awareness

awareness / year-end retrospects — Comments Off on 2010 in Retrospect: Firsts
31
Dec 10

2010 in Retrospect: Firsts

In 2010 I read some books, saw a few terrible movies, and watched a crapload of TV. And I also managed to experience some firsts.

First Earthquake. It was a small one, but incredibly freaky since I’ve never experienced anything like it before.  One minute, I was sitting with my coffee, the next the table started shaking. I ran into the next room, where MB jumped out of bed, and like native Californians, we stood under a doorframe.  We’ve experienced a couple of additional skakers since then, though again nothing big, and nothing like the first time.

First Yoga Class. My health was mostly good this year, except for a couple of bouts of vertigo and finding out that I have high cholesterol.  But after some at-home exercises, the vertigo went away, and I was able to vanquish my high cholesterol by adhering to a pretty strict low-fat diet (from which I’ve deviated PLENTY of times in recent months).

But the biggest change I made this year was getting more serious about yoga.  I’ve dabbled with it for about ten years, just teaching myself out of a book, but January was the first time I took a class.  And what a difference it made.  New poses, more effective positioning, and doing things I didn’t think I could ever do.  For instance, when I first started I could NOT do the Bound Extended Side Angle pose, and while it’s still a struggle, now I can actual connect my hands.  AND I can even do the bird of paradise!  I mean, I look nothing like the people in the pictures – my leg is still bent and I’m all hunched over – but I can actually stand on one foot with my hands still connected.  Progress!

And today I took an extra step and bought a proper yoga top (on sale of course).  It’ll be nice not having the collar of my sweaty shirt fall over my mouth during downward dog.

First Time Working for a Place I’m Not Ashamed Of. While working for a big corporation has its benefits (like, um, benefits, an on-site gym, being able to hide out for years in mediocrity), it’s also really cool to be able to talk about my workplace enthusiastically, to actually think it’s awesome and not just pretend it’s awesome.  To not have to be ready to defend what my company does.  And to have a job that’s actually related to writing. It’s a miracle!

First Time in Seattle. An airline was having a sale, MB used to live there, and I’ve never been so we said what the heck?  Of course it rained a lot, but we had fun eating cheap and delicious food, seeing MB’s old haunts, and hanging out with my friend from college, along with her husband and baby son, who I met for the first time. The highlight? The Seattle Underground Tour. Dank!

First Time Having all of My Maternal Family Together. Back in November, my grandmother – or Puo-puo as I called her – passed away.  She was almost 95 and had been ill for some time, but of course it was still difficult to deal with.

After flying down to LA, dealing with the funeral, flying back, then getting out to Palo Alto for the burial, we all headed to my aunt’s house nearby.  Now that everything was over, we could relax, and realized it was the first time that the entire family on Puo-puo’s side was all together – all her kids and their spouses, all the grandkids and their spouses and significant others, even the two little great-grandkids.  It was so nice hanging out with everyone, laughing at the baby, and stuffing our faces with barbecue.

Puo-puo would have loved it.

~ ~ ~

As for goals or resolutions for next year, I have none.  Or rather I have short terms goals, month by month.  I’ll talk about how that’s going in another post.

awareness / photography / writing — 3 Comments
02
Dec 10

Writing update, reflection on marriage

First off, here are my November publications in case you missed them:

    Forget Sisters, It’s My Brother Who Keeps Me Sane, The Frisky, November 26, 2010
    Luck of the Chinese, View From the Pier, November 21, 2010

I found these fish drawings on Post Street not far from my apartment.  I thought they might be inspiration for the cover of my memoir.

See the whole set.

An interesting tidbit I just discovered is that black goldfish are not considered unlucky in terms of feng shui.  A lone black goldfish is often included amid some goldfish in order to absorb negative energy and to act as a protector against bad luck.

So I started to think maybe it’s just Koreans who think that black fish and other animals are bad luck, and not that the internet is the end all, be all of all information, but I couldn’t find a thing.  You’d think that if it were true, it’d at least be mentioned somewhere.

So did my ex-MIL make the whole thing up?  Did she think, Well, a black cat is bad luck so a black fish must be too?  Or was it just a lame excuse to blame all bad stuff on me?

As I rewrite/revise my memoir (yet again), I’ve realized that marriage with my ex was so hard because his expectations changed after we married. Before we got hitched, it was okay that I didn’t cook much, that I didn’t like to drive, that I was “only” a secretary who wanted to be a writer, that I might never make much money. We said “I do” and suddenly I was expected to change: to cook, to drive, to make more money, to give up my writing if need be.

The cooking was the most minor of points, but his attitude about it was annoying. As though I was somehow supposed to know, without him telling me, that this was what I should have been doing. It’s not like with MB, who just happens to like certain things I make, who will ask me nicely to make him a bowl of tricked out instant noodles or oatmeal. That makes me want to cook for him. And he doesn’t take my not cooking as some kind of secret insult.

I realize that too: my ex saw significance in everything, from superstitious bad/good luck symbols, to everything I said and did.  He never took my words and actions at face value, but would think I had some ulterior motive against him.

awareness / relationships / writing — Comments Off on What’s junk?
28
Oct 10

What’s junk?

So I have a new piece over at The Frisky called “I Found Out My Engagement Ring Was Junk.”

Those of you who read my blog regularly know that I found out the ring I thought was worth at least $10,000 was actually only worth $2,500.

I’m not at all saying that $2,500 rings are junk.  If it comes from the heart, it’s invaluable, regardless of the price tag.  But I felt duped and betrayed because my ex and his family implied that the ring had a much heftier price tag, monetarily and otherwise.  While I didn’t put stock in how much things cost, they did.  So to find out that my ring was worth a quarter of what they implied made me feel they valued me even less than I thought.

I can see how people would think I’m equating a two thousand dollar ring with junk and how I might come off as shallow and materialistic.  In that household it almost couldn’t be helped.  My in-laws showed approval by the gifts they gave, and I wanted their approval badly.  So when my brother-in-law’s fiancee – who didn’t do as much to help with my MIL but got a pass because she was Korean like them – got a bigger diamond ring from my MIL’s collection, I was really really hurt.

It wasn’t that I wanted a bigger ring.  It was that I wanted me and my future SIL to be equal in my in-laws’ eyes, and clearly we weren’t.

I wish I could have just let that kind of stuff roll off my back, but I was so unhappy and felt so unappreciated, seeing that giant rock on my future SIL’s hand was just salt in the wound.

So no, I don’t think your $2,500, $50, or $500 rings are junk.  And I don’t think your $10,000, $25,000, or $100,000 rings are all that either.  I’ve no opinion about anyone else’s rings beyond “pretty!”  But I’ve lots of opinions about mine.

Huh, this reminds me of when I say, “I hate my freckles” and other people with freckles get insulted.  It’s like, Dude, I don’t hate your freckles!  I couldn’t give two shits about the dots on your face.  I’m talking about mine.

awareness — 2 Comments
23
Oct 10

My real life has begun

Three and a half years ago, I was pretty miserable. I hated my boss, his insane expectations, and his refusal to be clear in his directions. I’d wake up in the middle of the night, worried about this project or that, and apply for random jobs on the internet. I felt trapped. I didn’t think my skills would lend to another industry, and I was scared to try something new.

I wanted to do more with my writing but wasn’t sure what. I was afraid my whole life would pass without my achieving the sort of success I always wanted.

I was lonely. That February and March, I’d dated someone who while seemed promising at first, left me a bundle of nerves. By June I was less nervous and worried, but still lonely sometimes.

I listened a lot to that song “Waiting for My Real Life to Begin” (for some reason I really like the Scrubs version) with a mixture of sadness and hope. Life wasn’t awful. I had my health and a roof over my head, my friends and my family. I lived in an awesome city. But I kept thinking, This can’t be my real life. In my real life, I should be doing something different.

Three and half years ago, at the suggestion of a colleague, I gave myself the deadline of September 1, 2008 to be someplace new, or doing something new. Where or what, I wasn’t sure. But the deadline was there, and like the song says, I had a plan.

1) I needed job skills. In the months following – after some wavering: another writing degree? journalism school? – I decided library school was for me. By November I was in.

2) I needed a new job. I just kept applying and applying and applying. Luckily my company is so huge, there were plenty to choose from, though I only heard back from maybe 10%. This took longer and I didn’t get a new job till May of the following year. But hey, I was ahead of my September 1st deadline!

3) By that August I was ready to date again. By the end of September I had met Museum Boy. That was just lucky. There’s nothing you can about something like that except keep trying, like with jobs, even if “keep trying” means dating a few losers and going on many bad dates, including one with a 50-year old who needed bifocals to read the menu.

As for the rest – moving to SF, quitting my job, being able to write full-time, and now working for an awesome company – those were just out of my hands. I wish I could say I’d have quit my job and moved someplace new on my own. But if I hadn’t met MB, I’d have probably stayed at my company for a really long time. I don’t know if I’d have the courage to put all my energy into my writing, and I don’t know if I’d be as far along in my writing career as I am now.

The other day I realized, with a start, my real life has really begun. Regardless of where I live and my relationship, the life I was supposed to be living – writing full-time, getting published, earning a bit of dough at it, being steeped in the writing community – is the life I have now, and I didn’t even realize until a year later.

I wonder if setting that deadline triggered everything. My co-worker swore by it. I don’t know if it just forces you to make a long-term plan, you get busy achieving the short-term goals of your plan so that you’re not thinking about how miserable you are, and then suddenly, there you are, maybe a year later, maybe two or three, but suddenly you’re there.

In your real life.

awareness — 1 Comment
14
Oct 10

The glass could be better

During my word searches at work, I came across meliorist, one who practices meliorism, which is, according to Wikitionary:

The view or doctrine that the world is neither entirely bad nor entirely good, and can be improved through human effort. Understood as an intermediate outlook, between optimism and pessimism.

And I realized: that’s me.  Or at least, that’s who I want to be.

I’m definitely not an optimist.  I don’t go around thinking everything is great and will be great.  I’m not like my ex who thought that NOT thinking everything was going to be great would somehow make things go badly.

But I also don’t go around thinking everything is awful.   I mean, I definitely worry that things might go badly, but I don’t think that makes me a pessimist.  And worrying is something I’m trying to quit these days.

I’ve always thought of myself as a realist with a dash of Zen – the glass isn’t full or empty, it just is.  But I like the idea of doing what I can do improve things – whether it’s the world, my life, my career, or my relationships.  To me it’s not thinking about how things will turn out, good or bad – it’s not thinking about how things will turn out at all – but about focusing on my efforts, and doing what I can.

My writing for instance.  I rarely let myself think, I’m never going to be successful, or I’m going to be a tremendous success.  (Okay, sometimes I do let myself fantasize the latter.)  I just do my thing.  I look at how I’m doing and think, How can I do better?

I love writing for The Frisky and The Nervous Breakdown.  LOVE IT.  But I do want to diversify my clips, if only to get out of my comfort zone.  So I’m looking through this great database of literary journals and seeing where I can submit.  I also plan to submit to other national publications, such as The New York Times (yeah, I won’t hold my breath – okay, that’s the pessimist in me) and Salon.

To me meliorisim means, “Keep trying.”  Don’t waste time judging how the world is, good or bad.  Just do.

awareness / weekends / writing — 1 Comment
08
Mar 10

External validation

I realize I need it.  I wish I didn’t, but I do.

I had pitched a couple of ideas to magazine, but hadn’t heard anything.  All week I had a vaguely blah feeling, which I attributed to not knowing what I wanted to write about next.  But in the back of my mind, I knew I was feeling rejected.

It’s something I have to get used to, and in a way, I am.  I feel the sting for a few moments, then move on.

Of course it’s easier to move on once you get an acceptance of a new idea.  Yay!

At least it’s incentive to keep thinking of new ideas, to keep trying.  MB had suggested when I follow up to follow up with a new idea or two as well.  So smart!

Yesterday I worked hard on my latest post for the Nervous Breakdown, which is about the 100th episode of Ghost Hunters.  I know I won’t get too many comments – it’s a long essay about a niche topic – but still I want them!  I want lots of comments!  I freely admit it.

In other news, I looked at my NaNoWriMo book from 2006 for the first time.  Some parts aren’t bad, but I’m not sure what to do with it.  Right now I just want to read it, and see if it’s salvageable at all.  *Maybe* I’ll post it to my writing site, and see what you guys think.

The book isn’t about me, at least not overtly, but is about the brutal murder of an older couple, set in the midwest.  The couple’s son, who to everyone seems “off,” is the main suspect, and is basically coerced into confessing.  The novel deals with unraveling the mystery of if he really did it or not, and if not, who the real killer, or killers, might be.

I got the idea when I heard some story on NPR about coerced confessions and implanted memories.  Some poor guy got coerced into confessing to the murder of his parents, and even started to “remember” details because he’d heard them so many times from the police officers.

MB and I spent the weekend working on our projects and hanging out in Union Square.  People watching was fun. One guy kept taking off and putting on his shoes and socks. Some Asian chick fell as she tried to go down the steps in her four-inch stilettos (idiot) so that the people who were photographing her (why, I don’t know – was she a model? paying for headshots?) had to run off and buy her a pair of flats because she couldn’t walk in her heels anymore.

This couple had the most adorable miniature terrier named Stella. How do I know the dog’s name? Because they kept calling it as they tried to photograph the dog. Of course Stella was more interested in stalking pigeons.

There was the cutest little Asian girl in sparkly pink jacket and sparkling pink ballet flats. I would have KILLED for shoes like that at her age!

The highlight though was this group of Kim Kardashian-lookalikes who took pictures with these random gay guys like the guys were just another tourist sight. Look, kids, it’s two gay guys again!

So not motivated to go the gym today. Will probably do an easy workout.

awareness / work / writing — 1 Comment
18
Jan 10

Why apply for a marketing job when I hate marketing?

In the past month or so, I’ve been toying with the idea of getting a job.  Don’t get me wrong: I’m definitely not bored.  I love my routine of writing in the morning, working out, and writing in some cafe for the rest of the afternoon.  I get home between five and six, just like a regular job, and practice piano till MB comes home.

But I do miss having a paycheck and some social interaction, even with coworkers I hate.

I applied for a position recently, as a marketing content writer for a local university, and was surprised to get a call last week.

I used to work in marketing, except it wasn’t really marketing.  I don’t even know how to describe it.  Basically I worked on educational programs for organizational health care customers.  I did some content and strategy, but mostly implementation.  I also managed our internal website.

I liked those aspects of my job, but various bosses didn’t think it was enough.  They thought I should do “more,” ie, strategic platform bullshit.  I wasn’t interested, hence my library science degree.

So why did I bother applying for a job in marketing?  Because of the writing side of it.  If all I had to do was write marketing copy, that’d be fine.

But no.  It seemed they wanted someone who was really into marketing, not who answered when asked why I decided to pursue my library science degree, “Well, I knew that marketing really wasn’t for me. . .except the writing part of it of course.”

That’s the incredibly annoying thing about marketing.  It’s not enough to be a hard worker and to have skills and experience – you have to drink the marketing Kool-Aid, shave your head and chant marketing mantras at the airport, aspire to marketing Operating Thetan Level 8.

The girl said she’d call by 5 PM on Friday if I got an in-person interview.  Five PM on Friday came and went.  No call.  In fact, maybe no one got a call because I saw the same position posted on Craig’s List at 5:01.  Well, maybe not 5:01 exactly, but you get the picture.

It was really a blessing in disguise.  When she asked what I ultimately wanted to do, I said, “Write.  Write anything,” which I thought would fit with a marketing content writer position, but I guess not.  Still, that made me realize, I want to write!  Write anything!  Well, duh.  Any of you could have told me that.

That realization solidified my desire to freelance.  Right now I’m doing little things here and there, but I want to be a full-fledged FREELANCE WRITER, which means I need to bust my ass to get jobs.

Over the weekend, I applied for a couple of positions on Craig’s List, one as a beauty journalist on skincare, the other writing about local events, restaurants, etc.  We’ll see what happens.

Also, I need to be more active in terms of submitting.  Sure, I’m doing my itty bitty articles for eHow.com, and my essays for The Nervous Breakdown, but there are other online magazines and tons of contests.

I’m used to writing short 2,000 or less word essays, but the contests call for 5,000 to 8,000, or around 25 double-spaced pages.  I haven’t written an essay that long in a while.  The contests will give me the opportunity to do so, which may the germ for my next memoir.  I just have to figure out what I want to write about.

awareness — 7 Comments
13
Jan 10

Ch-ch-ch-changes

While I don’t believe in New Year resolutions (impossible to keep) or goals (too much pressure), I like the idea of incorporating small changes into my daily life.

I first read about the 6 Changes Method on Jamy’s blog.  The basic idea is that you come up with six habits you’d like to pick up, do each one every day for two months, and no more than ten minutes a day.  Ultimately, at the end of those two months, it will be a habit.  Then you pick up another habit – two months, ten minutes every day.  Six is a good number because well, six times two is twelve.

Also, you’re supposed to come up with a trigger – some action you already do that will trigger the new habit.

I could only come up with five habits I want to pick up, and I’ve started a couple at the same time, but I think that’s okay.

1) Sweep

I’m so awful about dusting and sweeping, tons of hair and dust balls accumulate between visits by the cleaning girl.  (Imagine if we had no cleaning girl?)

The trigger: When I’m about to leave the apartment.

Start date: Feb 1

2) Moisturize my feet

I know this sounds weird and probably TMI, but I’m also terrible about caring for my feet.  As a result, they get very dry and cracked.

The trigger: When I’m about to put on socks and shoes to go out

Start date: Already started

3) Write fiction

While I wrote a novel for NaNoWriMo in November, it still didn’t feel like fiction, maybe because I based it so directly on me, my corporate life, and people I knew. It’s been a long time since I’ve written real fiction – ie, fiction that is completely removed from my own life – I want to get back in the habit.

The trigger: The end of the day, after I’ve come home from working in a cafe

Start date: Feb 1 or March 1

4) Practice something new on the piano

I already have the habit of practicing a bit of piano every day.  We have a pretty good sized keyboard which I tinker at in the early evenings before MB comes home from work.  But I tend to just play pieces I’m already familiar with, reluctant to learn anything new.

The trigger: When I’m sufficiently warmed up from playing familiar pieces

Start date: Already started

5) Write BEFORE checking email/surfing the internet

My routine in the morning is to eat breakfast and have my coffee while reading my book, then get right on the computer.  I’d try to write and surf the internet at the same time, but inevitably, I’d spend much more time to surfing before writing.

So far it’s been working: take at least ten minutes to write before opening up Firefox.

The trigger: After breakfast

Start date: Already started

* * *

I like this method because it forces you to pick something very specific that could done in ten minutes.  Something like “lose weight” wouldn’t work because it’s so vague, but “vigorous exercise” would work (though you need more than ten minutes of it to be effective).

awareness / relationships / year-end retrospects — Comments Off on 2009: The year in retrospect
30
Dec 09

2009: The year in retrospect

2009 was a year of big changes for me.

First off, I graduated from library school. For my second to last semester, I decided three classes would be doable since one of them was on a Sunday. Two were fine, but the third made no sense to me for a long time. I had a handle on everything till about April, but managed to finish everything.

I capped off my MLS with a two-week e-publishing course in London, where I stayed in a shitty dorm (that was in a good location), ate good food, went to museums, walked a ton, got lost a lot, and oh yeah, went to class. While at the time I thought two weeks in London was enough forever, I’d totally go again.

I went public. First, tired of waiting to get published, I decided to be my own pimp and put my memoir online. Then I put my name to my blog. This was scary because of past experiences, but I didn’t want fear to rule my decisions anymore.

We decided to move to California. The biggest change of all. What started as an idea in June became a reality in August when MB got a job and we got an apartment.

Of course this meant challenges, like getting rid of my stuff, giving my notice, doing battle with bacon grease, and of course leaving New York. While there’d be some things I wouldn’t miss, there’d be many things I would. The restaurants of course, even my job, but most of all my friends and family.

Luckily I had lots of opportunities to hang with my buddies, including monthly photo expeditions with YP, visits from ES, a trip to Boston, and my last weekend in New York. I even ran into an ex-friend which threw me for a loop.

MB and I visited with my parents often too, like on Chinese New Year and in the summer when MB climbed on their roof. This year, as always, my mom worried a lot. I did too, but relaxed after officially moving to San Francisco, unlike Mom. At least Thanksgiving was fun, and she actually sounded happy on Christmas.

In these last few months in SF, I accomplished a lot as well. I’ve explored the city, questioned the sleaziness factor, and continued to adjust. I decided to tackle the BBC 100 books list (I’m only on the last book of the Lord of the Rings trilogy), dressed up for Halloween, and did NaNoWriMo. I tried to be more social, got a freelancing job, and started writing for The Nervous Breakdown.

As for 2010, I won’t have any resolutions or even any goals. Something else I learned this year is how to deal with expectations. It’s natural to have them – but too high and you’ll be disappointed, too low and you’ll never really enjoy a positive experience.

So should you have any expectations at all, especially about other people? You can’t control their feelings or actions. They don’t know what you’re thinking, and if they did, I know I’d feel unwanted pressure to behave a certain way, instead of simply being myself. I remember reading somewhere that all you can really ask of someone is that they’ll follow through on their word.

What’s the difference between low expectations and no expectations? With low you expect the worst to happen; with no expectations, you expect, well, nothing. It’s sort of a zen state, neither negative nor positive. It’s living completely in the present, neither thinking of the past nor trying to predict the future, like willful short term memory loss.

I find the most positive experiences result when I’m distracted by other stuff. Maybe that’s why they say the right person will come along, in terms of relationships, when you’re least expecting it. Having high or low expectations may put out a certain energy that people can unconsciously sense.

Anyway, so what does that say for this year? The only thing I expect is the day to day routine I’ve come to enjoy – writing, working out, writing more, running errands, practicing piano. I’ll continue to try to get published but focus on the actions of writing and submitting and try not to wonder too much what the result will be. I’ll apply for jobs in the same way. It’s sort of like being a machine who immensely enjoys herself.

And enjoy myself I will. Happy New Year, everyone!

awareness / rant and/or rave / work / writing — 2 Comments
27
Sep 09

Beginning of a life of leisure. . .and boredom?

Friday was my first day without work.  It was partially enjoyable, and partially worrisome.

It began great.  I got up around eight, had a leisurely breakfast, checked email and blogs, and packed a little before heading uptown to drop off donations at Housing Works.  You couldn’t have asked for better weather.  Sunny and cool.  In fact I needed a jacket.  The bus ride was quick and relaxing compared to crawling through massive traffic during the week (the U.N. was in session, and the President was in town), and then ridding myself of three heavy bags of clothes.  Yay!

Next I picked up copies of my patient records from my doc, and then a bagel with lox cream cheese from Pick-A-Bagel and an overpriced mocha from Le Pain Quotidien.  I mosied on over to Central Park and had my lunch by the Conservatory Water.  Central Park is definitely something I will miss about New York, especially in autumn.

I had planned on going straight home and packing some more, but then I decided I’d visit the Met one last time.  I made sure to check out the new American Wing, a light-filled open space with lots of sculptures and statues, as well as the Vermeer exhibit, which was just okay.  There were not that many paintings and it was very crowded.  Plus I had seen all of that and more at the Rijksmuseum in Amsterdam years ago.

I also visited a couple of old favorites: the Asian hall with all the Buddhas, and the Greek and Roman hall, what I like to call The Hall of Perseus’ Rock Hard Booty.  I tried to be discreet as I stared at that statue from behind (pun intended).

I got home around 3, and after chilling out a bit, that’s when it started: the boredom.  I should have known.  That listless feeling always starts for me then.  At work it’s not bad because I’m surrounded by people, and I can easily go for a quick workout.  But on my own, if I don’t remedy it immediately, it gets bad.

I started to think, Is this how it’s going to be in San Francisco?  Energized in the morning, and then blah and lonely in the afternoon, EVERY afternoon, not just on Sundays after a weekend with no plans?  Was this going to be good for my writing, or detrimental?  I remembered, as though it had been weeks since I stopped working, instead of of less than 24 hours, the relief of a peaceful Friday night after a busy week.  Some philosopher said pleasure is merely absence from pain – with no pain, would I know pleasure again?  Or would the days just blur into each other?

By 5:30 I decided enough is enough, and got out of the house.  I didn’t really have any errands to run so I just took a long walk out to Chelsea Market.  (I actually wanted to go for a run, but in my packing frenzy, I brought all my workout clothes to SF.)   That did the trick.  It helped clear my mind and get my confidence back about my writing as I imagined a routine of writing in the morning, then leaving the house by lunchtime and writing in a cafe or something for a couple of hours before going for a run or heading to the gym.  I envisioned taking some classes at the gym as well as a writing class, to have some social interaction.

I realized I was putting all this pressure on myself to GET OUT THERE immediately, meaning network and socialize in ways I haven’t really done before, like going to writing events and schmoozing, and that doing something I’ve done before, like simply taking a writing class, was a cop out.

But why?  My time off should be fun, as well as productive.  It’s as though now that I don’t have the pressure of work (and school), I’m creating this pressure.  I’m making up something to worry about.

~ ~ ~

Anyway, my weekend in SF has been lovely as usual.  My flight was good, aside from my rowmate who was a complete asshole.  Since I switched flights at the last minute, I had a window seat instead of an aisle, so I had to unfortunately climb over my row mate for my many trips to the bathroom.  The second time I had to wake him up because his legs were positioned in a way that there was no way I could climb over him.  After I woke him up, he just stared at me and held out his hands, like what am I supposed to do?

“Can you move your legs a little?” I asked.

He stared at me some more.  “I was sleeping,” he said.

Was he really not going to move?  “Well, I still need to get out.”

Finally, he was so generous to shift so I could get out.

When I came back, I very politely said, “Would you like the window seat so I don’t disturb you again?”  Read: take the goddamned window seat since you’re just going to sleep the whole time and I’m the one who needs to pee every hour.  He refused it.  Fine, then you’ll have to deal with me.

I actually tried to hold my pee longer than I normally would have, then finally just couldn’t anymore and climbed over him without saying excuse me.

What a fucking dick.

The guy was Indian or middle eastern, and I could picture his mother fawning over him while he was growing up, telling him he was a prince among men, and then his wife doing the same.

Aside from that, I’ve been having fun.  Yesterday MB and I walked all over.  It was hot!  Well into the 80s and very sunny, though in the shade and at night it was much cooler.  After dinner we had a quiet night in since I was so tired.  I slept like a rock.

Today blogging, unpacking, and running some errands.  I’m glad I don’t leave till tomorrow.

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