it's official, i'm an illinoisian

chicagoan sounds better.

time from walking into the IL dmv to having a driver license in hand: 1 hour 30 minutes.
time it's taken CA dmv to mail my driving record to me: 30 days and still counting!

almost two months ago, my wallet was lost and i needed a new license. since i wasn't going back to california for awhile, i decided i'd go ahead and get my illinois license. well, they need a copy of my driving record from california, else i had to take the road test. i call up a number in sacramento, surprisingly a guy actually picked up the phone. guy says, "you have to mail in a form with a check for $5. you're looking at mid-september, and no there is no other way," with a bit of dismay in his voice. uhm hello? didn't i just call california? can't you just email it to me in pdf format? my friend from portland called OR dmv. it was faxed to her in 3 days, free of charge.
i called them yesterday to check the status of my request. the lady on the other end said with the same tone of dismay and frustration, "the chances of you getting your record are zero to none. i'm one of the people who process these. i'm working on 8/26, yours came in 8/29." uhm? hello? didn't i just call california? the red tape and bureacracy is so ridiculous the employees aren't even trying to fake it anymore. maybe i should write a letter the the secretary of state in california.

"Grown men were crying."

A quote from a passenger on Flight 292 while describing the reactions of her fellow passengers. Is it that surprising that a man would cry in the face of death? He hasn't accomplished all of the things he's wanted to yet. He probably didn't say goodbye to his wife or kids. Forgot to call his mom on her birthday. Not to mention that the passengers watched live broadcasts about their ill-fated flight.

Is it so incredible that a man would cry period? I admire a man who can express emotion whether it be happy or sad. In fact, I value any person that has emotion and is not afraid to express them. Of course, there are extremes. I don't expect men to be blubbering at the slightest pang of emotion. I don't care for anyone who is too sensitive. Men, all humans, are emotional yet rational beings. And I expect all humans to conduct themselves as such. Denying and ignoring your feelings can only lead to misunderstanding and communication error. Relationships of all kinds (personal, political, foreign affairs) would benefit if people would just stop being too proud to express what they really feel.

1:04:40

2,838th of 5,003 total runners.
1,271st of 2,770 female runners.
528th of 1,045 ages 24-28.
Age - Graded place: 2,474th.

Didn't make it in under and hour; I finished 8 seconds faster than the last 10k. I'm still proud. I ran for nearly the whole course. Exception came when there was a bottleneck of runners. So, maybe without that I would have made in in under and hour. It was crazy to see a mass of yellow shirted athletes gathered in one place and then running on Wacker Drive near Michigan Avenue. I ran with Dave. He was ready for a leisurely run and just wanted to finish. I remembered about 1.5 miles in, that I had declared that my goal was to finish in under an hour. So, I ran harder. I pushed myself hard. Picked up speed and kept passing people up. Surprised myself. My feet didn't start whining until about mile 5. Dave trailed behind me through the entire race until the very end. With 200 yards to go, I sputtered and Dave blew past me. I had run with conviction and determination. I drove myself to the limits of my ability. I made good progress until I saw the finish line. Then, my legs gave in, they slowed, they ached, and just didn't put out enough to keep me on pace through the very last 200 yards.

Oddly, this is a scenario that has played out a few times in my life. I worked relatively hard through high school to get into Berkeley, only to fizz out academically while I was at Cal. I strode headlong into studying public health and working for non-profits, only to graduate without getting a job in either field. I apparently have a problem with finishing strong. Good thing to learn about myself. Hopefully the trait won't linger much longer. Finish Strong.

3-in-1

number 1. my coworker is studying for his qualifying exams to get into nursing school after having been out of school for 10 years. he was working on some simple algebra problems and asked for help. i reminded him of some math properties. then i was stumped. simplify: (3x^3+10x^2-7x+4)/(x+4). yeah, stumped. i remember doing these types of problems. i remember knowing how. i knew i was supposed to factor out (x+4) from (3x...+4). but how?! the answer made complete sense. but how did you get to it? show your work. it is an immensely frustrating feeling to know that i am incapable of simple algebra. i should get some math workbooks.

number 2. i got my first complaint as a server tonight. funny story actually. the restaurant was empty. lady with her beau wants to sit at a certain table. a couple had just left the table with spillage, crumbs, and smeared grease. the person trying to seat them tells them that the table is dirty. we'll sit here. (maybe they didn't hear) the table is dirty ma'am, how about one of the (15 other) clean tables? no, it's fine, we'll sit here. alright, go ahead. the seater walks away with menace in his eyes. witnessing all of this, i go to the table armed with heavy duty restaurant grade cleaner in a spray bottle and a dirty rag. hi folks, this table is dirty, i'll clean it. uhm, let me get up, i feel like i'm being sprayed, says now irritated lady. i have never cleaned a table so deliberately. i wiped under each condiment one by one. i scrubbed her seat with my dirty rag. she sat. i brought them 2 glasses of wine. 20 minutes after they'd left, my manager gets a phone call. i had an asian server tonight and she was quite rude. she sprayed me when she was cleaning the table and didn't apologize. we won't be coming back. the person who had tried so hard to seat them at a clean table was my manager. it took all of his will not to tell the lady to go fuck herself. we all had a great laugh about that.

number 3. tourists and foreigners are horrible tippers. every server dreads the table that is armed with backpacks and maps. the one that doesn't speak english or does so with an accent. you expect around 10%. 15% is absolute minimum. english couple seat themselves at my table. could have been swiss. not much talking. mostly smooching. $25 tab. guy hands me a $50 bill. i bring them small bills for easy tipping. they hand their gratuity to me on their way out. woohoo! a whopping $1.50. i gave the guy singles and one quarter for change. it took effort to tip me just over 5%. he had to work into his tight ass pants to find another quarter. pick up any lonely planet or guide to wherever. tipping customs are described in the frist 5 pages. read, monkeys. restaurant ettiquette should be taught in high school. there is most definitely proper and improper behaviors while dining in a restaurant. when a server asks how are you? do not answer with diet coke. we fake it enough to ask how you are. the least a diner can do is answer the damn question.

i'm an asshole

i was given a chance to set things right. i was given the chance to stop leading him down the wrong path. i didn't do it. i just blushed and tried to wave away his "infatuation". all i had to do was be honest and up front. do i crave attention so much that i don't give away any chance at it? is my desire to please all so great that i give in, give myself? is my ego that starved? is my ego that swollen?

anyway, i was called out. chewed out. i'm an asshole. he called me on it. i felt horrid. a well deserved lashing. thanks james, i needed that.

thrown

bitter, longing, loathing, adoration, cringe, touch, nostalgia, melancholy, fondness, anger, love, sweet. one person evokes clashing words and emotions. pushed so far. shoved away. trying to break me, faith. hate for your pushing. trying to break me, hope. anger. a rock of hope, of you. frustration. pulled in all directions. conviction. i will. i will love. i will love you. you will not break me. you will not break me from you.

legacy

With a fleeting memory, it is hard to focus on specific memories of my grandmother. I have blurry images of her in the kitchen, of my grandparents’ home in Taichung, of her reading or knitting in bed while the grandkids played in her closet. There are vague images that may have originated from old photographs. I remember when she wasn’t frail. I remember when she looked taller, robust, and full of vitality. I suppose it is important to have detailed stories and experiences to tell about a person so close to my life. I don’t have that. I have her essence. My grandmother left a lasting impression. She was a vibrant woman. She was a strong woman. I didn’t have to grow up under her supervision to know it. You could see her strength emanating from the way she instructed Grandpa on how to make onion cakes. She had an opinion on most everything. You could feel her warm presence when she entered. Most of all, you can see proof of her strength in her children. My uncle, my aunts, and my mother are each unique but share the same strength of character and vivacity that my grandmother had. It only takes a brief meeting with my mother to know that she is an extraordinary and commanding personality - full of life, full of youth. My grandmother is responsible for that. She instilled my mother and all of her children with her strength of mind, strength of character, strength of spirit. In them, especially in my mother, I know my grandmother lives on. In me, I know my grandmother will live on.

Brain Ball

Brain Ball is awesome. You win by finding your zen state, by relaxing your mind, by shutting off all unnecessary brain function. I was fortunate enough to try out this game at Wired NextFest over the weekend. To play, each player dons a electrode strap that measures brain activity. Sitting across from each other, a small ball rolls between each player. If the ball reaches your circle, you lose. The more active your brain is, the more you lose. I kicked ass for the first three rounds. My opponent didn't stand a chance. I tuned out all exterior stimuli and was in a total state of relaxation. Then, I got so excited about kicking ass that I lost the next two rounds. The kicker is that as you watch the little ball roll towards you, you become more stressed and anxious.

Other Wired NextFest favorites include Kick Ass Kung Fu, an android, and a holodeck prototype. My dreams of living in the world of Star Trek are coming true!

1:04:48

My official time for my first 10k run (6.2 miles) last Saturday. I surprised myself. I honestly wasn't sure that I could finish it, especially since I did it completely alone. Two friends who had originally said they'd run with me flaked. I'm not a runner. I don't know how to pace myself. But I did it! I ran at a ten minute mile pace. The first two miles were okay, I tried not to let it bother me that most people were way ahead of me. I kept glancing around to see if there were others like me wearing a red bib, bringing up the rear. Mile three had me doubting and considering veering off to the 5k course. I talked to myself. "Don't stop." "Just have to finish, only finish." Mile four hurt. I stopped to speed walk for a little bit. I found a groove in mile five. Mile six passed quickly. At the finish line, I think I could have gone another .2 miles. I'm proud of myself. Next goal is to do this under an hour.

quote, end quote

"Truth exists, only lies are invented." - Georges Braque
"Tenderness is a deeper instinct than seduction,..." - Michel Houellebecq

a little bird told me

i miss my friends. i'm curious what everyone is up to. if i could be a bird, i would fly off to visit every one of my old friends. i would spend a day perched on my friend's shoulder. i'd watch and see what (s)he's up to. it'd be like bring your friend to your life day...except, my friend won't know i'm there. i just want to observe and make sure everyone is doing alright.

and down will come baby, cradle and all

i haven't been sleeping well lately. correction, i haven't been sleeping much lately. it's not that i'm not home early enough to go to bed at a decent time. nor do i have so many pressing things to take care of to keep me busy all night and morning. i'm demented; sometimes, i actually make the choice to stay up when i am tired, exhausted. even after a night out when i get home after 3am, i have been known to stay up an extra hour and a half to dick around online or watch scrubs. i was up watching episode after episode of scrubs (yeah, i'm a little obsessed right now) the other night when it finally dawned on me why i torture myself night after night. i don't like sleeping alone. when i finally give in and curl up in my bed, the pillow between my knees offers little comfort. but, i clutch it anyway. pretending it's a warm body, one with big cozy arms that wrap around me, stroking my hair, soothing me to sleep...

it's 1:20am, my eyes are drooping and my head hurts, i'm still blogging. i have an illness. wait, i don't need anyone. i'm an independent woman now. i should be basking in the freedom of my drama-less, relationship-less life. right? no. i crave companionship. not sex. i just want someone to curl up with. someone that doesn't want sex from me - i can't handle that kind of pressure now. cuddle buddy? is it only a myth? *sigh* i give up...where's my pillow?

did you sneeze?

a day doesn't go by that i don't think of him at least once. lately, i've been thinking about him more often. i must miss him. i do miss him. but what do i miss? he told me while we were sitting on a beach that i made him feel bad about himself. i felt so sorry when i heard that. i've been there too. unworthy. what a silly and irrational thing to feel, but it hurts so much. i'd vowed never to make anyone feel that way. but i did. every day i try to think of ways i can show him that i miss him. but, i'm afraid to interfere with his healing. i want to make a list of reasons why he is a beautiful person, but when i start to...the words don't come. he could make a list for me. it's a warmth, a fire that i can't seem to put into writing. i hope he knows it. i miss my dear friend romie.

you're kidding me right?

i cried today. i lost all faith that the american people are not ignorant. they are; not as individuals maybe, but on a whole. the news that bush has been re-elected really hurt. it hurt almost as much as 9/11. that day my heart ached at the realization that our world was/is so divided and in so much turmoil. i cannot get my mind around the fact that more than half of america agrees with george w. bush. i don't pretend to understand the difference in economic plans or the strategies of war. i don't care. nor do i deny that it is possible to rationalize a vote for bush. however, i believe george w. bush goes against all principles and values of humanity. gay rights. abortion. his world view is unacceptable and that issue supercedes all others, social or economic! in a time when the international community needs unity and cooperation most, bush's elitist attitude will only serve to divide, create bitterness, and bring us into an era of darkness. 59 million people agree with him. are 59 million people that ignorant? is it me? my idealism took a hard blow today. it'll come back tomorrow, but my heart still aches.

tell me how to get to sesame street

heh. retroactive posting. nice.

i spent halloween with a boy band. met a bunch of newly graduated frat boys at a party. there was the funny guy, the hardcore dare-devil thug, the quiet shy guy, the idiot, and the one that doesn't really stand out in any way but is way cute. there's something about guys who have a bond with each other and openly show their affection for each other that i find wholly attractive. tabitha says it's a sign of immaturity, an inability to hold their own. yeah, maybe. it was so funny to hang out with them for one night though.

okay fine. yes, i did go home with one of them; the one that doesn't stand out but is so damn cute (his mom and grandma had made his oscar the grouch costume). he was pretty tired and drunk by the time we decided to crash in his bed. i was relieved when he passed out without pouncing on me. an hour later though, he woke and charged at me with such frenzy! i was able to keep him at bay; nothing more than making out. which, is a little odd, because i don't want a relationship right now, but i am in need of some good lovin'. a one night stand would probably fit that bill. besides the fact that his fumbling around was not a good indication for a good round in bed, it occurred to me that i miss the emotional intimacy of knowing someone really well. making out and hot sex aren't good enough. i want to connect with someone again. i want the comfort of being close to someone.

just a start

i have a horrid memory. anyone who knows me knows it. i figured, a half year into my move to chicago would be a good place as any to start a chronical of my daily musings and happenings. probably not very interesting on the whole. but at least it'll help me remember. oh, and might save me from repeating the same story to those important to me. ;) bitty experiment, we'll see how long i will remember to update. cheers all.

a look back

For posterity's sake. Retro-post from last June.

Tonight, I am officially in love with Chicago. It happened about 1.5 hours ago; 8:50pm central time.

It was dusk, beneath a warm summer night sky. A few ominous clouds above threatening to pour down; it only sprinkled. In Grant Park next to Lake Michigan. DJ Derrick Carter spinning melodic groovy house tunes. A free show. I was dancing amidst all walks of life. You name him, he was there, she was too. All sorts, all shapes, all ages, all styles, dancing together under this warm summer night sky. The skinny white guy in a wife beater was dancing with a cool hippie chick. An old couple, older than our parents, dancing hand in hand. The guy with the Mohawk was there, so was Goth chick with piercings all over her face. Beer belly dude in a bright orange football jersey was getting down like no other. Group of basketball jerseys. Prep boy in a sweater. A chic hottie grooved behind her hot pink glasses, next to two mamacitas. Three kids blew by me and started a congo line! The big black guy that dances all nutty doing crazy poses and worshipping peoples feet was there shouting “Chicago house!” The Asian mama’s boy was dancing with his graceful brunette gal. Euroboy who dances with his mouth gaping wide open in a permanent surprised look, he was there. He was dancing with black grandma wearing African garb. That Latino guy with long hair tied back in a long ponytail, he was bopping and turning. Nerdy science TA carried his 3 year-old on his shoulders, bouncing. Belly dancing gal with an afro, she was mesmerizing. All sorts, all shapes, all ages, all styles, dancing together under this warm summer night sky. Tears of joy filled my eyes at 8:50pm. I am in love.