Bipolar

been a weird week, one that's had me alternating between these moments of self-satisfaction and irritability. no real reason behind it. none that i can pinpoint, at least. i had this great day midweek when i got home and engaged in some light housework. then i just stood for a minute and looked around. my dishes were done, floors were clean, trash taken out, healthy dog lounging on her bed while gnawing on a biscuit.

it was a calm, quiet moment in the twilight. and i felt pretty damn happy with myself. i made it, damnit. i was an adult, living on her own, taking care of bidness -- very Mary Tyler Moore. i relished in the thought that i had finally taken ownership of my own life. not that it had belonged to others before. i just don't think i had the wherewithal and maturity to realize that it's always belonged to me. that it was mine for the taking and making. one of my more personal resolutions this year is to speak the fuck up. surely, i'm no wilting violet, but even i act demure at times when i shouldn't. now i see that if i'm unhappy about something, it's my own damn fault.

that was followed by the worst day at work. i felt cranky and irritable and had to resist the urge to tell people exactly what i thought of them. i wanted to trip the office micromanager and reply to the needless "how are you doing?" pleasantry with "shitty. not that you really care." the worst thing about mondays is not only that it signifies the start of a workweek, but that you have to deal with the endless barrage of "how was your weekend?" from scores of coworkers you'd never tell the absolute truth to. it's a wasteful exchange. all small talk is, and i've never been good at faking enthusiasm.

in any case, a bad day followed a good day followed another bad day and good day and onward. i had a great saturday with my mother -- a half-hour massage, then lunch, then mall shopping. then i woke up on sunday with a sore throat and stuffy nose. on one weekday morning, i conducted a little experiment, where i cracked open my front door and trusted juice to walk out and take care of her business unsupervised while i scrambled to get ready for work indoors. she did just that and returned home a few minutes later, just as a cat would. i was proud of her -- and of myself for finding a way to streamline my morning ritual.

the next day i tried it again. but this time, the bitch saw my neighbor's cat and bolted after it like a torpedo. so i bolted after them -- very unlike a torpedo -- and made it to the sidewalk where cat and dog were nowhere to be found. my heart dropped with fear. i didn't know which direction to turn. i knew juice wouldn't run away. she's just not that adventurous. i knew she wouldn't hurt the cat either. she's just not that vicious. she'd only want to sniff its butt. but i did fear the cat would hurt her in a desperate moment and that my dog would return to me with a missing eye.

then, i heard the clang of a collar to my right. a moment later, juice trotted out of a driveway, her eyes intact but wide with apology. the cat must have gotten away. i was livid, but relieved. i dragged her indoors and dropped some mighty discipline. then i felt guilty all day. it was my own damn fault and i knew it. my inclination toward morning laziness was no match for my dog's instincts, nor was it an excuse to jeopardize her safety. so much for having it together and being an adult. i was still a child looking for shortcuts.

and again, i remind myself: this is the year i will turn 30.

The Mo

for starters, his real name is Marlin, not Momo, which is just my nickname for him. he's a guy i went to high school with, whom i seriously disliked in high school, regarding him as a "brooding asshole" while he sat across campus regarding me as a "goth bitch." my girlfriends tell me the mere mention of his name would cause my eyes to roll. but we had too many friends in common to avoid each other, both in high school and after, so at weddings, parties and dinners, our paths would intersect.

i'd think nothing of it, still acting like my standoffish self until that one party early last year when i found myself uncontrollably drawn to him. it spooked me, but i brushed it off because i'm cool like dat. i did tell my girlfriends about it at that time and they reminded me of my distaste for him, saying i could never date him because it would be like "recycling" men, something i advocated against. i agreed and we laughed it off, but something about it still unsettled me.

six weeks later came a dinner i knew he'd be at. and when our group was seated at the fancy restaurant, Marlin and I found ourselves sitting directly across from each other. i couldn't even look at him for the first 10 minutes, talking to everyone else around me while secretly wondering why i spent so much damn time primping for this dinner and if i had settled on the right outfit -- after changing it half a dozen times. i was nervous as all fuck.

finally, i turned to face him. he looked damn good. we began speaking. it was electric. but then our conversation took a nasty turn and became an argument. our friends eyeballed each other. i rolled my eyes. it was the same brooding asshole from high school and i must be the same goth bitch. minutes later, we stepped outside for a smoke, where we made peace and continued talking. the electric din buzzed all around us. i wished he would kiss me. but he was talking about architecture while sucking down his cigarette. our friends joined us outside. dinner was over.

another six weeks pass. i thought about him, but the absurdity of the situation prevented me from taking action. i resolved to regard the whole thing as a fluke and to carry on as a polyamorous single chick. then i got the email from Marlin who confessed to masquerading as commentator "Chris Knight" on my blog for the past year. suddenly it all made sense.

days later, we met for dinner, igniting the fiery relationship with its subsequent breakup and eventual reconcile. six months later, it's still fiery. in fact, everything about our interaction -- the bliss, the sex, the arguments -- is imbued with an intensity i have not known before. together, we are a house on fire and i am in love. fuck yeah!

but what is love truly? i took a psych(o) class in college, which defined love as something rather selfish, its focus being on the way you feel about yourself when you're with your beloved. and with Mo, i feel pretty extraordinary -- not good or great or adequate, but extraordinary. i still get butterflies when i see his name pop up on my phone. i can't stand next to him without slipping my hand into his. he makes food taste better and the sun shine brighter.

plus, i can't get enough of his conversation. we've seen very few movies together and we rarely watch television. we just don't need to. our most natural state is sitting engrossed in conversation for hours on end, talking about smart shit and stupid shit alike, our mitts entwined, dumb smiles across our faces. (our second most natural state is sleeping soundly while folded up in the most impossible Twister-esque embraces.)

who knew i'd be so much like the brooding asshole from my high school? the one whose tortured artist mystique used to annoy me, but that i now find irresistible. how is it that we share so many sensibilities? how did we both become so opinionated and affectionate and self-righteous and cynical? Mo keeps me on my toes, calling me on my shit, making me laugh until i'm in tears and pissing me off like no one else can. he never ever bores me -- and most men do.

so the Mo is the man. my man. my match. and i'm thrilled.


(check out his blog, on which i am often mentioned as "Pearl Girl.")

So Far

my "To Do in 2006" list keeps growing. i wonder if constantly adding to the list will only set me up for failure. it now includes crazy things like "fix my FICO" and "buy car." hopefully, completing the former will help my ability to complete the latter. and if both are completed successfully this year, perhaps my "To Do in 2007" list will include "buy property."

i hope it does. i'm so ready to become an adult. the thirties truly are the new twenties for my generation. my twenties felt like an extended adolescence -- with only slightly more cash and slightly better judgment than i possessed in my teens. with thirty at my doorstep, however, i'm ready to begin procuring adult stuffs. i even opened a friggin retirement account.

but one thing at a time. my initial baby steps of 2006 did indeed lead me to the gym where every single sweat-inducing machine was occupied. guess i wasn't the only one who resolved to exercise more in the new year. haven't sat down to write yet, but that's on the agenda for this three-day weekend. i've reserved a spot in a culinary skills course, so i'm making good on my promise to learn more. and a stay in SF is (tentatively) planned for presidents day weekend, which means more travel in 2006.

these last few weeks have also seen me at a few live shows, including Sia with Zee, Nick and Chad; and the Dresden Dolls with Mo and Deo. i've been to the dog park with Juice, and even survived a crappy little flu which gripped me the first few days of january. work is busy again and, in general, the year has moved along swimmingly.

and i guess that's about it for now.

Nothing Cuter

i realized that i forgot to post my virtual holiday greeting card for 2005. so, yeah, here's a nice photo of the juice and let's pretend that thoughtful well wishes are written here. well, what i said last year will do. happy new year, y'all.

Annual

i had so looked forward to getting 2006 underway. i just knew that i would wake up on january 1 a brand new person, with all my bad habits gone. the better, newer, 2006er version of me would be far more responsible, disciplined and organized. i could just feel the metamorphosis occuring as 2005 made its exit, with each lost second offering the promise of a kept resolution. this year would be different, damnit, just like every year before it.

and then i woke up: hungover, with eyeliner running down my cheek, dragon breath from smoking the cigarettes i was supposed to have tossed, in a bed that wasn't even my own. it was the afternoon already and i had a family event to attend that day and a guilty conscience from a dog left alone overnight. i could barely move. i took a quick inventory and saw that my bad habits were still securely in place. this is the year i will turn 30.

yet, this is also the year i am destined to keep the majority of my new year's resolutions, which include:

• exercise more in 2006!! i know, this is the first time anyone on the planet had made such a resolution for herself, but i'm a trailblazer that way. i have been going to the gym regularly since i joined, though that's done little to help me slim down substantially. it's only allowed me to have second helpings and the occasional piece of cheesecake while maintaining what i currently look like, so i guess i should (re)incorporate the dieting back into diet-and-exercise resolution. yeah, yeah, whatever.


• write more in 2006!! aspiring writers write, don't they? they don't aspire to write, they write to aspire for greatness. i'm not sure how this simple fact escaped me all these years, but i should write more. yeah. sadly, i doubt this means that i'll blog more. once a week is enough, though i could end up reposting some of my offline ramblings here just for, you know, validation and stuff.


• learn more in 2006!! i'm actually already enrolled in a coding class through my work cus i'm a closeted dork who wants to learn more HTML, but beyond that, i hope to take an astrology class this year, the complement to the tarot class i took last year. and perhaps i can find some other classes through Extentsion to help lube my brain. i like to learn. it do me good.


• travel more in 2006!! this is another one of those evergreen resolutions that speaks for itself. i do have an overseas adventure roughly outlined for memorial day, and maybe another trip to the east coast, plus a few weekend jaunts to SF. and i'm sure i'll get to all of them.

those are the biggies and i can't wait to check this entry on january 1, 2007, to see how i fared. this new year will also have me trimming some fat, like phasing out a few tenuous relationships that no longer appeal to me and quitting the crappy theater reviewer job i've been doing for the past few years.

on the brightside, i'm pleased with the many things that have been going well lately. thanks to automatic paycheck deductions, i'm putting away money each month which makes me feel super responsible. my health is good (though i should drink more water). my place is always tidy and clean. i'm pleased with the amount i read and the company i keep.

in addition, i'm madly in love with the following: my little guesthouse is the best place i've ever lived, and if you've been here before, you know what i mean; my parents are understanding and supportive, even if they do rub me wrong from time to time; my boyfriend is spectacular and manages to keep me intruiged on every level (no easy feat); my friends are way cooler and more interesting than i am; and my good-natured dog is the bomb, y'all.

what more can a girl ask for? here are some ideas: a new car, a book deal, a personal chef and a bag of money. but i'll save those for next year.

Box o' Treacle

Meet Your New Mommy

this past saturday night saw me babysitting my niece and nephew at my sister's house in the lovely south bay. usually this job is reserved for my parents, who adore and spoil those kids mercilessly, but as my folks had an engagement that evening, my sister, Tatyana (Tat for short), had to call in the reinforcements -- auntie milla, who swooped in from her urban environs to play mommy of the suburbs.

and mommy i did play. i even maneuvered my sis' mini-van -- after first strapping the rugrats safely inside -- through the suburban oasis that is palos verdes to get the kiddies their dinner. and as we walked through the parking lot and toward the panda express where we ate, i felt all my maternal instincts bubble up whenever a car drove by us too closely, causing me to mush the kids against me and hold their little hands even more tightly. then on the way back to the house, i rallied the two little troops to sing along with me to the christmas carols that sprang from the car radio.

even more surprising was what a disciplinarian i was, all "no sugar before bedtime" and "wash your hands before dinner" and hell, we even said grace before we ate as is customary in that household. i guess i assumed i would spoil them like my parents do. one of my mom's favorite sayings is: Grandparents and grandchildren get along so well because they have a common enemy.

the only enemy these kids had were each other. my niece, Paulina, is a preteen, prepuberty nightmare, a know-it-all commando who constantly challenged me for control. (my parents tell me i was just like her at that age.) my 5-year-old nephew, Derek, whom i've dubbed 'boob-boy' because of his penchant for feeling me up at every opportunity, is a sensitive and sweet little fighter, whose boundless energy frightens my sis' deaf dog, the 12-year-old collie Spock.

i'm sitting on the couch with the DirecTV remote, overwhelmed at my TV viewing options when Derek runs out of his room crying. apparently, Paulina was trying to help him with his preschool homework. "what happened, derek?" pseudo-mommy milla asks. "shee hutt my feewrings." it was too cute; i couldn't hide my smile. i gathered him into my arms and he promptly rested his head on my chest. Paulina came out a moment later with a rolling of the eyes.

and so it went, with my asking Paulina to be more sensitive to her little brother and her threatening to call her father and accusing me of loving Derek more. but i remained resolute and never once bristled, forcing the kids to apologize to each other and kiss and make up. ten minutes later, the scene repeats itself. ah, parenthood.

yes, parenthood. it was saturday night, primetime in hollywood, and i felt so content being with these little tykes and their little problems in the 'burbs. it made me -- dare i say it? -- kind of, sort of long for kids of my own. that's not something that needs to arrive today or tomorrow, just...eventually. i always assumed that it would happen eventually, but turning 30 next year tends to place a baby on the brain and an ear on the clock.

not that one night as a babysitter has reinvented my wheel and turned me mommy minded. the mere thought of living in the suburbs with a mini-van gives me a rash. there's still plenty left to do before tackling this whole parenting business. and when that time comes, i'll go faithfully and willingly into that final frontier. how that will all work itself out, i can't even fathom. it'd be great if it were all nuclear-style, with a husband and a house, but i'm not opposed to going at it alone if that's what necessity dictates. in this life, it's more important for me to be a mother than a wife. i am a nurturer by nature. and though i've never been one to blindly love all children, my blood is my blood and my love is my loyalty.

my tipsy sister and her husband arrived home at 1:30am to find me passed out on their couch. those fuckers were exhausting, but i worked it out -- by night's end, the kids were fed, bathed, burped, tucked in and kissed goodnight; the dishes were done, house was tidy, and the mini-van was safely parked in the three-car garage.

"how are the kids?" Tat asked while hanging up her coat.
"alive," i replied, "they didn't walk into any rakes."
"rakes? what?"
"i don't know why i had this irrational fear all night that they would turn a corner and walk into a rake, like something out of a cartoon," i said.
"you're crazy," Tat said while hugging me goodbye.
"i must be, because i want to do this again. call me when you need a babysitter next time instead of calling mom and dad."
"really?"
"yeah. really," i said before hopping into my car and heading home.

i walked into my place past 2am to find my furry baby sleepy and yawning, with that relentless tail of hers still wagging. Juice, whom i always referred to jokingly as "my birth control," suddenly looked different. i sat down with her before going to bed and petted her shiny, clean coat, kissed her wet, salty nose, and marveled at her sweetness and good doggy manners. i thought to myself, "i did a damn fine job here, and one day i'll do it again."

A Day in the Life

is that cooking i hear in the kitchen?


is that bacon i smell?


i love when you're a messy eater.


back to being satiated and sleepy.

Drive Slow, Homey

funny that just a few months ago i was desperate for life to sloooooow down and wait for me, and now that it has finally slowed i find myself bored, restless and, perhaps most disheartening, with nothing to blog about. oh, the horror and shame.

i guess i could blog about smart things like politics and art, but i'll leave that to the experts who can do it better, as i have no original insight to propel those conversations. opinions are cheap, especially on the internet. the only thing i feel qualified to blog about is my own lame life. being a narcissist will do that for you. so for lack of expansive topics, here's some news in brief:

-- i saw mr. kanye west at universal ampitheatre this past saturday night. his being an egoist guaranteed a spectacular show, and the man delivered with a high-energy performance and tons of special guests, including common, patti labelle and even jamie foxx who came out to do the intro to "gold digger." kanye made quite the funny when he announced during that song: "white people, this is your only chance to say 'nigger' and have it be ok, so go ahead!"

-- i have been wasting far too much time on myspace.com, which has sucked me in with its vastness and many pictures. i know it's been around for years, but i've jumped on its bandwagon only recently. i imagine this addiction will pass just as my brief addiction to friendster.com had passed a few years earlier. in truth, i have no reason to be on myspace as i'm not looking to hook up and my blog is not housed there, but i hate missing a good party so there i am. visit my obnoxious profile to add me as your friend if you haven't done so already.

-- it's still not cancer: my last physical exam detected no strange or abnormal cells near my cervix, confirming my suspicion that the earlier nasty cells were brought on by stress. now there's less stress and more B vitamins in my life, so my kitty is kosher again.

-- work is slow now that i'm between projects. freelance work is also slow now that seasonal shutdowns are beginning, so i find myself quite idle lately. this translates into lots of daydreaming during the day and lots of couch-sitting during the evenings.

-- couch-sitting has involved oodles of TV viewing, most notably America's Next Top Model. that's right, i love that show and i'm not ashamed to admit it. DVD viewing has also gone on, including watching the second seasons of 'Nip/Tuck,' 'The L Word' and 'Arrested Development'; the film 'Crash'; and the documentary on strippers called 'The Strip Game,' directed by Method Man who provides a hilarious director's commentary.

-- people-viewing has been less frequent lately. all the partying left me pooped and i've entered a hermitic hibernation that will likely last through december. i'm still attending the choice outing here and there, but for now, couch-sitting with a blanket over me and juice and/or Momo by my side appeals to me far more than bar-hopping with pals.

and that's about it.

Glove Love