I didn’t think I could be this happy for M’s new baby. Little Julien’s profile looks just like his daddy-o. But the picture I like best doesn’t show Julien’s face at all ― only his father’s adoring smile. That face of excitement of all the things he’s got mapped out for the first 20 years of this kid’s life, the face of apprehension of screwing him up, the face of realization of the miracle.
M was even bigger a mess than I was when we first met a couple of years ago. The heartbreaker met the heartbroken and we became each other’s best listeners for a good while. I remember wondering how anyone could ever come back from the fucked up place he was in.
Turns out he wasn’t that fucked up after all. In fact, he’s always known what he wanted, and he’s one of the rare species of men who realize that their clocks are ticking too. When we reunited he’d already gotten married and the missus pregnant. Though it wasn’t till a few days ago when he told me he would start being a better man so his kid could look up to him that I realized what a long way he’d really come.
We’re all children until we have children. Sadly, only some of us are eager to grow up.
Thanks, sexy boy, for giving me hope.
Showing posts with label Random topics. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Random topics. Show all posts
Thursday, August 21, 2008
Monday, March 24, 2008
Role Model
Saw a family of three on the bus today. Nothing special there, except it was on one of those long bus rides that leaves the mind wandering boundlessly. The couple was sitting in front of me so I only saw the back of their heads, but the child on the mom's lap was facing me the whole time. I'd say he/she's about 10 months old.
That's how old I was when my mom was my age.
By 28 my mom was already married with two kids. I'm almost 30 with no foreseeable plan for marriage. What a failure I've turned out to be.
My mom told me today that she started working again, five days a week. Besides that, she continues to do what she loves ― floral arrangements, and has a steady group of friends to hang out with. For a middle-aged widow, my mom probably has the best rocking life.
I think this is the first time in my life I've seen my mom as a role model.
That's how old I was when my mom was my age.
By 28 my mom was already married with two kids. I'm almost 30 with no foreseeable plan for marriage. What a failure I've turned out to be.
My mom told me today that she started working again, five days a week. Besides that, she continues to do what she loves ― floral arrangements, and has a steady group of friends to hang out with. For a middle-aged widow, my mom probably has the best rocking life.
I think this is the first time in my life I've seen my mom as a role model.
Friday, March 19, 2004
Karen and Richard
There was a time when The Singles 1969-1973 hogged my CD player 24/7. The Carpenters do magnificent things for me. For one, it eases knots in the heart. And it never fails to cheer me up or help me sleep, whichever one I was in need of.
It's been a while since I've felt such need to hear Karen's voice. Rainy days and Mondays always get me down, but today is neither. Yet I still got what they used to call the blues. I knew I needed The Carpenters when I not only missed a stop on my way home yesterday but hopped onto the wrong train right after.
I have my dad to thank for bringing some of the best music into my life. The Carpenters have been listed as my music ever since I started getting goosebumps listening to their songs. Pavarotti is good too, just not goosebumps material for me.
[Three tracks into The Singles 1969-1973 and feeling better already.]
It's been a while since I've felt such need to hear Karen's voice. Rainy days and Mondays always get me down, but today is neither. Yet I still got what they used to call the blues. I knew I needed The Carpenters when I not only missed a stop on my way home yesterday but hopped onto the wrong train right after.
I have my dad to thank for bringing some of the best music into my life. The Carpenters have been listed as my music ever since I started getting goosebumps listening to their songs. Pavarotti is good too, just not goosebumps material for me.
[Three tracks into The Singles 1969-1973 and feeling better already.]
Tuesday, August 12, 2003
The Organic White Banana
"Banana girl" is what some ex-colleagues decided to nickname me when I took up a summer job in Hong Kong three years ago.
Definition: yellow on the outside, white on the inside.
Meaning: Oriental-looking, westernized thinking.
First of all, the only "culture" with yellow skin lives under the works of Matt Groening.
As if equating me to America's favorite fruit was a compliment, those ex-colleagues of mine went on with their creativity and renamed me "White banana".
Explanation: I have indescribably fair skin. Hence, white on the outside, white on the inside.
And it's the same fair skin, plus the small eyes, plus the height, plus the big build, that raises presumptions that I'm Shanghainese, or at least have ancestors from somewhere in Northern China.
Then again, for pretty much the same attributes, I've had Japanese people mistaken me for Japanese. A few times in Japanese restaurants when using my very limited spoken Japanese to thank the waitress for pouring tea for me. Though I'd love to believe that it was my accent-free "arigatou" that threw them. And one time in a Japanese supermarket in Hong Kong, the guy tried to sell me sashimi, in Japanese. Put aside, for a second, the fact that I was "just looking". I backed away while telling him I'm not Japanese in broken Japanese, bowing and all.
If identity crises were fatal, I would've probably died of all the complications long ago.
Having spent half my life in Hong Kong and half in Canada, I often find myself pausing and pondering at the question of my identity. The question "where are you from" works mystery for me. If I were situated in Toronto, my answer would be "Hong Kong". But if I were in Hong Kong, my answer would be "Canada". Though, if I were elsewhere in Asia, I'd say I'm from Hong Kong, and if I weren't in Toronto but anywhere in North America, I'd say I'm from Toronto.
Thank God I haven't had a chance to visit Europe just yet.
And that's not all. I've been told repeatedly that I'm not able to express myself properly in words.
And I'm a writer, yes.
Well, let's just say if, one day, English and Chinese are merged to form a new dialect, I'd be everyone's language therapist. To this day, I only know of one person who speaks the same tongue as me. (C, we're two of a kind.)
Definition: yellow on the outside, white on the inside.
Meaning: Oriental-looking, westernized thinking.
First of all, the only "culture" with yellow skin lives under the works of Matt Groening.
As if equating me to America's favorite fruit was a compliment, those ex-colleagues of mine went on with their creativity and renamed me "White banana".
Explanation: I have indescribably fair skin. Hence, white on the outside, white on the inside.
And it's the same fair skin, plus the small eyes, plus the height, plus the big build, that raises presumptions that I'm Shanghainese, or at least have ancestors from somewhere in Northern China.
Then again, for pretty much the same attributes, I've had Japanese people mistaken me for Japanese. A few times in Japanese restaurants when using my very limited spoken Japanese to thank the waitress for pouring tea for me. Though I'd love to believe that it was my accent-free "arigatou" that threw them. And one time in a Japanese supermarket in Hong Kong, the guy tried to sell me sashimi, in Japanese. Put aside, for a second, the fact that I was "just looking". I backed away while telling him I'm not Japanese in broken Japanese, bowing and all.
If identity crises were fatal, I would've probably died of all the complications long ago.
Having spent half my life in Hong Kong and half in Canada, I often find myself pausing and pondering at the question of my identity. The question "where are you from" works mystery for me. If I were situated in Toronto, my answer would be "Hong Kong". But if I were in Hong Kong, my answer would be "Canada". Though, if I were elsewhere in Asia, I'd say I'm from Hong Kong, and if I weren't in Toronto but anywhere in North America, I'd say I'm from Toronto.
Thank God I haven't had a chance to visit Europe just yet.
And that's not all. I've been told repeatedly that I'm not able to express myself properly in words.
And I'm a writer, yes.
Well, let's just say if, one day, English and Chinese are merged to form a new dialect, I'd be everyone's language therapist. To this day, I only know of one person who speaks the same tongue as me. (C, we're two of a kind.)
Wednesday, June 18, 2003
Because I'm a Writress
Does our gender characterize what happens around us? Or does everything around us define our gender? Can a girl have the arm strength of Schwarzenegger and still be perceived as elegant? Must a man wearing lavender be at least bisexual?
A while ago, Oprah (Yes, I was watching Oprah!) did a feature on transgender; the guest was one who had recently gone through multiple medical procedures in attempt to rediscover the woman inside a man's body. During the time period when James was not yet completely transformed into Jenny, he could effortlessly present himself as, and as such be perceived as, either a man or a woman depending on his mood. One day he decided to test out the ultimate. How would a woman be treated different from a man? On the first day, he went to an auto dealer, as James, and showed interest in purchasing a car. The salesperson opened the hood and showed James the engine, throwing in details about tank capacity and horsepower etc., before they went for a test drive at speed like they were fugitives fleeing the state. The next day Jenny walked into the same dealer and showed interest in the same car James did the day before. The salesperson never once offered to open the hood, or mention anything under it. Instead, Jenny got to see the nice cup holders ever so handily located right next to the driver's seat. Jenny also got to test drive the car, under if not at speed limit, with the salesperson elaborating on the safety features of the car the entire way.
I agree that the difference can be explained as sales tactics. A salesperson should approach each customer from a distinct angle depending on what kind of need the individual customer has. And apparently, James and Jenny needed different things, from the same thing. Would the salesperson have been more surprised if Jenny had questions regarding horsepower or if James had inquired about cup holders?
In the end, James purchased the car. Not because Jenny felt the car was not safe enough, but because James got a better discount than Jenny. Hm...
Opposites can never be equal. There's no doubt that male and female of the same species behave differently, and are expected to behave differently. For instance, do waiters and waitresses have different titles because they're assigned different responsibilities? But when it comes to doctors and pilots, the only way to refer to them gender-specifically is to add the word "female" in front; equivalently, add "male" in front of occupations like nurses and strippers. (Those were the only two I could think of.) You might have preferences to male/female doctors because of what they see of you, and you would have preferences over male/female strippers because of what you see of them. Most of the time we can expect to see an actress play a female role in a film, but would we expect a salesman to sell male products? Do female high school grads automatically enroll to second year of college because first year is for freshmen? Are women not kind enough to be included as mankind? Is a master the male equivalent of a mistress? And is a witch the female equivalent of a wizard?
I have no point. But maybe this is the kind of thing you can expect from a female writer.
But evidently, everything else around you would behave differently if you were the opposite sex. Male are entitled to some benefits somewhere that female aren't, and vice versa. Who really has the advantage? Unless you're Jenny, you're not likely to ever find out.
If someone asked me which sex I'd want to be if I were given the choice, I would stick with what I have, not because I'm unwilling to explore the benefits of being the opposite sex, but because I don't want to give up those I'm entitled to as is.
A while ago, Oprah (Yes, I was watching Oprah!) did a feature on transgender; the guest was one who had recently gone through multiple medical procedures in attempt to rediscover the woman inside a man's body. During the time period when James was not yet completely transformed into Jenny, he could effortlessly present himself as, and as such be perceived as, either a man or a woman depending on his mood. One day he decided to test out the ultimate. How would a woman be treated different from a man? On the first day, he went to an auto dealer, as James, and showed interest in purchasing a car. The salesperson opened the hood and showed James the engine, throwing in details about tank capacity and horsepower etc., before they went for a test drive at speed like they were fugitives fleeing the state. The next day Jenny walked into the same dealer and showed interest in the same car James did the day before. The salesperson never once offered to open the hood, or mention anything under it. Instead, Jenny got to see the nice cup holders ever so handily located right next to the driver's seat. Jenny also got to test drive the car, under if not at speed limit, with the salesperson elaborating on the safety features of the car the entire way.
I agree that the difference can be explained as sales tactics. A salesperson should approach each customer from a distinct angle depending on what kind of need the individual customer has. And apparently, James and Jenny needed different things, from the same thing. Would the salesperson have been more surprised if Jenny had questions regarding horsepower or if James had inquired about cup holders?
In the end, James purchased the car. Not because Jenny felt the car was not safe enough, but because James got a better discount than Jenny. Hm...
Opposites can never be equal. There's no doubt that male and female of the same species behave differently, and are expected to behave differently. For instance, do waiters and waitresses have different titles because they're assigned different responsibilities? But when it comes to doctors and pilots, the only way to refer to them gender-specifically is to add the word "female" in front; equivalently, add "male" in front of occupations like nurses and strippers. (Those were the only two I could think of.) You might have preferences to male/female doctors because of what they see of you, and you would have preferences over male/female strippers because of what you see of them. Most of the time we can expect to see an actress play a female role in a film, but would we expect a salesman to sell male products? Do female high school grads automatically enroll to second year of college because first year is for freshmen? Are women not kind enough to be included as mankind? Is a master the male equivalent of a mistress? And is a witch the female equivalent of a wizard?
I have no point. But maybe this is the kind of thing you can expect from a female writer.
But evidently, everything else around you would behave differently if you were the opposite sex. Male are entitled to some benefits somewhere that female aren't, and vice versa. Who really has the advantage? Unless you're Jenny, you're not likely to ever find out.
If someone asked me which sex I'd want to be if I were given the choice, I would stick with what I have, not because I'm unwilling to explore the benefits of being the opposite sex, but because I don't want to give up those I'm entitled to as is.
Thursday, June 12, 2003
Last... W--
I was at the bookstore yesterday and came across a book called Famous Last Words. In this book are records of the last words said by some great historical figures, why they said what they said, and how they died, etc. I thought to myself, quoting last words was probably the most sensible way to make money from dead people. So I stood there and went through pretty much the entire book. Hee.
A person's last words can be the most valid report of his/her life. For one, it tells whether or not the person has lived enough. As Sigmund Freud once said, "It is tragic when a man outlives his body." (Those were not his last words.)
For a man who has lived enough and is ready to go, pride is written all over his last words. Take Pablo Picasso for example, the biggest walking ego to have ever existed on the face of the earth. His last words were "Drink to me!" I like that idea though. If I die today, I'd like to think that my funeral serves as just another excuse for my friends and family to get drunk. After all, it is a farewell party.
On the other hand, you can see that a person is not ready to go when his/her last words deal with their obsession--their work. To show his undying dedication to providing hospitality, Conrad N. Hilton, founder of Hilton hotels, said "Leave the shower curtain on the inside of the tub" when asked if he had any last words of wisdom for the world. Dominique Bouhours, a preeminent French Jesuit grammarian who devoted his life to promoting high standards of correctness and purity in the French language, spent his last words stating "I am about to--or I am going to--die; either expressions are used." (He said it en Francais, of course.)
If and when you know your time is near, you have to be very careful what you say. If you're anyone of significance, your last words will matter. Queen of France, Marie Anttoinette's last words were "Pardonnez-moi, monsieur" after accidentally stepping on the foot of her executioner just before she was beheaded. Of course that shows, though convicted of treason, she was nonetheless polite. But in my opinion, if you're going to say something, say something meaningful. And keep it short, one-liners are ideal, to ensure you don't get cut off unfinished. But really, that's hard to control if you're the spontaneous type. Heinrich Heine, a German poet, apparently had something more to say, as his last words were "Write... write... pencil... paper."
If you don't have anything to say, that's cool too. But then you must make sure you keep your mouth shut. Alfred Rosenberg, a Nazi war criminal, said "No" when asked if he had any last words, hence "No" was recorded as his last word, singular. My favorite is Karl Marx. When asked by his housekeeper if he had any last words, he yelled "Go on. Get out! Last words are for fools who haven't said enough."
I have certain expectations of myself, and I'd like to think that my readers wouldn't settle for less either, you know, since I'm a writer and all. So I'm going to have to come up with some original, thought-provoking last words when my time comes. It's quite exciting to think that the last thing I'll ever try to do is to inspire. Better yet, I'll start brainstorming now. Because you never know what kind of situation you'll be in when the angels call. I think I'll go for something funky, with a little wit, like... well, I can't think of anything now. But if you're free then, make sure you grab a front row seat for my "performance of a lifetime". I promise I won't disappoint you.
I just hope that whoever writes my epitaph will be as creative.
A person's last words can be the most valid report of his/her life. For one, it tells whether or not the person has lived enough. As Sigmund Freud once said, "It is tragic when a man outlives his body." (Those were not his last words.)
For a man who has lived enough and is ready to go, pride is written all over his last words. Take Pablo Picasso for example, the biggest walking ego to have ever existed on the face of the earth. His last words were "Drink to me!" I like that idea though. If I die today, I'd like to think that my funeral serves as just another excuse for my friends and family to get drunk. After all, it is a farewell party.
On the other hand, you can see that a person is not ready to go when his/her last words deal with their obsession--their work. To show his undying dedication to providing hospitality, Conrad N. Hilton, founder of Hilton hotels, said "Leave the shower curtain on the inside of the tub" when asked if he had any last words of wisdom for the world. Dominique Bouhours, a preeminent French Jesuit grammarian who devoted his life to promoting high standards of correctness and purity in the French language, spent his last words stating "I am about to--or I am going to--die; either expressions are used." (He said it en Francais, of course.)
If and when you know your time is near, you have to be very careful what you say. If you're anyone of significance, your last words will matter. Queen of France, Marie Anttoinette's last words were "Pardonnez-moi, monsieur" after accidentally stepping on the foot of her executioner just before she was beheaded. Of course that shows, though convicted of treason, she was nonetheless polite. But in my opinion, if you're going to say something, say something meaningful. And keep it short, one-liners are ideal, to ensure you don't get cut off unfinished. But really, that's hard to control if you're the spontaneous type. Heinrich Heine, a German poet, apparently had something more to say, as his last words were "Write... write... pencil... paper."
If you don't have anything to say, that's cool too. But then you must make sure you keep your mouth shut. Alfred Rosenberg, a Nazi war criminal, said "No" when asked if he had any last words, hence "No" was recorded as his last word, singular. My favorite is Karl Marx. When asked by his housekeeper if he had any last words, he yelled "Go on. Get out! Last words are for fools who haven't said enough."
I have certain expectations of myself, and I'd like to think that my readers wouldn't settle for less either, you know, since I'm a writer and all. So I'm going to have to come up with some original, thought-provoking last words when my time comes. It's quite exciting to think that the last thing I'll ever try to do is to inspire. Better yet, I'll start brainstorming now. Because you never know what kind of situation you'll be in when the angels call. I think I'll go for something funky, with a little wit, like... well, I can't think of anything now. But if you're free then, make sure you grab a front row seat for my "performance of a lifetime". I promise I won't disappoint you.
I just hope that whoever writes my epitaph will be as creative.
Monday, June 2, 2003
Topic du Jour
An ICQ conversation I had with a friend this morning inspired me to write something. But things, and I, tend to get stuck often when it's as muggy as it is in Hong Kong these days. So I settled for the better solution. It all started when my friend sent me a message in which she told me that 1, she had just met her boyfriend's parents and it went well; and 2, a friend of hers and the fiance had just taken wedding photos.
And so... the topic du jour - Marriage.
Note: Names of people and parts of the dialogue have been altered to protect the identity of those mentioned. Deliberately messy names are used instead in attempt to keep this rather lengthy piece entertaining.
ME: It's funny how you included the two things in one message... when I read it I got the sense that you're going to marry this guy soon...
HER: That's freaky! Scarlet and her soon-to-be-married idea are freaking me out...Antoinetta and I were talking about it today ... and we see all these potential problems in Scarlet's "coming soon" life and I got a little worried for her.
ME: I guess all "problems" seem to go away miraculously when two people decide they want to get married.... I've been hearing about numerous weddings this year... most of them are Sophia's friends.
HER: Well ... I can understand why you say that ... but Scarlet and her fiance are in a slightly different situation.
ME: How so?
HER: Well, her fiance, Stuart, is divorced with a 6 yr old daughter, custody on the mom's side ... Scarlet and Stuart met last September, it was a set up by friends. Scarlet first heard about Stuart and wasn't tempted... but finally she gave in. They met... he fell in love with her... and poof... all of a sudden... he proposed to her in December! 3 months into their relationship! Or maybe 2...
ME: Well, does she love him?
HER:Scarlet is a fun gal, she's also a busy gal. We used to hang out after work and go have fun. She loves to shop too... shopaholic... to get rid of the stress from work. Now Stuart is in her life, he doesn't let her shop. He thinks it's a waste of money, and of course the hang out stuff will either not happen or he will tag along.
ME: Does Scarlet not see that as a problem?
HER: I think she kinda knows but she's not thinking it's a problem. She's very considerate and does what he wants. Antoinetta and I both think that this relationship only works cause Scarlet is willing to sacrifice for Stuart. But the relationship is also very dull. We're worried that eventually she'll get tired of it.
ME: Well.... I think it's all right as long as she feels comfortable with the whole relationship... at least for now, and even if it's only for now. You know... as her friends, you and Antoinetta would have your opinions whether or not the guy's right for her... but then I really believe that friends should avoid commenting on friends' relationships. Besides, it's impossible for outsiders to know everything involved. So all you can do is wish her the best.
HER: I'm not gonna say anything. Ever since he's with her I've rarely talked to Scarlet. He's always around; it's hard to talk about him when he's there. That's another thing, Stuart thinks that once they're together, they should be together... literally... no more privacy... he goes everywhere she goes. He has to know everything.
And their wedding ...well ... back then Scarlet and I talked about our dream weddings way before Stuart existed ... I know Scarlet likes small simple weddings but with a bit of class ... but Stuart is a little "let's not waste money type" (details omitted) It's the most important day of her life and it's nothing BUT class as far as I've heard ...
ME: I hear you... but maybe she's happy to make that "sacrifice". Do you guys think she's not happy?
HER: I really don't know if she's happy... there were times that I see sparks in her eyes... but that was when they first started dating... I always thought brides to be will have sparks... but so far I don't see any... Antoinetta said she doesn't really think she ever had the "in love glow" on her face...
ME: The way I see it is.... as long as Scarlet doesn't seem to be suffering from any of this; you guys shouldn't and can't worry too much.
Another thing.... you and I might still have that "dream" about weddings and marriages b/c we're young... but Scarlet is 30 something, and women that age can easily change their views about landing a marriage, any marriage.
HER: True ... I think she was in the freaked out phase of "will I ever get married" when I first met Scarlet.
I'm not gonna say anything cause she probably doesn't think it's a problem ... but just the thoughts made me scared ... how do you know when you're really in love with someone and how do you know if he's the one you should marry? I'm not saying I'm gonna get married anytime soon.
ME: You know.... I really have a hard time believing in marriages nowadays... in my opinion a marriage is like promising "we'll never break up", but making the promise doesn't mean you won't fall in love with another person... love is from the heart and sometimes, I think, is not something you can control. I mean, when you're married, you'll make it your responsibility not to do anything about it even if you find you fall in love with another person... or even if you find you don't love your husband/wife anymore. A marriage doesn't guarantee that two people stay in love forever.
That's what I'm saying.
So maybe there isn't really one you should marry... maybe you "should" just marry whoever feels right at the moment. Because nobody knows what happens tomorrow, or the day after.
HER: I guess ... but then u make it all sound like just go with the flow.
ME: I think it is go with the flow. Even if you say you found THE ONE... how do you know if the timing is right? How do you know you guys bought the perfect apartment? How do you know you'll have the "right" children? It IS all just going with the flow.
Supposedly, a marriage tells people that the two people will be "going with the flow" together, they're going to share all joys and sorrows till death do them part blah blah blah....
I honestly believe marriage is just a ceremony. Maybe at first the two people will feel obligated to stay happy and make everything work... but 10 yrs, 20 yrs, 30 yrs into the relationship as husband and wife, things can still change.... and when things change then, they might not carry the same "meaning of a marriage" idea in their heads as they did when they first tied the knot.
HER: But there must be some amazing happily ever after married couples out there ... I mean ... there must be some good in marriage ... why else would people get married?!
ME: Of course there is.... but marriage is a product that doesn't carry with it any warrantee, the price of maintenance would be great, and if it ever breaks down the price would be even greater. People get married because it's a tradition. People get married b/c their families/friends/business associates expect them to.
HER: Please tell me that that's not always true ... marriage is supposed to be between 2 people... not a whole bunch of people! Or is it?! Is marriage uniting 2 hearts or 2 families?!
ME: I honestly feel that weddings are like putting on shows... so that the moms and dads can feel they maintained or even upgraded their image as successful parents raising a daughter good enough to marry a rocket scientist or a son good enough to marry a swimsuit model, that their friends can have an excuse to get drunk, and that the bride/groom can appear as ones who can commit in front of his boss/coworkers/business associates.
HER: But marriage should be more than just that.... more than just satisfying the couple's families/friends/coworkers. I mean, a marriage does make people look different... but it'd be sad, and it's true ... some people get married just to make themselves look good.
ME: If and when I really love a man... I would like it if he wants to marry me, yes... because to me that means he wants to be with me the rest of his life...at that point in time. People change, things change, no matter how I love a man or how he loves me.... I just don't think it's possible to really swear that I won't come to like another man, or discover that I'm really a lesbian, or simply lose feelings for him.
A LIFETIME is a long time.
And so... the topic du jour - Marriage.
Note: Names of people and parts of the dialogue have been altered to protect the identity of those mentioned. Deliberately messy names are used instead in attempt to keep this rather lengthy piece entertaining.
ME: It's funny how you included the two things in one message... when I read it I got the sense that you're going to marry this guy soon...
HER: That's freaky! Scarlet and her soon-to-be-married idea are freaking me out...Antoinetta and I were talking about it today ... and we see all these potential problems in Scarlet's "coming soon" life and I got a little worried for her.
ME: I guess all "problems" seem to go away miraculously when two people decide they want to get married.... I've been hearing about numerous weddings this year... most of them are Sophia's friends.
HER: Well ... I can understand why you say that ... but Scarlet and her fiance are in a slightly different situation.
ME: How so?
HER: Well, her fiance, Stuart, is divorced with a 6 yr old daughter, custody on the mom's side ... Scarlet and Stuart met last September, it was a set up by friends. Scarlet first heard about Stuart and wasn't tempted... but finally she gave in. They met... he fell in love with her... and poof... all of a sudden... he proposed to her in December! 3 months into their relationship! Or maybe 2...
ME: Well, does she love him?
HER:Scarlet is a fun gal, she's also a busy gal. We used to hang out after work and go have fun. She loves to shop too... shopaholic... to get rid of the stress from work. Now Stuart is in her life, he doesn't let her shop. He thinks it's a waste of money, and of course the hang out stuff will either not happen or he will tag along.
ME: Does Scarlet not see that as a problem?
HER: I think she kinda knows but she's not thinking it's a problem. She's very considerate and does what he wants. Antoinetta and I both think that this relationship only works cause Scarlet is willing to sacrifice for Stuart. But the relationship is also very dull. We're worried that eventually she'll get tired of it.
ME: Well.... I think it's all right as long as she feels comfortable with the whole relationship... at least for now, and even if it's only for now. You know... as her friends, you and Antoinetta would have your opinions whether or not the guy's right for her... but then I really believe that friends should avoid commenting on friends' relationships. Besides, it's impossible for outsiders to know everything involved. So all you can do is wish her the best.
HER: I'm not gonna say anything. Ever since he's with her I've rarely talked to Scarlet. He's always around; it's hard to talk about him when he's there. That's another thing, Stuart thinks that once they're together, they should be together... literally... no more privacy... he goes everywhere she goes. He has to know everything.
And their wedding ...well ... back then Scarlet and I talked about our dream weddings way before Stuart existed ... I know Scarlet likes small simple weddings but with a bit of class ... but Stuart is a little "let's not waste money type" (details omitted) It's the most important day of her life and it's nothing BUT class as far as I've heard ...
ME: I hear you... but maybe she's happy to make that "sacrifice". Do you guys think she's not happy?
HER: I really don't know if she's happy... there were times that I see sparks in her eyes... but that was when they first started dating... I always thought brides to be will have sparks... but so far I don't see any... Antoinetta said she doesn't really think she ever had the "in love glow" on her face...
ME: The way I see it is.... as long as Scarlet doesn't seem to be suffering from any of this; you guys shouldn't and can't worry too much.
Another thing.... you and I might still have that "dream" about weddings and marriages b/c we're young... but Scarlet is 30 something, and women that age can easily change their views about landing a marriage, any marriage.
HER: True ... I think she was in the freaked out phase of "will I ever get married" when I first met Scarlet.
I'm not gonna say anything cause she probably doesn't think it's a problem ... but just the thoughts made me scared ... how do you know when you're really in love with someone and how do you know if he's the one you should marry? I'm not saying I'm gonna get married anytime soon.
ME: You know.... I really have a hard time believing in marriages nowadays... in my opinion a marriage is like promising "we'll never break up", but making the promise doesn't mean you won't fall in love with another person... love is from the heart and sometimes, I think, is not something you can control. I mean, when you're married, you'll make it your responsibility not to do anything about it even if you find you fall in love with another person... or even if you find you don't love your husband/wife anymore. A marriage doesn't guarantee that two people stay in love forever.
That's what I'm saying.
So maybe there isn't really one you should marry... maybe you "should" just marry whoever feels right at the moment. Because nobody knows what happens tomorrow, or the day after.
HER: I guess ... but then u make it all sound like just go with the flow.
ME: I think it is go with the flow. Even if you say you found THE ONE... how do you know if the timing is right? How do you know you guys bought the perfect apartment? How do you know you'll have the "right" children? It IS all just going with the flow.
Supposedly, a marriage tells people that the two people will be "going with the flow" together, they're going to share all joys and sorrows till death do them part blah blah blah....
I honestly believe marriage is just a ceremony. Maybe at first the two people will feel obligated to stay happy and make everything work... but 10 yrs, 20 yrs, 30 yrs into the relationship as husband and wife, things can still change.... and when things change then, they might not carry the same "meaning of a marriage" idea in their heads as they did when they first tied the knot.
HER: But there must be some amazing happily ever after married couples out there ... I mean ... there must be some good in marriage ... why else would people get married?!
ME: Of course there is.... but marriage is a product that doesn't carry with it any warrantee, the price of maintenance would be great, and if it ever breaks down the price would be even greater. People get married because it's a tradition. People get married b/c their families/friends/business associates expect them to.
HER: Please tell me that that's not always true ... marriage is supposed to be between 2 people... not a whole bunch of people! Or is it?! Is marriage uniting 2 hearts or 2 families?!
ME: I honestly feel that weddings are like putting on shows... so that the moms and dads can feel they maintained or even upgraded their image as successful parents raising a daughter good enough to marry a rocket scientist or a son good enough to marry a swimsuit model, that their friends can have an excuse to get drunk, and that the bride/groom can appear as ones who can commit in front of his boss/coworkers/business associates.
HER: But marriage should be more than just that.... more than just satisfying the couple's families/friends/coworkers. I mean, a marriage does make people look different... but it'd be sad, and it's true ... some people get married just to make themselves look good.
ME: If and when I really love a man... I would like it if he wants to marry me, yes... because to me that means he wants to be with me the rest of his life...at that point in time. People change, things change, no matter how I love a man or how he loves me.... I just don't think it's possible to really swear that I won't come to like another man, or discover that I'm really a lesbian, or simply lose feelings for him.
A LIFETIME is a long time.
Friday, May 30, 2003
Give Me a "P"
For innocent teenage boys out there who still believes PMS hits women once a month, sorry for bursting your bubble. It's really basically present at all times, just waiting for the right, or wrong, chemistry to set it off.
Definition: Premenstrual Syndrome = a symptom or collection of symptoms that occurs regularly in relation to the menstrual cycle, with the onset of symptoms 5 to 11 days before the onset of menses, and resolution of symptoms with menses or shortly thereafter.
It must have been a man who came up with the term "premenstrual syndrome". Having P stand for "pre" is really oversimplifying the equation.
For physical symptoms such as headache, backache, bloating, abdominal cramps, breast tenderness, acne flare-up, nausea, constipation/diarrhea, and the rest of the endless list, 11 days pre plus 7 days during and maybe 2 to 3 days post might as well be the entire cycle. Oh no wait, that's only 3/4 of the month. So lucky us do get 7 days' rest. 10% of women are believed to have symptoms so severe they are considered disabling. That's not it; combine the above list of physical symptoms with other aspects like anxiety, confusion, depression, hostility, fatigue, paranoia, low self-esteem, and more. In my opinion, any person suffering from all of the above should be deemed disabled, period. Try carrying out a normal day's routine "under the influence" and you'll know P really stands for "Please kill me, God".
If you're a woman, or if you know a woman, chances are you've already figured out that the non-physical symptoms can emerge even during the 7 days' breaks. P stands for anything but predictable. Anxiety, depression, paranoia and yes, hostility can all kick in when you least expect it, and in any combination imaginable. So the next time your mom/wife/girlfriend/sister/female boss throws a fit over the sky being blue when you've specifically marked on your calendar that her cycle had just ended, brace yourselves and acknowledge that P stands for "Pretty much 24/7".
Oh, and the next time a girl tells you she doesn't want to do something because she has PMS, let her be. Even if you suspect she's using that as an excuse, it's too great a risk to endure. For if she was telling you the truth, P stands for "Pray that I won't bite your head off".
Nowadays, as better nutrition is offered to us, girls can begin to menstruate at as early as the age of eight, and can continue on until the age of 60. I couldn't find any stats to support the numbers, but let's just say the dollars a woman would need to spend to purchase a lifetime of winged products would equate to the down payment of a winged vehicle. Pricey lingerie is already enough of a burden, but at least they are reusable and provide some kind of enhancement to a woman's appearance. I think the World Health Organization should seriously consider either funding manufacturers for research and production of female sanitary products so they can go nonprofit, or taxing men to subsidize women for purchase of such products.
Definition: Premenstrual Syndrome = a symptom or collection of symptoms that occurs regularly in relation to the menstrual cycle, with the onset of symptoms 5 to 11 days before the onset of menses, and resolution of symptoms with menses or shortly thereafter.
It must have been a man who came up with the term "premenstrual syndrome". Having P stand for "pre" is really oversimplifying the equation.
For physical symptoms such as headache, backache, bloating, abdominal cramps, breast tenderness, acne flare-up, nausea, constipation/diarrhea, and the rest of the endless list, 11 days pre plus 7 days during and maybe 2 to 3 days post might as well be the entire cycle. Oh no wait, that's only 3/4 of the month. So lucky us do get 7 days' rest. 10% of women are believed to have symptoms so severe they are considered disabling. That's not it; combine the above list of physical symptoms with other aspects like anxiety, confusion, depression, hostility, fatigue, paranoia, low self-esteem, and more. In my opinion, any person suffering from all of the above should be deemed disabled, period. Try carrying out a normal day's routine "under the influence" and you'll know P really stands for "Please kill me, God".
If you're a woman, or if you know a woman, chances are you've already figured out that the non-physical symptoms can emerge even during the 7 days' breaks. P stands for anything but predictable. Anxiety, depression, paranoia and yes, hostility can all kick in when you least expect it, and in any combination imaginable. So the next time your mom/wife/girlfriend/sister/female boss throws a fit over the sky being blue when you've specifically marked on your calendar that her cycle had just ended, brace yourselves and acknowledge that P stands for "Pretty much 24/7".
Oh, and the next time a girl tells you she doesn't want to do something because she has PMS, let her be. Even if you suspect she's using that as an excuse, it's too great a risk to endure. For if she was telling you the truth, P stands for "Pray that I won't bite your head off".
Nowadays, as better nutrition is offered to us, girls can begin to menstruate at as early as the age of eight, and can continue on until the age of 60. I couldn't find any stats to support the numbers, but let's just say the dollars a woman would need to spend to purchase a lifetime of winged products would equate to the down payment of a winged vehicle. Pricey lingerie is already enough of a burden, but at least they are reusable and provide some kind of enhancement to a woman's appearance. I think the World Health Organization should seriously consider either funding manufacturers for research and production of female sanitary products so they can go nonprofit, or taxing men to subsidize women for purchase of such products.
Monday, May 19, 2003
Get Length and Mass
A regular Hotmail account user receives an average of eight junk mails each day. (I don't have the stats to back this statement, but I have the account to prove it.) From the good old "Become bigger and longer, safely and naturally" to the overly generous mortgage bargains like "Borrow up to 125% of your homes", having your business / personal email account bombarded by e-flyers is no less annoying than having telemarketers gobble up your cellular airtime. But if you are like me and have a separate to-be-disclosed-on-public-web email address, junk mail can be a preferred pastime to Solitaire.
As a tribute to the copywriters who squeeze every drip of their brain juice to come up with the catchy subject lines to these soliciting mails, I have gathered up a list of my all-time favorites.
***Top Five Junk Mail Subject Lines***
5. Turn Pennies into Dollars
This one only made the list because I misread it and thought it suggested a new business trend, ...yeah, dirty-minded me.
4. 100% FREE archive of PEEING TEENS
Seriously, is the peeing thing in now? Are guys out there getting aroused every time they take a leak? If so, doesn't the task become rather tricky?
3. Re:
A good example of "less is more". I gotta admit, there were times when I was tempted to click in and see if it's really anyone I know.
2. She laughed at your prick huh
Just another way of phrasing "Become bigger and longer..." But hey, creativity counts! Though this one is rather insensitive, I feel sorry for the guys reading this and secretly thinking "now here's someone who understands".
1. Make me scream your name (Oh GOD)
This one just cracked me up! (Oh GOD)
As a tribute to the copywriters who squeeze every drip of their brain juice to come up with the catchy subject lines to these soliciting mails, I have gathered up a list of my all-time favorites.
***Top Five Junk Mail Subject Lines***
5. Turn Pennies into Dollars
This one only made the list because I misread it and thought it suggested a new business trend, ...yeah, dirty-minded me.
4. 100% FREE archive of PEEING TEENS
Seriously, is the peeing thing in now? Are guys out there getting aroused every time they take a leak? If so, doesn't the task become rather tricky?
3. Re:
A good example of "less is more". I gotta admit, there were times when I was tempted to click in and see if it's really anyone I know.
2. She laughed at your prick huh
Just another way of phrasing "Become bigger and longer..." But hey, creativity counts! Though this one is rather insensitive, I feel sorry for the guys reading this and secretly thinking "now here's someone who understands".
1. Make me scream your name (Oh GOD)
This one just cracked me up! (Oh GOD)
Wednesday, May 14, 2003
Ex-Men
Ah... the mutants.
Haven't we all looked back once or twice and thought we had to be in a trance to have gone out with THAT person? If you haven't, it must have applied the other way around. ...My condolences. As much as we strive to maintain a first-rate portfolio for future references, exes come in just about any shape and size. But most of the time, they are just an ordinary combination of extraordinary characteristics.
Take Nightcrawler for example. The classic teleporter. At any time or place, as long as he feels like it, poof! He's gone. If not for the trail of black smoke he left behind, you'd think you were hallucinating. And as swiftly as he had vanished, when his profile is just about to be wiped off of Stryker's database, poof! He's back, and acts as if he had never left.
Then there's the manipulative Mystique. She first grabs your attention by disguising into whom you think is perfect. She then takes control of everything around you by seizing your identity. Not even imitating your voice, she would call up old girlfriends you still have contact with and tell them to back off. Or better yet, ask you to do it in front of her.
Not quite as psychotic, but just as strenuous, is Rogue. She can suck you dry in record time, in every which way the phrase applies. (Hey that rhymes!)
A rare breed in urban cities but still present is Storm. Get ready to say "wow" each time she enters the room. She's got a handful of astounding abilities you can find no practical use for. A double master in pig Latin and origami is phenomenal, Hun. But what's in it for me?
Then there's the typical Lady Deathstrike. Looks good and all, but dies too soon with no sensible justification. A mystery to us all.
Then there's your typical nightmare, Xavier, an incredibly intelligent guy who earns respect from millions by doing more good deeds than bad with his knowledge, who ends up fucking up everything because he just had to listen to a little girl. Figures.
Last but not least, the one you still long for, the movie-end hero Jean Grey. The I'll-sacrifice-myself-for-your-joy, your-life-is-more-important-than-mine, let-me-endure-all-the-pain kinda hero who leaves you feeling miserable and remorseful until she comes back, looking hotter than ever, in the next sequel.
This should about wrap up the database of ex-men/women. If on the other hand the characteristics listed above portray those of your ex-isting men/women....My deepest condolences.
If only we were like Wolverine. We could really love like we've never been hurt. Or love like we have amnesia.
Haven't we all looked back once or twice and thought we had to be in a trance to have gone out with THAT person? If you haven't, it must have applied the other way around. ...My condolences. As much as we strive to maintain a first-rate portfolio for future references, exes come in just about any shape and size. But most of the time, they are just an ordinary combination of extraordinary characteristics.
Take Nightcrawler for example. The classic teleporter. At any time or place, as long as he feels like it, poof! He's gone. If not for the trail of black smoke he left behind, you'd think you were hallucinating. And as swiftly as he had vanished, when his profile is just about to be wiped off of Stryker's database, poof! He's back, and acts as if he had never left.
Then there's the manipulative Mystique. She first grabs your attention by disguising into whom you think is perfect. She then takes control of everything around you by seizing your identity. Not even imitating your voice, she would call up old girlfriends you still have contact with and tell them to back off. Or better yet, ask you to do it in front of her.
Not quite as psychotic, but just as strenuous, is Rogue. She can suck you dry in record time, in every which way the phrase applies. (Hey that rhymes!)
A rare breed in urban cities but still present is Storm. Get ready to say "wow" each time she enters the room. She's got a handful of astounding abilities you can find no practical use for. A double master in pig Latin and origami is phenomenal, Hun. But what's in it for me?
Then there's the typical Lady Deathstrike. Looks good and all, but dies too soon with no sensible justification. A mystery to us all.
Then there's your typical nightmare, Xavier, an incredibly intelligent guy who earns respect from millions by doing more good deeds than bad with his knowledge, who ends up fucking up everything because he just had to listen to a little girl. Figures.
Last but not least, the one you still long for, the movie-end hero Jean Grey. The I'll-sacrifice-myself-for-your-joy, your-life-is-more-important-than-mine, let-me-endure-all-the-pain kinda hero who leaves you feeling miserable and remorseful until she comes back, looking hotter than ever, in the next sequel.
This should about wrap up the database of ex-men/women. If on the other hand the characteristics listed above portray those of your ex-isting men/women....My deepest condolences.
If only we were like Wolverine. We could really love like we've never been hurt. Or love like we have amnesia.
Friday, May 9, 2003
A Dozen of Each
If you asked me what my favorite flower was, I would say tulips. Only because we used to grow them in our front yard and new buds would develop every spring without the need to reseed.
To me, flowers are like Chinese tea. I'd be able to tell that one cup tastes different from another, but I'd never bother to reflect on how they're different.
Despite how much women claim they love flowers, men are the ones who buy them. Somehow men got the idea that flowers do magic for the opposite sex. Has it never occurred to men how ironic it is that we could appreciate something with such a short life when we've universally agreed that diamonds are the way to go because they're forever?
I can understand when someone buys flowers for friends staying in the hospital because patients can use something soothing to look at, or when someone uses rose petals in drinks or baths as aromatherapy. But what is a guy trying to say when he buys his lady a bouquet of flowers? If it's to create a relaxing ambiance in her apartment, get her a Monet.
As a gift, flowers serve no purpose and convey no message (you can forget all those crap you tried so hard to memorize about the hidden meanings of each flower and the significance of the number in a bouquet, florists are smarter entrepreneurs than you'd thought.) If you were sending it to her workplace, a small bouquet would be mocking; if you were giving it to her on a date, a large bouquet would be mortifying as you'd be the one carrying it for three blocks down and three blocks up again. And may I remind you that some of you are already carrying her purse. (That's a whole new blog topic right there!)
It takes tedious work just to keep flowers from dying within 48 hours*, and even more work to hang dry them so that they could forever take up the space of four shoeboxes for "I'm sorry" and "I miss you" or that of eight shoeboxes for "I'm very sorry", "Happy Birthday", "Happy Valentine's Day" and "Happy Anniversary".
Flowers and the stagnate water they're in generally attract pests. When flowers wilt, the petals become black and wrinkly, the leaves and stems soggy then dry. The dirty water leaves behind a stain on the vase.
So unless you're a gardener and are ready to take care of every step for her... consider getting her Chinese tea next time. And start a savings account to put aside all the money you'd ever spend on flowers for girls. You could really wind up with the budget for a Monet.
* In order to keep flowers fresh for longer than a cheesecake: 1. The vase has to be cleaned. (We're the assumption that every girl owns a crystal vase.) 2. All leaves that would be under water must be removed. 3. The stem of each flower needs to be re-cut... every three days! 4. Flower food should be added to water. 5. Water has to be topped off daily and replaced every few days.
To me, flowers are like Chinese tea. I'd be able to tell that one cup tastes different from another, but I'd never bother to reflect on how they're different.
Despite how much women claim they love flowers, men are the ones who buy them. Somehow men got the idea that flowers do magic for the opposite sex. Has it never occurred to men how ironic it is that we could appreciate something with such a short life when we've universally agreed that diamonds are the way to go because they're forever?
I can understand when someone buys flowers for friends staying in the hospital because patients can use something soothing to look at, or when someone uses rose petals in drinks or baths as aromatherapy. But what is a guy trying to say when he buys his lady a bouquet of flowers? If it's to create a relaxing ambiance in her apartment, get her a Monet.
As a gift, flowers serve no purpose and convey no message (you can forget all those crap you tried so hard to memorize about the hidden meanings of each flower and the significance of the number in a bouquet, florists are smarter entrepreneurs than you'd thought.) If you were sending it to her workplace, a small bouquet would be mocking; if you were giving it to her on a date, a large bouquet would be mortifying as you'd be the one carrying it for three blocks down and three blocks up again. And may I remind you that some of you are already carrying her purse. (That's a whole new blog topic right there!)
It takes tedious work just to keep flowers from dying within 48 hours*, and even more work to hang dry them so that they could forever take up the space of four shoeboxes for "I'm sorry" and "I miss you" or that of eight shoeboxes for "I'm very sorry", "Happy Birthday", "Happy Valentine's Day" and "Happy Anniversary".
Flowers and the stagnate water they're in generally attract pests. When flowers wilt, the petals become black and wrinkly, the leaves and stems soggy then dry. The dirty water leaves behind a stain on the vase.
So unless you're a gardener and are ready to take care of every step for her... consider getting her Chinese tea next time. And start a savings account to put aside all the money you'd ever spend on flowers for girls. You could really wind up with the budget for a Monet.
* In order to keep flowers fresh for longer than a cheesecake: 1. The vase has to be cleaned. (We're the assumption that every girl owns a crystal vase.) 2. All leaves that would be under water must be removed. 3. The stem of each flower needs to be re-cut... every three days! 4. Flower food should be added to water. 5. Water has to be topped off daily and replaced every few days.
Thursday, May 8, 2003
Fast Break
I was once told by a linguistics professor that "breakfast" is a compound word that translates into what you'd want your morning meal to be...a fast break. Personally, I find it to be anything but that.
I don't plan to challenge the very idea that breakfast is the most important meal of the day. In fact, a large portion of my endless list of favorite food falls into the category of breakfast food. Eggs (hard boiled, soft boiled, sunny-side up, scrambled, omelet), bacon, bagels, French toast, Sausage n' Egg McMuffin, hash brown. For a taste of the Oriental, congee and deep-friend breadstick, chow mien, sticky rice with soybean drink. For beverages, milk, OJ, coffee, tea, coffee mixed with tea.
Now, correct me if I'm wrong, but doesn't it take an average of at least ten minutes to prepare any combination of the above list to make up what can be considered a wholesome meal? And wouldn't it take even longer to consume it?
If one wants to do it right, breakfast is nothing fast.
Alright. Breakfast doesn't translate to "fast break", it really means "to break a fast". Besides telling you how legitimate my University degree is, this also explains why the meal is stretched and crucial.
Can't help but mention here. My all time favorite place for breakfast food would have to be Eric's Kitchen, a small eatery located in downtown Toronto. Their specialty: eggs Benedict, with your choice of smoked salmon, asparagus, bacon, ham, grilled chicken or what-not to go in the middle, and an unlimited supply of their signature hollandaise sauce. The owners claim that their specialty is meant to be served as a brunch, that's why the portions are rather large. And it does provide more than enough nutrition to keep you energized for half a day. The later half of the day, that is. The walk back to my car after a visit to Eric's would be tedious carrying that load of food in me. When each serving means extra-large eggs Benedict and the rest of the plate the size of a roulette wheel filled with fresh fruit salad and pan fried potatoes, Eric's specialty might as well be served as a brunner.
I don't plan to challenge the very idea that breakfast is the most important meal of the day. In fact, a large portion of my endless list of favorite food falls into the category of breakfast food. Eggs (hard boiled, soft boiled, sunny-side up, scrambled, omelet), bacon, bagels, French toast, Sausage n' Egg McMuffin, hash brown. For a taste of the Oriental, congee and deep-friend breadstick, chow mien, sticky rice with soybean drink. For beverages, milk, OJ, coffee, tea, coffee mixed with tea.
Now, correct me if I'm wrong, but doesn't it take an average of at least ten minutes to prepare any combination of the above list to make up what can be considered a wholesome meal? And wouldn't it take even longer to consume it?
If one wants to do it right, breakfast is nothing fast.
Alright. Breakfast doesn't translate to "fast break", it really means "to break a fast". Besides telling you how legitimate my University degree is, this also explains why the meal is stretched and crucial.
Can't help but mention here. My all time favorite place for breakfast food would have to be Eric's Kitchen, a small eatery located in downtown Toronto. Their specialty: eggs Benedict, with your choice of smoked salmon, asparagus, bacon, ham, grilled chicken or what-not to go in the middle, and an unlimited supply of their signature hollandaise sauce. The owners claim that their specialty is meant to be served as a brunch, that's why the portions are rather large. And it does provide more than enough nutrition to keep you energized for half a day. The later half of the day, that is. The walk back to my car after a visit to Eric's would be tedious carrying that load of food in me. When each serving means extra-large eggs Benedict and the rest of the plate the size of a roulette wheel filled with fresh fruit salad and pan fried potatoes, Eric's specialty might as well be served as a brunner.
Tuesday, May 6, 2003
The Never-Ending Legend
You might stay away from spandex if you feel you're overweight like you'd avoid wearing black being aware of your dandruff situation. But a woman can have feet of Krusty the Clown and toes of Beetle Juice and still find the heart to accommodate yet another pair of open-toe sandals.
Being born female, one is automatically prone to this incurable addiction. As unique as I'd like to portray myself to be, I've been granted no exemption from this epidemic. Ever since I've had adequate spending power, I've contributed more than enough to the women's shoes industry to legally claim a share of it. I started buying my own shoes during my high school years. Of course, on a part-time salary I could only afford $30 pairs. Needless to say they were of pitifully low quality and often lasted just about long enough before I could find money to pay for the next pair.
Thank God that was 10 years ago. Since then, I have mellowed, and so have my collection of footwear. A woman's choice of shoes reveals more about her than her taste in purses and men combined. And I'm not only saying that because I own more shoes than I do purses and men combined.
I'd like to believe that somewhere on this planet is a woman with immunity to this syndrome, but that I'd be long gone before we could hunt her down and decode those mutated genes of hers. In the meanwhile, the next time you find yourself under the torture of having to behold neon green sparkling polish on a pair of chicken's feet stuffed in a pair of Manolo Blahnik, (yes, I watch too much Sex and the City) just calm yourself and forgive her. At US$400 a pair, she's the real victim.
Being born female, one is automatically prone to this incurable addiction. As unique as I'd like to portray myself to be, I've been granted no exemption from this epidemic. Ever since I've had adequate spending power, I've contributed more than enough to the women's shoes industry to legally claim a share of it. I started buying my own shoes during my high school years. Of course, on a part-time salary I could only afford $30 pairs. Needless to say they were of pitifully low quality and often lasted just about long enough before I could find money to pay for the next pair.
Thank God that was 10 years ago. Since then, I have mellowed, and so have my collection of footwear. A woman's choice of shoes reveals more about her than her taste in purses and men combined. And I'm not only saying that because I own more shoes than I do purses and men combined.
I'd like to believe that somewhere on this planet is a woman with immunity to this syndrome, but that I'd be long gone before we could hunt her down and decode those mutated genes of hers. In the meanwhile, the next time you find yourself under the torture of having to behold neon green sparkling polish on a pair of chicken's feet stuffed in a pair of Manolo Blahnik, (yes, I watch too much Sex and the City) just calm yourself and forgive her. At US$400 a pair, she's the real victim.
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