I'm Tellin' Y'all It's a Sabotage

I love web surfing and coming across articles that make you say hmmm...

Oh?

Uh oh...

Shit.

On other fronts, been busy with my 10 trillion hobbies, work, classes, out drinking on the town, wedding, bridal shower (in that order), getting excited about my Euro Tip, and...

I'm remodeling all 3 of my bathrooms. The receptionist at work is probably thinking I have a shopping addiction, since I have orders shipped to work. Lighting, faucets, and yup, sinks.

"Hi BTC, you have another package from UPS downstairs."
"Thanks!" *finds dolly to transport massive box into the trunk of my car*

Must call granite counter guy today...

Why, you might ask, am I starting the remodel 37 days before I'm off to Europe for 3 weeks?

I. don't. know.

Please, please, please, let me, let me, let me...

I want someone to love and be loved in return. That's all.

Half Asser

On the drive home from belly dancing class last night, I realized something. I'm not particularly great at any one thing.

I used pride myself on being a Jane of All Trades. "Look at all the stuff I can do?!" But I think a light bulb went off last night that I should maybe focus my attention on just a few things.

Example of my Half Ass-sation:

• Belly dancing
• Drawing and painting
• Blogging
• Being girly
• Work
• Learning to play an instrument
• Going out to socialize with new people
  
• Boys and relationships
  
• Home improvement projects
• Sewing
• Knitting
• Snowboarding
• Keeping in touch with friends
  

I think I overwhelm myself with such a vast array of things and hobbies that I'm just "meh" with any and all of them.

Maybe it's time to make some cuts...

No birthin' goin' on here

Mommy Gal had a baby last Friday. If I haven't revealed this, I am Auntie Extraordinaire. I love kids and they love me. I can easily revert to childlike playfulness and won't hesitate to act silly, contort my face, sing song, and engage in anything else that toddlers love. Physicality aside, I talk to children like they're adults. They're usually perplexed the first or two go-around of my sarcasm, but if you love Auntie BTC, you learn sarcasm before you'll learn to poopoo on potty.

Yeah, kids. I *heart*.

This, of course, always beckons comments of, "You'd be such a great mom.", "When are you going to have kids?", "How many would you want?" Uhhhh, perhaps you haven't noticed, but I'm missing the other half of the ingredients to have a baby?

I used to think I never want to have kids. Then I softened up on that stance. Then I was in the your-eggs-are-too-dried-up-like-raisins-to-have-kids phase. Now? I'm-so-Sheryl-Crow-and-can-just-adopt-kids phase.

Realistically though, I love things the way they are. Being Auntie. All the fun, none of the poopy diaper and time outs.

It'll all be okay...

This CNN article, entitled "Push to achieve tied to suicide in Asian-American Women", made me sad.

• Suicide second-leading cause of death for Asian-American women 15-24
• Highest suicide rate among women of any race, ethnicity for that age group
• Experts cite "model minority" expectations, family pressures as factors

It struck a core with me because I can totally relate. I'm no longer close to that danger age range, but I can certainly remember those times. The cultural pressure for academic and social-economic success. The struggling attempts to fit into the American Mainstream.

Having gone through the elementary school system in Taiwan, I can tell you that school was for learning, period. Yes, we had recess time where we played dodge ball and swung on swings, but once the bell rung, it was study time. We wore uniforms. We even went to school on Saturdays. Once a month, we had a casual/non-uniform dress day. Once a week, we cleaned our own classrooms. Yup, 8-year-olds cleaning our own classrooms with rags, brooms, mops, and buckets of soapy water. That's the way it was. I didn't go to a poor school. That's just how you were taught discipline and responsibility. Talk back or question your teacher? Unfathomable.

My parents always told me that until I have a career or married with kids, my job was to go to school. The flip side was no stress about working an after-school job to save for things like a car. Being a good student was the payment for a brand new car at sixteen. I didn't go one summer without going to Summer School.

"What else are you going to do if you don't go to school?"
"Everyone else gets to be on vacation and, you know, rest."
"Rest? You have a week before Summer School starts and 2 weeks after for that.
"Oh."

There's a concept of "saving face" in Asian culture. It's the reason you see fighting for the bill at the end of dinner between the heads of families. The reason for perfectly behaved kids in public. The reason for big named universities to be filled by Asian kids. It's pride. It's to avoid the perceived shame of being less than someone else. Some other family.

It's indescribable pressure, yes. But, since it's the life you live, you don't know any different. I can tell you that I fell prey to all the expectations and thought about suicide in my high school days.

I went to a predominantly caucasian high school. No joke, probably 95% of the school population was white. I was maybe one of 5 Asian kids in school, out of 2,000+. Yes, there were the assumptions that I was one of the "smart kids". It wasn't untrue, but I truly don't think it's genetics. It was definitely the asian culture that drove home the idea that you can never learn too much, too fast.

For example, I was introduced to algebra in the 2nd grade. It wasn't until the 7th grade that I saw it again. So, I don't think I was smarter, just a lot more was expected of me in the other school system.

I don't think I can properly describe in words how hard it was to find a balancing point. To make your parents proud by bringing home good grades, while trying to be a cool and normal sophomore in high school. It was like living 2 lives. Any attempt at bridging the 2 worlds would illicit a, "Huh? Why? I don't understand." from one side, or the other. So you keep them separate. An exhausting task.

I guess the point is to say to all my little sisters that things will get better. It'll all be okay. Look at me. Despite all the growing pains, I'm here and loving life. I want to tell these 15-24 year olds to hang on. Life gets better and is so worth living. And surprisingly, at some point you'll actually appreciate all the forced studying you did, because it is pretty cool to be smart, even if you don't think so as a teenager.

I would also tell all the parents to do their best to find balance. All things in moderation! One of my mom's friend's sons was hospitalized in a mental hospital because he didn't get accepted into his top university choice. It's so unneccessary to drive anyone to that point, much less a child you love.

Thing will all be okay, chin up and find one non-academic thing to be passionate about. And no matter what, this too shall pass. I guarantee it.

Satisfied?

*sings* Cyyyyyber snooping... Oh how I loooooooove cyber snooooooooping...

Yeah yeah, I know. Shush!

So Nice Guy (NG) and MySpace Girl's (MSG) romance is O-V-E-R. He went from being in the #1 spot on her friends list to #12, then poof! Gone. No longer anywhere on her friends list, nada. Her profile has been de-flirt-ified, most of his comments deleted.

You'd think I'd be happy somehow, but I'm really not. Believe it or not, it actually helped me to see that he was with someone else. Every sting and gag-rific pic helped to snap me out of the stupid girl fantasy that he even thinks of me. As dumb as it sounds, at least .0001% of me was actually happy for him.

So yeah, what does it mean? Nothing. I'm informed and that's it. I can reopen FantasyLand and fire up all the Scenario Rides? I rather not. So there.

Poetry Boy hasn't made a move. He posted a bulletin about being a "feature" at a poetry reading. I replied with something witty. He came back with, blah blah blah, "Come out, you'll see?"

I'll be at a movie screening of Breach with Studio Gay, so no go. Besides, he needs to do something more than hinting for me to come see him read his poetry. Be the boy and I'll be the girl, ya know? Chuck it up to "he's just not that into me", right?

Intimidation Factor

"Someone like you is scary to a guy like me. You've got your shit together." is one phrase that's stuck with me from Nice Guy. My Ex previous to NG was intimidated by me too. My home ownership, my paycheck, my friends, my I-don't-know-what.

Are men intimidated by women? Why? To what extent? By what exactly? "Those men are just insecure!" Yeah, but aren't we all? You wouldn't be human if you weren't to some degree.

I've read several blogs recently that have commentated on the ideal and realistic expectations of dating singles, and the roles that men and women play. How does one find a balance? My box of "The Game Of Love" came without instructions. I'm left to figure things out as I play. Everyone else has been playing for years...

I guess the short answer is you don't try, you don't play games. Just. Be. Yourself. The right person will come along and find you perfect for them, and them for you. It should be organic and without extreme effort. Hmmm... Going down a mental list of couples I know and have known, I've yet to see that harmonious Ying and Yang phenomenom.

During the dating phase (and beyond,) there are always doubts, the weighing of pros and cons, the possible deal breakers, the you're-so-f*cking-annoying-I-can-smother-you-in-your-sleep!, the sudden he/she-must-have-fallen-on-the-head personality changes.

The most detrimental has to be insecurities that causes one to think, "He/She's too good for me."

Being a non-dating single for most of my life, I can admit, perhaps, that all that alone time has made me very self-sufficient and potentially aloof of my intimidation factor. Afterall, I do profess my retardation in the romance department. I don't need a man to complete me. I don't need rescuing. Are those bad things? Objectively, no of course. One would think that someone who "has their shit together" is a good thing, but I guess there is comfort in seeing obvious flaws in another. It makes you feel less inferior and levels the playing field. Men want to feel like strong men: The Provider, The Fixer, The Rescuer. Bullshit? I don't know.

I guess we're all wanderers with pieces of insecurities, looking for our counterpart to complete a puzzle.

"Sorry, your pieces are bigger than mine. It'll never work."
"My puzzle only needs 100 pieces, and I've already got 63 of my own. Sorry."

How does an independent woman, who's supposedly got her shit together be less intimidating? I want my puzzle pieces to be the O negative of blood types. I want to be universal. Truth be told, I want a man to complete me. I want to be rescued.

Maybe I need to be more obviously flawed, because heaven knows I'm far from being that together. Perhaps, I should make a list of faults, shrink it down to busines card size, and readily hand them out.

I must, I must...

I must increase my flirt! Ok, so one of my gal pals, OCG, and I went out Friday night for drinks. Her and I went to undergrad together and decade later, we reconnected via MySpace and now, total BFF! She's recently divorced (no kids, whew!) so she's all about hittin' the town and the boys. ;)

So yeah... the "bar scene". Kinda new to me. OCG, however, knows how to work it. Her milkshake brings all the boys to the yard, and once she gets them there, she can take them or leave them. They can smell it, they like it, they're all over it.

I'm more than confident enough to know I'm not "the friend" (you know, the ugly or the fat variety), but my milkshake is definitely not up to Kelis' or OCG's par. While she's chattin' it up with 3 boys, I'm like Tom Hanks' character in Big or Jennifer Gardner's character in 13 Going on 30. Shy little clueless wall flower I am. I've got some drinks in me, I'm feeling good. I've got all the non-inhibition, zero the skills. Even in my inebriated state, I'm well aware that my smile and girly laughter are nowhere near OCG's caliber. Be proud though people, I try... I do! I get into conversation with one of the 3 boys. It goes well, he's interesting, I'm interesting, but somehow it's not... ummm... something. What's missing? What could it be? Oh yes, there's not an ounce of flirt!! All the while, OCG is conversing with one of the other boys like she's on "Flirt! Of! Fortunnnnnnnnne!!!" (To the tune of Wheel of Fortune.) Mind you, I can tell she's not that interested in any of the boys, which is further testament to her skill level.

By the end of the night, rather, early the next morning, we scored big time with free drinks. OCG had the bonus of a make-out session with a bartender. At least I got free drinks, right? :)

I'm not that strong

I've been putting off posting my first entry, because frankly, I had no idea what to write. Do I start with a long introduction of myself? How vain. No one's even going to read this... But today, I feel compelled to write, so I will and here goes...

I'm retarded. Not in any other way, but when it comes to love and romance and boys and all the etiquette and nuances that comes with it. I had my first boyfriend when I was 30. He was my first (just about) everything. Yeah, I'm behind, way behind! But it's okay, I have come to accept the huge deficit in this part of my life. For the most part anyways...

So, I'm now mid-thirty-ish and I've had 2 boyfriends. Woohoo! Not bad right? I'm trotting along now and doing well playing catch-up. So I think... Is it just the newbie in me, or is dating and relationships really hard? It consumes my brain some days. It's exhausting.

Case and point, my most recent Ex, let's call him NG for Nice Guy. Him and I have been playing the distant-only-by-email-stay-in-touch game ever since our breakup 10 months ago. We parted because he's a confused boy who's avoidant of serious relationship because of the divorce-child-custody-burn. At least that's my understanding of why we're not together.

Anyhoo, very recently, he contacted me to be his friend on MySpace. It's not just for teenagers anymore!! I swear!! I found the request to be odd because he's been distant and avoidant (3 weeks to answer a simple "How was Thanksgiving?" email), so why would he now want a method to be openly connected. I hesitate. The curiosity got the best of me. I'm a stupid hopeful girl. I accepted.

For the past week, I've been part of his MySpace friend circle of 14, along with his ex-wife, family, friends, and who-is-that-random-cute-girl, who's not-friends-with-any-of-his-friends-and-vise-versa? I don't care, right? No, I care...

So I've been the best cyber detective. (It's a talent. Seriously, I'm really great at it. I should be paid for it.) It's been an eye-rolling torturous experience watching the comments, the profile updates, the song updates between the 2 of them. Kill me now! I can only surmise that they knew each other in person while she still lived in our town, but has since moved back east to live with her parents (along with her 2 kids!!) in order to go to school. They're apart. Far apart. Nothing to be anything about, right? Wrong. It's a complete, total, and full-blown cyber-serious-romantic-relationship.

Everyday, a comment here, and song there. For pete sakes, he even created a band page to deliver "mix tapes" to her. I feel cynical, sad, nauseated, whatever, pang-of-heart, along with 10 other no-so-great emotions. Why? WTF?

So I had to delete him from my friend list. The convenience of torturing myself needed to be stopped. So I did. Kind of... I can still see her profile, since it's public, and now, not only am I tortured to see her profile updates. I only see one-side of it. What's on his in reference to that comment? I'm retarded! Just shoot me.

Has he even noticed that he's down a friend? He doesn't care. Did he ever care? I'm retarded. Seriously, I am.

So yeah, welcome me to blogging. :)