouldn't enjoy the drinking. So I drove to San Bruno BART station (drove the wrong way through the bus terminal... oops...) and parked at Target. Took BART to 24th St. Got lost getting out of the station, walked down Mission. That was an adventure - kinda like walking into a different country or something. Met Meta's roommates - they are cool.
Met up with the boys. Got to go to the parents' cool condo (what a view!!!) on the way to the party. Things to remember if I go to Whiskies next year - eat first. The buffet was good - if not for that we would have ALL been in a world of hurt (instead of only some of us). Flirted with many boys. Enjoyed the hell out of that. Enjoyed being one of the few women in the place - I was feeling the power of my femininity (I only wish we hadn't had to do so much walking or I'd have worn a skirt and heels....mmmm....). Drank many things. Learned a bit about whiskies, including that I like many of them (which ones I can't remember right now - too tired, must remember to ask people who were there). Learned that kissing a boy after the scotch tastings is fun - he tasted like scotch, yummy. (See kwc's blog for a much more coherent account of the actual WotW events.)
After folks left to go to Dropkick Murphies, I wrangled a drunk (thanks to everyone who helped with that - most of whose names I don't know). I'm not sure where I get the Florence Nightengale (sp?) streak, but maybe I just need to do it once a year or so? (Coincidentally, the last guy that I helped through a drunken stupor and puking had the same name as the one from this weekend - must remember not to party with guys whose names start with M. Actually, come to think of it, that was a pretty boy-intensive weekend too... Hm....) It was lucky we had a bucket with us for the cab ride - he didn't need it in the cab, but it came in handy later. The other good news is that because I was dealing with that that I didn't drink any more as had been my original plan - more alcohol would have been a bad idea. Thanks to Meta and roommates for letting me crash at their house.
Sunday - Woke up at 8 for some stupid reason, and couldn't go back to sleep. Felt pretty good considering the amount of drinking I had done, definitely not hung over, but not 100% either. So I read for a while until other folks started getting up. Thanks for the breakfast guys! Took BART to Union Square where I met Susan. We had a girls' day to celebrate our birthdays (hers was last week, mine's this week). This consisted of some pastries, some shopping (no buying for me, but Susan found some stuff), some dinner, and then going to see Beach Blanket Babylon. The show was pretty fun, and now I have one more thing checked off my list of things to do some day. It was great to see Susan and hang out with her. It's nice when you have friends that go back a number of years - it helps give you perspective on your life now. I had a great day, so I'm sorry I missed brunch (honeyfields), but it was for a good cause.
Take-aways from the weekend - ** I love boys. I love spending time around them, both in platonic and non-platonic ways. Must work in more non-platonic ways. ** I love my friends - they are very sweet, both to me and to each other (for the most part), and I'm lucky to have them in my life. The next time I need to puke, I want to do it with good friends to help me. (Ok, not really.) ** Must get over my fear of parking/driving in SF. Probably won't happen without proper incentive, I just need a good enough incentive. ** It's difficult to see what hidden agendas people have (and it's just as difficult for other people to see my hidden agendas too, which could be good or bad). ** Men are opportunists - if they are horny (and when are they not?) and there is a girl around that they think is cute (whisky goggles) and/or available, they will pursue her with a relentlessness that is by turns scary, pathetic or admirable, depending on the specifics. (This is not a bad thing, or a surprise, I'm merely chronicling my observation.) ** I need to get a small notebook to carry around in my purse to make note of things to use in my (meager) writings. (german tourists on BART with their backpacks, evil thoughts of flipping up kilts, etc.) ** I am a very lucky person overall and have an amazing life. However, the one place that I think I got shafted about a talent that I really want is the ability to sing. Listening to the voices at BBB, I was GREEN with envy. Grr. ** Meta is fun all the time, but more so when we're both drunk and feisty.
And speaking of picking one half of your ethnicity over the other, welcome to the holiday where for one day out of the year, you get to embrace all the stereotypically Irish behaviors, and no one calls you on it. There must be other qualities to the Irish people than being drunks, being religious and superstitious at the same time, being lucky, having a bit o' the blarney, and being into wearing green. I just can't think of what they may be. So let's raise a toast (and a shamrock) to St. Patrick for driving the snakes out of Ireland (that's him, right?).
It feels strangely wrong somehow to not be out carousing tonight, but maybe that's the Filipino half thinking wisely (for once).
Can you know who you are if you don't have any mirrors that reflect you, or if there are mirrors, but they don't reflect you accurately?
I think that growing up as a person of mixed heritage, I always felt a little lost. There was nothing in my world growing up that reflected my reality in a way that I recognized, could connect to. There was nothing there that I could use to see the similarities and differences between me and the people around me, that I could use to form opinions of how I fit into the world.
More...
At play, the Barbie dolls certainly weren't reflection of my world. How could anyone that beautiful, with the big blue eyes, and wonderful white-blonde hair, with all of those cool possessions reflect the reality of this little brown girl in a white world? My almond shaped eyes didn't hold makeup the way Barbie's did, no matter how much I wanted them to. While my friends looked like Barbie, and the boys I was dreamy-eyed over looked like Ken, none of them looked like me.
While I loved the world of Cinderella and Snow White, which even as a child I knew were only make-believe, I knew even then that they weren't fairy tales that I could embrace. For clearly the Prince was going to find the beautiful blue eyed girls, or the girls with the creamy white skin and pass over the girl with the chocolate brown eyes and honey brown skin. The fairy godmother must be helping other pretty little white girls, which was why she wasn't coming to my house to grant wishes.
The games I played with other girls (house and jacks and jump rope and hopscotch), what if those were too tame? Where were the girls in the games I wanted to play (Star Wars and cowboys and indians and ball games) so that I could see how I could learn to be a woman in those roles? Was there no room for people who weren't black or white in far off galaxies? Were the brown people always the ones who were conquered? Was there only competition in physical games, and no sharing?
How was I to know what to do with my life as a grown-up? What if my dream jobs expanded beyond the playtime worlds of teacher, stewardess, secretary - how could I aspire to be more when that's what I thought women were supposed to be and do, when that's the roles I saw them taking in my world? If you asked me as a child what I wanted to be, they stayed within a woman's realm, within the realm of what I'd always seen, because it took me a while to realize in my head what my heart already knew - I was better than the boys at many "boy things". And that my white friends weren't any better any any scholastic things than I was.
I think it's wonderful that toys today are starting to reflect all colors in the spectrum. The fact that there's even a section on amazon for ethnic dolls is in some ways great (and in some ways disturbing). I think it's great in that children can see themselves reflected when they play, not someone that they'll never look like. Then again, this is disturbing to me somehow in that none of the dolls appear to be of mixed race, so the makers are still a bit off. (Or maybe because the text, while accurately reflecting what the makers are trying to do, and even backing up what I'm saying, makes me want to puke. "Realistic playmates that are designed to create a culturally diverse play environment and to encourage identification and positive self-concept.")
I'm hoping that toys today (or maybe parents today) are also helping their children see both into and beyond gender and ethnicity (and maybe someday beyond sexual orientation) to learn how to be themselves. I hope that other children of mixed race growing up today don't choose to align themselves with only one half of their ancestry, forsaking the other half, just because that's the dominant world that they live in.
I'm still learning how to be myself, regardless of what's modeled around me, every day. Obviously I found the work that I'm good at, that I'm respected for, and I found the world where I'm included. And I know that those things weren't dependent on my brown skin, but on my ability and my drive and my heart and my listening to experience (mine and others') to guide me.
The Dante's Inferno Test has banished you to the Fifth Level of Hell!
Here is how you matched up against all the levels:
| Level | Score |
|---|---|
| Purgatory (Repenting Believers) | Very Low |
| Level 1 - Limbo (Virtuous Non-Believers) | Very Low |
| Level 2 (Lustful) | Extreme |
| Level 3 (Gluttonous) | Very High |
| Level 4 (Prodigal and Avaricious) | High |
| Level 5 (Wrathful and Gloomy) | Extreme |
| Level 6 - The City of Dis (Heretics) | High |
| Level 7 (Violent) | Extreme |
| Level 8- the Malebolge (Fraudulent, Malicious, Panderers) | Extreme |
| Level 9 - Cocytus (Treacherous) | Very High |
| Disorder | Rating |
| Paranoid: | High |
| Schizoid: | Low |
| Schizotypal: | Moderate |
| Antisocial: | High |
| Borderline: | Moderate |
| Histrionic: | High |
| Narcissistic: | Moderate |
| Avoidant: | Moderate |
| Dependent: | Moderate |
| Obsessive-Compulsive: | High |
-- Personality Disorder Test - Take It! -- | |
For those of you who are artistic AND feminists, this may be the project for you. "...we want you to create a print ad for the March for Women's Lives on April 25, 2004. "
The wheels are in motion. I did my second internal interview today. I had met originally with the manager of the group, and then I met today with two of the members of her group that I'd be interacting with (one was another project manager and one was in the operations area). Given that I didn't prep for this at all, I think I kicked ass. I was glib and articulate, and answered questions they didn't know they had. I was funny, I was competent, gave great examples, etc. In short, I kicked ass. If you knew how rarely I say that stuff, you'd be even more impressed.
Now the problem is.... do I want this job I (possibly) talked my way into? I actually sort of believed my own bullshit when they asked me why I wanted to move from my current job (stretching career/resume-wise, challenges with different groups and different technology). But I'm really feeling like I'm growing into my own space at my current job - settling in, getting reallllllly good at it, getting the respect I want, etc. I don't want to leave, but I also don't want to stay and be underappreciated. So I guess I'll talk to my boss's boss and see if he can pony up any reasons for me to stay. (At a guess he'll want to keep me happy - I'm saving his ass even though I bring him the hard questions.) I'm just not really sure what to ask for - I'm not sure they can really give me more money or stock (I could be wrong here, but I doubt it). I could maybe ask for more autonomy, but I actually have as much as I can handle as I do stuff by myself until I need help, then I ask. And I'm good at delegating up (i.e. I give the stuff I can't handle to my bosses, but only when I've really exhausted other options, and then I bring them as much info as I have so that they can make the best decisions). I like the people I get to work with, and the stuff I get to do, so I guess the only thing I wanted to ask for is something I already got by doing it myself - not interacting with my direct boss. Maybe I should just tell my boss that I can continue to shine in this organization, or I can shine in another organization - he can decide.
It's that lovely time of year when I can't breathe properly, my eyes may start to water for no apparent reason, my nose starts to run at inopportune times (i.e. in the middle of a big important meeting). Yes, I'm doing the right things (using a nasal spray which is helping minimize some of the symptoms, staying indoors when I know it's going to be bad, etc.). But it doesn't mean I have to be happy about having to do those things.
People who don't have allergies look at you like you're nuts when you say your allergies are kicking your ass today. They should be shot when they do that. It sucks - your head is either heavy, or fuzzy, or both. When it's particularly bad, you sneeze 6 times in a row - do you have any idea how tiring it is to sneeze 6 times? You have to carry around tissues with you (which then get shredded in the laundry because you forgot you put them in your jeans pockets and you have to shake the bits out of your clean clothes). You get the weird pre-sneeze expressions on you face. (You know, the sneeze is winding up, but isn't fully realized yet so your face contorts until you get the release of an actual sneeze. It's kinda like an orgasm, but less fun.)
The stupid thing is that I was fine at work all day. Very little discomfort (just a few minor "about to sneeze"s). Then I get home and it feels like there is something sitting on my chest, I've been sneezy and sniffly and generally kinda pathetic. Bah. I know I should like spring, but I hate that it brings allergies with it which make me want to curl into a little ball in bed until it's summer.
Ok, I've officially put my liver on notice. I now have a ticket to Whiskies of the World, and I hope my liver will survive the night.
Yep, you guessed it. Spring is around the corner, and with spring comes... spiders. (You thought I was going to say allergies? Yes, those are here too, but we'll get to those in a moment.)
More in extended entry.
In the 1/2 hour or so that I've been home this evening after going to Tahoe (note that I didn't say "gone skiing"), I have seen 5 different spiders. This wouldn't actually be as disturbing if they were all the same kind of spider, as at least that way I could guess that they had had babies and I could probably get rid of them in some manner. But no. There was a daddy long legs. It scuttled away under the dish drainer so it gets to live until it makes the mistake of being seen when I'm armed to kill it. Another was a small indoor spider on the back door - that one I was thinking was possibly one of a pod, but I didn't see any other baby spiders, so I can't be sure. My hands were full, so that one got to live too. There are 2 in my bedroom along the ceiling. One is a daddy long legs and another is an indoor spider with a weird slightly translucent body. Those will get vacuumed up before I go to bed - no energy to do it now.
But the granddaddy spider was the one in the back yard. It's like the big icky one I wrote about last year. This one was found, like the last one, on my way to do laundry. Unlike the last one, which was on the side of the house between two trees, this one was right outside the back door. It was suspended between the house and the trellis-y thing (gazebo? I don't know what to call it). It's body is probably about an inch and a half across, maybe a tad longer. Big enough to see that it has slightly stripe-y markings. That one got to live because frankly it was too big to kill with my hands full, and I have the feeling that if he died his ghost would haunt me forever.
Wrap up of the weekend...
Left work around noonish on Friday. Had lunch with Meta, honeyfields and her boyfriend. Then went by my house for a few minutes to pick up something for the trip (as the restaurant was maybe 1/2 mile or so from my house). Drove to 1010 and got kwc. Took a long while to get out of the bay area - stopped for In and Out where I had the double/double protein style for the first time. (Good - a bit messy, but not as bad as I'd thought it would be.) Got to the cabin around 9ish (??). Folks were already in the hot tub. Didn't join - was grumpy. (Note: altitude makes me grumpy. This is not always a given, but seems to be true more often than not, so I'll use that as a warning to folks I go up there with in the future. The grumpiness can be managed - but it will be there nonetheless.) No real drinking/partying - we played some games, and hung out and were generally pretty mellow.
Saturday - everyone got up earlyish (for this crowd) for breakfast. Everyone but kwc and I went off boarding or skiing. I meant to go skiing. Really. I brought stuff with me and everything (ski pants, a jacket, sunscreen, gloves). But the more I thought about how grumpy I still was in the morning, plus waiting in line to rent stuff, coordinating, falling down (possibly - I haven't skied in years), dealing with jackasses, etc., it didn't actually sound like fun. So Ken and I hung out in the cabin (he worked on a puzzle with lots of missing pieces) - I read and got in the hot tub for a while, and watched the wildlife outside. We broke for lunch and went to town get food and go grocery shopping too. Back to the cabin for naps.
Then everyone got back and we made a kick ass dinner. BIG salad and a yummy bacon spaghetti sauce and garlic bread and white zinfandel (which went over surprisingly well - but then again it was free). We did dishes (somewhat) and then played Cranium. Carolynne and Meta and I won - I think the common demoninator was the scary psychic abilities we had (pulling "power lunch" out of the charades and "massage" from a barely drawn stick figure).
This morning we got up and had bacon/eggs/pancakes for breakfast. Yummmmm. Bacon is wonderful stuff - I feel sorry for people who don't eat it. Meta had a phone call to make, but we got on the road by around 10:30. Drove straight to the City (got there in pretty good time - by around 2ish). Went to Meta's friends house for a performance of Irish drinking songs. That was pretty fun. Irish whiskey makes lots of things fun (and makes me more talkative too). Met lots of nice people (met some new nice people at the cabin as well). Then we went off again home and here I sit writing this wrap-up.
I got tired of saying "random" in my titles, but given that that's what many of my posts are, I also subscribe to the idea of truth in advertising. So haphazard was the first thing the thesaurus suggested, so there you are.
Many meanderings in the extended entry.
Updates - my friends rock. I came home to lots of cool stuff from friends. Got a postcard from a friend who was just on a business trip. Given that I wasn't expecting it at all, that was kinda fun and new. And got thank you cards from another friend (who I suspect was either working on these late into the night or over the weekend), so that was kinda fun too. And then another friend came over to pick something up, and we had one of our normal kick-ass spiritual/emotional/cool/bonding talks that we haven'd done in a long time. And in a meeting today there was a mutual admiration society going with someone I work with who I just love because he completely rocks and he gets it and I don't have to tell him what to do, how to do it and to make sure it's followed up on - it's like the male version of me (no wonder I love him!) And another friend, after conversation at lunch yesterday, sent me some music to listen to (I'm getting it ready to listen to now). And another friend said he reads this blog and gave me some ideas, encouragement and tips that were really cool. In case I hadn't mentioned it - I love my friends, and if I forget to tell them how much I love them it's definitely not because I don't realize how lucky I am to have them.
More brain dump - got the Integra in for service. That was an awful lot of money for a car I won't be driving, but oh well. I went out to my car to get the smog check info tonight and saw a raccoon running down the sidewalk across the street from my house. Weird.
Sometimes I wonder if I'm manic depressive. Usually only in the manic moments. I've been all over the place tonight, lots to do, lots more prepare, lost to remember, etc. Can't actually keep a thought in my head long enough to complete the action I started, but I'm awfully damned cheerful about it. Oh well, enjoy the good moods while they last and ride out the bad ones without trying to kill anyone is my motto.
Must write about my birthday (which if you read this blog you've been invited to the party - or should have been - let me know if you didn't get the invite email). I'm a bit of a freak about my birthday. No one over the age of 10 (ok, except for milestone birthdays - 18, 21, X0 birthdays, etc.) gives a crap about their birthdays except for me. But I border on obsessive about them. I think it's because I so often feel invisible, or like I'm not being heard in the world, so this is the one day of the year that I can *make* people pay attention to me, without it sounding entirely petty or needy or neurotic because it's phrased as "come celebrate with me". As an only child, I think I also had the fabulous birthdays as a kid (always a party, getting progressively cooler as I got older - from just cake and presents and singing to sleepovers of giggling all night with a house full of other girls where I got to be queen bee, to co-ed parties with pubescent flirting). I guess I just want to keep repeating those experiences, and make my birthdays fun and special and something to look forward to. So don't think I'm a freak - humor me and go along for the ride because A) it can be fun, B) it makes me happy and my friends like to see me happy and C) while you may have to humor me for a few hours - I do NOT need presents.
Thoughts on the randomness of blogs. Ok, not really randomness, just that ideas are linked, and get interesting depending on who you surfed through to find the end results that interest you. Case in point - I'm still pretty new/green to the whole blogosphere, and am not sure I abide by proper etiquette (if there really is such a thing). I've been reading (because of course Meta has pointed to stuff either from her directly or pointed to stuff on misbehaving.net that led me to her) Danah Boyd's stuff. She's really interesting, she had neato ideas, and she links to cool stuff that get me thinking. Namely this article. This article got me thinking in many directions (which I will capture here quickly so I can pursue at length... maybe... someday...)
1) the blogosphere is an incestuous little world. Or at least in my forays into it that's how it seems. This is perversely fun.
2) I am not hip, probably never will be in that I'm not 20-something (not that I'd go backwards anyway), and find the intricacies of the new social networking stuff interesting in an outsider sort of way. (Is the goal really to link to as many people as possible, regardless of whether you really know them/like them/etc.?) I feel like a bit of a freak for not being into friendster, but given that most of my "real" friends wouldn't be/aren't on friendster and therefore my linkages are small, it seems to be like why bother? At least tribe.net and orkut.com are more about interaction. But even then I'm not interacting that much because I have other stuff to do than hover over each of those services. Logging in to read stuff once or twice a week doesn't cut it for creating an online personality that makes interaction in those spheres fun. 3) I worry about silly social things sometimes, but at least I'm not the only one as evidenced by this article.
4) What is the etiquette for mentioning or not mentioning something you've read in a blog? There's the weird sense that you've learned something about someone illicitly (like through gossip) because you didn't "hear" it directly from the person, except that you did since they wrote it. Is it ok to bring it up in conversation? What about with non-bloggers being in the same conversation who haven't followed the "thread" and would have to be brought up to speed?
5) Must ponder a bit more about the similarities between feeling like an outsider in the social networks/blogosphere and feeling like an outsider (although less and less) as a woman in business (I'm so frequently the only woman in meetings that this no longer occurs to me, but it does make me happy when there is another woman in my meetings). I think there's more stuff to mine about this (and ties to being hapa as well?). Hm... makes me sound less well-adjusted and "normal" than I really am, but still worth looking into/writing about anyway.
6) Ponder and respond to Danah's post on emoticons (or whatever you call them). Interesting that I like the ones in Yahoo IM, less so the ones in AIM because the context "feels" different to me based on the faces. For instance, :P on Yahoo is fun, sarcastic, funny, whereas on AIM kinda looks like a "whatever" thing so I don't use it the same way. The idea that they are used to give context to sarcasm/humor or to otherwise soften/temper what you're saying since there is no inflection in text. Based on how I "interpret" the face influences how (or if) I use them on the particular service they are on. And what about other services/spheres where there are different conventions used (never used them, but MUDs or whatever?). I used ICQ many moons ago, but don't remember how that looked/worked; I wonder if/how the same users use that versus other IMs. Oh, and that I use/don't use emoticons depending on how I think the receiver would do it. The more technical or lesser known to me the person, the less likely I am to use smileys or (sigh) type stuff. What are the social conventions about acronyms and how are they propagated? (Can I invent my own like I coined among people at work "angst and thrashing"?)
Just because I'm feeling the need to be less conformist than usual... I have to say that my favorite Tivo thing right now (since SATC is gone... sigh...) is F1. Mmmm.... those are some sexy men. I have to admit that M. Schumacher's dominance is kinda getting boring - it'd be nice to not see the Ferraris running away with every race the whole season. But DAMN is it sexy to see a man in complete control of his machine - almost as if it's an extension of himself. For all the ways that men use Ferraris (or any other expensive sports car) in the real world as penis extenders, I do think that in this one area it's justified. Hm... maybe I should consider a trip to Italy in September again - this time to actually SEE the damned race (instead of just the posters and the inability to book a room).
The really sick thing is that I'd totally be an F1 groupie - except that I don't think I'd rate as I don't have fake boobs and weigh 112 pounds. Damn.
I was pondering the other day how love changes you. Not being in love is a good time to look at people's relationships from the outside (with a bit of insider knowledge) and see what other people do and decide whether that's something you want to do too.
Certainly love changes you in positive ways. Sometimes it makes you more considerate, more willing to take the other person's feelings into account before saying something yourself. Sometimes it takes you out of yourself in ways that allow you to be less self-absorbed, and more able to work for the greater good (either of the relationship, or sometimes of the world at large). Love can lift you up, and give you the confidence to try things you'd never have thought possible without it. It can also allow you slow down and see things you'd never have taken the time to see before. Love can encourage you to take the leaps necessary to really grow as a person. It can soften you, allow your rough edges to either fall away, or be sloughed off slowly so you no longer notice them. Love can help you to find the balance between giver and receiver, supplicant and supplicator.
But does love also change you in negative ways? I'd guess that people in abusive relationships would say yes. Sometimes you compromise away everything in the name of holding onto love. Sometimes you give parts of yourself away so slowly that you don't realize that they're gone until you try to put the pieces back together.
I think I've figured out that while many of the folks on the movabletypo.net site seem to be daily column writers, I seem to be a weekly column writer. I think I might write more if I had a laptop in front of the computer and could multi-task. But it's kind of fun to have to go to a separate room (my office) in order to write. Then again, it means I'm not particularly prolific. Not that it matters to anyone but me, but I almost feel like I'm not holding up my end of the blogging bargain by not blogging more often (i.e. my friends provide me entertainment on an almost daily basis in their blogs, but I only post maybe once or twice per week).
More ponderances in extended entry.
It's kind of funny that I write more *about* writing than I actually write. I have ideas of things to write about (short stories, poetry, etc.), but don't actually do any writing. I think it's not so much that writing is hard (although it can be), it's that I'm such a perfectionist that I'm reluctant to even try to write something because I'll never finish it because it's never quite polished enough. Well, that and the fact that I think that if I ever write something (other than my own thoughts and opinions) that it won't be good, it'll be panned critically and I won't want to write any more.
But that's a load of crap. I know that I've survived criticism before and even gotten better as a writer because of it. And maybe the criticism would be deserved, and maybe it wouldn't be - finding the difference would be a good excersize for me anyway. I think part of my reluctance to write is feeling like I don't really have anything to say. Because I don't really seem to have much to say unless it relates to thoughts or feelings in my head, or about how I interact with the world outside myself. And while these things are interesting and informative to me, I'm doubting I can get people to buy any work like that. Besides, in writing about my own thoughts and feelings, there doesn't have to be a story arc, a progression, an ending. It can just be a blob of stuff put out into the world as is, with no real beginning, middle, end.
Maybe I need to take some classes. It's easy enough to see a story arc as you're reading it, or to trace it back after the book/movie, etc. has ended. But it's tough to see where/how you're going with a theme until you know the whole thing. By taking classes I can get a feel for how to set it up, get practice in actually doing some writing in a disciplined way (I know enough about myself to know that without a specific deadline I'm unlikely to really work on something), get feedback, etc.
I have a ton of respect for writers. I love the idea of manipulating words to set a scene, to impart emotion, to take the reader on a journey with the characters. I know that doing these things well is an art and a gift. I mean, have you read most people's emails? That alone should convince you that most people only grasp the fundamentals of writing, not the nuance that takes you from merely communicating an idea to having the reader/receiver really understand the complexities of the idea and then to act upon it. And I guess the only way to find out if you're an artist is to take the leap to create some art.
As usual, Meta starts a thread I have to join in on. (Although in my defense, I did post on this general topic MONTHS ago.) Looking around at dinner tonight, people there were either hapa, or in white girl/asian guy relationships. Kinda interesting then as I looked around the restaurant (in Palo Alto) that many of the other tables were inhabited by asian or part-asian looking folks. (In my table scan I came to the conclusion that hapas probably are generally pretty attractive - certainly the boys within range that looked hapa were quite cute.)
I agree with Meta's types of guys, and with their creepiness rating. Following (see extended entry) are my thoughts on them.
1. asian-culture-philes
creepiness: not creepy, often quite adorable.
This one doesn't work for me personally - I don't know anything about "my" culture (actually my mother's culture - mine is american). It's not like guys come up to me and say - "Ooo... you're Filipina, does that mean you like/know about/can talk about X...?"
I could see this being kind of endearing if the guy loves all things XX (insert your ethnicity here) and therefore finds you amazing/fascinating/beautiful, etc. I know a guys who is into asians as a type, and it is kind of cute that he really just finds them beautiful.
2. the guy who has a type
Creepiness: low
Given that my general type is guys with dark hair and dark eyes (regardless of skin color), this one doesn't bother me. Also given that while I don't usually think about it much, the guys I've dated have been either white or black, so that probably plays into my type too.
(This point didn't fit anywhere else - Alex points out that xenophiles may also be another category. I'm not sure if it's really a separate category [the argument can be made, or is a subset of type 1 or 3.)
3. the dreaded fetishist
Creepiness: extreme
The same guy I mentioned above does have practically a fetish for asian women - which I would find extremely creepy if I didn't know him. (Well, ok, and the fact that last I checked he didn't have an asian girlfriend.) I can see that the fetishist would be generally icky (although to be fair I think fetishists in general are kind of icky). Luckily I haven't been approached by this type of guy such that I knew it. If I'd known it, I think I'd have been rude to him.
It's also interesting to note now that I look back at it that my step-dad was this type. This completely creeps me out now (but there were other things about him that creeped me out too). The one thing that specifically bugs me (and is probably where I get my knee-jerk aversion to white guys with asian women) is the idea that he wanted a stereotypical "asian wife" - obediant, subserviant, blah, blah, blah. I didn't realize/understand it then, but I was bothered when (after the breakup with my mom) he took me to the home of his "new" woman to meet her and her kids. She couldn't have been more stereotypical if she'd been written as a caricature for television. Literally, her daughter's name was Sherry (she had the same birth date as me but was a few years younger [shudder]) and I could NOT tell the difference when her mother called my name and her daughter's (she couldn't pronounce the ll's).
And looking back at his relationship with my mother - they were perfectly happy so long as he could control who her friends were (if they had them at all). As soon as she started growing as a person and taking classes (outside of housewifely duties like cooking/flower arranging), the marriage started having trouble. (This is a gross over simplification for the sake of this argument - but true nevertheless.) The fact that he went from a woman who was becoming her own person, challenging him, wanting more than to make his home a lovely place, was enough for him to pick up and move on. To someone who fit his fetish (meek, mild, subserviant, living only for him). Ick.
I wonder if your experience of being hapa (and of dealing with the above types of guys) is helped or hurt by how much you look like your culture? I don't look particularly Filipino (or anything else for that matter), nor do most people have any idea about that culture. (I defy most people to find it on a world map.) I wonder if you look particularly "like" your culture (i.e. easily identifyable to other people as being Korean or Japanese or Chinese, etc.) if you have a different view of how and why people react to you?
As someone who isn't easy to place on the "which flavor of asian are you" scale, I think I have a different view of the types of guys who are into asian girls thing. Basically I don't get approached by the fetishists (because if you don't look like their fetish, the probably won't bug you). Possibly the fact that I am not petite and small boned may also keep the fetishists away (if they are into the slight asian woman.) I think guys are probably attracted to me either because of my "type" (dark hair/eyes/skin), or because they know me and find something attractive about me, or because I'm an interesting mix of geek and non-geek (all the social skills of a non-geek, but able to relate to them and even get into things on a geek level).
I find it interesting that in Utah when I visit the white side of the family that the guesses as to my ethnicity are limited (chinese or japanese only), but in the bay area I get a wide variety of guesses (the above plus hawaiian, korean, samoan, etc.) It was also interesting that while I was in europe I got different guesses about what ethnicity I might be (italian, spanish, etc.)
I guess I have to say that I'm pretty ambivalent about the whole hapa thing. I think that being older than most of the hapas I know by up to 10 years means that maybe the world was a little different for me (less tolerant because it was less an accepted, normal thing to see/be hapa). I've been the victim of racism. (Not often, but openly in ways that made people's ability to hate very obvious and physically tangible to me.) Maybe because of that I'm also likely to have a distrust of and little tolerance for being identified with asian cultures, and for people of those cultures - as if by being seen as "one of them" I'll be targetted, and therefore I don't want to be around "them", be seen to be like "them", etc.
I know this view is bigotted, but I hope that by talking about it openly that people question their own views too. If the things you associate with a race are negative, I think the only way to change your mind on that is to find positive associations to supplant the negative. Living with and learning about black people allowed me to question and confront other people on their racist views about black people. Similarly, learning more about my asian or hapa friends' cultures helps me question and change my views on other cultures. And to realize that I was perfectly happy to take the positive associations with being asian (smart, good at school, studious, disciplined, etc.), but annoyed with the negative associations (bad driver, subservient, etc.). By looking at these generalizations, I realize that they are limiting and unlikely to be true (as blanket statements are).
To be fair, I do think there were positive things about growing up hapa. I was unique among my friends (given that I grew up in pretty lily white neighborhoods and schools), and I think that I got a strong sense (in some ways at least) of who I was pretty early on. And I learned early that people want to peg you, put you in a category that makes sense to them, so by not entirely fitting into their known categories you get to be an ambassador for teaching and changing minds. (After all, if you have a peg that doesn't fit into the japanese or chinese holes, maybe it's time to make a new hole.) Besides, I tan easily ;-)
As a feminist, I couldn't resist the opportunity to pass this information on to others. I'm not sure I agree with everything they're trying to do and how to do it, but I believe in making change, so I'm supporting the things I can.
In case it wasn't clear before - I'm staunchly FOR a woman's right to choose. I hate the rhetoric around this issue - this doesn't make me pro-abortion or anti-life. It merely means that I don't understand why people outside of me have the "right" to legislate what choices I make regarding my reproductive system. And I won't stand for other people imposing their morality on me by saying what I can or can't choose - whether it's abortion in any form (which I'm lucky to have never had to choose or not), or the "emergency contraception" pill (morning after pill it's also been called).
I'll have to come back to this when I'm not at work...
Apparently I like to play with fire. Why do I do this? I think it's because I get bored and decide to place obstacles and challenges in my way. Why go the safe, known, well-marked and well-lit path when you can wander into dark scary woods with few markers and full of possible pitfalls? And when one crush falls by the wayside, you have to pursue the other one to death.