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

My last memoir post is up!

It was up earlier this week, but I just now replaced the last section with a revised version.

It’s interesting to read it knowing what does come after the “end” of my memoir.  While I was writing it, I didn’t know, and felt so frustrated.  It’s selfish but I thought, Where’s my reward for bringing my cousin and her American husband together?  For being the catalyst that led to Mia’s existence?

Of course things happen to us not as reward or punishment.  Sometimes things just happen.

In my memoir I write about faith.  Joe and his family had faith in fortune tellers and the idea of luck.  When I came along, not believing that “good thoughts” or lack thereof, lead to someone else’s good or bad fortune, their superstitious world began to fall apart.  If I didn’t believe in that stuff, then I must be bad luck.  Everything bad that happened must be my fault.

I had faith that my relationship with Joe would work out somehow, despite all the obstacles, the same way I believed I’d always be a writer, even if I wasn’t a huge success.

After my divorce, I didn’t fully believe I’d find someone new.  I doubted it a lot and had to resign myself to the fact that I might not.  So why did I keep trying?  Why, after each bad date and break up, did I keep putting myself out there?

Maybe part of it was because I’m a writer.  I’ve been putting myself out there and getting rejected for years.  After the sting of rejection wears off, I forget about it and simply try again.  Maybe I’m a bit skittish, having been burned in the past.  But I keep going.

I think part of it, quite frankly, was that I’d get bored.  Dating was almost like a hobby, a distraction.  Each time I tried, I didn’t think, I’m going to find the love of my life, but in baby steps: let’s see who contacts me.  Let’s see if I go out on a date.  A second date, a third.

It was almost like, well, I’m only publishing dinky articles for $15 a pop, but at least I’m trying.  Sure, I’m having dinner with some old guy, but at least I’m giving it a whirl.  At the same time, I’m looking for something better.

To me, having faith is rather like not thinking about something too much.  Not thinking, If I do, I’ll fail, or If I do, I’ll succeed.  It’s just doing with no expectations, with focusing only on the process.

Of course it’s impossible, at least for me, not to have expectations at all.  Disappointment is inevitable, but success is possible too, and if you don’t even try, you’ll never reach either point.

My friend ES visited me these past few days, and we had a great time exploring the city, trying new foods, and just hanging out (mostly watching the Olympics).

Thursday

We met up at the Asian Art Museum.  We both wanted to see the Shanghai exhibit.  It was interesting to see how dramatically the city’s changed over the course of time.  I find the Communist propaganda posters fascinating, and could see a whole exhibit just on that.  Outside the exhibit were some cool sculptures.

Friday

The next day we tried to eat brunch at Elite Cafe, but it’s only open for brunch on the weekends.  Damn!  We made do with The Grove, which was just okay.  Their breakfasts are better than their sandwich fare, but I was starving so whatever.

Next stop was La Boulange down the street.  My brother has been recommending the place to me forever, and ES has been there before.  They have beautiful pastries.

I got one chocolate and one almond croissant.  I was disappointed with the chocolate, but the almond one was delicious!  (I didn’t eat them all in one sitting, by the way)

Then we walked around Japantown, which was very apropos since it was the same time of year – around the strawberry-loving Japanese holiday of Girls’ Day – that we were in Tokyo.

I insisted at first stopping at the New People Cafe for some delicious Blue Bottle coffee.  I still say their mocha is the best in town, better even than Philz.

We spent some time in the New People store as well since neither of us had ever been.  Basically, it’s fun – and expensive – Japanese toys and collectors’ items.

We spent some time in the different stores, then had dinner at Suzu Noodle House.  For some reason, I thought it was new, but it’s clearly not, given the date of the linked review.  There was a long wait, and one of the women waiting told us it was “so good,” so we had high hopes.  My assessment?  Average.

It was definitely good, and at $8.95 for a shio ramen, pretty reasonably priced, but the noodles don’t hold a candle to the ones we had in Tokyo years ago.

Saturday

It was a beautiful day so we headed out to the Mission District.  We both have been, but we wanted to take our time and photograph the many murals. . .

. . .and try some food.

That night we saw Wicked.  It was very good, very entertaining.  But the musical really takes liberties with the book.  I absolutely loved the book.  I didn’t really hate the changes – they were well-suited for a popular, family-oriented show – but it made the story very different.

Sunday

An awful rainy day.  We tried taking the bus back out to Fillmore, but after ten minutes in the rain, it didn’t show so we hopped a cab, which was totally worth the delicious brunch at the Elite Cafe.

I usually get the Alabama Scramble (which ES enjoyed), but this time tried the corned beef hash.  It was really delicious.

The Elite seems to be another place that does really good breakfast and so so lunch entrees.

Since it was such a rainy day, we thought a museum would be a good idea, the California Academy of Sciences, which neither of us had been to before.

It was great fun, especially the aquarium and indoor rainforest, where butterflies kept landing on people.

You can’t tell but this butterfly had gorgeous bright blue wings, and I think was attracted to people wearing blue.  Before landing on this girl, it had alighted on the hand of a boy in a blue T-shirt.

After a while though, the dive bombing butterflies made me paranoid so I had to leave.

Another highlight was the planetarium, which brought back memories of class trips to the American Museum of Natural History in New York, but also gave me motion sickness (so I’m a wuss).

Afterward we went out to the Ferry Building, my first time.  Unfortunately almost everything was closed, but it was nice to walk around.

We ate at Slanted Door, a chi chi Vietnamese place.  It was just okay, to tell the truth.  I liked my spring roll appetizer, and the green papaya salad was AMAZING, but our entrees were average.  Mine, the stir fried chicken, had little bones or date pits scattered throughout.  It’s not fun to be chewing then suddenly bite on something hard.

We rode the F line out to Fisherman’s Wharf.  There was a guy who didn’t have change for a $20 so a bunch of us – all New Yorkers, coincidentally, including the guy – banded together to give him change.

Monday

ES had the great idea of renting a car and exploring the further parts of the city.  First stop: Richmond, home of delicious dim sum and other Chinese eats.  I was able to finally get in my dumplings for the New Year.

Next stop was crossing the Golden Gate Bridge and taking in the view.

It was really breath taking.  I also loved watching the animals, like the pelicans that kept circling overhead, the deer we saw grazing (and pooping), and other various birds.  This blue bird – or jay? – let us take its picture.

You can see the Golden Gate Bridge in the background.

On our way back to dropping off the car, we drove to Haight-Ashbury, and did a quick walk.  For dinner we went to Pesce on Polk Street.  It’s tapas style Italian and was pretty good.  We shared a vegetable risotto – good though needed salt – a braised duck with pappardelle, some kind of pork with gnocchi, and brussel sprouts.  Everything was tasty.

ES also got this oyster vodka shooter.  She said it was delicious.  I took her word for it.

Tuesday

MB was coming home from a conference at around noon so I begged off for a few hours while ES went exploring on her own.  Later we caught up at the Contemporary Jewish Museum, which had interesting exhibits on Mein Kampf and about a scribe writing the Torah.

It was another terribly rainy day, but we made it onto a bus that would take us to our appointments at the Imperial Day Spa, a traditional Korean-style spa and sauna.  It was a very unique experience.  You strip down buck naked, soak in a tub and/or do a sauna, then get scrubbed within an inch of your life by one of several Chinese ladies in matching burgundy bra and panties.

It sounds sexy, but it’s so not.  These ladies are strong and work hard.  Oh, and you don’t have your own private room complete with soothing music like at some ritzy place – you’re in a communal room with other naked women.  You lie on a plastic mat and have buckets of hot water thrown on you (which actually feels amazing).

I may be able to get an article out of this experience, in addition to my silky smooth skin.  Either way, it was a fun, and weirdly bonding, activity to cap off ES’s stay.

Now back to the grind for everyone!

See all my photos taken during ES’s visit.

Next memoir post is up, and it’s almost the last one!  Next week will be the very last.  After that I need to figure out what to do with my writing site.

When I was married, I enjoyed watching Sex and the City.  From the comfort of my relationship, I was amused by the women’s dealings with trying to find the right guy.  Thank God I don’t have to go through that, I thought in my suburban apartment.  But when I became single, I found the show depressing.

I quickly learned that dating was not fun.  The most fun part was writing my online ad, and maybe that period of time before anyone contacted me, when there was still all this potential.  Then it turned into why isn’t anyone contacting me?  Or, why aren’t the guys I want contacting me?  Okay, I’ll contact them.  The usual response?  Crickets.

My very first post-divorce date was the summer of 2005.  He was British and loved opera.  We were supposed to meet for drinks at six, and the awful manager I had at the time liked to schedule 5:30 meetings.  He scheduled one on the night of my date.

“I can’t stay,” I told my co-workers.  “I have to leave.”  I felt like if I didn’t have this first post-divorce date, I might never have any.  Luckily my co-workers were nice enough to cover for me.

The date was so so.  I was incredibly nervous.  We met at Pipa, and I was the only one drinking.  Who agrees to meet for drinks and then doesn’t drink?

He was pretty nice, and I went out with him twice more.  But by the third date, I knew he wasn’t for me.  I just wasn’t attracted to him.  He was barely taller than I was, had a paunchy face, a paunchy belly, and arms that jiggled like an old lady’s.  I mean, my triceps were more toned.

I liked the Acupuncturist much more.  I met him through speed dating.  It was my friend’s idea, and for some reason I had to pose as her sister’s friend.  It was her sister and this friend who had the membership; otherwise it’d have cost us some fee (probably not a lot).

The first guy I talked to worked for a competing pharmaceutical company.  That was weird.  But he was very nice with lovely manners, and attractive despite his “Gordon Gekko hairstyle,” as my friend put it.  I can’t really remember who else I talked to; the guys start to merge together with the one other speed dating event I attended.

When I talked to the Acupuncturist, no sparks flew.  In fact I thought he was gay, as did my friend.  But then when we shifted partners, and my new guy was a complete weirdo who said nothing even after the bell rang, the Acupuncturist caught my eye and laughed, and I thought, Wow, he’s cute!

We dated for about two months, and it was great fun at first.  On our first official date, outside of speed dating, we ended up making out in a bar, something I’d never done before.  He was an excellent kisser.  But even by the second date, I sensed some weirdness about him.  He already seemed distant and too in himself (probably a sign of depression).

One Sunday I didn’t have anything to do, so I called him to see if he wanted to hang out.  “Oh, um, maybe,” he said.  “What would we do?”

“I dunno,” I said.  “It doesn’t matter.”  I began to regret my calling him.  “You can say no, you know.  It’s not a big deal.”

“Oh, no.  It’s okay.  We can hang out.  If you want.”

Gee, thanks.

We had a very nice time, but I still felt weird.  Another time I invited him to a friend’s show, and again he had a strange response: “Where is it?”

I wasn’t sure.  Midtown maybe?

He hemmed and hawed, and said he’d think about it.

Later he called and said he felt bad about his response, that he should have said yes right away.

“Only if you want to go,” I told him.  I had been disappointed that he seemed to not want to, but that was that.  Now he was saying yes because he felt guilty?

“And about dim sum on Saturday,” he said.  “You can invite your friends if you want.”

“Why would I want to do that?” I asked.  Dim sum was a date – why would I want my friends there?  I did not get this guy at all.

His birthday came up around this time, and I got him a nice gift.  He told me all about the birthday party he was having, and yet didn’t invite me.  Then I never heard from him again.

Yeah, dating really sucked.

When I watched TV, I didn’t really want to be reminded of my own life.  That was why I turned away from SATC and became obsessed with Buffy the Vampire Slayer and The Gilmore Girls.  I’ll take ass kicking slayer and living in Stars Hollow over dating any day.

Now that I’ve handed in the essays for the contests I wanted to enter, I have lots of paperwork to take care of.

First off, my writer’s contract.  There’s so much to fill out!  But it gives me assurance that I’ll most likely get paid and that I’m one of their official “vendors.”

The guy who did my taxes suggested I start collecting my writing expenses so I could write them off next year.  I’ll have to go back and see if I had anything from this year.  Then I may start keep a spreadsheet.  (Yay, spreadsheets!)

Also, I got a NY jury duty summons.  I had gotten one back in August but postponed it till February.  I was worried that I’d have to actually fly back to New York, but I called the place and they said I just had to send them evidence that I do indeed live in SF now.  I wrote an anal little cover letter and need to make copies of stuff to send.

I also need to hit the gym and go to yoga.

* * *

Had a nice weekend.  My brother was in town so we got to see him a couple of times.  Otherwise I worked like crazy on my essays and MB played his new guitar all day long.

On Sunday, we were supposed to get dumplings, but didn’t feel like schlepping out to Richmond.  It was such a beautiful day, we decided to walk to Fisherman’s Wharf instead.  It was pretty crowded, but tolerable.

We wanted to eat at that seafood restaurant we tried when we first moved here, but they had an hour and 45 minute wait.  At first we thought forget it, but then decided to put our names down.  We took a leisurely walk out to the water, down this long pier.  The sun was setting, which was beautiful.

“Do you want to take a picture?” MB asked me.

I shook my head.  I find that with sunsets, my photos never live up to the real thing. I prefer to just enjoy it in the moment.

We returned to the restaurant a little early, but our table was already available.  It was such a lovely unplanned Valentine’s Day.  I noticed other couples around the restaurant, all dressed up and formal.  You knew they had been planning this evening for a while (like the young dressed up couple in front of In ‘N Out Burger: “I gave my girl a rose and took her to In ‘N Out!”).

To me, the most highly anticipated events never live up to expectations.  Weddings, anniversaries, and Valentine’s Day.  Why wait till a specific day to celebrate?  Why not just act like that every day?

Anyway, we both got the prix fixe dinner: soup or salad, a fish entree, and dessert.  At $30 it was a little overpriced, but the food was good and the service excellent.  I got the salmon poached in olive oil with rosemary and garlic.

Now I’m hungry.

Yesterday MB had to work so I was on my own.  YP and I had our long-distance photo expedition – the theme: good luck symbols of Chinese New Year – so I hoofed it to Chinatown and took some pics.  I ran into lion dancers and their noisy firecrackers, “bai nian-ing” at businesses.

Here’s the whole CNY set.

All righty, off to the gym!

Gong xi fa cai, xin nian hao, which of course means good fortune and happy new year!

This year it’s the year of the tiger, which means what, I dunno.  For me it’s significant only because MB and my dad are both tigers, and the last year of the tiger, I was in China, and so much has changed since then.  My marriage and divorce, my cousin’s divorce and remarriage, the birth of her daughter Mia, and a million other things.

MB and I were planning on schlepping out to Richmond for dumplings, but we may feel too lazy and settle for mediocre dumplings around here.  (Here again is my dumpling essay for The Nervous Breakdown, in case you missed it.)  Later we’ll call my parents, another new year tradition.

When we were kids, our mom used to make us call our grandmother, which was torture.  Our Chinese was so rusty, and like robots we’d recite the “good fortune/happy new year” mantra.  Then our grandmother would speak to us in her Shandong accent, we wouldn’t understand, and would squirm till our mother took the phone away.

Being single, then married, then divorced was a strange experience around Chinese New Year.  First I was happily given red envelopes with cash, then happily not, then pityingly given red envelopes again.

This year I figured out the lai see loophole.  Being unmarried, MB and I are both eligible.  Another incentive for never getting hitched.

Dumplings for everyone!

I’ve been neglecting my blog this week.

I finally finished that Dollhouse essay.  I kept thinking I was done, but then would mull over it more, and come up with more ideas.  I’m glad though.  Some of it was weak, and I think I was able to improve it.

Basically, I compare the Dollhouse to a corporation, not too much of a stretch since it’s part of an actual corporation, Rossum.  I liken the dolls to corporate workers, and write about the truth-teller in the workplace – like Tom Cruise in The Firm.  I do some comparison with Metropolis, which I’d never seen before so I took some time to watch it.  Luckily I found a bunch of clips on YouTube, rescored with modern music.  It was very interesting.

There’s another contest deadline on February 15 that I’m going to try and enter.  This means writing like crazy all weekend.

I got my first official writing assignment.  I pitched an idea to this online women’s magazine, and they liked it!  I couldn’t believe it.  I’d never pitched an idea before, but as I was reading their stuff, I had a visceral reaction to one of their pieces.  Plus I’ve had this idea for a while, and it all just clicked.  They’re paying me a bit of dough and I’ll have a contract and everything,  Yay, I’m a real person!

I’m totally losing interest in writing those dinky web articles.  What’s annoying is that I’ll pick a topic, do some research, and find the almost same exact topic already written on the very site I’m writing for.  For instance, my topic will be, “The Advantages and Disadvantages of Laptops” (I just made that up), and I’ll find, “The Advantages of Laptops” already written.  Wtf?

I’m not sure how they come up with these topics.  I suspect they’re based on key word searches, hence the slight, almost indiscernible differences.

The one good thing about them is that they pay on time, though the amount is so small.  All the time I put into these dinky articles, I could be writing higher quality, possibly more lucrative essays, and doing research on where to submit.

I’ve been working like crazy on this essay about the TV show, Dollhouse. Over the weekend I found a contest online. The deadline was February 1, but it got moved to Feb 15. Just in time!

It’s much harder than I anticipated. I thought I had some good ideas, but then I realized they weren’t too original. I finally settled on something. Who knows how unique it is, but at least I have to give it a try.

For some reason, there are a slew of contest deadlines for February 15.  For one I have something ready that I wrote for earlier contests, but there’s another for which I’ll write something new.  I’m just a writing machine!

Otherwise nothing too exciting has been going on.  Over the weekend, MB and I did our usual working/writing/eating thing.  We also saw The Shinjuku Incident, a Jackie Chan movie in which he does no kung fu.  Crazy!  It’s pretty much a straight crime drama though it does contain some ridiculousness.

I didn’t watch the Super Bowl.  Who dat?  Who cares.

Random note: our upstairs neighbors are incredibly noisy sex havers.

Okay, back to work.

As some of you may know, I’ve started taking yoga.  It’s been about a month now, and I think it’s really made a difference.  My flexibility is better, and my arms and upper body look and feel more toned.

I feel myself improving from class to class.  Earlier this week we were doing that thing where you’re standing on one foot with the other leg up in the air behind you and your arms out front.  I can do it, but usually I’m wobbly.  Suddenly, this time I thought, The balance isn’t in my foot, it’s in my middle.  I tightened up my core and was able to get my body even straighter.

But of course there are still some things about yoga that I find annoying.

People’s feet. I don’t like looking at people’s bare feet, unless we’re at the beach, and this includes my own.  I don’t know why.  I just get skeeved seeing them positioned and pointed, especially guys’.  During class of course I don’t notice it, just before we’re about to start.

Yes, I know I’m a freak.

Show-offs. Before class even starts, I’m going to start doing yoga.  Or during a pose, I’m going to do EXTRA.  See how flexible I am?   See how I can balance?

There was one woman earlier this week who was a yoga MASTER.  I just copied what she did.  But did she show off?  Nope.  Before class started, she was reading/writing, and she did the poses exactly as the teacher said.  Just because you’re good doesn’t mean you have to show off.

People’s cell phones going off. Not that I’m all spiritual, but if it’s quiet and you’re relaxed and trying to focus, that’s the last thing you want to hear.

Seeing my chubby albino legs in the mirror. Gah, I’m blinded!  This is why I’ve started wearing pants.

My hyperextending elbows. What was a parlor trick, I now know is a freak show.  I have to remember to not hyperextend as we do the warrior pose or the triangle, although I’m sure people aren’t paying attention to me at all.

Today I may try a second round.  Usually I just go once a week, but I feel like I’ve recovered from Tuesday.

Lately I’ve been lessening the intensity of my cardio workouts.  MB suggested a change in routine might jump start my body.  I used to do five days of cardio – four miles on Monday and Tuesday, elliptical on Wednesday, four miles on Thursday and Friday – but I’ve been doing that for years, and I think my body hit a rut.

Now I’m trying:

Monday – run 3 or 4 miles; light weight training for arms
Tuesday – run 3 or 4 miles; one hour of yoga
Wednesday – 40 minutes of elliptical
Thursday – rest; or possibly yoga; no cardio
Friday – long cardio session (run 5 to 7 miles)

Eventually, that’ll become too routine as well, and I’ll have to change things up again.  I think that’s the trick – variety.