Our little club is chugging along, slowly but surely.
Yesterday, we met to discuss My Lobotomy by Howard Dully. As usual, the conversation went somewhere completely unrelated but highly charged. Somehow we talked about pedophilia, leading to the reading of a Republican candidate statement about the creation of a "self-supporting village" on Santa Rosa Island for pedophiles...leading to the benefits and the harm of legalizing all drugs.
It's scary to me that someone I dismissed completely off-handedly as an obvious lunatic based on his candidate statement actually draws serious comments like "yeah, I think they totally should." Pedophile on an island? With no expense to the taxpayers?
Also blowing my mind: the fact that independently, an attorney general candidate and Erin thinks that it's horrible that prisoners get better healthcare than non-prisoners. I mean, how dare the criminals? It pains me that instead of focusing on improving everyone else's healthcare, they want to lower them to ours. That's just so sad. They would rather suffer than see someone else enjoying something that we should get as well. Why lower the high bar to match the low bar? Why not raise the low one to meet the high one?
It's disturbing to me that there are people like that out there because I don't understand why they think that way. I feel like it's an extremely negative worldview, with little trust in mankind, society, legal system or anything. It all seems to be a system of thought where blatant contradiction exists and facts cannot change anyone's mind. Am I missing something here?
Friday, May 21, 2010
Thursday, May 20, 2010
Death
On the drive home today, I thought about my high school French teacher, Mrs. Carr. But that wasn't how she introduced herself the first time I walked into her class. It was something else, but for the life of me, I can't remember. I remember her wedding, her third. She wore a cream colored dress that tapered inwards, ending at the knees and matching hat. Looking back, I am surprised she invited three of her high school French students. I ate a raw oyster for the first time at her wedding reception. Didn't have the class to appreciate the delicacy and still don't. I remember sand, sliminess, and trying really hard to swallow it without spitting it out which I wanted to do. Everyone laughed and cheered when I finally did it and made a face.
One day, she wasn't in class. Absent again the next. By the third day, we wondered if anything happened because it wasn't like her to miss class like this. We should know. We've been with her for three long high school years.
When she finally came back, she looked gaunt and worn. Black blue crescents hung from the bottom of her eyes. Did she wear makeup to try and conceal it? Was it that bad?
In an off-handed way, she told us what happened.
She took her medication earlier, forgot and drank a glass of wine. The combination of alcohol and drugs knocked her unconscious. Her stepson found her lying on the floor. 911. At the hospital, stomach pumped, they put her on suicide watch, even though she insisted it was a simple matter of her forgetting the fact that she took medication and drank some wine.
I believed her. Though she wasn't as bubbly and happy as she was before.
Willis. The ultra liberal English teacher with whom I never interacted. Each time I picture her, a blond energetic and outspoken woman voicing her opinion on some topic comes to mind. My high school best friend was very close to her.
Did you hear? Ms. Willis died of something...What? I don't know...and they didn't find her till a week later when Mrs. Carr went to check on her to find out why she hasn't been coming to class. Oh, how sad. What a lonely life that must have been. The funeral's this Saturday. Are you going? I didn't know her that well. I will. Just to see her.
One day, she wasn't in class. Absent again the next. By the third day, we wondered if anything happened because it wasn't like her to miss class like this. We should know. We've been with her for three long high school years.
When she finally came back, she looked gaunt and worn. Black blue crescents hung from the bottom of her eyes. Did she wear makeup to try and conceal it? Was it that bad?
In an off-handed way, she told us what happened.
She took her medication earlier, forgot and drank a glass of wine. The combination of alcohol and drugs knocked her unconscious. Her stepson found her lying on the floor. 911. At the hospital, stomach pumped, they put her on suicide watch, even though she insisted it was a simple matter of her forgetting the fact that she took medication and drank some wine.
I believed her. Though she wasn't as bubbly and happy as she was before.
Willis. The ultra liberal English teacher with whom I never interacted. Each time I picture her, a blond energetic and outspoken woman voicing her opinion on some topic comes to mind. My high school best friend was very close to her.
Did you hear? Ms. Willis died of something...What? I don't know...and they didn't find her till a week later when Mrs. Carr went to check on her to find out why she hasn't been coming to class. Oh, how sad. What a lonely life that must have been. The funeral's this Saturday. Are you going? I didn't know her that well. I will. Just to see her.
Wednesday, May 19, 2010
Dog park
Finally decided to take Butters to the dog park after a long hiatus. In truth, I really don't like socializing with the people there. I just like watching my dog. I dreaded meeting the regulars.
When we got there, Butters took off to meet other dogs. In the process, a little black dog with a pug nose came barreling down on him and tried to get him to play. Misto! Amanda must be here. I was really happy to see her because she's probably the only one there I really like and enjoy talking to. Might have something to do with our dog philosophies. This is the first time seeing her since her hip surgery so I was happy to find that everything went pretty well. Seeing that she has a cane with her, I offered to take her dogs out walking around the lake. Again, I felt happy that she was okay with me talking Misto and Kuma. I've walked with Kuma before. He seems to like walking with his nose right behind my knee (I know because at the end of the walk, my knees would always be slightly moist from dog snot). Misto is a bit like Butters, meaning she likes to pull ahead. So we decided that I will be walking them on Sunday. Looking forward to it.
When feeling emotionally drained, seeing a well-liked friend that I haven't seen for awhile really lifted my spirits. Still brings a smile to my face when I think about it.
And I finally took Butters to be professionally groomed yesterday just to even things out and so that I have a template for when I cut him next time. He looks very clean. I love when the groomer did to his tail, ears, and paw. The face takes a bit getting used to. He looks like a different dog who answers to the name "Butters." It's quite a shock. Will post picture.
When we got there, Butters took off to meet other dogs. In the process, a little black dog with a pug nose came barreling down on him and tried to get him to play. Misto! Amanda must be here. I was really happy to see her because she's probably the only one there I really like and enjoy talking to. Might have something to do with our dog philosophies. This is the first time seeing her since her hip surgery so I was happy to find that everything went pretty well. Seeing that she has a cane with her, I offered to take her dogs out walking around the lake. Again, I felt happy that she was okay with me talking Misto and Kuma. I've walked with Kuma before. He seems to like walking with his nose right behind my knee (I know because at the end of the walk, my knees would always be slightly moist from dog snot). Misto is a bit like Butters, meaning she likes to pull ahead. So we decided that I will be walking them on Sunday. Looking forward to it.
When feeling emotionally drained, seeing a well-liked friend that I haven't seen for awhile really lifted my spirits. Still brings a smile to my face when I think about it.
And I finally took Butters to be professionally groomed yesterday just to even things out and so that I have a template for when I cut him next time. He looks very clean. I love when the groomer did to his tail, ears, and paw. The face takes a bit getting used to. He looks like a different dog who answers to the name "Butters." It's quite a shock. Will post picture.
Tuesday, May 11, 2010
Accident and power outage
Ever since meeting the crew twice a day at the Sorrento Mesa food court, I've been discovering quite a few delicious and delightful little shops. Thanks to my CL's recommendation, I tried Donut Touch. With G's name, I managed to get some fresh muffins as opposed to the ones sitting in the case. I also found some fresh Vietnamese sandwiches at a European bakery. It's owned by a Vietnamese family, though the wife told me that if I wanted an Asian cake, I'll have to describe it and they'll try to make it. Anyway, Luis and I also tried Knockout Pizza. It is so great! I think I'm a bit addicted. They serve NY style pizza and I just love the ones with no sauce or white sauce.
Anyway, so yesterday, I was in our afternoon meeting when all of a sudden a bunch of the workers/owners of the stores came out. Someone spoke in Vietnamese. I asked our Vietnamese speaker, "Are they fighting?" He laughed and said, "No. The power's out." Oh.
I left the meeting 15 minutes later and took my usual way home. Just when I managed to turn out of that plaza, I found myself stuck in traffic, also managing to discover the cause of power outage. A white SUV ran into a green electrical box thing (a transformer, I found out later, the function of which is still unknown to me). The crash was pretty bad. The front part of the SUV looked shortened by half, the windshield was blown, the green box itself looked like something bit a chunk out of it. Grey smoke rose from the contact of the two. The police, firefighters, and paramedics were on the scene.
Found out later on the news that the knocked out transformer killed power for close to 1200 residents. The driver either passed out or had a heart attack, or both. He didn't try to brake at all, crossing the medium and plowing headlong into the transformer. Thankfully, it's not a busy street for pedestrians and a mere box stopped him as opposed to something or someone else.
Luis and I had plans to hang out with the Perkins. In fact, he had already left to pick up John from work when I called him and told him what happened. So we decided to switch locations to the Perkins' place instead. Due to work on both sides, we haven't really talked for two weeks, so we had plenty to catch up on.
When Luis and I got home, power was still out. I thought the whole situation was a bit reminiscent of the earthquake, mostly the procurement of emergency supplies, i.e. light source. Anyway, the whole apartment complex was dark. It never occurred to me how many light sources we take for granted and never notice, such as parking lot lights, little path lights, lights shining through blinds. Without all that, the whole complex was eerily quiet and dark. As we walked back, our surroundings seemed to grow darker and I momentarily regretted living on the ground floor underneath a walkway. Both Luis and I talked rather loudly to stave off nervousness. It did not help that he said, "It seems like a perfect setting for a slasher film." I almost kicked him for that had I not been too busy walking, intent on going inside. My one comfort was Butters. I knew he would bark at whatever we can't see.
When we finally made it inside, we immediately lit a bunch of tea lights and candles. Luis debated whether or not to take a shower by candlelight since he can't see very well. I told him that I have to deal with that all the time because my eyes are bad and I can't see anything in the bathroom anyway since I have to take off my glasses before showering. Mostly it's by feel. At night, he didn't want to go to the bathroom to turn off a dripping faucet after we blew out all the candle light. I scoffed at him, proud that years of my pretending to be blind and walking around in the dark at night is finally paying off. It's mostly memorizing the layout of the room before going to sleep, looking for dark and light contrasts, not stubbing anything and fluttering fingertips lightly to figure out where things are. Blind pride.
Power came back on at 3am. And the whole drama over. Still, the night felt extra intimate without light pollution.
Anyway, so yesterday, I was in our afternoon meeting when all of a sudden a bunch of the workers/owners of the stores came out. Someone spoke in Vietnamese. I asked our Vietnamese speaker, "Are they fighting?" He laughed and said, "No. The power's out." Oh.
I left the meeting 15 minutes later and took my usual way home. Just when I managed to turn out of that plaza, I found myself stuck in traffic, also managing to discover the cause of power outage. A white SUV ran into a green electrical box thing (a transformer, I found out later, the function of which is still unknown to me). The crash was pretty bad. The front part of the SUV looked shortened by half, the windshield was blown, the green box itself looked like something bit a chunk out of it. Grey smoke rose from the contact of the two. The police, firefighters, and paramedics were on the scene.
Found out later on the news that the knocked out transformer killed power for close to 1200 residents. The driver either passed out or had a heart attack, or both. He didn't try to brake at all, crossing the medium and plowing headlong into the transformer. Thankfully, it's not a busy street for pedestrians and a mere box stopped him as opposed to something or someone else.
Luis and I had plans to hang out with the Perkins. In fact, he had already left to pick up John from work when I called him and told him what happened. So we decided to switch locations to the Perkins' place instead. Due to work on both sides, we haven't really talked for two weeks, so we had plenty to catch up on.
When Luis and I got home, power was still out. I thought the whole situation was a bit reminiscent of the earthquake, mostly the procurement of emergency supplies, i.e. light source. Anyway, the whole apartment complex was dark. It never occurred to me how many light sources we take for granted and never notice, such as parking lot lights, little path lights, lights shining through blinds. Without all that, the whole complex was eerily quiet and dark. As we walked back, our surroundings seemed to grow darker and I momentarily regretted living on the ground floor underneath a walkway. Both Luis and I talked rather loudly to stave off nervousness. It did not help that he said, "It seems like a perfect setting for a slasher film." I almost kicked him for that had I not been too busy walking, intent on going inside. My one comfort was Butters. I knew he would bark at whatever we can't see.
When we finally made it inside, we immediately lit a bunch of tea lights and candles. Luis debated whether or not to take a shower by candlelight since he can't see very well. I told him that I have to deal with that all the time because my eyes are bad and I can't see anything in the bathroom anyway since I have to take off my glasses before showering. Mostly it's by feel. At night, he didn't want to go to the bathroom to turn off a dripping faucet after we blew out all the candle light. I scoffed at him, proud that years of my pretending to be blind and walking around in the dark at night is finally paying off. It's mostly memorizing the layout of the room before going to sleep, looking for dark and light contrasts, not stubbing anything and fluttering fingertips lightly to figure out where things are. Blind pride.
Power came back on at 3am. And the whole drama over. Still, the night felt extra intimate without light pollution.
Saturday, May 1, 2010
Guy code and...what code now?
I was driving to work and heard the most repugnant phrase ever today.
93.3 interviewed Michelle McGee (who? Jesse James' (who? Sandra Bullock's husband) mistress). Someone called in, saying that as a mistress herself, she is indignant that Michelle broke the "mistress code." That's right. Honor among thieves.
At first I thought it was morally repugnant. On second thought, I don't want to qualify "repugnant." It's not just morally offensive, but any other way possible, including culinary. (j/k. I know "culinary" doesn't make sense in the sentence.)
I feel so strongly about this because during an affair, (let's assume that it's the male cheating in the relationship here since that's the majority of cases) at least one person at any one time is knowingly hurting one person. At any time when his partner learns of the existence and true state of the relationship and yet still chooses (yes, not ending it is a choice and action) to continue the affair, then two people conspire through either cowardice or selfishness to cause another hurt. Hence, affairs, morally speaking, are never a good thing (whereas having sexual intercourse with a dead chicken can be argued as a morally ambiguous).
So to say that there is a code while engaging in this type of behavior is to set in rulebook somewhere that the continuation of the harm of another person is ok. Honor amongst thieves. Perhaps even worse so since we can't put a monetary value on emotional betrayal and angst.
93.3 interviewed Michelle McGee (who? Jesse James' (who? Sandra Bullock's husband) mistress). Someone called in, saying that as a mistress herself, she is indignant that Michelle broke the "mistress code." That's right. Honor among thieves.
At first I thought it was morally repugnant. On second thought, I don't want to qualify "repugnant." It's not just morally offensive, but any other way possible, including culinary. (j/k. I know "culinary" doesn't make sense in the sentence.)
I feel so strongly about this because during an affair, (let's assume that it's the male cheating in the relationship here since that's the majority of cases) at least one person at any one time is knowingly hurting one person. At any time when his partner learns of the existence and true state of the relationship and yet still chooses (yes, not ending it is a choice and action) to continue the affair, then two people conspire through either cowardice or selfishness to cause another hurt. Hence, affairs, morally speaking, are never a good thing (whereas having sexual intercourse with a dead chicken can be argued as a morally ambiguous).
So to say that there is a code while engaging in this type of behavior is to set in rulebook somewhere that the continuation of the harm of another person is ok. Honor amongst thieves. Perhaps even worse so since we can't put a monetary value on emotional betrayal and angst.
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