Friday, August 15, 2008

Cut hairs

I once read somewhere that you can learn something from everyone you meet -- from the bum on the street to the richest man in universe to the baby in a stroller to an old fart mouthing off in the grocery store.

You learn what you want to keep in your life, and maybe some other stuff you should get IN to your life a little more often.

So what does it mean when you find yourself "accidentally" hanging out with an international male actor/model?

No, not what you think -- all about vanity, narcissism, immaculate grooming, exquisite taste and absolute snobbery and bucks up the ying-yang? (well, not all the time anyway -- ha!) No, not with this down-to-earth North Dakota guy, anyway.

Where we meet as friends has nothing to do with his work -- but by osmosis I'm learning a thing or two about self-confidence in the physical realm that I've never been in contact with before. An athlete since age 9 and a former national wrestling champion has made this guy FRIENDS -- dare I say BEST BUDDIES -- with his own body, and he thinks nothing else of it except to take care of it like anything else in his life: his car, apartment, computer, etc. All matter of fact, nothing special -- and certainly nothing to be ashamed of or hung up over.

What a novel idea: comfort in your own skin.

Hm.

Made me get a haircut today, get rid of the gray and look in the mirror and not barf again -- good, okay! See? Successful learning... I'm Asian and not vomit-inducing. YAY!

I stand a little taller already.

Thursday, August 14, 2008

In Fine Form

Went to see two venues today with Mom, had lunch, went shopping at two Nordstrom's (y'all KNOW how much I hate shopping, especially for clothes for ME) -- then to my brother's house for dinner.

What a day.

And my mother was in fine form.

(RING RING Specialty-Sing-Song-RING of my cell phone. I pick it up immediately.)

Me: Hi, there!
Him: What's up?
Me: Actually I'm in the car with Mom but I don't have my headset on. Can we talk later?
Him: Yeah, sure, I'll call you.
Me: Everything okay?
Him: Everything's good. Bye.

(I hang up.)

Mom: Who was that?
Me: Guy.
Mom: Guy -- again? Why is he always calling you?

(Deep breath.)

Me: Mom, HE likes ME.
Mom: Oh. He must not have anyone else to talk to.
Me: Mom! Don't you think anyone could like me?
Mom: Well, I guess Jack liked you. He was always calling you whenever you were here. But he didn't have anyone to talk to either, did he?

I want to die. Is this what my mother really thinks of me? But I don't know how to "die" in front of my mother, I don't know how to tell her how hurtful she's being. So what comes out?

A big cackle. A guffaw. And then a big belly-aching belly laugh as I miss the onramp to Stevens Creek for the second time.

Tears are running down my face because we are laughing so hard.

I finally get it out:

Me: Mother, stop it right now. Not one more word. NOT ONE.
Mom: I guess I'm helping you get lost, huh?
Me: Please, Mother. Be quiet!

I find the Valley Fair Nordstrom's and park the car in silence.

Before we leave the car, the final proclamation (as best as my ability to deal with it anyway):

Me: I can't believe you think that about me, Mom -- and that you said it.

(And for the ultimate revenge):
Me: YOU'RE GONNA SEE THIS IN A PLAY SOMEDAY.

So there.

Wednesday, August 13, 2008

Behind behind... Ketchup

I'm a day behind in writing posts and it's making me crazy.

But I'm not going to go PERFECTIONISTIC on myself --

So here's the "catch up" one... and I'm moving on.

Tuesday, August 12, 2008

Little Chinese Babies

On the eve of the Chinese Women's Gymnastics team winning the gold medal, I have to admit something that's been bothering me for last few months:

I've been surrounded by men who are "into" Asian girls.

Now that wouldn't seem like a problem considering I am an Asian gal myself... but I never considered myself thought of myself (1) as attractive or (2) desirable so NATURALLY, I would never think the race that my face and skin are akin to as either of those things.

Ever.

Ideal to me was dark-haired and European -- like Olivia Hussey ("Juliet") or Finola Hughes or Isabella Rossellini.

Not me, not "my" people. We're weird. "Exotic" Less-than. Whore-y. Wrong.

Loaded with stereotypes, none of them admirable -- oh, except maybe "hospitable." (Yeah. LOVE that one. And "No," I'd hiss back: "I've never lived in Subic Bay!")

Less you think it doesn't smart to admit that right now -- it stings like a sunofabitch. But for once, being around these men who have a simple, honest preference for Asian women of different colors, looks, nationalities... I've now come to a kind of curiosity of little Asian faces, little girls' faces like my own -- like I'm an alien seeing them for the first time.

I'm fascinated... and I mourn. The time I've lost in self-hatred and non-acceptance is time I'll never get back!

Oh, one would think I would hate these guys who are only proud to announce their desire for my specific kind -- but I know now it's only a preference, like we all have preferences about everything else in life. No malice in it. And I get to realize, by TRANSITIVE PROPERTY -- that I am desirable too.

The teachers have come -- I guess it's taken this long for this student to be ready. I look into the mirror today and finally do not turn away.

Monday, August 11, 2008

Ache-y but Fine

Today I actually felt the most "ME" I have in a long time in this house -- I had a day like I would in L.A., just up here. And boy did that feel great!

Got up by 10:30 (after only 4.5 hours sleep, what the heck, it felt good anyway), showered, blowdryed my hair (shocking I know), got online and worked.

Had lunch with parents when they got back from mass and their morning, then back to work.

Booked four appointments for four very different rooms and went over some figures with Mom. As of tonight, she wants to throw in the towel ("Too much money!") but we're having lunch on one of the catering directors tomorrow -- who happens to be the one who "booked and cooked" Mom's 80th at another location. And if I now my Mother, she's not gonna pass THAT up, so I guess we're really still on...

Had a lovely dinner while watching the parents' favorite "Teen Jeopardy." Yakked w/ Brad on the phone for a good long while. Got yelled at by Mom for talking too long on the phone: "Who was that? You talked too long."

"Too long for who?" I shot back, then got yelled at by Dad for talkin' smack to my mother.

What? Huh? Did you not just get on Mom yourself today for being too nosey and all up in your business?

UGH. Do parents ever realize how much influence they have on a kid? No matter how old that kid, one lifted eyebrow look can pierce the psyche for days...

Instead, however, of shrinking into a puff ball and blowing away, I lowered my voice and spoke in a calm tone... truth is, I don't know what kind of shit I said but no one yelled anymore and I went and watched the sexy male Olympic gymnasts in the office, away from them. I just didn't want them picking on me and my friends (and the DVD I just produced!) and... jeez, cut it out already! This doesn't make me wanna hang out with you guys more, you know?

They went to bed, then I spoke with Travis for awhile re: the next video shoot, and here I am. Other than being much better fed here (understatement!) than in L.A. -- I had a good day in my own skin. All is well.

(NOTE: Apologies if you are one of the four commenters on yesterday's post -- I can't read them as Haloscan.com isn't letting me get to the site. Will respond as soon as I can!)

Sunday, August 10, 2008

Distraction of Olympic Proportions

I don't know what I was thinking when I decided to come up here and spend some time at my parents' home. I always want to come and "relax" -- but as I am always told, and will invariably be told some time during this stay, "This is not a hotel. Make your bed. And go help your mother cook. You are not on vacation." (Never mind I can't cook a lick and my mother is the Queen [and Sentry] of her own kitchen and I am more Nuisance than Assistance...)

False advertising, I say! When I'm away in L.A., my parents want me here with them. "We miss you, honey, come stay with us!" Underneath that of course is the usually unsaid, "You don't have a job anyway yet, so it's cheaper if you live here with us." Today what did get said was, "We can save all the money we spend on you and use it for our 50th Wedding Anniversary Party next year!"

That's basically why I'm here this weekend for them -- to scout out a location for their big bash. Mom is getting a kick out of having these fabulous theme-parties because she has her own Personal Party Theme Designer Daughter Who'll Never Be Able to Pay Us Back So She Should Use That Creativity Thing for Something at her disposal. Forever.


Their 45th was in Honolulu and of course Hawaiian-themed; her 80th birthday was a Project Runway parody, complete with fashion show of her clothes since the 1950s because YES, SHE STILL HAS THEM. And now instead going on a cruise with the family like she originally vowed -- she's putting her finally-graduated-from-college only daughter to work. After all, I have no "permanent job" yet, remember. I guess in Tagalog that means "Our daughter has no life."

What to do this time -- I have no idea yet. What Mom loves is having some event that none of her Filipino friends have seen or done -- and that usually has to do with the fact that there is an overall theme, a program and entertainment, and definite audience participation. Many moons ago at my Dad's retirement party we had a fun sailor theme where everyone one red, white and blue and we handed out sailor hats and had a game of Jeopardy with the guests that was quite successful; last party they all played bingo while the "models" changed.

So one thing I really wanted to do is find a unique venue, something Filipinos in their barkada aren't used to going to -- like a museum or gallery or mansion -- or even a warehouse and turn into a some atmosphere. Cool, huh? Well, apparently all of that is out now because (1) all these folks are in their 70-80s so it better have easy access to beautiful bathrooms, (2) no buffet anymore because she wants them be seated and served (another age thing), and no spending on real estate because "Filipinos don't care about art anyway."

Okay. Guess I'll save that idea for one of my own parties. And I'm resigned to finding another boring hotel banquet room. UGH. And I'll have to re-examine that "Party Planner" tattoo that's stamped in the middle of my forehead again and hopefully get some inspiration...

Of course the one place I love is the boutique hotel W Silicon Valley here in Newark -- less than a mile away and a little secret that's not on the wedding circuit around here. I saw it a few months ago and fell in love with the contemporary space and fabulous, intimate lobby, a "for sure" for me if only my mother could keep it to 120 people! But no, apparently we're up to 200+ right now so onto the Boring Banquet Room Tour I go.

Actually I'm resigned to that now because I told my mother tonight that I wanted her to get out every damn (okay, I didn't say damn) expectation for her party out RIGHT NOW, one year before the thing, so I could address it. I didn't want to hear AFTER THE FACT: "I thought Frances would dance" or "I thought you would sing" or "I was hoping that would've been a better slideshow." AAAAAAAACCCCCKKKKK!

So tonight she said, "I just want something that everyone has fun at and they've never done before. Of course a nice video of all the old times..." and I'm thinking BORING! Unless I start out with a video that starts out with a voice over:

I'm sure you think you're going to have succumb to a video of my parents through their 50 years of marriage... but this is going to be a little different. This is a photo of them now -- and this is picture of them yesterday. Now let's get on with the games: bring in the elephants and the can-can girls!

HAHA I'm just kidding. But I have my work cut out for again, to make an event my ENTIRE FAMILY will be participating in, ages 9-49. Because remember I have no job and no life!

In actuality, I have a hell of a lot to do this August, and it's all creative work for other friends' parties, weddings and public appearances. Trying to bring that work here to do (my career all on a single jump drive!) when I'm on a back-ass sleep schedule and trying to coordinate with my early-rising parents is a nightmare. Why I am I here again?

Oh yeah. Funds.

I'm overwhelmed just typing this. Even the Olympics are no comfort right now.

A few days ago, playwright and prolific blogger Prince Gomilvilas wrote a wonderful essay for Asia Pacific Arts called "The Other Closet" about coming out to his Thai parents AS AN ARTIST. (Go read it here.)

One sentence got me (and I commented on it in his blog):

          I am a child of Asian Americans -- my parents trump all.

Which is truly why I'm here... and why they're still supporting me, no matter what. They threaten to cut me off every month; they scream, "We're on a fixed income, we have no more money!" and they worry who will take care of their single, poor, aging, oldest girl-child when they're gone. But it's a dance we've always done and will continue to do -- until I decide to grow up and cut that proverbial umbilical cord myself.

Call it co-dependent, dysfunctional and all that white people-12-step-psychological terminology you want -- it's the benefit of being my parents' daughter. I'm lucky, I know... but I'm sharpening the scalpel too. I know I'm going to cut bait -- soon. In the meantime, know any sexy hotels in Tri-City area for me to look at?

(BTW, today Dad was reading the Sunday paper's magazine insert and asked me, "Honey, what's a blog?" I told him it was short for web log -- like someone's diary on the Internet -- where people talk about personal things they care about. That seemed to appease him... whew!)

Saturday, August 09, 2008

Zoom!

FINALLY.

I'm turning off the computer after this post and a quick Tweet and getting on the highway. Mom and Dad sounded pretty welcoming (as in we aren't going to ream-your-ass-tonight about not having a job) and have a steak marinating and lumpia ready to fry.

I feel better... the old girl is strong. Late night talk radio, here I come!

Edited to add:
Woohoo, I kicked *ss! Left at 12:40 am, got into Newark at 5:55 am -- 5 hr 15 min, a new record for me, 362 miles door to door! Boy I AM AN OWL -- only 3 quick stops, no nap and wide awake now. Did get here on fumes though... gotta plan better in that department.

Friday, August 08, 2008

I'm The Mole (literally)

I've been pretty hard on myself today, for not being able to get out of town. A dear friend Twittered me this morning and asked "Maybe you don't really want to go? And would that be okay?"

I know I'm in a bad place when I can't decipher between what I want and what I should want. And who I'm gonna disappoint... bleech. Still trying to make it "okay" -- and yet how come my parents have called to ask me why I'm not there yet?

Yesterday I never left this tiny apartment. Not one step. Just holed up and yakked all night (yeah, to THEM -- what about it?!?!).

So today I'm antsy to get out, to connect. I go to mid-town L.A. and make a little gas money doing some Photoshop work. I take a break from that and go to Koreatown to interview a potential actress for a friend's next video. I go back to mid-town. I'm yakking on phone (and headset, which I finally found, along with my keys!), enjoying the sunset drive on a warm L.A. night.

I come home and watch the penultimate episode of The Mole on the internet (I think MARK is The Mole, BTW, we'll see!), sing a little more "foolish songs" with Regine on YouTube (boy, I wish I spoke Tagalog!), and I'm wiped.

So this entry sucks... but hey, even The Man Upstairs rested on the seventh day, right? Right.

Hasta mañana.

Thursday, August 07, 2008

Long Drive Home

Car's almost packed up and I'm finally getting myself up to the Bay Area. (And if I don't time it right,I might be napping for six hours on the road -- so this is going to be short!) I don't have a working TV in L.A. (I know, shocking), but I need to make sure I'm at my parents and THEIR big-ass TV for the Opening Ceremonies of the 2008 Summer Olympics.

Yes, I'm an Olympics junkie, and have watched almost all of them since the Olga Korbut/Cathy Rigby balance beam years. I'm also the predecessor of what they call nowadays a super-fangirl... yeah, I've met -- even "more" than met... well, anybody I've ever wanted to or admired. That would include a TV thug's cousin, a Mormon, singing twins and Filipino-speaking white guy who cooks.

Right now I'm thinking about my two favorite gold medalists: Ilia Kulik, 1998 Men's Figure Skating Champion; and Greg Louganis, 1984 and 1988 Platform and Springboard Champion. I so love what the Olympians are -- they bring the best they are to table and show us the potential in ourselves. I'm so lucky that I've met both of them, and have even gotten to know Ilia quite well (read here and here to re-live a little of that, yeah, yeah, I'm a broken-record with the Ilia stuff already, but it was an important time in my life!).

AOL put up a slideshow of the 40 most memorable moments in Olympic history that brought all those bigger-than-me feelings back (and of course wishing I was an athlete of some sort).

Until I get back to the computer... enjoy the memories.

Oh, look out, Mike Valentino -- I've never been to N.C. before and even though I don't have the same kind of power Prince James Dean has , I might just might have some leftover United miles... (Just kidding, don't send the mobst-- I mean... I better be quiet.)

Wednesday, August 06, 2008

Honey

Driving home from CPK tonight I think I was craving something sweet because the only thing on my mind was honey.

"Honey."

"Honey," I said out loud again.

Then in rapid succession: Honey? Honey... how are you, honey?... Can I get you something, honey? Scratch my back, honey... Ooh, there, yes, thanks, honey... You mean the world to me, honey...

Ah, sweet affection!

I miss being called "honey." And even more so the old-fashioned "sweetheart." (Of course I cherish the fact that Mom and Dad call me "honey" all the time, but y'all know it's not the same thing.)

And I miss saying those things even more.

It's been awhile since my long-term relationship ended with Jack (oh, he's all over the early days of this blog), and when we broke up I remember that one of the hardest things to do was to get in the habit of calling him by his first name again and not "honey." That he was simply "Jack" is what made it real -- we were finally over.

But then Brad came a callin' -- "Hi, dollface!" "How are you today, cookie?" And when we were speaking very seriously, he is one of the few people in the world I will let call me by my birth name because he would say it with such tenderness...

Occasionally, I'd let a "honey" to Brad come out... and the walls didn't come crashing! I think he liked it... he didn't balk anyway... but I made sure I didn't make it a habit. WE OURSELVES weren't a habit, so it would've been way too presumptions to keep that up.

Today Brad wrote some beautiful things to me in a MySpace note regarding yesterday's post... I won't share them here, but it did remind me why I liked this big-hearted man so much!

He ended the note with, "I'll call you today, OK? XOXOX B"

But he didn't.

And suddenly I'm Shakespeare's Juliet at the end of the play:

I do remember well where I should be, And there I am.

Without honey.

Tuesday, August 05, 2008

Whipped

This afternoon I was bemoaning the fact to my friend Lana that I have to make a trip up north and I DON'T GET TO SEE BRAD... which is the whole reason I planned to make this trip in the first place. A week and a half ago I needed to see him -- I was desperate to see him.

Now it happens I have a lot of errands to do up there, and I missed spending any quality time with my parents and family during my last visit. And yes, a couple of fantastic networking possibles are in the works there too... but listen, I WAS GOING THERE TO SEE BRAD. And I think he wanted to see me too.

Dammit.

But I'm stalling. Stalled. And I'm hard-pressed to get into my car and drive the 347 miles (and I even missed my niece's birthday dinner tonight too -- Happy Belated again, S!) -- a trip I hate when I'm alone because I get sleepy every 45 minutes and have to take a nap. Maybe I'll just buy some more Streisand tapes to sing to this time... Yentl, A Star is Born...

In any case, out of my mouth popped:

"I can't believe how pussy-whipped he is."

"Oh, yuck, Madley! I hate that word."

"Fucking guys. They fall for the One Girl and that's it, they can't see straight. It's HER pussy and no one else's!"

"I've always hated that word. It's so crass."

"What -- pussy?"

"Yeah. Gross."

"I know -- in our day it used to be one of the foulest words you could use to describe... I don't think you could even hear it anywhere except in pornos. But everyone uses it now."

"Really?"

"Yup.

"I gotta get out more."

"It's no big, Lana, it just means a guy is a wimp -- a big chicken-shit."

"Yuck. I still don't like to hear it."

"It's said so often it doesn't even mean anything anymore. Like 'bitch.' Everyone says it all the time -- it's not nice and I wouldn't say it front of my parents, but it's common. Pussy, pussy, pussy--"

"Madley!"

"See? Doesn't mean anything! Actually, it kinda makes me laugh--"

"Huh? Because?"

"Well... you know, my friend Travis here in L.A. was coming out of the gym and was crossing the street when suddenly some guy in a car cuts him off and almost runs him down, then screams out the window, "IDIOT!" like it was his fault for walking. Last I heard pedestrians get the right of way here in California, right?

"In any case, Travis sees that this guy is pulling into the Ralph's parking lot... which is where he is headed himself.

"So of course, he's pissed off -- and probably way puffed up -- and goes up to this unsuspecting guy: 'Hey -- did you just call me an idiot?"

"The guy puffed back. 'Yeah.'

"Well, your Mr. Tough Guy when you're in a car like that -- that was really rude back there. Do you want to call me an idiot to my face?'

"Don't forget now, Travis is over six feet tall and JUST GOT OUT OF THE GYM and apparently Car-Guy was just 'normal-size.'

"Car-Guy manages to sputter out, 'No, no, man,' as he tries to back away. 'I don't want no trouble.'

"But Travis was having none of it. 'You owe me an apology.'

"'I'm sorry,' says Car-Guy. 'Sorry.'

"'Good,' says Travis. 'Now say you're a pussy.'

"'What?!' says Car-Guy.

"What?!" says my shocked friend, Lana.

I tell her I'm completely flabbergasted when Travis says he said that, so he explained: "He WAS a pussy, so I made him say it. I said, Say it. Say you're a pussy. And he said it -- he said, 'I'm a pussy.'"

"Oh my god, Travis, I can't believe you made him say that."

"Hell, yeah! And then he started to walk away and I said, "Hey -- you got vaginal secretions dripping out of you!"

"No way, you did not say that!"

"Yeah, I did. Maybe I went too far to make him humiliate himself like that--"

"You think?!"

"... but he's lucky I didn't punch him out right there. That was rude of him. HE REALLY WAS A BIG PUSSY."

"Bleech," Lana says after that closing remark. "I'll never get used to it."

I tell her the word is just the punchline of a joke to me now, and new word for a coward/baby/loser. It doesn't mean anything to me anymore -- um, except when it's used with the word "whipped."

It makes me jealous.

And I'll admit it -- crass is as crass does: someday I hope someone will be that whipped for me.


Edited 8/6/08, 3:09 pm: Changed the pseudonym of "Robert" to the real Travis, who wanted credit for his humorous handiwork. And also to correct "vaginal fluids" to "vaginal secretions." When in doubt go to the source. :)

Monday, August 04, 2008

What Kind of Girl Am I?

[Apologies in advance to songwriters and Leslie Bricusse and Anthony Newley, in case I completely rip this song apart... I had to read my own rules again because I'm so tempted to just post a YouTube video of Filipina sensation Regine Velasquez singing her signature song... but hey, I'm rushing to make the midnight deadline, so I might as well get this right too. ]

So that was the big question looming over me today, as I finally left the house to run some errands and got behind the wheel. Tom Leykis was on the radio.

Yeah, yeah, before you bust my chops for listening to such a... a radio host... (!) hang on there with me. The Boy/Pup put it on while I was driving once, which is okay, because I actually like it when people play what they want in my car, it introduces me to new things. I was not ready for Tom Leykis, but it sure made me understand The Pup.

Samples of LEYKIS 101:

* Never spend a lot of money impressing her on the first date
* Stop seeing her if you don't get laid by the third date
* Never date single mothers

But the three I remember most:

* Never have a sex with a woman without a condom, no matter what she says because anyone no matter who has sex without birth control wants to get pregnant. And just having an orgasm isn't worth that.

* Some women are crazy... you meet them after one night, you bang 'em and suddenly you're their obsession, they jam up you up with calls and emails and texts and they LOVE you. And if a guy is a pussy, he'll just go along with it: "Um, I love you, too?" Come on guys... it's not worth it!

* Getting married is good for the girl -- shitty for the guy. Don't do it.

UGH.

So why am I bothered by all this? Because... I'm recognizing my own stupid-ass behavior in some of these women. And I feel like a complete retard when it comes this stuff. Sorry, it's not very PC, but you kinda talk slum-y to the slum-y... and that's where I'm at.

I was actually a bit... moved?... this afternoon -- so much so that I almost called that damn radio show to THANK TOM LEYKIS for making me see myself -- and swearing never again to be that icky, needy, plotting, desperate woman that he and his listeners so often fall prey to.

I would've called as one of my many female aliases (oh come on, I know you have aliases too -- I only use the male ones for online stuff where I don't have to use a voice) and I would've been the woman that every other woman HATES, but all the locker room jocks and piggish couch potatoes go, "YEAH! RIGHT ON!"

But I couldn't risk The Pup hearing me and my story after OUR first night... eeee gads. Talk about GOOEY.

Anyway, I'm not using this post to beat myself up... really, don't worry, I'm not! Things are just so malleable in my life right now -- and yeah, I'm missing Brad right now as we speak. The question just begs to be asked today: What Kind of Woman Do I Want to Be?

Why can't I fall in love like any other girl?
Maybe then I'll now what kind of fool I am.

No answers tonight. Just the question.

Sunday, August 03, 2008

Clear Desktop, Clear Life

Three weeks ago I got into a rip-roaring discussion with The Boy/Pup that made me so furious that I vowed to not to speak to him or answer his emails or open his MySpace notes for a whole week -- HA! Take THAT, I said to myself (since I didn't say it to him... oh, I didn't mention that? Er...)

And to top it off, I was taking the beautiful 1024 x 768 full screen closeup photo of his tan shirtless godlike body off of my desktop. SO THERE! That'll punish ya! Goodbye dreamy eyes, exquisite obliques, rock-hard -- yikes, get thee out of my head! (No, no... those pictures are not for sale. Yet. ;)

This is how my screen looked for three weeks:

And you know what? That's kinda what my brain looked like too -- clear and vast, open to possibilities. For three weeks my path finally opened again to MYSELF, not to him or the two other aforementioned fellas. Just me and space, me and the ocean, me and the sky...

Of course I talked to him the next day -- and every other day after that (I'm not crazy enough to let that go of THAT after a mere "heated conversation" -- see, I told you I didn't remember things very well!). But my head has been cleared -- like the first 20 minutes after a good rain in L.A. that takes all that gunk out of the sky and you remember that you didn't always grow up breathing this disgusting air... Anyway, I feel like I can touch my brain again.

Today, though, I read a quick article about 9 Simple Ways to De-Stress Your Life that Actually Work -- liked the word "de-stress" and the good overview of everything we already know.

What caught my attention though was the photo the author used to accompany his piece. I knew immediately it belonged on my PC -- not too Thomas Kinkade, a little fantasy, a lot of anonymity and complete calm. Ahh....

By golly, I put that "more-grounded me" on my desktop in a flash! There's no fear or obsession in that picture, nor, today, in me because of my three-week "clear desktop cleanse." But now with the new pic I can remind myself -- I'm ready, I can step back into the world again and it's probably not too bad a place.

Saturday, August 02, 2008

Losing It

It's 10:11 pm and my mind has been racing to think of what my sophomore post would be--

Relax. I say to myself. Tell me about your day. Anything "thematic" happen?

Well, yeah -- I've lost all kinds of shit today!

I can't find my house and car keys -- and they're on a big college neckband so I can feel it in my purse or hang it on the key cabinet (yes, I actually bought and painted a key cabinet, just for this purpose).

I can't find my headset to my cell phone, so of course I can't drive and talk at the same time -- one of my favorite things to do.

I can't find a photo album of 1998 photos I'm supposed to scan for a web group's commemorative 10th anniversary newsletter about our favorite Olympian.

Good god, yes... I AM LOSING MY MIND. No, I've already lost it...

Hey, don't be a drama queen... just tell the truth.

All right -- I lost a MAN this week! And I just didn't want to admit it.

Okay. That's better, right?

Yes. (Cue: Ann-Margret singing theme to Bye Bye Birdie)

"Brad" had a big crush on me in high school... I actually played his mom, Mrs. MacAfee to his Randolph in Bye Bye Birdie. He was a freshman to my junior, a scrawny squirt who loved hanging with us band/drama geeks as a respite from an ugly and volatile home life. Brad remembers me as being so nice and sweet, and that I paid a lot attention to him, but I, of course, don't remember any of this. I wanted to continue making out with the senior actor/quarterback playing Conrad Birdie!

One promise Brad always made was that someday he would grow up and be as big as a football player, and then I would want to be with him and kiss him again. Again? Sorry Brad, I don't remember that either (but you all already know I have pretty a selective memory anyhoo).

I saw him once 3-4 years later when he was in the service -- and wow, he did grow up to be 6'1" and 230 pounds big... and we did make out! But I was away living the college dorm life and he was "experiencing" Westpac as a U.S. sailor (and I use that term loosely... ahem). There couldn't have been two more different lives.

Fall 2007 and Brad finds a slew of us on Classmates.com and follows me and my name change on MySpace. How strange to be talking to this man after 30 years, especially when his memory of me is so sharp and affectionate. He was still a shrimpy punk in my head...

But he liked to talk -- and shockingly enough nowadays, on the phone, as he wasn't the typing type. How refreshing that was. He and his wife of 19 years were "having trouble" and Brad, who stayed in town, never met someone like "me" who was so wise, mature and empathetic to his situation.

A few months later there's huge blow-up between the two of them, and by law he has to move out of the house. So we talk... and talk. Every night we talk, like clock work since March. I was just closing in on the last month of my stressful senior recital, as well embarking on a new adventure on the "man" front... which Brad would counsel me on, kindly and gently, as a strong male voice of reason and experience.

We always joked that we were each other's "Number #2" and would flirt endlessly too. And I never felt more "heard" and "cared for" and appreciated because he really knew the essence of me... from high school to today. I LOVED MY DAILY CALLS, while relishing the fact that I didn't really have to commit to a "real relationship" with Brad. You know, that "don't really have him so can't really lose him" syndrome? And he was working on getting back with his wife anyway... as much as she would let him.

But guess what? I unexpectedly "fell" anyway, and fell for him hard. Went up north for a week in June, stayed with my parents but spent any evening time I could with Brad. After months of being so close "in the heart" it was hard to not want to be as close in the flesh! It all culminated one night in a high school-type "makeout session" in a parking lot -- imagine that, two almost 50-year olds! LOL. Thank goodness the Newark P.D. were otherwise detained :)

However, "it didn't feel right" and Brad knew he needed to go back to Sally and figure it all out, at least for the kids. (Yeah, it was nice to be THAT catalyst, huh?)

So I had a few good heavy duty cries and emails and said goodbye, just like Babs did with Nick Nolte. I came back to L.A. thinking it would now all be different.

And it wasn't. It got better... and my heart opened wider! My loving friends were so nervous that I would get hurt by this whole situation, but like Star Trek's Enterprise, I was boldly going where I'd never been before: I told them I'd rather practice being open and work a stronger heart muscle than to keep it closed and not ever care for this man!

It also seemed that his heart was closing when it came to Sally at the same time. He was throwing up his hands, surrendering to it never being good again, to the end being near.

Now if anything I learned from Brad, is that I don't deserve to think of myself the way I used to in high school... a gal with not quite the "most pristine" of reps. He told me how I should be treated because of how wonderful I was ... and for the first time in a long time I KNEW I WAS WANTED and worthy of a good, good life.

Whether or not that would be with Brad, we would see.

"Don't put us in a box, Madley," he'd say. "No one knows what's between us but us... and we don't know the future either. We just gotta tell the truth, NOW. I care for you... a lot. You will always be special to me. Remember that."

"Okay."

"And I know I have to be very careful with you..."

"Uh, okay."

"Now -- so how's your fella today?"

Isn't that weird that we could still talk about our Number #1's so freely?

One month later is this past Saturday. After a half-month of not seeing her, Brad finds out that Sally has broken her leg and is now Absolutely Helpless. And on MySpace his update read: "Going back to rescue the day. Mood: Gallant."

(Ah.)

The Savior Knight can now bring deliverance and he has his old job back. All is copacetic in their world again, roles return intact. And there isn't any room in there for me.

Thursday, after missing him three days on the phone and getting no peep online... I called Brad after a class. I like to think I bowed out graciously. He just sounded... so happy, joyous to be able to go back to his home and "fix it all up" again and take care of "his business"... how could I do anything otherwise?

"I'll understand if we won't be able to see each other next week when I'm there."

"Oh. You're very sweet, Madley." (Ooh. Two steps back and it sounds like a bad movie now.)

"I keep thinking 'grace and dignity' and I can do that. So we're okay, really."

"This open communication thing is hard, isn't it?"

"Yup. But no regrets! 100% eyes wide open, Brad, so I'm all right."

"I wish I had a more than one life to spend with you women!"

"Uh..."

"I love you, Madley. You know I do."

"I know -- I know."

I told him I'd be sad for a bit, and that I would really regret not ever being able to "lie prone" with him to watch a bunch of really cool movies (since he's quite the movie buff for not being here in L.A.)! And that, as they say, was that.

Fortunately, I told myself, if ever he wants me, he knows where to get me -- and then he'll have to jump through the hoops he taught me to put up for myself! (Again... we'll see.)

I cried in the car, driving myself to three faux tacos from Jack-in-the-Box. Bleech. But like I said, I'll live.

"Guy A" is gone (I still have Guy B and Guy C left, but that's another day) and now our relationship will be memorialized here in one August blog post. And a bunch of emails, MySpace conversations and photos. Soon I'll lose the memory of this too...

But maybe now I can find my keys.

Friday, August 01, 2008

Turtle Blast, Here I Come!

I promised myself a small Turtle Blast (all 480 calories worth) from the drive-thru Baskin-Robbins tonight after I finished this post and it closes in 93 minutes so I better get crackin' -- I say, whatever gets the old girl movin'!

Well, something was coming -- and yesterday, it came.

Thanks to my newfound community at Twitter.com and the fact that I'm an absolute newbie there (these people are SMART, kids), an article found me: The One Month Launch by Nick Cernis. Basically -- you can do anything in 30 days with a minimum of Perfectionism attached -- so JUST START.

Intriguing... especially on the last day of a month... but it caught fire in this head. I can do anything for 30 days...right?! (Note to self: post re: Overeaters Anonymous-HOW.)

Of course, I wanted to call my friend Diane, who I am always scheming with to somehow get paid to work for ourselves in our respective fields ("Death to Bosses!") to launch SOMETHING to make me some good old hard cash. Especially since the theater gig ended mid-June -- I've been dry. Really dry. Sahara dry.

But finally, 3-1/2 months after my senior recital -- I had enough clarity to know this isn't about launching another business... it's about being creative again. Or disciplined. Or both... yeah, um... both.

"How" was the next dilemma: which of all my crazy jack-of-all-trades creative outlets should I turn to? Fortunately... only one has been sticking in my head (and that's because there's no money/camera for video, no musical collaborators who probably can stand me right now, and too much drama in my life to isolate that into a play...):

WRITE IN YOUR DAMN BLOG.

Ha! Okay. There it is. Doesn't cost me a dime and I don't have a pencil sharpener to fuss w/ pencils and doodle around with... but it'll get me going. To what, I have no idea, but at least I'm frickin' MOVING! (Which reminds me, I have GOT to get some new walking/running shoes. Mine suck.)

What's the launch? MADLEY THE WRITER.

(Hm. I think I like that. :)

A few guidelines/rules for myself though so it counts (because I sure know how to cheat on myself... bad girl!)

Rule #1. At least ONE POST PER DAY, August 1-30, that's actually dated the day it gets posted -- in other words, not futzing with the post options to postdate or pre-date something. ONE PER 24 HOURS. And better one good, thought-out post than a zillion random thoughts... I'll save those for Tweets...

Rule #2. Posts have to be ORIGINAL CONTENT BY ME, not just a YouTube vid I like, or a list of links of people whose blog I read that day or a lyric that makes me long for The Boy/Pup (no, you don't get a link to him yet, I barely know ye!)... ack, I'm getting distracted again already. Something with THOUGHT, Missy, or it doesn't count.

Rule #3. I am not to worry about selling shit, or who's reading this or what the hell it's for (unless it comes up in a full post I can be proud of). Because then I'm not in mining mode, I'm in distribution Hell... which has always stopped me before. JUST BE DISCIPLINED AND WRITE, DAGNABBIT!

Rule #4. I have to CONGRATULATE MYSELF EACH DAY AS A SUCCESS... and not just wait for the end of the month. Can I be here NOW, please?

===

With that done, I do have to list some folks that have already opened my eyeballs to writing and to life that I've discovered through Twitter. (Did I mention how much I love Twitter?! Oh yeah, I did.) They probably don't even know I read them, and they're all folks I've never met BTW (as I have great writer friends I know in the flesh too) but that's cool, it kinda doesn't matter. The Good Karma bucket goes around anyway :)

I'll start with three for now (otherwise I'm bound to break Rule #2):

Men With Pens - Web Business Tips for Writers, Freelancers and Online Entrepreneurs. Twitter with James Chartrand, and boy, you are CONNECTED!

Rock Your Day - Stay Focused, Work Smarter, and Stop Out Stress, Baby! I love what Dave Navarro (not that one) writes about working in Emergency mode ON PURPOSE.

The Producer's Perspective - A Theatre Producer in NYC gives his opinion on everything Broadway and beyond. My heart lies here folks (musical theater) -- and unfortunately I just missed meeting Broadway and Off-Broadway Ken Davenport when he Twittered he was here at a Hollywood Starbucks. Someday! For now, I get my NYC fix here every day.

===

Let's see... did I do it? Did I launch? Yup, I did. It's 9:11, I have to time to link and proof and that Turtle Blast is a waitin'! (Boy this reward-consequence way thing can get fattening...)

What did you launch today?

Sunday, July 20, 2008

Something's Coming

I don't know how to explain it, but something's happening, something's changing... already changed... Talked to today about work, skills, talents, money... purpose... future, fantasy, reality, men, boys, friends, jail and God...

Oh my. I need a steak.



Will it be? Yes, it will.
Maybe just by holding still,
It'll be there!
Come on, something, come on in, don't be shy,
Meet a guy,
Pull up a chair!
The air is humming,
And something great is coming!

Friday, July 18, 2008

A Timely Article

I don't usually post an article verbatim, but hey, when it speaks to ya... (And YES, that's a barong on a white guy and a brown bride... DON'T ASK.)

===


Change Your Luck In Love
A simple answer can shift your path


Source: California Psychics

If you've ever been in love with someone unavailable (or a string of someones) - like that guy who works 80 hours a week, that gal who's traveling all the time, that oh-so-mysterious "bad boy" with a drinking problem (oh yeah, and six girlfriends), or someone who's already married, then chances are you've sung the "all the good ones are taken" blues...

But if it's true that, "every relationship you have is a reflection of the relationship you have with yourself" then perhaps it's really you who is the unavailable one. Gulp. Don't believe it? Crazy, you say? Why would you possibly want someone you can't have?

Ponder this...
By falling for partners that are just out of reach, you get to have the idea of being in a relationship and some of the benefits, without the potentially painful risks a full relationship requires. If you can't actually make a whole life with them, you can't ever lose that life, either - get it? But by having at least a partial relationship, you get to stave off the loneliness you might otherwise feel from having no relationship at all.

Part timers
Yet by seeing them sometimes, by getting some of their attention, you get this and many other side benefits - one of the biggest being the "you never know" factor (and sex!). You never know when you'll hear from them, you never know when you'll get to be with them, and you never know when you'll draw their attention next. This is part of what makes it such a thrill and feeling of accomplishment - heck, even victory - when you do. Sadly, this is much more exciting and rewarding to many people than the sweet security of a partner who is always there, always available, and offering their love on a regular, reliable basis.

Just an opinion?
Consider this: scientists have found in brain studies that it's more compelling to get something you want some of the time, than it is to get what you want all of the time. This is what's so thrilling and even addictive about gambling for many people - with every hand of cards or roll of the dice, there's a release of chemicals in the brain that creates a rush of excitement. You could win, or you could lose and it's that unpredictable potential of possibilities, again the pull of the "you never know" factor, that keeps gamblers coming back for more.

So perhaps the allure of the "just out of reach" lover is just that - they're out of reach. So, if you're hooked on someone you can't have, ask yourself: If you could have them, would you still want them? Do you really want them, or do you want the feeling of winning that comes with getting them? Because with over six billion people on the planet right now, we promise you, all the good ones are not taken. They just may not interest you. But waking up and admitting this to yourself is the first critical step in healing your real relationship - the one you have with yourself - so that you can move forward toward having the life, and the love life, you truly desire.

Carol Allen is the host of Enlightening Relationships on California Psychic's Karma Sol Radio, and author of the eBook, Love Is in the Stars which can be found at a website of the same name.

Thursday, July 17, 2008

Revelation

I can't take crass talk anymore!
Not in emails, IMs, on the phone, in person... nowhere.

I don't know when that happened... but it finally hit me over the head yesterday:

It's ugly, it's gross, it's rude, classless and it's impolite.

It is NOT sexy or "hawt"-- it's not romantic and it DOESN'T turn me on, baby.

Mind you, I'm not talking about regular swearing. I can swear up a blue streak and have had a mouth like a sailor since high school.

And I'm not a prude either (and I'll leave that one right there).

But you know what? I don't know you. And some things are left for private moments for special people and not to be flung around lightly.

I don't know why I didn't get that until this late in my life... but that moment's here.

It makes me feel sleazy and whore-y -- and I won't stand for that anymore, it's not funny.

So cut it out.

===

Edited to add (after loving feedback from wonderful friends):


Now the real work is not judging myself for all of this.

It's like the veil has been lifted... and I see now how horribly I've thought of myself and let myself be treated all these years!

If I had a daughter I'd never stand for how I let myself be spoken to... who let me feel this way about myself, and let me believe that this self-talk and self-image was OKAY?

Well, the point is it's not anymore.

Monday, July 14, 2008

"Because of You" I Feel No Shame...

I don't know how I ran into these guys on YouTube... two Pilipinos now living, loving and making music in Australia. I've never heard this Keith Martin song -- I love it and Sigrid and Lee's sound. I'm hooked.



I've watched this a zillion times already... and I think I like it because I'm watching two Filipino faces -- warm, kind, happy, NORMAL -- happy and singing, especially Sigrid. She kinda reminds me of me... but sweeter (and I enjoy her!)...

That's all I got today.

Because of You

If ever you wondered if you touched my soul, yes you do.
Since I met you I'm not the same.
You bring life to everything I do.
Just the way you say hello.
With one touch I can't let go.
Never thought I'd fall in love with you.

Because of you my life has changed.
Thank you for the love and the joy you bring.
Because of you I feel no shame.
I'll tell the world it's because of you.

Sometimes I get lonely and all I gotta do is think of you.
You captured something inside of me.
You make all my dreams come true.
It's not enough that you love me for me.
You reached inside and touched me internally.
I love you best explains what I feel for you.

Because of you my life has changed.
Thank you for the love and the joy you bring.
Because of you I feel no shame.
I'll tell the world it's because of you. (2x)

The magic in your eyes, true love I can't deny.
When you hold me I just lose control.
I want you to know that I'm never letting go.
You mean so much to me, I want the world to see
It's because of you.

Because of you my life has changed.
Thank you for the love and the joy you bring.
Because of you I feel no shame.
I'll tell the world it's because of you.
You.

Sunday, July 13, 2008

The Best Thing About Me

Been a long time since I've taken a quiz... HAAHAHAHAH the answer is not surprising considering my Purpose is found on LEFT JUPITER (Live your Passions). And of course, gotta work that Lesson to have that Purpose.

And fortunately, I'm not a heroin addict.

In any case -- take this test! Leave me your result... I'd love to hear what you the best thing about YOU is :)

Your result for The Best Thing About You Test...

Passion

Hot! Passion is your greatest virtue


Passion is an intense emotion that compels feeling, enthusiasm, or desire for anything, and that often requires action. Get that? Requires action. It's very likely you submit to your deepest needs and live life with a flair few others achieve, but many envy. All 7 virtues are a part of you, but your passion runs deepest.


Passionate types: artists, writers, composers, athletes, and heroine addicts.


Your raw relative scores follow. 0% is low, and 100% is perfect, nearly impossible. Note that I pitted the virtues against each other, so in some way these are relative scores. It's impossible to score high on all of them, and a low score on one is just relatively low compared to the other virtues.


YOUR VIRTUES


40% Compassion


33% Intelligence


25% Humility


44% Honesty


0% Discipline


29% Courage


75% Passion

Take The Best Thing About You Test at HelloQuizzy

Friday, July 11, 2008

"More Than You Know"

Ah, the late, late, lonely nights...

Loved this moment in The Fabulous Baker Boys -- great story, characters and especially soundtrack (Dave Grusin KICKS SOME SERIOUS BUTT.)




More than you know
More than you know
Man of my heart, I love you so
Lately I find you're on my mind
More than you know

Whether you're right
Whether you're wrong
Man of my heart, I'll string along
I need you so
More than you'll ever know


And yeah... it's more than he'll ever know. (see previous post)

Wednesday, July 09, 2008

Deanna and Jesse sittin' in a tree...




So The Bachelorette, Deanna, picked the Wild Card (and Wild Man) in an "upset" to everyone but us die-hard romantics, Jesse.

This shit never ceases to make me weep.

The "other" guy, Jason, the one who didn't get picked but was just as in love with Deanna -- was at the "After The Final Rose" show too. He was given the opportunity to ask and say anything to her... and it was heartbreaking to see HURT written all over someone's face like that...

But he had dignity, self-respect, calm... and a generous heart. After all his questions to her were done... his final statement was: "Watching the show again backstage... You never looked at me the way you looked at Jesse."

Which brings me to YENTL, once again:



Look at how he looks at her
Will someone ever I look at me that way?
Full of all the feelings and the soft
Unspoken words that lovers say?

I thought that I knew ev'ry single
Look and sweet expression on his face,
Yet this is one that I don't recognize,
Although I've sat and studied him for hours.
But now I see how love completely occupies
A pair of' eyes...

See the way they gaze at her,
Like slaves they follow every where she goes.
Do my eyes forget themselves
And do I ever look at him
And smile in such a way
That what I'm feeling shows?
Sometimes I have the feeling
Everybody knows...

And even though it's crazy,
Still I can't help wondering
If I'll ever live to see the day
When by some miracle of miracles,
He'll turn around
And look at me that way.


===

I want to be in love. Like that -- no less.

THERE! I SAID IT!

Surprised? Yeah, me too. Don't you know I'm emotionally stuck at age 16?!?!?! Yup.

Last week I was given a heartfelt, loving "talkin' to" about what I do when it comes to relationships -- and mind you, this girlfriend has known me for over 20 years.

"You want to be married," she says. "I love you and I know you -- you want to be with one person, as much as you think you don't and fight it. You do. Trust me."

(Ick, my eyes are watering just remembering this conversation.)

"You pick completely unavailable men. Look at the ones you're 'with' right now: not one is completely available to you or appropriate for you at all."

Yes, I still bristle at the word "appropriate" too -- after all, who's to say who's "appropriate" really... no one truly knows except the two people that are in the relationship, right?!

Apparently one of those guys, the one I've really fallen for (I know, all you friends of mine are saying "you mean fallen for THIS TIME, Madley") -- is a completely "ridiculous" choice, and I'm pretty stupid -- yes, stupid -- to even be toying with the idea that he could ever fall in love with me.

S-T-U-P-I-D. And R-I-D-I-C-U-L-O-U-S.

Wow. Harsh and to the point.

But you know what? I've never had my heart opened up so wide before in my life until this man... so I'm going to going to keep that emotional armor away for just a little bit longer and be wistful and longing and dream of love... and cry with more songs from Babs...

... because I like the way he makes me feel... about me, about my life, about my past, about the future...

... and I like remembering again that I even HAVE a real heart that still wants to be loved.

I'll think more about "appropriateness" another day... thank you, Scarlett O'Hara.

Edited to add Deanna and Jesse's website. Thanks M.B.!

Sunday, July 06, 2008

Chicken!

"Only those who will risk going too far can possibly find out how far one can go."

-- T. S. Eliot

Catherine and her Ice Cream Cone

Her Mom and Dad, Aunt and Uncle, cousins, sister and friend all came up to see "Wicked" but two-year-old Catherine was too young to go. So we watched an outdoor wedding at the Marriott and "toured" at Bonaventure Hotel and its 32-story outdoor elevators in her stroller for hours (whew!).

Eventually we did get a special treat -- ah, the simple pleasures!

Catherine in L.A.

Ice Cream at the Bonaventure Hotel