The Not-So-Secret Diary of a Bad Luck Girl

It’s that time again. Part of me wishes I still had my 2005 year in retrospect, which I chose, due to circumstances beyond my control, to delete along with almost all of the corresponding posts. But I’m trying to be very Buddhist about it.

I won’t have posts connecting to all events in 2006 (the fleeting thing again), but I’ll try my best to summarize. Luckily, I have my trusty journal to refer to.

January
I spend New Year’s weekend with ES. We do a dumpling run, going to The Dumpling Man (yum!), Jing Fong in Chinatown, and Mandoo Bar in Koreantown.

We also see The Chronicles of Narnia and The Light in the Piazza (snore-o-rama). New Year’s Eve we have dinner with SB, who gets sick and goes to bed at 8. Fun!

February
I celebrate Chinese New Year by visiting the Flower Market in Chinatown. I go to Florida for work. My former boss shows her psychotic colors by giving YP an unsubstantiated bad performance review. I sign up again for online dating. I go to Japan and have an amazing time.

March
I go to a speed dating event, and although I get three matches, none of them interest me, not even the Chinese Canadian doctor. I go on a date with a Satanist. He likes me but I don’t like him. I go on a date with J., a film editor. I like him but he never calls me.

I go to Banff, Alberta with my brother. We go dog sledding, walk across frozen Lake Victoria, and hike in the snowy mountains. I go to the Berkshires with SB. Poor Ellie barfs the whole drive up.

April
My online dating correspondence flourishes. I go on my first date with DK. Mr. Crazy sends me on a scavenger hunt, planting a DVD of his artwork in a newspaper machine near where I live.

I go on three dates in one weekend. Mr. Crazy is not so crazy after all but a southern gentleman. BB is cute, nice, and funny, and, weirdly, friends with my friend PL. DK is also cute and nice but I like BB more. Unfortunately BB never calls me so DK it is.

I turn 34 (yikes!). I go to the Small Press Center’s Writers Conference, where I meet with an agent who encourages me to submit to columns like Modern Love.

May
I travel to Atlanta for work. I go to Williamsburg for the first time to see YP’s comedy show. I go to the NYC Tattoo Convention. My co-worker takes a writing class with my former teacher, who raves about me. I get back in touch with him. He suggests I take a newspaper and magazine writing class with one of his colleagues.

DK and I continue date. I become vaguely dissatisfied, feeling that DK is keeping me at a distance. My wicked witch of a former boss hostiley confronts me about why I’m not more ambitious. I speak to her honestly and what I think is in confidence. She repeats my words, incorrectly, to my co-workers. Later that week it’s announced that she’s been canned.

June
I start my writing class. I have a tattoo consultation at New York Adorned. DK and I become closer. We go hear Joan Didion read at Central Park’s SummerStage, where a sudden and sustained rainstorm forces the reading to end early and us to bolt to DK’s apartment. Our clothes soaked, we stay in, DK cooking us dinner.

July
Things continue to warm up between DK and me while the city turns as hot as hades. I get my first UTI (don’t ask) and take my first trip to the E/R. Two weeks later I got my second UTI (don’t ask again) and take my second trip to the E/R. The very nice and rather amused doctor advises cranberry pills. I take them. They work.

DK gets a piece published in a New York paper. The following week I get a piece published in the same paper. We go to our first writing event together, after which we have dinner at the Spring Street Cafe, where we’re seated beside Delroy Lindo.

August
My feelings for DK intensify. I decide against a tattoo. I go to D.C. to visit SG.

September
I run the Race for the Cure. I find out DK doesn’t feel as strongly about me; we break up. He rejects my olive branch of friendship. I inch towards recovery.

October
I think going away would be a good idea. I read a book that inspires a life change. I go to Boston to see ES. We have dutch pancakes for dinner, go to the Life Is Good pumpkin festival, and the Head of the Charles.

November
I start NaNoWriMo. I go watch the NYC Marathon. I’m satsified as a single woman but do battle with hormones. Thanksgiving is an up and down weekend. ES and I have fun but my mother and I have a fight. I complete NaNoWriMo.

December
Work is busy but I do a fun Savory Sojourns tour with my team. I volunteer at the Small Press Center’s Book Fair. I discover I can conjure a real-life author from an author picture. YP gets a job elsewhere and decides to leave the company.

I go to the 11 Spring Street open house. I have a quiet but nice Christmas.

~ ~ ~

Whew! 2006 goals are next. I just have to find them. Haha, like that commercial where the family tears the house apart looking for their new year resolutions.

I know I’m a total old lady for wanting to go to sleep at 10:30 on a Saturday, but I was up at 7:30, ran 5 miles, had lunch with SB and played with Ellie for two hours, walked 25 blocks to my facial, made the mistake of trying to battle through holiday crowds down 5th Avenue to get to Koreatown, started to walk home, tried to take the subway at 59th Street only to find out the trains were screwy, and walked the 18 blocks home.

So I’m tired and don’t appreciate John Cougar Mellencamp – yes, that’s right, John frigging Cougar Mellancamp (yes, I thought the ’80s were over too) – being blasted, followed by much pacing back and forth in what can only be cement-filled shoes. Of course it’s quiet now that I’m thoroughly awake.

Well, the good thing is I did indeed have a lovely day. The 5 miles this morning came surprisingly easily, especially considering I ran 4 miles yesterday. I could have done 6 today but my achilles tendon felt sore.

I came home to find a voicemail from SB. I thought she, her hubby, and Ellie had gone to DC for the week, but unfortunately she and her husband caught some stomach flu over Christmas. I went over to her place for lunch. (They’re better now, by the way.)

Ellie was her usual hilarious self. Her new thing is pointing at me and saying, “Who dis?” when she knows perfectly well who I am, but gets bent out of shape when I say, “I’m Ellie.”

“No!” she cries. “I Ellie!”

If you’re gonna dish it out, kid, you gotta take it.

I told SB how I’ve decided a very long break from dating. She seemed surprised, which surprised me since everyone else I’ve told has been supportive. I know she thinks I want to have a kid and that I’d better hurry it up and meet someone quick. No thanks.

Although individuals in passing have appealed to me, I have no desire to actively seek dates right now. The idea of on-line or speed dating gives me a headache. I guess I still want to have kids someday, but, and this may sound silly, but I want it to happen serendipitiously. If I happen to meet the right someone, or if the right circumstances come about, or if the universe knocks me unconscious with a sign.

Maybe it’s passive, and I suppose if I really, really wanted a baby, I’d be more active about it, but I’m not interested in having that as my mission at this time.

Anyway, around 3 Ellie needed to go down for her nap so I took that opportunity to head to midtown for my facial, a special treat for myself. I enjoyed it but I didn’t appreciate the woman telling me my face looked like I never exfoliated it when I use that damned exfoliating mask at least twice a week, and then telling me I had oily skin when just a few a weeks ago my forehead was flaking off. I’m surprised she couldn’t tell that some parts are oily and some very dry. It’s hard to trust any of these people. The best facial I had was at Oasis Spa. I may have to go back next time.

If you’re ever in New York around the holidays, definitely STAY AWAY FROM 5TH AVENUE. Good God! There were an unbelievable number of people. The corners are especially bad, where folks just mill about like cattle.

The police have already started blockading the sidewalks in preparation for New Year’s Eve. A couple of us slipped through and took to walking in the middle of the street to avoid the crowd. A female police officer told one man rather calmly that he couldn’t. Then she saw me and barked, “Get in there!” indicating the barricade. Just what I need. To get into an argument with a cop. Things were calmer the moment I got away from 5th Avenue.

Tomorrow I planned on taking the bus from Port Authority up to Woodbury Commons to do some shopping, but now I’m thinking coming back to the Times Square area in the late afternoon/early evening on New Year’s Eve is probably not such a good idea. Instead I think I’ll stay in my area and hit a bunch of museums.

Another problem with being up late: I’m hungry all over again.

Wow, I totally almost failed at being Asian.

Stolen from st_catherine.

Christmas was quiet (read: boring) at my parents’. The downtime gave me the chance to look through my old stuff, yearbooks, photo albums, and most of all, journals.

Somehow my parents and I started talking about the schools that my brother and I got into. I, for the life of me, couldn’t remember beyond three. So I looked back in my journal and found the forgotten college that had accepted me.

In those entries I also found that I obssessed a lot about the homework I should have been doing (nothing’s changed) and that I didn’t do so well in calculus. I got a 4 on the AP exam so I always remember doing well, but while I think I ended the year with a B, I got a lot of Cs and a few Ds beforehand.

I constantly worried about studying for AP bio, which I only sometimes did, and about getting praise from my writing teacher. I had a wicked crush on a guy named Ben (my real-life friends will know who that is), which dissipated and turned into a crush on a guy named Steve.

I read about the time SG and I had dinner at the Scanticon Hotel in Princeton. Escargots and filet mignon – fancy! Coincidentally ES was there too with a couple of other friends, and they kept stopping by to chat. They ended up going to a comedy show and hanging out with some college guy in his hotel room. I wonder if she rememebers that.

I forgot how much I wanted to go to the college I ended up going to. I mean, I loved it, but I didn’t remember how passionate I was, how I equated getting in with dreams coming true. “Who knows,” I wrote. “At this rate maybe I’ll win the Pulitzer before I’m 30.” Sorry to burst your bubble, young Anna May.

On Christmas Day, I had lunch with another high school friend. AY, who lives near the where we all grew up, is better friends with ES and someone I usually only see when ES is around. But when we all saw each other this past Thanksgiving, AY was very enthusiastic about hanging out again the next time I was home.

She knew only that I was divorced, not why or how. So over buttermilk pancakes and bacon – well, I had buttermilk pancakes and bacon, she had soup and salad – I filled her in. She was very sweet and sympathetic. I think a couple of her friends have gone through tough divorces/break-ups.

The last time we saw each other, before this past Thanksgiving, was Thankgiving weekend 2004. I can remember the day clearly – the cafe where ES and I met her for lunch, hanging out at her condo afterwards, much of it in her bathroom for some reason – but till later wasn’t clear on the year.

AY said that day she could tell something was up with me. She said, “Don’t get upset but I thought, Anna May looks old. I thought you looked about 40.”

The first thing I thought was, God, I hope that was after the affair and not before! And the first thing I did when I came back to New York? Check my journal: whew. That weekend was indeed November 2004, which was several months after the affair. Plus I was probably exhausted from Thanksgiving itself.

I said, “I don’t look 40 now, do I?”

“No, no!” she said. “You look happy. You look like yourself again.”

Since she was so blunt about my looking bad, I can only assume she’s being honest about how I look now.

I didn’t realize how much the ordeal showed on my face. People at work suspected, and obviously friends who hadn’t seen me in some time could tell. I don’t remember looking at myself much during that time, not like now when I wake up every morning and scrutinize every wrinkle and dark spot. Maybe I had some trouble looking at myself back then.

Thank goodness for my journals. They’re there when memory fails me and to remind me how life comes in waves, good, bad, mediocre, horrible, wonderful, and that right now I’m in pretty good shape.

I realized I won’t be able to post again till I return from my parents’, who still have dial-up which is about as slow as watching plants grow, so I thought I’d do a quick entry before taking off.

Friday was YP’s last day. It felt weird to me though I think he was distracted by having to get all his stuff packed up and by being sick. Although the office was empty well before noon, I stuck around with him. I wanted to see him off and as well staying gave me the chance to do some grunt work that I’d otherwise would have put off for another year. We left around 2:30.

I keep thinking this is goodbye forever and I have to remind myself that it’s not like he’s moving to Zimbabwe.

Yesterday I finally got up early and saw all the store windows like I’ve been meaning to. Since I’m sort of rushing, I won’t post any pictures just yet. Is it just me or does Blogger get all screwy when you post pictures? Like a million spaces will be inserted after I do. Anyway.

So yesterday I got up at 6:30, left the house by about 7:30, and finished seeing all the windows by 11. Along the way I stopped for a breakfast sandwich and some lovely coffee, which was weirdly the best part of the morning. Then I went down to Jacques Torres, got the last part of my mom’s gift, and was back home by before 12.

Spent the rest of the day lazing around. Played with my pictures, read, packed. I hurt my toe somehow. Just the skin but in the wrong shoes it KILLS. I don’t know what happened. I ran more than usual last week – 4 miles on Monday, 1 on Tuesday, 5 on Wednesday, 4 on Thursday, and 5 on Friday – but I don’t know if that’s it. I won’t run again till tomorrow.

In the evening I watched part of the Sound of Music, still one of my favorite movies.

I gotta get outta here soon. I really want to avoid the crowds and I can’t believe how much stuff I have. Gifts mostly.

Happy holidays, everybody! (Happy holidays, Dr. Nick!)

Personally I think I’m overcompensating for my Jersey accent. Which is worse? Oh my Gawd, or oh my Gahd?

Stolen from Zerodoll.

YP’s time here is winding down. Friday is his last day, and he’s been transitioning his work and projects to the other admin.

It’ll be really boring here without him. Who will I talk to a hundred times a day? Who will I make sarcastic jokes with? I thought he was here just three years, but he reminded yesterday that in January, it would have been four. Wow. Four years of seeing a good friend almost every day; starting next week, nothing. There’s always IM and of course we’ll stay in touch outside of work – which could potentially be more fun – but it’s not the same.

I tend to get very attached to people. Loyalty is a big thing for me. At one of my old jobs, we took the Myers-Briggs assessment, and one of my traits was that I’m so loyal that I’d go as far as change jobs to stick to the people I like. At the time I thought that was a bit crazy, but now it doesn’t seem far-fetched at all.

I was right that this week was fairly quiet. Yesterday I had a contentious meeting with a contentious individual, but it wasn’t just me that I had issues with this person. The meeting did nothing to rectify the situation, but it was a chance for this person to demonstrate – in front of our group leader – the qualities that several of us have been complaining about for some time, eg, inconsistent direction, bulldozing conversations, not listening. So although it was stressful to have it out with this person in front of a group, it was good for our group leader to see her in action.

Tonight we have a team holiday dinner and tomorrow we admins and former admins are taking YP out to lunch.

Most of my holiday stuff is done. I just need to get some Jacques Torres AM Quickie chocolate bars for the “Breakfast Gift Bag” I’m putting together for my mom. I’m also including the Godiva Holiday Coffee Collection and some coffee filters that go with the new coffeemaker I’ll be giving.

For my dad, in addition to a 3-month wine-of-the-month membership, I’m assembling an Antioxidant Gift Bag, since he is all about the antioxidants these days. In the bag will be a couple of tins of Republic of Tea The People’s Green Tea, a bag of almonds, and a couple of bars of organic dark chocolate.

And I still have this package I need to ship to my cousin and her new baby. I’m being so pokey about it. It’s my albatross right now.

I’ve emerged from my cave and finally taken notice of the Nike + iPod Sport Kit. It’s the recent ad that’s gotten me, featuring a guy running on a treadmill against a movie screen to this catchy tune, which has a pretty cool video involving, yes, treadmills (one take, people! it’s done in one take).

The thing about the sport kit is that I’d have to buy a Nano. I already have a Mini, but I’ve had it for about 2 years now, and the battery’s wearing out. Like I’ll charge it all day and it’ll last only about two hours, while when I first got it, it’d last up to 5 or 6.

In other news, on Saturday I went to the 11 Spring Street open house. For those who don’t know, 11 Spring St. has long been a sort of graffiti landmark. Artists have come from around the world to make their mark.

To honor its place in the artworld and as a part of New York history, the owners invited street artists to do up the inside of the building before beginning renovations. Two months later they opened the doors to the public, hence the open house this past weekend. Renovations began today.

Hours were from 11 to 5, and I got there at about 11:30. The line went around three square blocks. Crazy! I waited for about an hour, taking pictures all the while.

I didn’t mind the wait except that it was colder than I expected so after a while I started to freeze, and then I had to pee. Oh well.

Inside, needless to say, was pretty darned cool too. A few of my favorites:

Afterwards, I stopped in Rice to Riches to use the bathroom. I’ve yet to actually try the rice pudding there. I was starving but resisted as that blast of sugar would have f’d me up. Instead I went up to Astor Place and had ramen and boba tea at Saint’s Alp. Then Whole Foods for a couple of Christmas items.

It was about 3:30 when I got home. I had left the house at 10 and was exhausted for some reason, but a good kind of exhausted. Later that night I met my mom at the Grand Central JFK bus drop-off, where we picked up the free shuttle to Penn Station. I got her on the very crowded train and took off.

Yesterday was a hermit day. I stayed in and cleaned like crazy. It was worth it. I love how my floors shine afterwards. I also rearranged and got rid of some books that I knew I’d never read or just didn’t want, ie, DK’s castoffs that he had given me. As the Gilmore Girls say:

Rory: “You know what it means when a man gives you a book.”
Lorelai: “That he’s already read it?”
Rory: “Yup.”

Should be quiet this week.

Okay, this will be totally un-PC and I’m only on page 56 out of over 300, but the parents of this child seem like idiots.

I understand the cultural differences and language barriers. There should be skilled Hmong interpreters available in an area where there are so many Hmong. The healthcare professionals and hospital staff should all be aware of the cultural differences and acknowledge them when dealing with Hmong patients. But the Hmong parents have to give a little too.

People, you’re in America now. You’re no longer in your hut in the mountains of Laos. You’re in a different culture and you must acknowledge this culture as well, or at least realize that things work differently here, and that different doesn’t necessarily mean bad.

While the American doctors and nurses shouldn’t dismiss the Hmong as being completely ignorant, the Hmong shouldn’t dismiss the American HCPs as being malicious evil-doers. It’s superstitious and closed-minded.

What really got me was reading that writing down the medication administering instructions in Hmong wouldn’t do any good because the parents were illiterate in BOTH English and Hmong. I mean, jesus, how are people supposed to help you if you’re not even literate in your own frigging language?

I kept thinking they should show some gumption and go out there and learn English, knowing that they need this in order to help their daughter. Then again, they don’t think the doctors are helping their daughter at all.

Survival of the fittest, I also kept thinking. If they’re not equipped to live in America, maybe they shouldn’t live here. It’s horrible but it’s give and take. While American society and culture should embrace and accommodate other cultures, those cultures also have to frigging try.

I think of my own parents and the parents of other first generation Asian Americans I know. I get fed up with these people separating themselves from the rest of America and clinging to superstitions and other old-world ideas.

~ ~ ~

All right. So now I better see the point of view of the parents, the Lees. Their daughter Lia’s doctors really did dismiss them. Other doctors who’ve dealt with the Hmong have reached out and invited them to contribute in their own way, eg, by consulting with a shaman, using herbal medicines, acknowledging their hierarchy – asking the husband, brother, father, or grandfather first before the woman – even if it went against their own beliefs.

The Lees were right on some counts. They suspected some of the medicine was causing Lia’s problems. “Too much medicine,” they kept saying. For a while she did better when she was on no medicine. When the doctors finally decided one instead of three or four was best, the Lees complied and Lia thrived. Her doctors kicked themselves for not taking into account the Lees’ illiteracy (I guess Hmong is only recently a written language) and cultural differences, and realizing that fewer medicines would make them more adherent.

A sad and absorbing story. I tore through it in about a week.