Archive for February, 2010
I cannot thank you guys enough for the well wishes and good vibes you sent my grandma’s way. They must have worked because she’s back at home, resting. Not sure what her condition is at the moment, but at least she’s somewhere comfortable.
And my laptop is back and functioning. Thank you to my IT guys.
My half-birthday wish at this point: to have the means to see my therapist again. I’ll give twenty years of my life for two months’ worth of sessions. Thirty if you can make it four months’ worth.
I am halfway through my 27th year on this planet; if things go well, I won’t become a member of the infamous 27 Club.
Los Angeles is a very visual town. Unfortunately it applies to the people who live here as well. And my ass (what little of it I do possess, being Asian) has not been an active member of Bally’s for quite some time.
An hour of cardio is a very hard thing to accomplish. It’s not the physical acitivity that gets to me, but the mental capacity to tolerate the bad soundtrack around me. Can you honestly say you could spend an hour on the elliptical while the daycare center puts “Dora the Explorer” on a loop? Let’s up the ante and say that particular episode is trying to teach kids what instruments sound like and repeats the sound one by one.
It’s like going on a picnic, except no one remembered to bring food or fun activities.
I tried to balance this out by creating my own playlist on my iPod. Any song that made me feel like I could run to it or imagine myself dancing in a music video was included, and this worked for a while. The hard part was what to look at. And being on a piece of cardio equipment, there’s not a whole lot for you to gaze at. My choices were: closed captioning of ESPN or closed captioning of CNN. Fast moving mouths with very slow text. Sometimes the last paragraph didn’t even make the text and they would quit at the start of a commercial.
I finally decided to give video on my iPod a chance. A near full hour of my attention is diverted to whatever’s on my tiny screen, and I’m getting a full workout.
And dramas that feature skinny bitches works like a charm.
For example, “The L Word.” I’ve had my issues with them in the past (here and here), but this show works a treat in terms of me getting back into shape. They’re all skinny and all of them are attractive. (If I were gay, Helena and Bette would definitely be on my “to do” list.) And it motivates me not to give up as soon as I’m feeling winded.
Yes, I know I wasn’t built to look like any of them. Yes, I know they get paid to look like that. But when you live in LA and dress sizes 0 through 6 are always the first to go, you feel compelled to at least work on your figure. (It also doesn’t help that Margaret Cho now has a very nice body – I miss her chubby girl figure.)
This is where I need your input. I’m almost done with the 6th season of “The L Word” and need more show suggestions that are on a similar line. Sadly, comedy is out of the question, as I am truly uncoordinated during physical activity and would probably injure myself (best case scenario). (And “The Office” would have been awesome to work out to, but unfortunately their antics cause me to do the spit-on-screen laugh and that’s dangerous when your heart rate is over 170 beats per minute.)
Any suggestions or even alternative methods are welcomed and greatly appreciated!
Met up with a friend for lunch in Century City. The early-ish call prompted me to run down to the gym, do 30 minutes of cardio, and then run back home to shower and make myself presentable.
Traffic was awful going north on the freeway, but you know what made up for it? Sunny skies and warm weather. The mountains straight ahead may have been covered in snow, but the thermometer on my dashboard read 81 degrees.
I love the arrival of a brand new year marked by the Chinese Lunar calendar. It not only brought the anticipation of lucky money in a small red envelope, but also brought really good food. (As in, additional-Asian-food-that-wasn’t-from-my-culture-and-that-I-would-actually-eat good food.)
I didn’t celebrate Chinese New Year on a regular basis. For one thing, I’m not Chinese. For another, we would only celebrate it when my Chinese “auntie” was in town (think of Joy Luck Club). It was such a rare thing that I couldn’t help but make it magical, like Christmas.
Except Christmas didn’t require me to eat two bowls of rice.
I still enjoy the Chinese New Year, even though it’s now got a bit of wistful nostalgia attached. And that’s because for three years in a row, I got to celebrate Chinese New Year’s in a basement office of my former place of employment. Just short of lighting the firecrackers to scare away evil spirits was how traditional it would get in that space.
Mr. James was our Beverage manager and would arrange the whole event himself. He’d order a roast pig, roast duck, dim sum, and other treats and spread it out over two banquet tables. For the rest of the day he’d invite people he liked to come down and partake of the food he’d bought. And this invite was about as exclusive as you or me trying to wing an invite for a good after-Oscar party. Mr. James was such a peculiar man that it was hard for practically anyone to get on his good side.
I was one of the lucky ones. If I didn’t make it down the first time he called to say the food was ready, he’d make a point to go up to my desk and ask me why I hadn’t started eating. It didn’t matter that I had a ton of work stacked on my desk – it wouldn’t do if the food got cold.
Mr. James retired in 2007 and then passed away not even six months later. The first Chinese New Year that rolled around without him left me feeling out of sorts. Not only did I no longer have a quirky old Chinese man constantly after me for banquet bartending, but I also had no one to really celebrate the New Year with. The basement office where he’d have the annual feast felt even colder and more empty when the holiday rolled around.
I know I promised a second post today, but time and energy just are not on my side. Tomorrow for sure, even with it being President’s Day.
So back in 2004, I received the worst Valentine’s Day gift ever from my then boyfriend. What’s funny is that the general response I’ve received since posting that entry is this: NO ONE SHOULD EVER SEND CARNATIONS. EVER.
Normally Valentine’s Day makes me want to pull the sheets over my head and groan. The candy, the overpriced menus, the fake sentiment…I have to fight the urge to gag. (I think the feminine traits I was supposed to receive before the stork dropped me off got mixed up somewhere. I am kind of intrigued of being made up of “snakes and snails and puppy dog tails” – who doesn’t love puppy tails?) My mom often complains that I’m not a romantic and usually has to kick me out of the room whenever something horribly sappy comes on: “You’ve Got Mail,” “Kate and Leopold,” “An Affair to Remember,” or, worst case scenario, something on Lifetime Original Movies. >_<
However, I just realized that I get to spend tomorrow with someone special. Very special. Someone I know I love with all of my heart and would gladly die for.
Last year I wrote this piece. We’re almost halfway through the month of February this year, and nothing horribly terrible has happened.
That was before my laptop decided to die. The silver lining in that cloud is that I haven’t even had the damn thing for a full year, so it’s covered. A new motherboard is being shipped, a Dell technician is being sent out, and my former IT guys from work have been more than amazing in trying to keep me sane by letting me borrow their HP mini.
But now my grandma has pneumonia. As of last night it wasn’t bad enough for her to be hospitalized. Fingers are crossed that it can be treated at home, but with my luck record of the past two years, extra good vibes are greatly appreciated.
My grandpa passed away on February 19, 2003. This was well before I put the caution sign on February, but since bad things happen in threes… Superstition kicks in, and that’s when my half-birthday occurs, I’ll just be a little bit more careful in how I live for the rest of the month. My grandpa was a very kind man but I don’t want him to be the one knocking on my subconcious door and saying, “Kaechi*, come and stay with me for a little while.”
It sounds silly, but with my string of bad luck, I am only *this short* of setting up an appointment with a Chinese fortune teller for a general forecast of things to come for the rest of the year.
*: Kaechi is the closest my grandpa could get to pronouncing my name. For whatever reason, my grandma was the only one who calls me Kae-chan, and while that would be much easier on the Japanese Broken English accent, he still tried to say “Katie” to the best of his ability.
P.S. I’m going going to hell anyways, so I might as well add: the way he’d pronounce my name got worse when he got a new pair of dentures and this made me laugh hysterically. “Say it again, grandpa!” is what I’d gasp out once the giggles stopped. The only reason I knew he was talking about me is because none of my cousins have a name starting with a K.