"It's Just a Piece of Paper."

"It's just a piece of paper.", I said.

"I'm the one who said that. When we were getting married. I said it because that piece of paper wouldn't change how I felt about you. Do you remember?"

We were standing outside our lawyer's office, and I remembered exactly what he was talking about. I remembered hearing those words almost ten years ago and the pain they had caused. After all, that's not how you want your fiance to refer to your pending marriage. Nor do you want to hear that he actually doesn't believe in marriage, but prefers 'concubinage', despite the fact that he met you through an elaborate scheme between your parents, family members and assorted strangers. I wanted to ask him why he had been sending me wedding dress pictures and encouraging me to plan a wedding if he was going to tell me he didn't want a wedding, nor did he want to be married to me. I had a lot of questions in that moment, but I remember staring at him blankly and just asking, "What do you mean, 'It's just a piece of paper?'"

At the end of the day we got married, in front of a justice of the peace, with none of our family members present, and just two of my friends who had made it to the courthouse before the judge gave up and went home. Looking back, I remember the fear and loneliness as I repeated what I was told to repeat, said what I was instructed to say and worried that I would not be able to make this man realize that marrying me was not a bad idea.

Now, I was telling him--without malice--what he had told me. The papers we had signed were just papers. Nothing would change from the way they were right now. We had officially separated months ago, unofficially, we had drifted apart years and years back. Nothing would change because of those papers...

I stopped writing almost a year ago. Writing on this blog had become an exercise in self-censorship that was just another exhausting effort in my life. As it was, I was hiding the unhappiness and stress of my life from everyone in my real life. I had been for so long that I still don't know what it feels like to be open about anything. Of the nine years of my marriage, the last seven were officially in trouble. There were moments of happiness, I would be lying if I denied that. But those were all too short moments in the ocean I was drowning in. I stopped thinking of all of the things I wanted, hoping to bring happiness to my husband's life. I failed at every turn, and that failure began to define how I saw myself. It was not what I wanted for my life, it is not what I wanted to leave my husband with if I got hit by a car and died. Every time I asked him, "Are you happy in this relationship?", he would respond, "There is no other option." Knowing my husband, I knew I had to be the one to act. And finally, I did.

I try not to look back on the last 10 years of my life--almost a quarter of my time on earth. When I do, I try to quickly focus on what was good. My now ex-husband was and is a kind man, who always cared for me in his own way--even if he couldn't express it. I learned things about myself and had to face things that I would have preferred to look past. It taught me my limits and reminded me of my strengths. It taught me that I have to take responsibility and action for my happiness--something that I have failed to do for most of my life. These days, I do my best to look ahead and plan my future. In moments like this, as I write again, I have to admit that the future looks rocky and lonely. I worry about all the things that I won't be able to fix. Then, I go back to making lists and goals again--something I hadn't done for years. I try to only look back to reclaim things I liked about myself. Why else would I go back to the wreckage of the past decade?

And so, that is where I have been for the past year. I'm not sure what I will do with this space, and how honest I can be about the peaks and valleys. I want to come back and try to be funny and interesting, not quite sure if I will succeed. But this is where I am right now, on the side of a mountain trying to regain my footing.

How YOU doin'?

I Want to See My Name In Lights

Back in April, my dad surprised me and came to the States to visit me--on the exact same week as my grandmother's planned trip. Since he didn't want to fly from Phoenix to San Diego (for a number of reasons), my brother accompanied him. You would think that with 5 people, there wouldn't be time for the usual inquiries and inquisitions. You'd think wrong. There is ALWAYS time and opportunity for an inquisition. Historically, my father has some basic concerns: 1) my weight 2) my marital/parenthood status 3) direction of my career (=income). The best way to make me provide details is to bring examples from people we know and let him know where I am in relation to those people. I have hated these 'examples' (comparisons) my entire life.

This is a close paraphrasing (and occasional exact quote of the conversation):

'Your brother and I were talking on the drive over. He was telling me about his job and how stressful it is. I'm really proud of how focused he is on his job.'

'He really is doing well. I think he works too hard, though. He needs to pace himself, otherwise he'll burn out and hate everything.'

'He showed me this blackboard they have in his office. They have it on his computer*, too. It's a list of everyone at the company and who's the best**. He's been tied for either first or second for at least 5 months now...'

'I know! My baby brother*** is so cool! And he makes it look so effortless. I love that he doesn't just go for the money, he educates people and cares. You have no idea how unethical people are willing to be, just for a little extra money or to brag.'

'So, how about you?'

Blank look of confusion.

'Are you at the top of your blackboard?'

So I spent a good half hour explaining my job, how project management is evaluated differently and how my group is isolated so there isn't anyone else to rank me against.

'Are you saying there's no one else in the company that has a similar position?'

'There are, but different.'

'So where is your name on the blackboard compared to them?'

'Dad, we don't have a blackboard. Our work isn't measured like that.'

'Are you telling me that your name isn't even on the blackboard?! BUT WHY?! Can't you try just a little harder?'

And this is why I say I'm a perpetual disappointment to my parents. This was also before we even got to the topic of my burgeoning obesity which will kill me before my time. My poor parents cry just about every time we talk about anything outside of the weather.

*My father is not very computer savvy.
** My brother is in sales, not project management which is why it's easier to compare his work against his co-workers.
***He hates it when I call him my baby brother, but it's true. He will always be my baby brother.

Understandable, Really

It seems my blog doesn't recognize me anymore. I don't blame it. If I had been neglected for almost three months, I would shun wayward bloggers as well. I need to be on my best behavior and tell stories. Maybe even bring flowers and candy. That's what blogs like, right? Right.

Dodge-y Commercials

Due to the fact that I don't know anything about football, I don't watch the Super Bowl--which means I may be one of the last people in America to hear about the annual controversies. The Janey Jackson thing? I heard about it three days later from an old co-worker who was just a little too excited that many days after the show. Calm down, Grandpa! It was just a woman.

That's why this year, I had no idea about the Dodge commercial that may have been offensive or just plain stupid, but still managed to inspire a video response. I had to watch it on YouTube when some friends had posted the women's response.

My first reaction was that of annoyance. I mean, really? Walking your dog and eating fruit for your own well being needs a reward? Is carrying lip balm in your pocket is that much of a burden? Or perhaps, holding down a job is so difficult that you need a car that goes vroom vroom to make you feel better about your life (and if so, will a car actually make you feel better)? The implication being that men suffer so because of the women in their lives. Which makes one wonder, why the hell do they stick around to live life as soulless zombies? Are they masochists or just passive-aggressive?

But the more I thought about it, the more I was offended. For my male friends. Most of the men I know are responsible, work hard and enjoy the company of their companions. Sure they have their toys and make fun of our love of jewelery or shoes, but they're not whiners. I come from a family of men who had plenty of faults, but whining about waking up at 6:30 was not one of them. (Actually, both my grandfathers always woke up before four every morning to go to work; did manual labor for more than fourteen hours a day; each raised five children and worked into their 60s. I'm pretty sure I never heard either of them complain about eating fruit with their breakfast.) So I'm left to wonder, what do men think about the commercial? Do you really resent your partners so much? Is your only refuge your attention getting car? Or do you find it insulting to be called entitled man-children whose only escape in life is expensive toys?

Now, in the interest of fairness, I'll link/post the response to the original commercial, which addresses the original as a bunch of annoying children. Quite appropriate:

Fashion Police On the Beat

I have no idea what that title means, except it implies a judgmental person offering unsolicited fashion advice. And that is exactly what I'm about to do, because I'm helpful. I'd also like to add that it's not really me being judgmental as much as it is a predisposition of sorts; a genetic condition that is passed down the matrilinieal line in my family. A superpower that I'm trying to use for good.

• Velour track suits, no matter how outrageously priced, are still comfort clothes. If it has been attacked by a bedazzler, it does not become any more formal. Adding high heels does not change the equation either.
  
• 'Juicy', 'Pink' or letters from the Greek alphabet across the bum in any material is not flattering, no matter how nice the bum. If you are over 60, it is wrong. Wrong, wrong, wrong.
• Showing your underwear in public is kind of tacky. Especially in church.
  
• High heels and mud are a bad combination.
  
• Ed Hardy: No. You'll look back at that phase of your life and wonder what the hell you were thinking. You'll question the judgment of friends that didn't stop you. Or you won't wonder and you'll still be one of those people.
• "Subtle" is not a dirty word.
  
• Louis Vuitton purses don't 'classify' tube tops and cut off jeans. Also, 'classify' doesn't mean what you think it means.

Your friendly neighborhood fashion cop,

GWCH

Fake Generosity

If I were to list my pet peeves, I'd have a little peeve zoo. The list is honestly endless--to some people (my brother) quite entertaining: poorly assembled sandwiches, water in plastic gloves, open closet doors, willful ignorance...I have a hard time keeping track of them myself. But high on that list is fake generosity. If you're not going to give it with meaning, just skip the gesture.

When I was in San Francisco for Nike, there was an Expo as there is at all big marathon/triathlon events. The sponsors have booths and give away free things. In 2008, Kaiser had free massages (bless them many, many times), JetBlue had manicure tables set up, BearNaked had free granola...It was really a wonderful treat. This year, due to the economy there were fewer sponsors and the gifts were more modest. Still, all of the participants loved the festivities and appreciated the goodies. One of the sponsors was new beauty product company that was handing out shampoo, conditioner, face masks etc. I asked to try the face mask, in case I was possessed with a sudden bout of girliness that required me to put things on my face. The girliness didn't hit me until yesterday while I was multi-tasking. After all, what could make a woman wielding cleaning agents more attractive than a carrot face mask? I was so excited! I opened the tub of goop and looked a petrified cylinder. There was no way it could be applied to skin without scrubbing layers off. I read the label, looking for instructions to soak it or otherwise revive it to its moisturizing nature when I saw the expiration date on the bottom: 9/09. It expired in SEPTEMBER! The Expo was in late October! They were handing out expired skin products. Is that not rude?! Why bother? I'm going to think you're a bunch of cheapskates trying to look good while dumping your crap on people.

Ahem. In conclusion, I do not like people who try to score generosity points while being exceptionally cheap. Sadly, my beauty regiment is so marred by this event that it could be YEARS before I think of exfoliating again.

Serious Commitments

I am writing now, only because I have promised myself I would write every day of this month. And technically, it is already Sunday morning, but I'll pretend it's still Saturday. A Saturday when I woke up when I normally go to bed, suffered a bus ride through windy, icy mountains and went to a ski resort where I proceeded to not snowboard (or ski), but rather sat in the lodge as close to the fire place as possible.

Which brings me to something I realized about myself. I can talk to just about anyone. Not at networking events that are made for such things or at parties where I don't know people. But in random places like the grocery store, airplane or ski lodge. I spent about three hours talking to two families (grown-ups and children alike) and ended up exchanging numbers and email addresses. If they had brought the family dog, I probably would have conversed with him as well. As if that wasn't enough, on our way back, I noticed a fellow traveler with a Team In Training vest. We spoke over people for almost an hour, reliving the glory of distance training, mentoring and injuries. When we were done, M just looked at me and shook his head. I baffle him, poor man.

On a slightly random note, I thought I'd share a life lesson with everyone: Trying to emulate the dance moves from this video as you sing off key in the shower may lead to bruising and/or other unsightly injuries. You're welcome.

More after sunrise on Sunday.