Yawn.

I really can’t wait for this weekend to be over. A strange, studious, responsible being has taken over my body and is eager to be at work. I’ve been with my company for nine years, and for the last seven or so I’ve been quite content with the status quo.  Haven’t been giving less, but don’t feel like giving more. I’m not sure what switch flipped in my brain that made me want to be even better. I guess that’s what growing up will do to you.

Because I had an expiring flight credit, I decided to plan a mini-vacation to NYC.  We’re just going to be there for three days in the middle of February, but honestly that’s enough New York for me.  The only thing I’ll want to do is eat and shop, and I don’t need to be buying extra suitcases in order to get all my stuff home…again. The only bummer is we’ll be there during Valentine’s Day, so there will probably be an abundance of happy tourist couples spending a romantic weekend in the city. I’m doing much better than I was two weeks ago, but I still can’t stomach public displays of happiness quite yet.  I’ve hidden a bunch of people on Facebook for this exact reason.

Today was one of those days where I had no plans whatsoever, but a ton of chores I should’ve gotten done.  I didn’t get any of them done, but instead opted to stay bored out of my mind all day long. I then realized that for at least the last year, my life has been devoid of hobbies.  I don’t know if you can count surfing the internet or smoking as hobbies.  I used to dabble in just about everything: photography, cars, working out, reading, hell even simply immersing myself into new TV shows.  Lately I’m too lazy (or my ADD is too hyperactive) to sit down on my ass and stare at a television.

I need a god damn hobby.  Maybe I’ll dust off that origami kit I got for Christmas a few years back.  Make some paper cranes and shit.  Anything to get me out of this funk.

3-Day Update

It’s been three days, and I am chugging along. I’m functioning normally, and was even able to think about sex again without feeling sick. I definitely have a constant nagging feeling like I’m forgetting my wallet or keys, but really it’s just the void that was left. It will pass soon. I think.

Sigh. Kinda makes you want to never expose your heart again, doesn’t it? I mean, I know I will be fine, but damn, heartbreak never gets easier.

Logistics took over.

I can’t say I wasn’t prepared for the end before it even started.  There’s no way it would’ve lasted; in fact I think we’re both surprised it lasted as long as it did.  After waking up from a foreshadowing dream, I decided it was time to have the conversation I wish didn’t have to have.  He confirmed that it was time to let go, and while in my head I was screaming for him to stay, I knew he was right.  Walking away from a relationship when you both still love each other is one of the hardest things I’ve had to do.

No matter how prepared you are, the pain will take over until you find yourself sobbing into your pillow, in the fetal position, clinging onto it as if it were the man who just left you.  It sounds a tad dramatic, but it helps tremendously.  I cried a lot yesterday.  I mean a LOT.  And less than 24 hours later I already feel better.  Crying most definitely cleanses the soul.

The hard part now is reclaiming that old self of yours that was able to function day-to-day before he came into your life.  We were together several times a week.  We talked every day.  We talked ALL day.  I knew when I woke up in the morning I’d have an email or a text from him waiting for me.  I knew that before I went to bed I’d have an email or text from him wishing me a good night.  I knew that if I had something funny or crazy to share, I could tell him all about it and he’d get a kick out of it and have some snarky reply.  I knew that it would only be a matter of days before I could kiss him again, hold him again, and feel his arms around me as we laid in bed.

Now I don’t really know anything.  The most important thing for us was to remain friends, and that will definitely be the case.  But now there are boundaries. I mean let’s face it, for a few months a large part of our friendship was romantic and sexual in nature.  Where does that leave us?  Casual emails giving us the update on what’s been going on in life every couple weeks?  Every couple months?  The thought makes me a little sick.

Right now the best remedy for me is out of sight, out of mind.  Luckily, I don’t have to see him anywhere, so it’ll only be a matter of days before I’ll stop feeling like I want to take a knife and plunge it into my chest (don’t worry, I’m not actually suicidal lol).  Though it may take a few days longer to put the kibosh on the waterworks anytime I see something that reminds me of him.

It’s Me!

Currently listening to: Dangerous by My American Heart

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So what’s new?  I’ve been in my new place for a couple of months now and love it.  It’s so comfortable, convenient and it feels like I’ve lived here forever.  I don’t ever hear my neighbors so it’s like having my own house.  I’ve also adopted a new boxer named Millicent, or Millie for short.  She looks just like what I believe Max looked like when he was a puppy.  She’s around 5 or 6 years old but is much smaller than Max. Having two of these crazy dogs is definitely a challenge, but I wouldn’t change a thing.  I’d adopt two more if I could.  How the hell can people abandon these lovable animals? Boggles the mind.

Work is work; nothing new to report there. Oh, except in January I’ll have been with the company for nine years.  Nine years?!  So that’s where my partying phase went.  But it’s all good, I love my job, and here’s hoping there will be at least another nine years to come.

Love is, well, complicated.  It always falls into your lap when you least expect it, doesn’t it?  This crafty and sneaky fella has somehow crept his way into my empty insides and taken up residence in my heart.  It isn’t the easiest relationship to be in, logistically speaking.  Everything else about it is near perfect, which makes me nervous about that inevitable day when “logistics” take over and it all fizzles out.  Luckily, the reckless idiot in me tends to block that part out and I’m able to enjoy every moment with him and not worry needlessly about the future.  It also helps that I can barely remember my own name when he’s kissing me, much less think about what’s going to happen a week or a month from then.  He’s good.  Damn him.

What the %$@! am I doing?

Seriously? Though I dove in willingly, I am now in over my head and don’t think I’ll make it out unscathed.

Typical Mae.

A Buffet of Thoughts

Currently listening to: Copper Red by Sierra Swan

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The big move date is six days away, and it’s weird how organized I already am. More than half of my belongings are already packed into neatly stacked boxes, and I’m pretty sure 90% of it is stuff I actually intend to use at some point this century. For years, I’ve lugged junk around from apartment to apartment because I was too lazy to sort through it and toss what I didn’t need. No time like the present, I guess.

Since the individual rooms of the new place are smaller, I’m forced to downsize quite a bit. I put a lot of furniture on craigslist for dirt cheap just to get the stuff out of my sight. This will also give us (my poor 56 year old pops and brother) less to move. Pricing my items so low has eliminated a lot of the lowballers who offer less than half the asking price. Who knew those people actually had any shame? I try not to think about all the money I lose on the sales, but desperate times call for desperate measures. I would’ve just donated the stuff but can you believe Salvation Army rejected them? My bad, I always thought you took perfectly good items to help out the less fortunate. I didn’t know you don’t take white couches because they’re harder to sell.

Because I sold some fundamental furniture, like my couch, I had to buy a new one of course. The old one wouldn’t have fit in the new living room. I also bought two accent chairs from the furniture store across from my office. My aunt was nice enough to lend me her minivan to pick them up. Holy crap, I felt like I was driving a bus in that thing. When driving a car for the first time, I always err on the way far side of caution when it comes to braking. I think that annoyed some people behind me.

While I had the big, roomy van, I thought, “why not try to move some of the boxes now?” After unloading the two chairs, I was so embarrassingly exhausted that I nixed that plan quick. Unbelievable how out of shape I am. Perhaps I’ll try some smaller things throughout the week. We’ll see how long that lasts.

Ahhh I can’t believe it’s basketball season again. It was so peaceful around these parts. The first pre-season game is on Wednesday– crazy! Feels like yesterday when I was almost crying like a baby watching the victory parade down Fig. It’s hard being a Laker fan sometimes. There’s so much pressure on the team to win it all, every year. When it comes to the Lakers, anything less than a championship is a failure. Last season, we had the 2008 Finals chip on our shoulder. We redeemed ourselves, but now it’s time to defend the title, which is just as important as redemption. I’m extremely excited, but also nervous. In a good way!

In more mindless news, I think summer finally gave up and stepped down to let fall have its moment. Today was gorgeous! Sunny but cool with mild winds. After the sun went down it got cold real quick. I’m actually bundled up wearing two layers right now. I love it!!! Funny how the weather works. Whatever the current season is, you can’t wait for the next one. Summer felt so long, but then again all the seasons do. By the end of October I’m going to miss the days of sun dresses and flip flops. Then again, this is Southern California, so we’ll probably have some of those days in December.

B-U-S-Y!

In my last entry, which seems like eons ago, I was debating between the comfort of what I already know versus unpredictable but exciting possibilities.  As far as the living situation goes, I went with exciting and new.  I am moving next weekend and couldn’t be happier with my decision.

The new place is just a couple of miles away from where I live now.  It is the owners’ unit of a triplex with a long list of amenities.  Aside from a standalone house, a duplex or triplex was my ideal place to live.  The one I’m renting has a private backyard for Max to run around in, a private enclosed garage, private laundry and even a little workshop if I ever wanted to whittle a piece of furniture out of a block of wood.

There are two bedrooms, so I can set up a proper home office and guest area.  The eat-in kitchen is large enough for my dining table, though I’d much rather have a separate dining area.  Also, the appliances in the kitchen are not as nice as what I’ve got now, but I’m no gourmet chef so it doesn’t matter too much.

Above all, what I’m looking forward to the most is not having to run up and down two flights of steps with my old dog just to take him out to make potty.  Granted it was the most exercise I was getting for a while, it was still very inconvenient.  Especially when he got sick and couldn’t hold his bladder so well.

I take it back.  What I might love the most about the new place is the fact that it’s NOT across the street from a bar!  Sure, that sounds like fun, until you have to live it day in and day out.  I will definitely not miss hearing drunk couples arguing, frat boys being their douche ass selves, and the harleys rattling the walls in my apartment at all hours of the night.  I’m sure there will be some annoying things that I will discover living in the new place, but they can’t be nearly as bad as what I’ve gone through at my current place (knock on wood).

One of the more important things to me about choosing a place to live is the type of ownership the rental comes with.  I’ve dealt with property management companies in the past, and they are the absolute worst.  An older married couple owns the triplex and they were the occupants right before me, so I know the place has been taken care of.  They are super nice, easy-going, and even share my sarcastic sense of humor.  Couldn’t ask for more.

Dependability vs. Unpredictability

Currently listening to: Summertime in the LBC by The Dove Shack

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It’s almost 2am and I am wide awake. That tends to happen when you accidentally fall asleep at 7pm until 11:30pm. This seems to be the trend lately. I work from 9 to 6, go home and sit around until I accidentally fall asleep at 7, wake up around 9, eat dinner, work until 2, go to bed at 3, then wake up at 8 to start the process all over again. Somewhere in there I’m able to spend quality time with the boys. Could be the reason for my lack of updates; there has simply been nothing interesting going on in my life.

Over the next couple of days, I’m going to have to make a tough decision. Negotiate a new lease with my current landlord or set out for greener (aka cheaper) pastures. It is a crazy renter’s market out there, with so many places staying vacant for months at a time. I remember when I first moved to LA and a good apartment would sometimes last less than a day on the market. With this turn of the tables, landlords are scrambling to find tenants, offering low move-in costs and high incentives. I’ve seen places offer zero move in costs plus bonuses on top of that, like a free TV or free months of rent.

My current place is kind of like a significant other that is as perfect as you can realistically ask for. There’s nothing wrong with him per se; he’s classically handsome, comes from a good family, has a good job, all his friends are pleasant enough to be around, he’s never let you down, and he’s huge. Best of all, you get along great with his parents and they love you. But maybe a tad high maintenance and has expensive tastes; only likes fine dining and wine bars.

When some sexy bad boy strange comes around, tempting you with promises of endless fun and debauchery at the local dive bar, you can’t help but think about the possibilities. Even the most faithful people can have a wandering eye at times. The rational side of you knows that this guy could come with so much baggage, and you’ll probably be tired of him after a few months and wishing you still had Mr. Dependable around. And his mom could turn out to be a nosy, meddling mother that watches your every move.

So this is the dilemma I’m currently facing. I’ve already talked to my landlord, and he offered a fair deal. I told him I’d think about it, because I still want to look around before committing to another lease. He seems very willing to negotiate, so I might just go back to him with a counteroffer and call it a day. I’m thinking I have a window of three days before I possibly cross over on his bad side.

Like how I was so detailed and wordy with that analogy above? It might be because it’s not only an analogy for my housing situation, but very similar to another situation I’m wrapped up in. But in that scenario, Mr. Dependable is far and away the right one for me. Doesn’t make it easier to erase Mr. Baggage from my mind though.

I’ve become an old, hypocritical woman.

Currently listening to: You Can’t Turn Me Away by Sylvia Striplin

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It started with obnoxiously loud Harleys tearing up and down my street. I’d roll my eyes and curse such hooliganism. Then there was the constant late night, rowdy drunkenness of the patrons who frequent the bar across the street. Not only do they loudly cackle and unnecessarily yell at their buddies who are walking right next to them, but they also often hang around their parked cars forever bumping their bass-heavy music. Many times did I want to poke my head out of my bedroom window and scream at them to keep it down, fist shaking and all. But I refrained, because that is something a grumpy old man would do.

Speaking of alcohol, I haven’t had a drop in months. I am not against drinking at all; I just haven’t been interested in having any. But what I am against, it seems, is frat-like converging in house parties with twelve people hanging around a beer pong table and random 20-somethings piss drunk in the background. Anytime I see pictures like this, I make a sour face, and thank the heavens that I don’t find that shit cool anymore. I’ve always said that I couldn’t date a guy who lived with more than one other person, especially if they have people over all the time. I just couldn’t deal with it. I’m too adulty-neat-and-clean-freaky when it comes to my living situation. Not to say that ALL households with three or more people living in them are bad. I mean if all of my friends lived together in one house, we’d party, but in a more low-key way. And I’d trust them not to have endless hoez sleeping over and that they’d wash the dishes once in a while.

Oh, oh, and Vegas? Good lord. Vegas is like hell on earth for me now. I want nothing to do with that city. When someone tells me they “can’t wait to go to Vegas this weekend!” I get exhausted just hearing about it and then relax knowing that I will be safe in my home. Road trips to Vegas are a part of life for Socal people; my family would go there often even as kids. I also did the cliché 21st birthday celebration in Vegas as well. But now, no thank you! And I never understood why people from the east coast fly five hours to go to Vegas. Weirdos.

When I am out taking Max for a walk, there is always at least one car speeding way too fast down Fulton avenue. I’ve witness a couple of accidents before; I’m surprised there isn’t a speed trap there since there’s a perfect spot for a cop to hide out. Whenever these cars zoom by I say aloud, “slow the F down, geezus!” And then I remember my own background and wonder what the hell has happened to me. I wouldn’t be surprised if I drive even faster than them, but people always feel they have complete control over their car whether they do or not (I do of course ;]).

Then there’s the new wave of social networking sites. I’m talking about you, Twitter. What. on. earth. I mean, seriously. First of all, the name. It’s just stupid. I feel stupid for even saying it. And though I am getting old, my sophomoric mind still goes into the gutter when I hear it. Far too often have I read a news article that cited someone’s Twitter as a reference. I understand the concept, and believe that it can be very useful for up-to-the-minute news. But like all good things (in theory), moderation is key. And we have vaulted passed moderation with the twittering business. I can’t even go to any site without it giving me the option to “Twitter” the page.

Again, I know that it can be useful for some people. Never before have fans been able to interact one-on-one (so to speak) with their favorite actors, artists and athletes. Up and coming artists can build a fanbase using Twitter. News agencies can send you instant breaking news updates. But if you’re John Q. Public, you don’t need a fucking Twitter. Get over yourself!

You might ask, “then what about Facebook and MySpace, Mae?” Oh, right. Well, I deleted my MySpace account a while ago when I realized just how juvenile and non-fun it has become. And as for Facebook, you caught me. I do use Facebook, which as some of you know, also revolves around yours and your friends’ status updates. But out of the “big three” (Facebook, MySpace and Twitter) I believe that Facebook is truly about keeping in touch with your friends and family, and getting the skinny on acquaintances whom you wouldn’t normally email or talk on the phone with one-on-one. MySpace and Twitter, in my opinion, are more about you, you, you and what/whom YOU’RE doing/seeing/screwing. But I’ll admit I’ve never owned a Twitter so maybe I’m dead wrong.

And finally, music. What on earth are our children listening to nowadays? I haven’t listened to FM radio in years; I’m perfectly content with my iPod and sports talk radio. But occasionally I’ll hear someone “sing” or “rap” one of the newest songs on the airwaves and I realize that I am not missing a damn thing. I couldn’t even name five popular singers– scratch that. I can name them only because I read about them in the news at times, but I couldn’t tell you the title of any of their songs. Maybe I’m being a music snob (but really I’m far from that, especially if you take a gander at my collection) but I’ve definitely reached the point where I’m saying “they just don’t make music like they used to anymore…” You know, like Color Me Badd. Are they still around?

I’m fucking tired.

Currently listening to: The Truth by Handsome Boy Modeling School

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You know, it’s a good thing I’m Asian, which means I will look 12-years-old until I turn 65, when I fall off the cliff and start to look 90. And by that time, I doubt I will care about my appearance anymore. At least I hope I won’t. I definitely want to age gracefully. No nipping, tucking, lifting or vacuuming. Nothing makes you look older than trying to look younger. Of course I say this now. When I’m in my golden years there will probably be some new surgery techniques that won’t make you look like a vinyl blow-up doll.

Tangent! Sorry! The point I was trying to get at was that I’m fucking tired, my body aches all over, and it’s because I’m getting old. Since I really do LOOK like I’m in the 7th grade, I forget that my bones are still 27 years old until I’ve done any demanding physical activity. Yes, 27 is still young, and I should really strengthen my core and take more calcium or whatever, blah blah blah. But you know what I mean. Alright, I’ll stop whining now.

Damn, I just noticed it’s after midnight. I was prepared to write a longer entry tonight, but I need to get to bed. Until tomorrow…