May 2002 Archive

Compulsive PMS Activity #422

The Kitchen
* Filling Salt Shakers
* Filling Pepper Shakers
* Cleaning the fridge
* Alphabetizing Spice rack

The Closet
* Aggressive sock matching audit
* Hanging all clothes so that they all face the same way
* Refolding all tee shirts

Spiritual Epiphanies

As shared with a friend of mine who is a nun of perpetual indulgence.

#1. Nothing exists unless God wills it to exist. God wills everything, every object, every person, circumstance and challenge because of his love.
#2. Everyone wants to be loved. In *spite* of themselves. God does this utterly. Recognizing that and really feeling that in your bones is huge.
#3. No matter how fucked up you are right now, how fucked up you were in the past, and how fucked up you may be in the future, you are perfect in God’s eyes and he cannot love you any less for anything. His whole will is to love completely and one has to have extreme arrogance to believe that anything that a mortal can do could possibly detract from that amazing Grace. (how sweet that sound, sing it Mahalia)
#4. God desires for us to have an intimate and personal relationship with him. Always. Every Day. To recognize that as often as possible makes life a little easier each step and stumble. To deny that or to veer away from it actively is like shooting yourself in the foot and trying to run a marathon.

I’ve decided to start reading again. No, not just books on tape despite the fact that I’m done with the entire David Sedaris set as given to me by the lovely skinny panda with a message that said something to the effect of 70 hours of aural pleasure. 70? Wow. Some stamina that David guy. Sure wish he weren’t gay.

But seriously, I miss reading something engaging & seductive while non-tawdry. Something meaty and challenging. Something borderline gamey with it’s tenuous fibers that the limp synapses of my brain can gnaw on for a few hours. Something damn good. A friend has recommended “A Widow for One Year.”. It’s now on my list. I’m reading through “As Bread That is Broken” again. I hope after I get some flaccid brain cells working again I can attempt to get all the way through an Umberto Eco novel. What’s on your list?

Oh, and do I sound like a hypocrite because I negotiated with a coworker for a copy of Lolita on tape?The commute’s a bitch sometimes, folks.

And while I’m spilling jelly beans of random thoughts, I may as well add the fact that I’m oddly content and happy in a way that’s utterly unexpected for a girl who’s generally stressed out about work, is trying to stay out of the drama and chaos of BDB, and slightly sickly after being out in the cold watching Elvis Costello last night. It’s practically a light headed feeling (ok, maybe *that* is the Nyquil talking).
I can’t quite put my finger on it, but I’m at ease and quite happy. *grin*

The Truth Hurts
Have you ever had the tragic realization that you are the dumbest person in the room?
Yeah.

Too deflating not to post.

* Going shopping at Victoria Secrets
* Frantically scowering the racks before locating a brassier that might fit. 36 A.
* Slunching to the register and taking such brassiere home. After all, I still believe in miracles. Bras. Miracle bras. Yeah.. I know, I’m recycling that joke.
* Getting home and trying on said bra to realize.. damn it, I’m not an A. I’m an A Minus.

I was talking with Dave tonight about the odd conjunction of online vs offline lives.
These days I’m wondering if I can tell the difference anymore. Back in the day, my journal was a place where I wrote my innermost thoughts and laid out the intimate disclosures of my heart. Vitriol, manic, morose, and more often than not extremely subdued. My audience was perhaps 30 readers and I got a wopping 40 hits per day. Of which at least half of those were from me, just making sure that it posted correctly. I was more honest then. Less censored and censured. It wasn’t so much about entertainment value as a real and true journal of the details that rolled around in my head like so many loose coins in a worn cotton pocket. Things have changed here in minjungkim land for a number of reasons.

#1. With a bigger audience grows a greater sensitivity to the existence of the audience.
I find myself writing less and less for me and more and more for the readers who I may, or may not know. Is it really fair to myself to allow that intimate disclosure to individuals who now feel that they know me so much better than I know myself. Worse yet, much more than I know them which gives me the odd sense of vulnerability when I receive emails from them or even more peculiar, meet them in real life, either accidentally or planned. I must say that it’s a rather odd experience. At times it almost feels unfair.

“So how’s your day?”
“Oh mine was fine.”
“…so aren’t you going to ask me how mine was?”
“Nah, I already know. Read about it earlier this morning.”
“Hmph.”

In terms of relationships with friends, peers, etc., it makes me feel at a distinct disadvantage. This has come in to play more than once with individuals who I considered as potential romantic candidates who discovered my blog or whom I met because of it. This is additionally due to a few challenges. I’m not always who I portray myself on this site. And yes, sometimes I portray myself in ways that I’d like to be seen and other times I reveal more of what I consider my true self. And as earnestly honest as I attempt to be, it’s not the real thing. And if you want to get to know me, this space where I tap into my brain, spigot some juices, and then twirl the tap closed, is not always everything that I am. Nor should it be. I have to remind myself of this as well, more often than not.

#2. Self censorship for protection of privacy & livelihood. Being voted most stalkable 2002 for the anti-bloggies is, to some degree, a snarky flattering compliment. On the other hand, well, who want’s to put themselves in a position of real life vulnerability. Could I put my job in jeopardy? My career? My security? My reputation? Perhaps I’m overthinking this with just a touch of paranoia, but I rather like being better known (though often equally infamous) and liked for my real life interactions with folks than my online diva persona and adventures. Could I cause concern for my family? Possibly. For the grace of God, my father isn’t online. My brother is too busy to read here though in the past he’s asked me to kindly refrain from writing about sex. Since I haven’t had any in a while, my discussions go mostly into jestfilled nuances and plays on the self-loving bohm chika bow bow bent. Truly, there ain’t much to talk about and even if there were, I don’t kiss, or anything else, and tell. Usually.

#3. This blog sucks for my dating life. No fair if a guy I’m interested in finds out I’m a freak and neurotic before I get to at least go on a date and write them off first as being so square that they’re cubic. That just ain’t right. I should at least get a nice dinner out of it first, right? (only half joking).

#4. Personal psychological boundaries. I’m in love with my website. Some would say that this is a projection of utter narcissism and I’m really in love with myself. They might be right. Either way, I don’t deny that I define myself as lazy, vain, self absorbed, and (charmingly) neurotic. The question, now, is whether this site has made me more so than I used to be. A function of either finally growing into my skin (which I would have done anyways as I have grown older) or because I’ve gotten addicted to the response and interactivity that this site gives me, an audience if you will, that I’ve become more driven by the attention than I am at furthering my goals in personal self actualization which was the primary exercise in having this site. I used to be more introverted. Believe it or not, moppets, I used to be incredibly shy. I still am sometimes, but it depends on my vibe and the settings. Now I’m extroverted on all fronts, both offline and on. I’m still not sure but I’m genuinely concerned by this. I do not want to be a fame ho. I do not want to be an attention ho. I don’t want to live my life for the amusement of others. I want to live my life for me. Just me. And to use this site as a documentation in my pursuit of becoming a better person than I was yesterday. That was the original thinking behind this site and I’ve stepped rather far away from it of late.

I’ve been very disturbed by the fact that I’ve had to question my own character over the last few weeks. Have I become so petty? So puerile? So downright childish? Wasn’t that totally counter to my personal predicts to try and always be a good person? It is my desire to be more than an ok person. More than mediocre. But to always consider my thoughts, words, and deeds with greater care so that beyond being a decent person, that I could be an honorable person. I hope to gawd that I never become an individual worthy of a Jerry Springer jello hot tub wrestling match. But that’s something I would have neenered at yesterday or the day before. For shame. I should know better, right?

So with that, I’m taking a few days off to get my priorities and my life in order. In addition to the physical summer cleaning that I’ve done with my room, paper work, closet, hard drive etc… I’m giving my brain an oil change & tuneup. I am overdue.

Thanks for reading. I’ll be back soon, but I just have to sort a few things out first.

There is a serious problem here…

When I have to rest up on a Friday night, after en exhaustive week of work, for my weekend schedule.
Ah well, no rest for the wicked, so they say.

Current Projects (not in order)
#1. Work, work, and some more work
#2. Article ideas for my column (in print no less)
#3. Book project with a friend of mine who’s a yahoo
#4. APA Media Magnates project with other nutjobs
#5. Delightful correspondence project
#6 Sleep deficit
#7. Blind Date Blog
#8. Personal Life Maintenance

This weekend?
Farewell party, bonfire party, birthday party, dinner party, meeting party, and church party.
God bless America. Someone be a dear and fetch me a diet coke, I’m going to need the caffeine.

Notes to Self # 43243332566331 (damn i love those lists)

Must learn more conversational Japanese than anime & sushi.
For if the occasion (like today) should arise where your boss’s boss’s boss (a corny white boy mutt who laughs loudly and definitely does not mean any offense or disrespect) talks to you, mistakes you for Japanese, and then strikes up a casual exchange of phrases, be sure not to react excessively offensive, or in reply throw into anime insult gear and accidentally remark “cho to hen desuneh.. hentai desuka?”

Shit.

More embarrassing is the fact that he responds “Choto…”
And then rattles off another handful of phrases for a good 8 minutes before realizing that no, you don’t understand a damn thing about him spending the summer in Nagoya on an externship with Toyota. (blinking blink blink blinking blankly)

Terrible weaknesses

I was chatting with a marvelous girlfriend of mine about crimes of stupidity that we’ve committed. Namely, curling up next to a warm body just cuz it’s easily accessible and we’re feeling lame and chilly in either heart, spirit, or toes. These bodies, have, on occasion been attached to individuals who exhibit exemplary poor form and bring us down to the most ridiculously banal and childish levels. For this, we both would love to plead temporary insanity. In truth, it’s humanity at its most base. To say I’m embarrassed by these crimes in the past, is a gross understatement. And no, drugs nor drink nor hormones were not involved (most of the time…ha ha).

Sometimes you just want someone to be there. To hold you. To not say a word and to be there with you when you can’t manage to be alone. In spite of your best judgement, and the howling cries of character & integrity, you give in to that terrible weakness of physical comfort. Then you hate yourself for being weak. And you hate yourself for needing someone. And you hate yourself for not being able to be more to the other person. And then you hate the other person for wanting you. And then, and then, and then. And then, well, you just hate the other person because it’s easier than hating yourself anymore.

Which is not to say that the other person isn’t worthy of wrath (yours or any multitude of other individuals) for a stack of other reasons, but one of the highest ones on your list may be because they remind you of when you were weak. You’d rather forget the whole thing ever happened and the individual whom you used, yes used, for that base creature comfort, would just blow away like the smoke from a stale cigarette.

These days I find myself better off in the comfortable company of a cold beer. What it lacks in animal comforts and tender though temporary warmth, it makes up for in solitary dignity.

5.2 Baby
“I FEEL THE EARTH. MOVE.
UNDER MY FEET
I SEE THE SKY
TUMBLING DOWN
TUMBLING DOWN…”

Lucky XCow was on the phone with me when it hit.
“Uh, I think it’s an earth quake” (internal dialogue… cuz baby… you still *move* me)
“Um, you ok?” (internal dialogue…my gawd, she’s still as nutty as a snickers bar… i know exactly what her internal dialogue is saying)
“Um, sure.. I’m fine” (yeah baby, shagarifically yeah)
“Good… glad to hear it…” (dear sweet baby jesus… what a loon…)

Today, I did what I’ve done for mother’s day for the last 10 years or so.
I’ve stayed inside, cleaned my home, lit some candles and avoided being out in public.
Why? Because seeing people with thier moms, out to brunch, shopping, at church, picking out flowers, etc… well…I just don’t like to cry in public.

I love my mom a lot. And I already miss her every day. I don’t really need the extra reminder of how special and wonderful she’s been in my life.

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