Saturday, January 14, 2006

The Joys of Costco (and the not-so-joyful)

I went to Costco today because my sweetie needed a giant bag of potatoes in order to make a giant tub of mashed potatoes for a nephew’s birthday party we are going to. Costco is a popular place, evidenced by the crowds that throng to it on the weekends. There’s a lot to like about this place… as well as a lot of annoyances.

Likes

• Nice wide parking spots in their expansive lot
• Nice big shopping carts that handle well for their size
• Lots of free samples of their various food products
• Their cafeteria has this amazing ice cream bar—hand dipped and rolled in almonds—Mmmmmmm...
• Something for everyone to enjoy browsing—I can stare wistfully at electronics while my sweetheart drools over jewelry
• Their awesome return policy—I once returned some blank CDs, a third of which were already gone, the label had fallen off, and the cylindrical case was missing!

Dislikes

• Why do you need to show your stupid membership card when you can’t by a single thing without giving it to the cashier?
• They only credit card they accept is American Express
• The flocks of human vultures that circle the free food samples
• The endless crowds that flow through its doors, half of which think parking their cart in the middle of the aisle is a good thing
• When they run out of one of their regular items and I just think they moved it so I circle the aisles three times looking for it, thus tripling the time it takes for me to get out of there
• Their business hours aren’t as long as I would like

As a side-note, I did a nice thing at Costco today. Minor, but I believe in being nice whenever the opportunity presents itself, no matter how insignificant. After paying for my potatoes the lady asked me if I would need my cart. I looked at my 20-pound bag of spuds. Well that’s inconvenient, they normally don’t ask that. So I figured they needed it for something. Ok, I can handle this without a cart, let them have it. She proceeded to take the cart and string one of those “This Lane is Closed” wires through it to block the way. I guess walking out the exit and getting a cart from outside was too much trouble. Apparently it was much better to inconvenience a customer instead. But that’s ok, I volunteered, I was giving them a break.

They put my potatoes and butter into a box and I carry it away. So here I am with 20 pounds of potatoes plus 4 pounds of butter. 24 pounds doesn’t sound like much at all, or so I thought. I had parked aaaaaaall the way on the opposite end of the lot because it was really crowded and walking was good for me. So I lugged my 24 pounds of future mashed taters across the lot to my car. By the time I get there my arms are in pain. And I am greatly dismayed. Carrying 24 pounds across a Costco parking lot should not have affected me like that. I am terribly out of shape. I need to start exercising again. Wish me luck.

Lovely Lady Lumps?

There’s this song that plays a lot on the radio. It’s pretty catchy and I do like some hip hop songs. I usually hear it in my car because it’s the only place I listen to the radio anymore. When I hear a catchy song I like I usually bounce around in my car a little. It’s marginally better than my dancing skills. I dance like a 7th grader. Actually there are probably quite a few 7th graders who would be offended by that statement.

ANWAY, so I’m bouncing to this song and I finally decide to actually listen to the words. The main chorus line is something like:

My hump, my hump, my hump
My lovely lady lumps

I can’t quite describe my facial expression when I heard that. Probably a cross between perplexity and “Did she really say ‘lovely lady lumps’??” So I started listening more intently, trying to figure out exactly what this song is about. I never did figure out the entire thing.  Something about getting the guy to spend lots of money on her because of her intoxicating tatas. Weird. I think I liked it better when I had no idea what it was about.

Friday, January 13, 2006

Beavis and Butthead Moments

Otherwise known as brain farts. I figure I’m already on the subject of obnoxious gas from a dog, why stop there? I’m still at the office (having determined that it was the ideal place for me to blog). I just had a really productive streak. I got tons of work done in the space of an hour. I was relentless. It was cool.

And then it was time to start the next big project. I stared at my computer screen for several seconds. I saw the emailed instructions and the browser with the website in it, but nothing was clicking. Not even my mouse. I was literally sitting there, mouth agape, making that “Uhhhh...” noise when you are at a complete loss. It’s what I like to call a Beavis and Butthead moment. I think I heard one of them in the background, snickering at me. “Shut up Beavis!"

Speaking of which, I don’t know whether to be embarrassed or not, but I actually enjoyed watching those two numbskulls. In college, there was once a Beavis and Butthead marathon on MTV—4 solid hours of quality programming—and I was glued to it like they were announcing lottery numbers. I think my IQ dropped a few points, but damn was it entertaining.

Does your dog do this?

One of my two chihuahuas (yes they are very yappy. They are also very happy. They are happy and yappy.) has a peculiar habit. Before I describe his little habit, let me give you a little background. Like any dog, he gets gas. And I don’t mean for my car. It’s quite potent such a little guy. And you can never hear it either because he has no butt cheeks. The only time you have any kind of confirmation that it’s happened, besides the smell, is when they start sniffing their tails. Like, “There goes another one, ooh that was a good one.” Dogs are the kings of SBDs (Silent But Deadly). This is quite an undesireable quality in a lap dog. If you’re sitting down he’s going to jump in your lap whether you’re prepared for it or not, and regardless of whether or not he’s got gas resevoirs ready for release.

When he first started letting them loose within an arms-length from our noses, we would often exclaim, “Ewww!” and immediately set him down on the floor. The farther away the better. At first he was confused by the sudden, seemingly random rejection. I mean, for a dog, farting is as natural as breathing. Apparently “stinky” just isn’t in their vocabulary at all. If they were to speak that is.

After awhile he figured it out. When he let one loose, we would set him down, then he would sniff his tail like, “Oh yeah, I forgot I did that.” We don’t set him down that much anymore. We’ve developed a slight tolerance for it, but mostly we’re just fanning the fumes away. (Which often leads to, “Hey quit blowing that in my direction!")

We’re back to his quirky little habit. Now anytime we set him down on the floor after he’s been on our laps for awhile, he’ll sniff his tail. It doesn’t matter why we set him down, he’ll sniff himself, probably thinking, “Oh did I let one out? I didn’t realize.” It is hilarious. It’s almost like a stupid pet trick because we enjoy showing it to various family members. He’s quite an adorable little butt-sniffer.

No More Guilt

Thanks to One Lazy Lesbian for shedding some light onto my obsession situation. In her infinite wisdom, I have learned that such behavior okay. After all, where else would I have the time to expound upon the intricacies of my life? I wake up, I get dressed, I pack my vitamins and I go to work. I don’t even eat breakfast until I get to my desk! (Mind you I never miss breakfast unless absolutely necessary. It’s the most important meal of the day and yada yada yada… basically I’m a pig and can’t do without all three meals in the day. With some snacks in between.)

So I’m there for nine or more hours. That’s all day. When I get home I have to play with the frantically happy doggies, think about dinner, and get changed again. After spending all day on a computer I have little desire to get back in front of one again. Oh how I’ve changed. There was a time just a few short years ago (well, maybe more than a few. Maybe 5 or 6) when I would spend all day in front of a computer at work, then go home and spend all night playing on one. You could say that computers were my life… which is self-preserving geek code for saying, “I have no life."

Thank goodness for my sweetie. Thanks to her I now have a balance. Come here you! (Please avert your eyes for a moment of unashamed mushiness.) *smooch smooch sluuurp* . . . *sigh* Okay that all just took place in my head. I’m actually at the office right now and it would have be wildly inappropriate for that to have taken place here. Not to mention a bit shocking for some. I’ll have to wait until I get home.

You see now why I have shed all guilt for posting this during business hours?

Thursday, January 12, 2006

Prone to Obsession

Years ago if anyone would have told me that I was prone to being obsessed, I would have scoffed at them, complete with a, “Whatever!” But as the journey of self-discovery continues on, I have found that it is true.  When I get something into my thick skull, it just stays there niggling, swirling and screaming for attention.  Here I am at work. I’m supposed to be posting things to the company website, not to my personal blog. Argh stop it!  Focus! What’s wrong with me????  I think I have a defective brain. It whizzes along at 300mph most of the time, until it gets fascinated with something. Then it just keeps going around and around in circles, doing parking lot donuts. Can you hear the squealing?  Can you hear the lambs… Clarisse?

Opposites Attract

For most of my life I thought this was a silly concept. Opposite magnetic polarities attracting, yes. Opposite people attracting… how? How could two people with opposite interests and personalities get along enough to have a relationship? It made no sense to me. Wouldn’t they fight all the time? My parents did. They were nothing alike and I never figured out why they stayed together all that time.

Doesn’t it seem logical that people with similar interests and personalities should be together? Then you would have harmony. You would have things in common that you like to do. There would be very few conflicts. Sounds ideal, doesn’t it?

So how do opposites get along? I tell you, it was a complete mystery to me for years. I always figured it was just fiction conjured up for television and movies. Until it happened to me. Yes, I’m talking about my current sweetheart. I guess I should have warned you that she’s going to come up a lot in my blog. When you’re in love, it’s all you can talk about!

Anyway, here you have me—an introverted, fashion-impaired computer geek who is distant from her family. And here she is—an outgoing, stylish clubber who didn’t go a single day without talking to her close-knit family. I loved Star Trek. She couldn’t stand science fiction. How on earth did we end up together?

It’s taken a lot of thought to figure this out, but I do believe I have the answer:  we compliment each other. I don’t mean, “Your hair looks nice today.” I mean my weakness is her strength, and vice versa. I’m a stingy tightwad. She’s showed me how to loosen up, that some things are worth the cost. In return I’ve tempered her spending a little bit, demonstrated that it was important to start long-term savings. Before I met her my clothes were nothing but T-shirts, jeans and shorts. Now I have a little bit of style. Before she met me her computer skills were pretty much limited to AOL. (Oh the horror.) Now she can do intermediate photo editing, desktop publications and fancy photo slide shows. When we need to negotiate a better price, she does the talking. When we need to figure out our budget, I step up to the plate. I’m very patient and she’s very impatient. In certain situations she’ll nudge me into action if I’m waiting too long. In other situations I’ll encourage her to be a little forgiving if she’s being too pushy.

Don’t get me wrong, we do bicker quite a lot due to our differences. In our early stages we “ended it” at least two or three times. But love doesn’t die that easily. Being apart makes you ache inside and makes you want to sit down and find a resolution to the disagreement. What keeps us going strong is constant, open communication. Anything that bothers us is immediately discussed. We figure out the middle ground that we can both agree on, and the end result is harmony. In September we will be seven years strong, and we are only getting stronger.

Wednesday, January 11, 2006

Motorcycles are sexy

There’s just something roguish about a motorcycle. Maybe it’s because people who ride them tend to have a rebel streak in them, and a certain measure of fearlessness. You have to be fearless in order to ignore the fact that a single wipeout could kill you.

Women on motorcycles are sexy too.  I don’t see very many of them, but I tip my imaginary hat to them for their bravery.  I’ve often entertained the thought of learning to ride a motorcycle. I’ve only seriously considered it once, when traffic congestion was quite unbearable on the freeway one year. But I was born a cautious soul. In otherwords, I’m too chicken-shit because I keep imagining myself being knocked over by a car, then being run over by 10 other cars. Even when I used to ride a bicycle to get around the neighborhood as a kid, there was this one huge hill that I would ride down sometimes.  It was neat to go that fast, but often I would get to looking down at the ground rushing past me at who knows how many miles per hour and my overactive imagination would start conjuring up images of me hitting a pebble and flying over the handlebars, skidding for a quarter of a mile and shredding all the skin on one side of my body. It’s a cartoony image, but an image nonetheless that I pictured myself in.

I still think it would be cool though for my sweetheart and I to learn to ride, maybe take a class together. Even if we never ride motorcycles again, at least we would have experienced a little of what it was like.  It would probably be fun, even if it’s just doing circles in a parking lot.

Tuesday, January 10, 2006

People like to judge

It’s a part of human nature. As much as I like to preach that we shouldn’t pass judgement on people until we know them better, I know I do it too. It’s why reality TV shows are so popular. It’s why Simon Cowell is still on TV. Most people are too nice to give harsh judgement to someone’s face. It’s called tact. It’s a good thing. But deep down I think we like to see those in action who are unafraid to mouth off and cut someone to shreds, especially when the person being shredded really, really deserves it.

Being judgemental is one thing, but what about getting bad vibes? There’s this lady at the office. I don’t know her at all and have no idea what she does, but the very first time I saw her I thought, “What a sourpuss.” She walked by with an expression on on her face similar to boredom, never made eye contact, and was dressed like a frumpy old lady (though she wasn’t old). I caught myself passing judgement and told myself, “Wait a minute, who am I to be making assumptions like that?” I often don’t make eye contact when I don’t feel like it, and sometimes I get bored at work too. And I am far from being a snappy dresser. So I’ll give this person another chance. She works on my floor so I pass by her a lot in the hallways. Every single time it’s the same thing. Never acknowledges my presence. She keeps reinforcing my initial impression of being a snob. I didn’t like her in the beginning and I still don’t like her now.

So my initial bad vibes about this person… was that me judging her? I’m leaning towards yes. When you meet someone, they usually give off some kind of vibe. It’s what helps you form your first impression. I guess judging a book by its cover is a sore subject for me because, well, my cover is pretty bland. It’s better now, but during my formative years I was a shy, socially inept bookworm with few friends.

Now I know better. I’m just eccentric. I have tastes that run outside of the norm, and that’s okay. I still have enough normality in me to pass as a human being. Just try not to run screaming in the opposite direction when you first meet me. Give me a second and third chance. I might surprise you. (Or you just may find out that I’m actually worse than you first suspected.)

Monday, January 09, 2006

On a lighter note...

I wish I liked swimming. It’s not that I don’t know how. I know enough not to drown. I just don’t like it much. Which is weird because I love water—waterfalls, water fountains, rivers, oceans, lakes—I love watching it and being on the water. I just don’t like being in it.

Which is a shame because swimming is the best low-impact, all-body workout you can possibly have. And swimmers have the sexiest physiques, don’t you think? All toned and curving in the right places. Well okay, the guys aren’t curvy, but they have nice physiques too.

Just some random thoughts that ran through my head during my brisk lunch-time walk.

Wandering in and out of the closet - When coming out is a blurred process

It is often portrayed that when you come out of the closet, you are announcing to the world that you prefer the same sex. As if exiting your closet automatically meant that you were laying yourself bare for the world to see. This might be the case if the world were actually paying attention to you.

When I figured out that important part of myself, I chose to inform only those who were closest to me… which turned out to be only 2-3 people. As I figured it out a little more and became more comfortable with it, I decided to come out. Now, coming out may seem like this big scary act that takes a huge amount of guts to do. Well it all depends on how you define “coming out” and how you go about it.

For me, that closet represented denial. By coming out of it, I was no longer denying my identity. However it did not mean announcing it to everyone I knew. I took on a policy of “don’t ask, don’t tell.” If you didn’t ask me whether or not I preferred women, I wouldn’t volunteer that information to you. I don’t go around announcing that I have dogs instead of cats, so why should this other aspect of my life be any different? If someone were to ask me point blank, “Are you a lesbian?” I would simply say, “Yeah."

But most people are tactful. I’ve never been asked point blank like that. Most of the time the question is, “Do you have a boyfriend?” That’s pretty much how my coworkers at my last job found out. It was a small, cozy company where everyone was like family to each other and the comfrot level was pretty high. One day my boss notices a ring on my finger (because I never wear rings) and gets all excited. “Ooh is that a promise ring? Who is he?” At that point I had a decision to make, was I really out of the closet? Would it affect my job? I decided that no, I was not in denial, and no it wouldn’t affect my job because these people were cool. It helped that the two bosses who ran the company were liberals. So I answered, “Actually, it’s a she..."

After a couple seconds of digesting this information, she responded, “Oh! That’s great! Congratulations!” I felt the congratulations on multiple levels, as it was intended. She felt honored that I would share this information with them, and I felt a certain sense of freedom for having done it.

Life is simple when you’re not in a relationship. You basically only need to look out for yourself. But once you get involved, your own feelings are not the only things at stake anymore. When you get together with someone, you take on all the baggage that comes with it. It’s up to you do decide whether or not you are strong enough to help your significant other carry that baggage, because if you aren’t, you will be crushed by it. There is no other choice. You either help carry it or get out.

My sweetheart likes to joke that her baggage is like an entire moving van of issues. I knew this going into the relationship, and yet I couldn’t stay away. If you read my previous post then you understand the complications. When a person’s happiness depends on you covering up a part of yourself to certain people, you have to decide if it’s worth it to you or not. You have to weigh the importance of this to her and compare it to its importance to you. Her family bond was a part of her heritage, her support group, and her way of being. My lesbianism was also a part of my being, but it was different. Revealing that part of me to her conservative family would wound that cherished bond she had. Hiding that part of me from them wouldn’t take anything away from me. I would still be a lesbian. I would still be all the other things that make me who I am.

The only time I will deny my lesbianism is when I am asked by a loved one to keep it secret. They have very good reasons for asking me this, and I am not so selfish as to deny them their request when it is so important to them. I am out of the closet, but when the situation suggests it I will sneak back in for a bit until the coast is clear. It’s a survival tactic and I’m not ashamed.

My mom is another example of who I will do this for. She claims that she is ok with my “choice” (it will take some time before I can convince her that it isn’t a choice, it’s a way of being). She tries very hard to be nice to my sweetheart, and I do appreciate it. She’s from a conservative asian background, so it takes time to accept these things, even if it is your own child. I can tell she’s not completely comfortable about it, but the fact that she is trying makes all the difference. She has asked me not to tell her friends about my relationship. She wants to be the one who informs them “when the time is right”.

I’m okay with that. She’s very proud of me and my accomplishments and likes to parade me around her friends when I visit. Being the nosy Chinese women they are, they will ask me point blank, “So when are you getting married?” That’s how old fashioned they are. In their time the high point and entire purpose in your life was to get married to a man, serve him and pop out children. So when they ask me if I have a boyfriend I’ll just laugh, honor my mom’s wishes and tell them, “Not right now.” It doesn’t harm me, and they’ll start philosiphizing about “the new generations”. They’ll say things like, “Well that’s good, nowadays it’s important for girls to have good careers. You’re too busy to have a relationship. You can be independent.” Every time we get that part of the conversation over with I can tell my mom is relieved. If I can avert some discomfort away from my mom, I’m going to do it. Even though I’m not all that close to her, she is still my mom.

I’m not ashamed of who I am, but there are times when it would just be better for certain people not to know, especially when it affects people I love. After all, as much as I like to say it is, it isn’t always about me.

Sunday, January 08, 2006

On Being Gay

My first couple of posts are rather boring and benign blatherings. They were written mostly as I was still figuring out the technical aspects of using Blogger. But now we can get down to the real reason why I decided to sign up. In short, I wanted an anonymous forum where I could be completely free to talk about sticky subjects. I want to share my thoughts, but circumstances dictate that I can’t always be myself in real life.

What sort of circumstances and what sort of sticky subjects? Well, my sweetheart, the love of my life, is very close to her family… her extremely Christian, extremely conservative family. So there are things you just don’t talk about, like being gay. Or in our case, being in a lesbian relationship. We spend so much time with them, and they really are a nice bunch of people, that I wonder if they already know and just choose to ignore it. I really don’t know. We just never talk about it and everyone is happy.  It’s a weird balance to maintain our happiness and theirs.

She often tells me we should move far away, to another state, so we can just be by ourselves and not worry about keeping our love a secret. But deep down I know she would miss her family a lot. They’ve got a close bond that I respect, that no loving person would dare suggest to break.

Lucky for me her family likes me. I’m a nice person and I like them too. But despite that, I know they would avoid me like a contagious disease if they ever found out the truth. But that’s not the worst part. I suspect they would also form an enormous rift between themselves and my sweetheart. As deep as their bonds are, such a rift would be disastrous and highly depressive for her. But because we love each other we continue to walk this tightrope.

It pains me that such deep-seated religious narrow-mindedness could cause so much strife within a family. It baffles me and really angers me. You have no idea how conservative these people are. You should have seen the shit fly when one of her nephews decided to get his ear pierced. Nevermind the fact that he never did any drugs, never created illigitimate children, and has never been arrested. He’s got a pierced ear! Oh he’s going to hell for that!

So if that’s how they react over something so ridiculously trivial, can you imagine the absolute scandal our love would be? Now can you understand my bewilderment and anger? When has LOVE ever been a bad thing? Why do we need to pick and choose who we care about? Who dictates who we’re allowed to love? Being gay is not bad. Being a lesbian does not make me a bad person. To have these special feelings for another is a gift. To have that person reciprocate those feelings is a miracle. Who are these self-rightious zealots to look down upon my happiness, my miracle?  Am I not entitled to it?  Am I hurting anyone? How on earth can my love for another person, regardless of gender, be harmful to anyone else? It boils my blood to know that so many people exist who believe it is not only their right, but their duty to oppress others with their personal beliefs. Tell me, are they so perfect that they can judge others?

In the end it doesn’t matter. It is what it is and I can adapt. I will go on loving my beautiful woman in whatever way I can. No one is going to take that away from me.

The hummings of an unquiet brain

Last night, as most normal people do, I went to bed when I got sleepy. It was actually much later than my usual bed time. However once I got comfortable and it was dark, my brain would not shut up. It’s so annoying sometimes! I want to get to sleep because I’m too sleepy to do anything else, yet I keep thinking of what I can write in my shiny new blog, what I can add to my website, what I can blah blah blah. It was a lot of good stuff.

Yet here it is the next morning and I can barely recall a single brilliant thought. I’m sitting here in front of the computer and going, “Uhhhh… what was it I wanted to do?” It was quite a Beavis and Butthead moment.

I have a lot of those.

Saturday, January 07, 2006

The Reality TV show bandwagon

I never really thought of myself as a bandwagon watcher.  I mean, I don’t play any musical instruments and parades make me yawn.  And yet when a popular trend shows up my first reaction is to be skeptical. I like to think of myself as a free-thinker who doesn’t get sucked into fads. I like to be different. (However if you ask some people that translates into, “I like to be weird.")

But despite my propensity to shun the popular (perhaps it’s from lingering resentment over being completely unpopular in high school) I will occasionally admit that I actuallly like some of these fads.  The biggest and most embarrassing example: reality TV shows.  When Survivor first came out and became this enormous hit, I scoffed.  What’s so fascinating about a group of money-hungry cut-throats prancing about an island doing stupid games?

Oh how I resisisted.  Never watched a single episode… that is until, what was it, season 8? (Wow 8 years of resistance, isn’t that impressive?) It was Survivor: Guatemala and my sweetheart, bless her heart, insisted she wanted to watch it.  Being from there she was interested to see what they were doing in her country.  You should have seen the stink I put up, “It’s the same as all the others!  It’s just another stupid, pointless reality show. Do we have to watch it?"

There’s no point in arguing with her.  You don’t mess with the alpha dog. I knew my place, so we watched the season opener.  They introduced all the contestants, they showed off the beautiful scenery, went over the rules… I started off watching as a petulant child and by the end of the show, the strangest thing happened… I was genuinely interested in what happened next!  How could this be?  We watched the next one, and the next one… it was bizarre to me that I enjoyed it so much.

So then we started getting hooked on other shows.  So You Think You Can Dance, America’s Next Top Model, The Biggest Loser... they were all captivating. Somehow I had climbed onto that reality show bandwagon with everyone else. So now I admit… I’m a terrible rebel. I’m not that different, though I’ll keep trying to prove otherwise!

So when does the next season start??

Friday, January 06, 2006

A curious phenomenon, these blogs are.

A curious phenomenon, these blogs are.  Millions of individuals chattering more or less to themselves, and somehow they find readers.  I am a straggler.  I saw the bandwagon go by and thought, “Humph, what do I need that for?  It’s just a silly fad.” Little did I know that, in the end, the silly one would be me.

Bloggers have to have some inflated sense of self, at least just a little bit.  I have something to say!  I think others should read about it!  I’m going to go ahead and splatter my thoughts all over the web because it’s good readin’ dammit!

And now here I am, curious about blogs, and starting one myself.  It’s been years since I kept a diary.  Not since college really.  I still have that thing.  Lots of immature prattling in various shades of ink.  Likely entertaining only to myself.

So maybe that’s really the ultimate goal of these blogs.  To amuse oneself.  Even if not a single soul deems mine worthy of their time, at least I’ll be entertained.  And that’s pretty much the most important thing, isn’t it?  See?  Inflated sense of self.  That’s me.  It’s all about me!

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