Eating the Doctors

Today is my last day at work and it hasn't been sad! It's just been very nice in fact. Yesterday they had cake for me and it was decorated with all the famous (and generally attractive!) TV doctors.

Here's a picture of the graphic on the cake.

They were going to write, "Knock 'em Dead!" on the top of the cake, but going into health care, they thought that might be a little inappropriate. Also, the Southpark character in the middle is me--although my hair is not that color, my head is not that disproportionate (I hope) and I think I dress better.

Since the cake was mine, I got to pick who I wanted to eat first. Even if it was right in the middle of the cake. So I ate Jack (from Lost), and then I ate McDreamy.

What's that you say? What's this about a double entendre? Huh?

Premature Nostalgia and the Silly Funeral Hall Paintings

Last weekend my beautiful, wonderful friends* threw me a surprise party. I had some idea that some sort of surprise was happening. But I thought it would be much closer to the time I actually leave (which is at the beginning of May). My friend, the Wombat, came in to visit for the weekend. So I went into Friday evening expecting a good time with her. We had plans to meet up with some other friends for sushi and dancing on Saturday night. Everything went according to my plan (my plan = sushi/dancing), and then bang! Surprise! There were my mom and dad and all my friends, including my friends from out of town!! It was so incredibly fun. My only complaint is that it went too quickly. These fun nights always do, especially as the number of days standing between "now" and May 5th gets smaller.

The funny thing is that a few weeks ago, I was having one of those bad days where you feel old, ugly, fat, etc. Nothing was going right, and I thought things like "no one likes me" and "no one will care if I'm gone." So I started planning my own going away party. It was something I most definitely didn't want to plan, but several people had asked if I was doing anything before I left and no one indicated to me they would throw one on my behalf, so I (reluctantly) sent out a save-the-date for myself. Well all that was just very silly because during that time my friends were busy planning a fabulous shindig.

The party was fantastic, and it is the first time in my life I was truly surprised. In fact, I was so surprised that I actually felt uncomfortable for about a millisecond. Just because I am a bit of control-freak sometimes, and the night was supposed to go a certain way. When it didn't, it took me a minute to recover. But once I recovered I loved every minute of it all, and I continue to relish in memories of the night.

I spent Sunday with friends reliving all the details of the night, focusing on the lies they used to trick me and all the potential slip ups everyone had when they talked to me before Saturday night. When everyone was gone and I was alone late Sunday night+, I began to get sad for the first time. Prior to this point I've been happy and excited. I knew I would get sad, and I was sad at a distance when others told me how they felt about my leaving. But on Sunday the sadness hit me hard. And now that I've had that first taste, it bubbles up often. I am filling with premature nostalgia for all the little details of my life here and now.

Tomorrow is my last day at work. I have been here for over four years, but I am not sad about leaving this job or this company. The things I will miss about this place changed long ago, and I've been missing them already. The problem is that saying good-bye here is one more good-bye closer to the big good-bye; it is a large and permanent marker on the final count-down.

A few minutes ago I walked to the kitchen. I went through the mail room and cut down a quiet hallway. This hallway is lined with paintings a vendor gave the company a long time ago. They are framed in heavy, gaudy gold. They are random and some of them are ugly. They make the hallway look like a funeral parlor. But they're part of the experience one gets when they walk through the mail room, down the hall, and to the kitchen. After tomorrow I'll never see them and think "how odd" again. Will I miss these paintings and this walk? No. But they are part of this unique experience, and now that it's ending, even these silly funeral hall paintings make me sad.

*KA, General, Napper, HBo, and my Princepessa thank you so very much for planning this!!! KM, Wombat, my bro, and DJS thank you so much for coming a long way and making the party extra special! Je vous aime toujours! (It's easier to be emotional in a foreign language.)

+Fortunately, I was only REALLY sad for a very short amount of time because then I watched the Battlestar Galactica season 3 finale and again, all I can say is, "MY GOD." It was a really fantastic season ending. As usual the story continues to surprise! Go BSG!

The Secret of the Pound Puppy

I've decided to share a secret with you. This is something that may make some of you think that I am silly and weird. But I am a little silly and weird, so I am going to take my chances and tell you anyway. This is the story of Toby.

I got a lot of toys and stuffed animals growing up. Whenever I got a new doll/animal/toy, it would become my favorite and any old favorite would be put on a shelf to sit quietly while I played with whatever was most new. This happened many, many times until the day I got a Pound Puppy named Toby. Toby was better then them all. Toby stuck.

I got Toby when I was 7 or 8. We were living in Taipei at the time and were visiting the US for the summer. Pound Puppies had just hit the market. I didn't even know about them until we went to this brand new, oddly-named store called Target. One of the aisles had these dog stuffed animals (and probably some eye-catching marketing material). I saw them and wanted one, but when I asked my mom she just sighed and said, "No." Why? Because I already had SO many things I didn't play with.

Later on in the trip I had some dental work done that required me to be put under. I came out from my anaesthesia-induced sleep to see my mom looking at me on the verge of tears. I looked pale, and the bloody gauze made things seem much worse then they were. The first thing she said to me was, "I'll buy you a pound puppy and whatever else you want!" So, I got a Denny's hot fudge sundae and Toby.

Toby has traveled the world with me. I even made him a passport and convinced immigration officers all over Asia to stamp the green construction-paper booklet with his hand-drawn picture in it. I once accidentally dropped him on the floor of a VERY dirty bus on a rainy night in Indonesia. I once accidentally left him in a hotel in Utah. Fortunately, the kind hotel people boxed him up and shipped him back to me.

When I had Toby for awhile I asked my mom when I wouldn't want him any more. She said something like, "One day you won't need him and then you won't be sad to let him go." Well that never really happened. I still have him and he is still on my bed. Certainly I don't NEED him now, and I sleep many many nights without him (he no longer has an active passport!), but I am used to him and I like having him around. It is nostalgic and comforting. Occasionally, especially during moves, I find myself wondering about that day when I have to stop having him around. The idea still makes me kind of sad.

Maybe Toby has become that last bit of "childhood" I am refusing to let go of.

Turn on the Light

My hair has some curl to it, so when I use a curling iron it takes to the curl rather quickly. I didn't realize how fast my hair curls until one day the General and I were each curling our hair in the bathroom, prepping ourselves for our various evening plans. We started at the same time, but I was finished with my whole head in about a third of the time it took her. She already knew this about my hair, but it really surprised me.

A couple of weeks later I was in the bathroom straightening my hair. The General stopped in the hall and we began chatting. During the conversation I complained that no matter how much I went over my hair with the flat iron, it just wasn't getting straight. The General suggested I go slower, and she pointed out that her hairdresser goes REALLY slowly when he's straightening hair. So I tried that and--surprise!--it worked.

After all this time using a flat iron and being annoyed that it never REALLY created flatness, it never occurred to me to go slower. I just thought the straightening process should work as quickly as the curling iron works. But it makes sense that my (naturally curly hair) would take to curl quicker than it would take to being straightened!

And with that, another light bulb turned on.

(Even though my hair is no longer blond, sometimes the blond in me comes out.)

Turn on the Light

My hair has some curl to it, so when I use a curling iron it takes to the curl rather quickly. I didn't realize how fast my hair curls until one day the General and I were each curling our hair in the bathroom, prepping ourselves for our various evening plans. We started at the same time, but I was finished with my whole head in about a third of the time it took her. She already knew this about my hair, but it really surprised me.

A couple of weeks later I was in the bathroom straightening my hair. The General stopped in the hall and we began chatting. During the conversation I complained that no matter how much I went over my hair with the flat iron, it just wasn't getting straight. The General suggested I go slower, and she pointed out that her hairdresser goes REALLY slowly when he's straightening hair. So I tried that and--surprise!--it worked.

After all this time using a flat iron and being annoyed that it never REALLY created flatness, it never occurred to me to go slower. I just thought the straightening process should work as quickly as the curling iron works. But it makes sense that my (naturally curly hair) would take to curl quicker than it would take to being straightened!

And with that, another light bulb turned on.

The Thrill of it All

The other day I was driving through the LBC doing some errands. I was annoyed at the traffic and took a short cut down one of the side roads. I had never been down this stretch of this particular road, and I was pleasantly surprised to discover it was void of people, signals, and stop signs. Which is great. But more importantly, it was one of those roads that has a series of gentle little hills--the kind that give you a little "wee" in your stomach as you peak over the top of each, like a mini roller-coaster. I LOVE driving fast over these kinds of hills. It reminds me of road trips with my family when I was younger. Whenever we approached hills like these my dad would speed up our Dodge van and quickly take us over the peaks. My brother and I, sitting in the back of the van, would put our arms up and laugh at the thrill of it all.

Stumbling upon these hills in the LBC was so fun, unexpected and reminiscent of summer travels from my youth that I couldn't drive away without going back down that stretch again. I drove back and forth a couple of times before heading off to complete the rest of my day. Even after living in the LBC for almost 4 years I am still discovering some of its treasures.

28 is the New 75

Lately, I've been trying to squeeze in visits with all my various doctors one last time before I leave. One last time before this insurance ends and I am insurance-less until I start school. On my visit to the dentist last week i was very surprised to hear that I had two cavities. TWO cavities since the last visit! This is a big deal as I have had only one cavity my whole life prior to this! And that one didn't even come until I was 23 or 24! Then bang--two more all at once! And even though one of them is not my fault (the dentist said that my tooth has a naturally deep groove in the center of it and it was just a matter of time before it turned into a cavity regardless of my brush/floss routine.), the other one is (the dentist said better flossing might have prevented it).

This sucks and it makes me feel old. My body is starting to fall apart. What's next? A hip replacement?

Wah wah.

(Just 'cause I am old now it doesn't mean I can't still whine like a baby.)

Suck it Up

I am exhausted today. Some of it might be the time change and some of it might have to do with what I did this weekend. Maybe it was full of too much--too much food, too much dancing, too much socializing. But all in a good way. My time here is limited!

• I went out dancing both Friday and Saturday night until the club/bar closed. I was up until after 3 AM each time.
• I ate ridiculous amounts of fatty things including bread pudding (made from Danish and pastries), a buttery ham-and-cheese croissant sandwich, a chicken burrito from Taco Bell, and various items from an all-you-can-eat Champagne brunch at the Trump Golf Course in PV.
• I worked out Friday, Saturday and Sunday doing a variety of things including a "Latin Rhythm" Salsa workout, a bike ride, some aerobics, and a running/stair-climbing beach workout.
• On top of all that, I finished making a scrap book of my family's trip to Australia a few years ago, I sang with my dad's band again, and I went to a bowling-alley birthday party for KQ and G.

The net result? My voice is hoarse from talking over loud music, my feet hurt from wearing heels late into the night, I intermittently crave eating comfort food and never eating again, I have more confidence in my cha-cha, and I can barely keep my eyes open. Is it 5 PM yet???

The Good Life

I have a major case of senioritis. The general called it, and she is totally right. Last week I was supposed to go to a meeting. I was even supposed to be sort of a "back-up" resource for someone's presentation. Meaning, if someone asked him a question and he didn't know the answer, I could step in and help. But the thing is, he didn't need my help. And the other thing is that this meeting is sort of stupid. Nothing ever comes out of it.
I decided not to go. At all.

Here is my justification: I am only here for a few more weeks, so I don't need to know what's coming up regarding product launches and the like.

And even though I did flake, I didn't do so without notice. I did alert the presenter-guy to my absence. I emailed, "I have too much to do today, so I'm not going to the meeting." What I didn't tell anyone was that the stuff I had to do involved internet browsing and blog reading.

I'm so finished with this career.

On another note...

I got one of the best compliments ever. KA told me "I live life well." This is something I really try to do. I try to do lots of different things, see lots of different places, meet lots of different people. I want to soak up the world. I know it is impossible to see and do everything, but I try to see and do what I can. If I REALLY want to do something, I try to make it happen. And if possible I try to get it done "now" as opposed to "later."

The only real goals I still have yet to complete that are not already in progress are 1) seeing Africa and 2) being in a truly wonderful relationship with a good man. Possibly a third item would be having kids, but I'm not sure about that one yet. All other goals, which include changing careers, having fun, "seeing the world," are works-in-progress.
And I could even argue (if I were to argue with myself) that the Africa goal is already in progress too. Because I am going to do that once I finish getting my NP degree as part of a medical volunteer thing. And my NP degree stuff has already begun.

Everyone has their own definition of what a good life is. But I really try to live my definition of one. So when I hear from someone else that I do just that, it makes me very happy.

Throw Your (Right) Hand Up

So I did something incredibly unlike me recently. On a whim, I bought myself a diamond ring! I feel it is an incredibly irresponsible thing to do. Especially since I'm about to go to private school for 3 years. But it was so pretty, and I really love it! And then my Mommy told me it was okay because, "[I am] an independent 28 year old woman who can buy [my] own diamonds if [I] want." She also told me I deserve it because I work hard. I am pretty independent, but getting the green light from mom made my foolish purchase feel justified.

It's funny though, I've never really considered myself "into" diamonds and expensive jewelry. I still don't, actually. I mean I will never be one of those women who expects jewelry from my man on holidays, birthdays or anniversaries. All those commercials about how the diamonds stand for the years of your love and you can't really tell your wife you love her unless you buy her the latest trinket....it's stupid. But you know what? The "independent women of the world raise your right hand" ring campaign? The ones that run in Vogue and InStyle? Well, I like that a little bit. Maybe I like it more now because I bought in to it! Regardless, I think this ring (and perhaps one day an engagement/wedding ring) should suffice for my expensive jewelry "collection."

So I first saw the ring while I was in Vegas for BFF's bachlorette. I didn't buy it that weekend because I needed more time to talk myself into it. I made the purchase during the following week over the phone after negotiating the price down further. Last week the jeweler sent out some paperwork to sign and included a return FedEx envelope with preprinted label on it. As I was sealing the envelope I noticed the address label more closely and saw, to some surprise, that the sender of the box had an unusual name:

Yeah, I was kind of shocked at that! Did they think no one would notice? Or was it a joke that wasn't supposed to go out? I imagine most people don't even bother to read that much detail when the label is already complete and ready for shipping. But I did, and I thought it was funny.

Last night, the ring arrived and I was SO excited to wear it! Today I can't stop looking at it. It really does sparkle! Here are some pictures.

This is the picture from the store.

This is a picture of the ring on my finger.

I love surprising myself, and this ring purchase was definitely a surprise. Part of me still thinks it was completely foolish, but part of me doesn't care. Because I'm 28, and I own a diamond ring. And now I can raise my right hand. Thanks Stupid C*nt!

Wow

Last night I watched the second episode of the Black Donnelly's and it was just as good as the first episode. In watching the second episode, I realized I have a wee crush on the second oldest brother, Tommy (played by Jonathan Tucker). I like him because he's cute. See?

But I also like him because he's fiercely protective, smart, and the only one of the brother's who could rise about all this mob-nonsense. However, his loyalty to his family is what keeps him going. I find that attractive. Well, not how he is violent, but how he's loyal and smart. Also there's an underlying sadness to his character. It is a big reason why he is so protective of his family, and specifically, his older brother. I won't say what it is but it's a huge part of his character and a big factor in his motivation. And somehow that is all appealing to me as well.

So let's recap: he's cute, fundamentally a good person, smart, protective, loyal, and artistically talented (that's what he's going to school for).

Then last night I saw him without his shirt on.

I am not normally drawn to muscular men. I generally prefer nice tone and a good frame over a lot of muscle. But last night when I saw Tommy sans shirt all I could do was hit pause on the DVR and think to myself, "Wow."

I REALLY wish I could have found a photo still from the Sunday episode to share with you all, but alas, I could not.

Unless you watch episode two online, you'll just have to imagine what I am talking about. And while you're doing that I will just keep on thinking, "Wow."

The Frog is a Toddler!

Hey, guess what? March marks the two year anniversary of this blog. Happy blog-iversary to me and my secret online reptilian persona!

A Crystal Ball On a Stick

I spent yesterday going through the closet in my old bedroom at my parents place. It felt like I spent the entire day wrapped up in memories of things forgotten. My goal was to get rid of all the stuff I no longer need, and I did, but I am glad I kept so much so that I could spend yesterday remembering. Like my mother, I tend to keep too much in an effort to preserve. Like my father, I am very organized about how I keep all this stuff. So I was faced with a very organized crap-load of stuff to wade through. At times, the stuff I came across was heart-warming, and at other times, the stuff just made me laugh. It's funny how we grow and change when we aren't paying attention:

1) Journals: I have kept journals most of my life. I am not the best at updating them regularly, but I always have one. Reading through the things that I thought journal-worthy is just funny. And I discovered many new ways in which I have grown up. Especially my printing. It used to be so neat and orderly! Now it is just much better for everyone if I only type. I blame technology for this.

2) School Work: I kept all the important school work I did for all my meaningful classes in high school and college. I was impressed with some of the papers I wrote. Not because they were so great but because when I read them now, I have no idea what I am talking about. Reading my old papers makes me sound so smart because I have forgotten almost everything specific thing I learned in school! Sure, I remember the major theories and concepts, the books that moved me and the topics I enjoyed, but I don't remember what the Sapir-Wharf hypothesis is, or how Cathexis plays a part in male-female gender dynamics. It's funny how the real world can make you so out of touch with the theoretical, academic one.

3) The Book CH, DS and JL sent me when I was in the UK: The year I was abroad, I remember being surprised at who kept in touch and who didn't. The friends I assumed would be emailing all the time, in fact, barely did at all. The friends who I didn't expect to hear from wrote all the time. Personally, I show appreciation towards friends by keeping in touch with them and doing things with them, so when some people did not do that with me, it made (makes) me feel sad and unappreciated. When some friends went above and beyond my expectations, it made (makes) me happy to have friends like them in my life. CH, DS and, their roommate at the time, JL were fantastic at keeping in touch with me while I was away. They sent letters and postcards all the time (which I kept!) and one day they even wrote a story (with pictures included) about how Hammy (their Hamster) made a run for freedom. It was hilarious and I love it. They even bound the pages with pretty lavender yarn. That is something I am going to keep. CH and DS, thanks! JL, wherever you are, I miss you!

4) Corsages: I was a sappy little high school girl who used to listen to love songs while falling asleep at night. So I guess it is not all that surprising that I also kept all my corsages from high school dances. I literally laughed out loud when I saw this:

It is a collection of my favorite corsages from my favorite dances, dried and organized by the name and date of the dance and includes the name of the lucky boy who got to take me. This didn't make it to the "keep" pile.

See what I mean about my printing though? Messy messy messy.

5) A Crystal Ball on a Stick: My parents bought me a little brass stick with a crystal ball on the end of it. It was like a wand. And when I was five I loved it. I thought it was magical and very valuable. So when burglers broke into our house when I was 7 (when we lived in Taipei). I remember running upstairs to my bedroom, retrieving it from the hiding place I kept it in, and giving an out-loud sigh of relief that the buglers had not found and taken this precious thing.

6) A Baby Tee: When I was a baby, my dad worked for a Tech Support team at a then cutting edge computer company. Their team made t-shirts that said "Ampex" on the front and had this message on the back: "Ampex Tech Support gets it up faster and keeps it up longer." This is in reference to computer systems, among other things. One of my dad's co-workers made a little baby t-shirt for me to wear. I was only 6 months old when a photo of me wearing the shirt appeared in the company newsletter, thereby making me a famous tech-support baby. This little tiny t-shirt was amongst the stuff I came across yesterday.

It's funny...a couple of years ago, my mom was cleaning out her room and came across the same t-shirt, adult sized. She gave it to me and it has since become one of my favorite sleep-shirts. So I now have a baby-sized and adult-sized version of the shirt, both of which I have worn.

5) Memoir Essays: After I graduated college I took several memoir writing classes. I came across all the things I wrote for them last night and it made me really miss that kind of writing. I guess this blog sort of taps into that same need for me, but this writing is still very different then that kind. Many of the essays focused on things I haven't forgotten, Reading them, however, made me recall details I had forgotten. And they made me feel, simultaneously, a great wave of nostalgia and a strong urge to write more.

Enough about the past....

Did anyone see last night's episode of "the best show on TV?" AKA Battlestar Gallactica? My God(s)*. Big things happened. It is actually making me sad today.

I sang two songs with my dad's band at a bar on Friday night! If you've known me long enough you know that I 1) love to sing, but 2) am very shy about doing so publicly. It was a big deal, personally, to face that fear. I didn't even want a lot of people to know about it. I did it though, and it went pretty well! Thanks HB and BD for the support!


*In BSG, there are many gods. Thus, they say, "My Gods!" when crazy things happen.

America's Next Silly TV Show

"Cycle" 8 of America's Next Top Model began last night, and my disenchantment with the show grows. In its early days, the show was about young women wanting to be models. The program was less known--to the audience and to the contestants. There were no silly, staged scenarios to increase ratings. There were fewer girls acting crazy just to get attention. The judges were just themselves, and anything funny or theatrical they did was because of that alone.

Now it's all cliche. There are more melodramatic "skits" the judges do to make their grand entrances while the girls scream as though they're seeing someone really important. Like God. The girls try too hard to be the loudest, toughest, craziest, or strangest, and the judges have become caricatures of themselves. I'm sure there are "writers" somewhere suggesting, "Yeah, do more of that. Be more like this." It's all very annoying, and I had trouble watching it last night.

I do still enjoy the photo challenges though. And seeing the finished photo product is my favorite part of the show. But is it worth watching the whole hour for that? I'm not sure.