I have reached a point in my life that I don't feel the need to have New Year's resolutions any more. Why resolve to do things that I will abandon a week or so later? I have accepted the fact that floss and I are never going to be best friends and I will not wake up at 5:30 every morning, because frankly some days that's when I go to bed. I am trying to change some things though, and I may need your help. Lately, for a number of reasons I have stopped blogging as regularly as I'd like. Not for lack of things to say. I have PLENTY to say, but I have been actively censoring myself. Unfortunately, I miss writing and left to my own devices will write about things that are better left unwritten.
So I had the brilliant idea (borrowed from other bloggers and slightly modified) to ask you all for help. Ask me questions* and I'll try to respond in my own delightful way, brightening your day and satisfying your curiosity. Aren't I wonderful? I realize that there may only be six or seven people reading at this point, and that won't get me past the first week of February, but I'll try to add some original stories from my exciting life as needed. I'll try to post something every day, just to get back into the habit. This is a once in a lifetime opportunity (not really) to ask me anything you want and possibly get an answer of some kind. Ask now!
*Before you ask questions, please remember the prudiness that is me.
Wednesday, January 27, 2010
Monday, January 11, 2010
Spook-y Debriefing
I have recently committed myself to a good amount of research which may or may not involve a lot of BBC programming. Contrary to what some people may call it, it is not an obsession. It's not like I'm watching anything that has a BBC label on it, I'm being selective, limiting my viewing to specific themes and educational programming. One of those themes is Spooks (known here in the US as MI-5)--ok, so that's not a theme so much as it is a series. So great is my dedication to learning and research that I have watched all eight seasons since the week after Christmas in between work, entertaining, cooking and occasionally sleeping. The good news is, tonight I watched the last episode of the last series* (season). I have learned a great deal:
In short, I have enjoyed Spooks very much and learned a great deal. So much so that I may be interested in going to England and further researching their spooky ways.
*I'm learning to speak British.
**Lucas North (Richard Armitage) may have been the reason I started watching BBC productions. In case you're wondering, I called dibs on him first. Please don't get any ideas.
- According to Spooks, which is produced by the BBC, the BBC is indeed an arm of the British spies' propaganda machine which misinforms people at the whim of the government.
- This confirms the Iranian's long held claim that the BBC News is unreliable and manipulative.
- Iranians have a bizarre admiration/paranoia/love/hate relationship with the British. We think that they have a secret hand in every financial, domestic and international event in the world--which is truly admirable for such a tiny little island. I'm pretty sure no one gives more credit to Winston Churchill's intelligence than Iranians, including the Brits themselves. Spooks has taught me that there may be something to that admiration/paranoia.
- Gas is a big problem in London. Apparently, the gas pipes are so leaky, that every other time that an MI-5 agent wants to come in and inspect your house, evacuate a building or plant a bug, they claim a 'gas leak' and no one every questions them.
- While they may not directly require it, MI-5 seem to hire an inordinate number of good looking people with exceptionally good orthodontics. Especially for Brits. I'm not sure where they find these gorgeous people who are also very intelligent, strong, ethical and brave but there seems to be a disproportionate number of them in the service of the Queen. For that alone, I envy her. (I also envy her all the jewelery and funny hats, but that kind of goes with the Queen territory.) If you'd like an example of the fine, fine people who join the service, I refer you to Lucas North**.
- There seem to be CCTVs everywhere. I mean EVERYWHERE. I'm very curious about the actual cameras. I would like to go to London and investigate. If there really are that many cameras covering the city, I may stand under one and hold up a sign that says, "HI! You all are doing great! I'd like to buy Lucas North a cup of tea."
- MI-5 agents never tell you their real name. They also blend in with the general population. I fear that if I ever go to England, I won't really beleive anyone's name is what they tell me it is, even if they provide documents. They print that stuff up like it's a Google Map.
- It seems the Brits are a bit unhappy about the 'special relationship' they have/had with the US. They don't trust us any further than they can throw us. This is a theme throughout the series. But stronger than their suspicions of the US, they seem to truly dislike and distrust the Russians. Not that I blame them, of course. I mean itty bitty England standing up to BIG, GIANT Russia. Plus, British spies get kidnapped and tortured by the Russians. Again, refer to Lucas North who had to have his body covered in tattoos while imprisoned and tortured in Russia. Frankly, seeing what Lucas suffered, I too dislike the Russians.
- MI-5 loses a lot of good civil servants very tragically. This is heart breaking, except they're quickly replaced. It's truly amazing how there seems to be an endless supply of them.
- Life as a MI-5 officer is very difficult. They don't seem to have much of a social life, everyone they want to date has to be vetted and they have to maintain a stiffer upper lip than the average Brit. That alone is impressive. I have trembly lips which will forever disqualify me from entering the service of the Queen (I'm also a suspicious American who trips over her own feet and burns herself while getting ready in the morning, but I'm sure it's the upper lip thing that will work against me).
- Contrary to what you may have heard about London's constant bad weather and rain, it seems to be generally sunny and pleasant there. I feel compelled to go there and investigate.
In short, I have enjoyed Spooks very much and learned a great deal. So much so that I may be interested in going to England and further researching their spooky ways.
*I'm learning to speak British.
**Lucas North (Richard Armitage) may have been the reason I started watching BBC productions. In case you're wondering, I called dibs on him first. Please don't get any ideas.
Thursday, December 31, 2009
Another New Beginning
I have been away, and I miss writing. While some lovely things have happened since my last post, I continue to censor myself for fear of the many bad things overwhelming what I write. I still like to think I am too private a person to expose myself that much here. Still, I hope that in the new year, I find a way to balance my need for privacy with a need to write and say something. Writing has always made me happy and I need all the happiness I can get my grubby little hands on these days.
When I woke up this morning, I realized that 18 years ago today, I was lying in bed at my uncle's house, praying and hoping that I would be able to change my life. My parents would call to wish us a happy new year and confirm my return flight information. I hadn't made any plans to return, despite my promise to do so a week earlier. I had no intention of going home. My first 18 years had not been very happy ones, and I knew if I returned, they would continue to be as they had been. The trip to the US was unexpected and (typical of my father) unplanned. His sudden and early return home had been a God send. I had spent the week between Christmas Eve and New Year's Eve thinking of what I could say to convince my parents to let me stay and go to school. I had never disobeyed my parents before, hadn't said no to any of their demands until I was 17. This would be on a scale that would undo all of my daughterly goodness. I was scared, alone, clueless and on a high that must come from doing something completely insane. And I did it. With that one call my life changed. Eighteen years later, I'm reviewing my life again. I have fallen short of many of the things I have wanted to accomplish by this time in my life. I have failed in so many things and occasionally succeeded. The victories have been sweet, the failures unforgiving.
I did not enjoy the year that I am about to put behind me. While some of my friends had great joys and beautiful additions to their lives which they have generously shared with me, I have spent the better part of the year torn and in pain. Sadly, I haven't been alone. I lost a dear friend who may never have known how much she meant to me. I still think of her daily, grateful for the little time I had to know her. I was abandoned by a friend who meant the world to me; and while I got him back, I cannot see myself as I was before everything happened. I doubt myself more today than I did before--and I was always full of self-doubt. I have had a number of friends near and far go through separations and divorces. Watching them suffer, I felt utterly useless and could do nothing but share their sorrow. Back home, there is unrest and chaos as the government that once pretended to follow the will of the people turned against them so cruelly that we have all passed the point of no return. I spent most of the year holding on to myself for fear of falling apart completely, and while I still stand in some form, I know I am not the woman I was last year. My sense of self has changed and the drained person I see before me is not what I want to be. I am trying to see it as a blessing in disguise--perhaps the person I was couldn't improve because she had to be rebuilt. Through this, I tried to find the strength to help others in small ways; in return I discovered new friends that helped carry me through some of my darkest days. For that, I am eternally grateful--even though I wish we had met under happier circumstances.
So with few hours left of 2009, I say good riddance. I will not miss the year that passed at all. There were historical moments, glimmers of hope and joy--but I was too busy trying to keep my head above water to appreciate them properly.
Welcome 2010. May you be gentler and more joyous than your older sister.
When I woke up this morning, I realized that 18 years ago today, I was lying in bed at my uncle's house, praying and hoping that I would be able to change my life. My parents would call to wish us a happy new year and confirm my return flight information. I hadn't made any plans to return, despite my promise to do so a week earlier. I had no intention of going home. My first 18 years had not been very happy ones, and I knew if I returned, they would continue to be as they had been. The trip to the US was unexpected and (typical of my father) unplanned. His sudden and early return home had been a God send. I had spent the week between Christmas Eve and New Year's Eve thinking of what I could say to convince my parents to let me stay and go to school. I had never disobeyed my parents before, hadn't said no to any of their demands until I was 17. This would be on a scale that would undo all of my daughterly goodness. I was scared, alone, clueless and on a high that must come from doing something completely insane. And I did it. With that one call my life changed. Eighteen years later, I'm reviewing my life again. I have fallen short of many of the things I have wanted to accomplish by this time in my life. I have failed in so many things and occasionally succeeded. The victories have been sweet, the failures unforgiving.
I did not enjoy the year that I am about to put behind me. While some of my friends had great joys and beautiful additions to their lives which they have generously shared with me, I have spent the better part of the year torn and in pain. Sadly, I haven't been alone. I lost a dear friend who may never have known how much she meant to me. I still think of her daily, grateful for the little time I had to know her. I was abandoned by a friend who meant the world to me; and while I got him back, I cannot see myself as I was before everything happened. I doubt myself more today than I did before--and I was always full of self-doubt. I have had a number of friends near and far go through separations and divorces. Watching them suffer, I felt utterly useless and could do nothing but share their sorrow. Back home, there is unrest and chaos as the government that once pretended to follow the will of the people turned against them so cruelly that we have all passed the point of no return. I spent most of the year holding on to myself for fear of falling apart completely, and while I still stand in some form, I know I am not the woman I was last year. My sense of self has changed and the drained person I see before me is not what I want to be. I am trying to see it as a blessing in disguise--perhaps the person I was couldn't improve because she had to be rebuilt. Through this, I tried to find the strength to help others in small ways; in return I discovered new friends that helped carry me through some of my darkest days. For that, I am eternally grateful--even though I wish we had met under happier circumstances.
So with few hours left of 2009, I say good riddance. I will not miss the year that passed at all. There were historical moments, glimmers of hope and joy--but I was too busy trying to keep my head above water to appreciate them properly.
Welcome 2010. May you be gentler and more joyous than your older sister.
Wednesday, October 28, 2009
With a Flood of Pictures Come a Flood of Memories
I've been taking a lot of pictures lately and been in a lot more than I have been for almost all my life put together. It's a weird feeling. Actually, it's unsettling. Every time I look at the recent pictures, I feel the same tension I had when the picture was being taken--an uneasiness that the pictures won't turn out right; that my face will look wrong; my eyes will be closed or that I have the wrong smile. For the most part, the concerns are grounded in reality. I look inexplicably intoxicated in many of the pictures I 'pose' for, even though I don't drink. My favorite pictures are those that I'm hiding behind dark sunglasses, preferably a hat or a tall person--proof of my presence should an alibi be required, but none of the ugliness.
As I was looking through pictures from my most recent trips, there is one of me laughing as I cover my mouth. It may be one of my favorite pictures, because every time I look at it, I remember the exact moment I acquired the habit.
Since about the time I was five years old, my mother has been trying to 'fix' my nose. Learning from the Chinese tradition of foot binding, she would scotch-tape my nose and have me sit still for hours to correct the offending feature. After seeing no results, she was sure the problem was with the tools not the method, so she upgraded to duct tape. Sadly, this was the one problem duct tape couldn't fix. By the time I was in second grade, promises of rhinoplasty* were made in exchange for good behavior and grades. Until then, every time I came home with a school picture there would The Talk. I had been warned not to smile the way I smile (how does one change their smile?) in pictures, but it was hard to obey my mother when school photographers adamantly insisted that I smile and show my teeth. Soon my pictures became glaring reminders of the necessity of rhinoplasty--and I hated it. Logically, I stopped smiling in my pictures--which made me look either scared or baleful. Neither look is flattering.
Just as I was getting the hang of not smiling at picture time, another problem presented itself: my habit of laughing and/or giggling and its subsequent effect on my face. Not good. The Talk was amended to include not laughing when I spoke, sticking to 'serious' topics, controlling my laugh and holding my head at certain angles if I had to laugh. Now, I'm sure models and other beautiful people go through training of how to stay beautiful at all times and that there are more flattering angles than others, but all of this was too much work and instruction. I broke out in giggles for no good reason, I was an unintentional joke waiting to happen and got a crick in my neck when I tried to maintain the 'flattering' angle. I really did try for a couple of years before I finally gave up. One day, when some neighbors were visiting, something or another was said and of course I started to laugh the uncontrollable laughter of a bored adolescent. As soon as I started laughing, I thought of the effect it would have on me. I immediately covered the lower half of my face and continued to laugh, even more at the sheer genius of my solution to the problem. Since that summer morning, I cover my face when I laugh--and love the picture that has captured the habit.
*To my mother's great sorrow (we literally discuss this every time she visits), I never had rhinoplasty. If God answers her prayers one day, I will get over my stubborn resistance and make her dream come true. I think God is on my side on this particular topic and will continue to cover my face to spare people the horrors of seeing my laughing face.
As I was looking through pictures from my most recent trips, there is one of me laughing as I cover my mouth. It may be one of my favorite pictures, because every time I look at it, I remember the exact moment I acquired the habit.
Since about the time I was five years old, my mother has been trying to 'fix' my nose. Learning from the Chinese tradition of foot binding, she would scotch-tape my nose and have me sit still for hours to correct the offending feature. After seeing no results, she was sure the problem was with the tools not the method, so she upgraded to duct tape. Sadly, this was the one problem duct tape couldn't fix. By the time I was in second grade, promises of rhinoplasty* were made in exchange for good behavior and grades. Until then, every time I came home with a school picture there would The Talk. I had been warned not to smile the way I smile (how does one change their smile?) in pictures, but it was hard to obey my mother when school photographers adamantly insisted that I smile and show my teeth. Soon my pictures became glaring reminders of the necessity of rhinoplasty--and I hated it. Logically, I stopped smiling in my pictures--which made me look either scared or baleful. Neither look is flattering.
Just as I was getting the hang of not smiling at picture time, another problem presented itself: my habit of laughing and/or giggling and its subsequent effect on my face. Not good. The Talk was amended to include not laughing when I spoke, sticking to 'serious' topics, controlling my laugh and holding my head at certain angles if I had to laugh. Now, I'm sure models and other beautiful people go through training of how to stay beautiful at all times and that there are more flattering angles than others, but all of this was too much work and instruction. I broke out in giggles for no good reason, I was an unintentional joke waiting to happen and got a crick in my neck when I tried to maintain the 'flattering' angle. I really did try for a couple of years before I finally gave up. One day, when some neighbors were visiting, something or another was said and of course I started to laugh the uncontrollable laughter of a bored adolescent. As soon as I started laughing, I thought of the effect it would have on me. I immediately covered the lower half of my face and continued to laugh, even more at the sheer genius of my solution to the problem. Since that summer morning, I cover my face when I laugh--and love the picture that has captured the habit.
*To my mother's great sorrow (we literally discuss this every time she visits), I never had rhinoplasty. If God answers her prayers one day, I will get over my stubborn resistance and make her dream come true. I think God is on my side on this particular topic and will continue to cover my face to spare people the horrors of seeing my laughing face.
Saturday, October 10, 2009
Shameless Flirt
"Hi!"
I looked at him, hoping he wouldn't notice my impatience. I was in no mood to chat with strangers, but didn't want to be rude.
"Hello."
That was all he needed. He extended his hand and said, "My name is Aidan. What's your name?"
Of course, nothing good would come of this. He wasn't the type to notice or care about my wedding ring; I wasn't interested in encouraging him, no matter how cute he was with his jeans and devil may care hair style.
I introduced myself, smiling against my will. He took my hand and didn't let go as he chatted and looked at me with excitement and hope. People were looking and smiling--mostly at him, I rarely get that many unsolicited smiles. I asked a couple of questions and maybe encouraged him. I finally asked him point blank, "Don't you think you're a little too young to be flirting with me? Do you have any idea how old I am?"
This made him laugh loudly. More people looked. He was having fun, I was feeling awkward.
"Shush. Seriously, I'm much too old for you. There are plenty of nice girls your own age around here."
He ignored my comment completely. He was in his own world. "Do you like firefighters? I'm going to be a firefighter for Halloween. What are you going to be?"
"An old lady."
"Ok, buddy. It's time to go. Wanna say goodbye?"
He looked over his shoulder at his companion and nodded 'no'. I was getting late for dinner and knew he had to go. It had been a fun little distraction, but all good things have to come to an end.
"Well, bye. It was very nice meeting you. I hope you have fun on Halloween."
He gave me a dimpled smile knowing he couldn't postpone the inevitable any longer, "Ok. Bye!" As they walked away, he looked over his shoulder and waved.
"I'M THREE!"
Beware ladies: there's a shameless flirt at Vons and no one is immune to his charms. And yes, little boys who have never met me will literally throw themselves at me and I love it.
I looked at him, hoping he wouldn't notice my impatience. I was in no mood to chat with strangers, but didn't want to be rude.
"Hello."
That was all he needed. He extended his hand and said, "My name is Aidan. What's your name?"
Of course, nothing good would come of this. He wasn't the type to notice or care about my wedding ring; I wasn't interested in encouraging him, no matter how cute he was with his jeans and devil may care hair style.
I introduced myself, smiling against my will. He took my hand and didn't let go as he chatted and looked at me with excitement and hope. People were looking and smiling--mostly at him, I rarely get that many unsolicited smiles. I asked a couple of questions and maybe encouraged him. I finally asked him point blank, "Don't you think you're a little too young to be flirting with me? Do you have any idea how old I am?"
This made him laugh loudly. More people looked. He was having fun, I was feeling awkward.
"Shush. Seriously, I'm much too old for you. There are plenty of nice girls your own age around here."
He ignored my comment completely. He was in his own world. "Do you like firefighters? I'm going to be a firefighter for Halloween. What are you going to be?"
"An old lady."
"Ok, buddy. It's time to go. Wanna say goodbye?"
He looked over his shoulder at his companion and nodded 'no'. I was getting late for dinner and knew he had to go. It had been a fun little distraction, but all good things have to come to an end.
"Well, bye. It was very nice meeting you. I hope you have fun on Halloween."
He gave me a dimpled smile knowing he couldn't postpone the inevitable any longer, "Ok. Bye!" As they walked away, he looked over his shoulder and waved.
"I'M THREE!"
Beware ladies: there's a shameless flirt at Vons and no one is immune to his charms. And yes, little boys who have never met me will literally throw themselves at me and I love it.
Thursday, October 1, 2009
Not Myself
I am the opposite of all you've ever known,
I'm everything that I've never been.
I'm the broken glass that can hold no more,
I am hiding in plain sight and hating every second of it.
I'm everything that I've never been.
I'm the broken glass that can hold no more,
I am hiding in plain sight and hating every second of it.
Tuesday, September 22, 2009
Things I've Learned
Since I had a couple of interesting things come up lately, I thought I'd share my new found wisdom with friends and strangers:
1. Don't change the water cooler jug right before a meeting, especially if you're wearing high heels: It's hard to look dignified in your meeting when you're wearing a white shirt that is too wet and slightly muddy. People will laugh at you. Or they'll pretend not to laugh at you as they stifle their laughter and ask how you got attacked by the water jug. Trust me nothing good will come of your well intentioned act. Just wait for someone else to come and change the damned thing.
2. American men overshare: Maybe I'm a prude. (actually, I am a prude, but that's besides the point), but I really have no interest in hearing how awkward it was when your 22 year old son walked in on your private moment. You will know I'm uncomfortable with your narration by the beet red color of my complexion and the look of horror on my face as I stare at the floor. Feel free to abruptly change the subject and talk about horticulture. Likewise, when I ask how your new girlfriend is doing, I don't mean in the Biblical sense. I'm either making small talk or referring to her overall health. Feel free to not pick up the pace as I run away from you.
3. Music can be used for medicinal purposes: I have been consuming music as if my life depended on it. I have been known not to pay attention to the lyrics of songs I listen/sing along to, but lately, I've been hearing lyrics and almost every song somehow connects to my life. My musical mood swings from the serene to angry to heartbroken in a span of hours--and every one is the perfect salve for that moment. My co-worker (bless him) sent me a package full of CDs yesterday, including two Chris Isaak CDs to replace those I may have accidentally given away. How could I have forgotten the lyrics to Forever Blue?
1. Don't change the water cooler jug right before a meeting, especially if you're wearing high heels: It's hard to look dignified in your meeting when you're wearing a white shirt that is too wet and slightly muddy. People will laugh at you. Or they'll pretend not to laugh at you as they stifle their laughter and ask how you got attacked by the water jug. Trust me nothing good will come of your well intentioned act. Just wait for someone else to come and change the damned thing.
2. American men overshare: Maybe I'm a prude. (actually, I am a prude, but that's besides the point), but I really have no interest in hearing how awkward it was when your 22 year old son walked in on your private moment. You will know I'm uncomfortable with your narration by the beet red color of my complexion and the look of horror on my face as I stare at the floor. Feel free to abruptly change the subject and talk about horticulture. Likewise, when I ask how your new girlfriend is doing, I don't mean in the Biblical sense. I'm either making small talk or referring to her overall health. Feel free to not pick up the pace as I run away from you.
3. Music can be used for medicinal purposes: I have been consuming music as if my life depended on it. I have been known not to pay attention to the lyrics of songs I listen/sing along to, but lately, I've been hearing lyrics and almost every song somehow connects to my life. My musical mood swings from the serene to angry to heartbroken in a span of hours--and every one is the perfect salve for that moment. My co-worker (bless him) sent me a package full of CDs yesterday, including two Chris Isaak CDs to replace those I may have accidentally given away. How could I have forgotten the lyrics to Forever Blue?
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