Mar 29, 2012

"fitness is not for pussies"

or so I read off of someone's Facebook photo album... I cringe, and am slightly annoyed by this. To go on a rant, not everyone starts off knowing what to do, cardio, lifting, etc... any cardiovascular activity, to that person's comfort level, is good. For someone to make such a bold statement angers me. I could just as easily say fitness doesn't make up for lack of proper nutrition... and this person clearly hasn't straightened that out.

I have friends who come to me for advice on what is and is not good for them, I have had guys at the gym ask me about proper form... shortly after asking to let them jump in while I rest... and despite that, I do not parade around as though I know everything. I just know what works for me, and what I want out of the gym... no one person has the same goals, and it can range from strictly appearance, or entering a Pro contest... but whatever those goals may be, they're someone's goals... and at least they have one. Beats those who complain and do nothing about it.

On the note of fitness and gym-going, I have another pet peeve, those who set weight loss goals for very superficial reasons, i.e "I'm going to lose X amount of lbs for the cruise next month", and when prodded further, there's no motivation left to maintain. It's not about a lifestyle change, but some temporary roller coaster ride that people go on for one big event... and more upsetting, they don't want to make the necessary changes to get there. They want the results... but are not willing to put in the work. "I want my arms toned, and a smaller tummy... so I'll do db curls, and ab work" and then you talk nutrition, and they say "well, I don't eat rice at night... but I don't like eating breakfast, I'm not hungry"............ #headshakers.

Jeff Radford - Would You/ Matt Wertz - Everything's Right

I love Jeff Radford's Would You and Matt Wertz's Everything's Right.

I came across them when I was watching a couple of wedding videos. I feel as though I'm a part of the wedding with that perfect blend of music and videography...

9.1mi run on Sunday with very little consistent training. Apparently I did not learn anything from my half marathon in December. Let's hope I make it this time.

Mar 21, 2012 (II)

I guess because I always think my boyfriend and I are "meant" to be, in the most serious of ways, the slight idea that he may not share that opinion sends me in a whirlwind of emotions.

Ever since we got together, things have been good, really good. We have our differences, but for the most part, we're very madly in love, or at least I am. Even if I don't think about how we got to where we are, I think there's something real magical about us and us being in this relationship together. I have this deep attraction to him... an intellectual and emotional understanding that surpasses the physical that I've never felt before. Yet, at the very thought that he doesn't feel exactly as I do, I start to second-guess myself, and my feelings. I start to wonder how much he really cares about me and our relationship, how much is really special to him, and how much is just wanting to be in a relationship, wanting to fulfill a future goal. And that makes me insecure.

The very thought that this is just another relationship that can be replaced hurts. I can't smile about it. Even if he wished for me to smile for him once before he gets ready for work overseas via video chat... I just cannot do it. I don't feel happy about it. I'm so randomly upset by it that I'm not sure I can face him tomorrow...

... and it's not even his fault.

Mar 21, 2012

I'm not a cook in the sense that I will spend hours creating my own. I do however grab inspiration from beautifully photographed dishes, often times evoking a need to attempt making the dish myself.

I also love cookbooks, and with the internet and all of these bloggers, I am not lacking in inspiration.

Here's a couple of basics:

http://www.pbs.org/food/fresh-tastes/poached-eggs/
http://norecipes.com/blog/how-to-scramble-an-egg/

And an interesting and REAL simple one that I'm amped to do myself:

http://norecipes.com/blog/meyer-lemon-icebox-cake/

Happy Wednesday! Just 1.5 weeks left... woot!

Mar 16, 2012

It's like monsoon season here... and most people don't know how to drive when it rains. I don't mind it, and I've seen some pretty ambitious drivers, but with the rain pooling in the side most lanes of the freeway due to bad drainage, the puddles get several cars' length long, sometimes one lane, if not edging into a second lane, wide, and at least several inches deep, it's not uncommon to see cars merge into to the exit lane only to have the puddle swallow the car whole. Most of the time, it catches the drivers off guard, and they'll hit their brakes suddenly. Hydroplaning plus braking = bad move.

I prefer no rain, but I prefer rain to no snow, and I pick rain over drought. So, let's all do the rain dance, and hope for more moderate rain conditions, and continued rainfalls! #yayforrain.

On the topic of rain and driving, if you don't know how to drive, STAY OFF the road! =D Thanks, you're saving lives.

Mar 12, 2012

I've been having writer's block. I'm not even entirely sure what that means, but I cannot seem to put any thoughts on paper, or more correctly, have any thoughts worth writing. I started writing something that I thought had sustenance, at first, and realized about three lines down that it was incoherent, and completely unworthy of reading, let alone writing. Random mumble jumble.

In the past few weeks, I decided to expand a little on my blogosphere, and "follow" other bloggers in hopes of inciting some sort of inspiration from these blogs - fashion, fitness, whatever interests spark my attention at the moment. Instead of finding inspiration from them, I realized I soaked up most of the random blogs for no more than the pictorials they presented, I barely paid any attention to the ramblings, and for the few entries that I did care to read, I found them deprived of any real substance, other than a few pretty lines, of what they thought artistic.

Speaking of art, I'm finding it rather annoying that every other self-proclaimed "fashionista" finds it necessary to start a blog on their "unique" style.

And let's talk about the need to photo-journalize the blogs with pictures, as though the subjects themselves were models. Are they all secretly hoping to become some web-sensation, like Michelle Phan and her make-up tutorials, or Tavi Gevinson and her style weblog, StyleRookie?? And where are they finding the time, and the people to take pictures of their clothes? Significant others, with a sch'many camera and no other hobby but to take photographs with so much lighting that you can't tell if the sun behind the back were intentional, or an accident, and then post-edit them in photoshop?? Any noob with slight artistic ability, a camera, and the common sense to hit the shoot button could come up with the shots they take. At least these earlier models were doing what truly inspired them, and not following what has already been popularized.

I almost think of this like mobile truck food. A few years ago, the idea would have been revolutionary, and those that started making cupcakes, amazing. Then you have dessert trucks popping up everywhere, and anyone looking to go into the business now... well, that ship's already sailed.

I mean besides a cry for attention, and wanting to seem like the next It-girl, these fashion blogs are entertaining for the various perspectives, but there are so many, and more often than not, far too similar to be original. I mean, is this really how society has become - devoid of originality, and innovation... ? Maybe that's what IS, a society that thrives on copying what others before us have created, making it only slightly better, but better nonetheless, eventually leading us to innovation, because out of sheer luck, some genius happens upon it, and sees it all anew. Maybe.

I know, I have some generic blog template, with some defunct default photo... and here I am talking about originality. Go figure.

Mar 9, 2012

Why do I do this to myself?

See what looks like a black head, and SQUEEZE.

Result? A pimple in its wake.

Now it looks like I'm just breaking out, everywhere. And what really happened was I prodded, and poked when I should have just left it all alone - because there wasn't anything there to begin with...

Maybe this is my personality. I go looking for what's not there, prodding at things that are perfectly fine, and end up finding things I'm not looking for. Last night, for instance, my boyfriend forgot to mention that he had a hockey game. I'm about 10 minutes from his house, before he realizes to send me a text. I mean, he really did forget, and what did I do? Held it against him, and got upset.

In the grand scheme of things, there was nothing to be mad about. Sure, I was under-dressed for the rink, but I had a change of clothes in my sleepover bag. I pride myself in being versatile with things like long versus short hair, and the idea of "hair grows back" when someone seriously messes it up. I see that as an indication of how I view life - a good way to view life. Yet, here I am upset over something so minute. It was not even intentional - but I continued to be upset, and wanted him to know it. Really, all I wanted was to spend the rest of the night with him, and it didn't even really matter what we were doing - I also love going to his games, love watching him play, and love that he continues to do what he loves... so hockey wasn't an issue. At the end of the night, I had a great time. Why did I even fuss about it?

... maybe it was just me wanting him to myself. Hockey meant watching him, being there for support. I wanted actual face time, conversation - not me watching him from afar. Maybe that's it.

Mar 7, 2012

In writing my monologue yesterday, I am reminded again that I am very lucky to have what I have. I had always had this false impression of what being in a relationship was suppose to be like. I thought that every obstacle that I encounter had to be endured, even if I suffered. This is not to say that relationships do not come with their complications, but not all are meant to be endured.

I really struggled in my last relationship. And the worst part is that I was constantly told that all relationships were going to be the same. If I couldn't endure, I would never find one that would make me happy.

I can say now that my thinking was incorrect, for me, and I am and will forever be grateful for whatever made me realize this. I know that true happiness, true love is unconditional. It doesn't stop because you are angry. I know there are people out there who feel, or felt, the way that I did, and most will never come away from it the way that I did, and will settle with the false idea that they are truly happy. To those, I feel sorry, because they will never know what it really feels like.

Thank you, babe, for making me see and feel what I always thought would only be true in the storybooks.

Mar 6, 2012

I haven't talked at any length about THE love of my life. I guess it's for fear that despite this being a blog out on the intraweb, someone I know will happen upon it, and piece it all together. Maybe even begin to read it religiously, and know every detail of my thoughts and opinions of everything I consider important. While it's been nice to shield even my most sacred thoughts from myself on a blog that I'm sure only a few people care to read, I have found that despite having found a "home" here for five years, details of every encounter I've had with him are vague and cryptic. So much so that even I have a hard time recalling what had happened. I regret not having been open here, so that I can recount the details, every emotion, every feeling that I had.

I suppose to keep with the tradition of maintaining some vagueness, I'll refer to him as "JC".

JC and I met years ago.

I had fallen off the wagon of wanting to go out to socialize, and partying was something of a thing of the past; but I had been "talking" to this guy (disclaimer: not JC) I had never met, but was "introduced" to via an older co-worker, and things were going stale. In all of my attempts to get this person to meet me, I felt dejected, and hopeless.

I guess this is where I should say that I've always been a hopeless romantic. I had read all of those Babysitter's Club books, and watched far too many romantic movies to be good for me. I had a false sense of how a girl was suppose to behave, if there even was a way, and I believed, whole-heartedly, that I was a confident, independent young woman. My parents, mother, specifically, had forbidden I date until I at least graduated from college, so for the duration of high school, I talked to boys in secret. Nothing more serious than a few dates to the movies, because that was the thing to do. I dated one boy, and he was serious enough only to let him pick me up for his Senior prom, to meet my mom, etc. Even that didn't last very long.

When I was finally let loose in college, I went semi-boy crazed, I guess part of me wanted to make up for all of the experiences everyone else had in high school, except I went about it all wrong. I chased boys, and became overly-obsessed, and usually, drove them away. I was forward, but always sheepish, and more often than not misread any signs of friendship as genuine/potential interest.I had always been opinionated, but behaved as though I was demure, and lady-like in hopes of attracting some prospective date. I was almost always too aggressive, too fast, and was always too many steps ahead, when I had only just gotten a phone call, or a hint of interest. I was of no good use to myself, but I continued on this way for years.

Months into my first job, this guy that I met had me feeling hopeless also made me realize that I shouldn't be sitting around waiting, hoping, pushing for someone to like me... especially not if I had tried for months already, so when my good friend invited me to his birthday party bus extravaganza, I readily agreed to go along with a few female buds.

I met JC for the first time this night, April of 2007. I remember a distinct attraction. Maybe it was the alcohol, the slight intoxication, the sway of the music, and the dimmed club lights, but whatever it was... I was attracted to him. And for the night, he to me. I didn't go back to the bus that night with him though, but a friend... his friend. I was disappointed, and years later, I would find that he, too, shared this feeling. Days go by, and I would eventually find him on Facebook, message him, and we would go on a number of dates.

Our recollection of these events are sketchy at best, I remember our date at the local National Park, acting upon spur of the moment feelings, and feeling very uncomfortable with it at the same time. I still remember feeling very rushed, and whatever it was between us to be too serious, too soon. I remember a drive we took to the marina, parking along the waterfront, and talking, and feeling a sense of disappointment that this guy who claims an attraction wouldn't kiss me, because of his religious beliefs. I, also, remember going back to his grandma's house, and sitting on this old Chinese styled living room sofa set, feeling very uncomfortable knowing his grandma was upstairs, yet he had wanted to kiss me, then. It was how every date should have been, but I was plagued by his past. My younger brother's good friend. Him. Two years of intimacy. The break up was only a few months before. I'm not sure what I was looking for... approval, validation, excuses?? I took the passive aggressive route.

Soon after I found out about our connection to his past, I was reluctant to go on any further dates with him. I never told him why, but each time he asked, I had some excuse for why I was busy. After the third attempt, I received an email from him (neither of us have any evidence of this email - why? He sent the email to my work from his work), essentially telling me that he didn't think it was going to work. The same generic, we're two different people, it's not you, it's me sad story. Of course, at the time, I knew that I had rejected him, three consecutive times, and his email was just weird, and untrue. I left it at that. I would hear from him again a couple of months later, when he turned away from his church, but not for another two years.

Two years go by, the guy that got me to go out that fateful night 2 years before was on the outs with me. He and I had gone out soon after JC and I went on a few brief dates... maybe I never let it go, and maybe JC and I didn't work out because I was already mentally taken with someone who did not seem to reciprocate. This other guy and I eventually started dating. Maybe I settled, maybe I didn't...I don't know anymore. We had been dating close to a year and a half by this time, but he was angry with me, and had decided to give me the silent treatment. A one month silent treatment, no emails, no text messages, no phone calls. Not a peep. And we lived about two hours apart. The same good friend had his birthday party, out at the club, as per usual, and he invited me out. I hadn't been out with the guys in a while, and decided that if my then boyfriend were to treat me this way, I wasn't going hole myself up just because... so I went. There was JC, again. Just as attractive as ever, and I was still just as taken by him. Or maybe it was the provocative: I had a boyfriend that was ignoring me, and here's this guy giving me the time of day. We had no more than a few brief moments together when he tried to persuade me to go to the dance floor with him, but I was reluctant. I was certain, even until recently that he had been with someone that night, and that somehow we were both wrong. He sent a greeting over Gmail, but nothing more came of our brief encounter.

Maybe it's coincidence, maybe it's fate. Whatever it was, skip ahead another two years, and that same boyfriend and I are on the outs, again. After three and a half years, I realized that it was never going to work out. I was no longer willing to settle, and feeling the way that I did most of the time really sucked. I was in a relationship with someone I was not all too attracted to, I had admittedly cheated on him, twice - under the influence. It was no excuse for having done it, and I realized that if I had really wanted to be in the relationship, my mind would not wander, I would not find myself not wanting to be touched, to be held... there was no intimacy left. When we slept in bed together, I distinctly recall always asking him to stay on his side, this went on for months. I was repulsed. I was easily angered, and always found a reason to be mad. By the end of it, I had gone from talking to him a couple of times during the week, to not at all, only with occasional texts, and those texts were only to ask when he would come the next day. I started to feel tasked for having to drive to see him, and a constant waste of my time, and I was extremely agitated by it. I reached a point where I was no longer willing to accept that this was as good as it could be for me. I had given up on the idea of love, as told in the stories, the movies, long ago... or at least, I had convinced myself that I didn't believe in the storybook romances, but deep down, I think I knew that love wasn't suppose to be like this. And even if giving it all up meant being alone, I was finally okay with it.

It took two specific individuals telling me that they expected me to be in the same sad situation a year from that day. Driving the relationship into the ground. Two days later, I broke up with him. For good.

Maybe by now, it'll sound like I've convinced myself this is fate. I was only two weeks out of the relationship, and feeling free, and for the first time like a heavy weight had been lifted. I loved it... I was ready to have fun... no strings, no commitments... and I wanted to stay this way for a while. Little did I know what was in store.

That same good friend is having another birthday celebration. At the club, again. I had not been out as a single female, and I was ready to go play. Admittedly, I wanted to go to the club, find a random guy, and make out. All for fun, and all because I could, without guilt. I was on a mission. I went that night with four close friends, and when we arrived... the birthday boy was already drunk. And a random girl is grinding on him in public, at their VIP table. Curtains had to be pulled because they were getting it on. Most of us stand by the table, awkward at having witnessed it, but stay close by. Every pair up, and soon engage in catch-up conversations, and I end up standing by the group, talking to no one. My good friend paired up with JC. They're catching up, and to not leave her alone, I stay close by, but try to steer clear of him. I had been purposely avoiding JC for the past four years, minus the brief encounter in 2009... the weird email I received years before still weighed on me, and I was in no hurry to make friends... ever.

As the night wore on, some of the boys offered to buy my friends and I some drinks, so we head to the upstairs bar, and soon, I've taken 3-4 shots of something, and I'm slightly inebriated. JC, all the while, had been trying to get my attention, and in the midst of it all, grabs me and starts leading me away from everyone else. Soon, we're in a corner balcony away from everyone else. The conversation is a blur to me now, I may or may not have expressed that he and I getting together would not be wise, considering we had done it before. I probably made excuses, and was genuinely against starting another anything with anyone so soon after my last serious relationship... PLUS everyone was against it. Everyone except him, and I apparently. I was still attracted, and with liquid courage I acted upon impulses that I otherwise would have not have.

And the rest is history.

What changed? We did. I did.

I had struggled for years to be happy with myself, my decisions, even if that meant going against what others liked, what my parents wanted. It took failing grades in college, a struggling relationship that was detrimental and emotionally abusive for me to realize that I am not my mother, and will not be. I did not grow up in traditional China in the 60s where abuse was endured to avoid public scrutiny. My mother had tried to reason with me, even ridiculed me for all of my failed relationships, chided me with taunts essentially telling me that I would end up alone if I couldn't just endure the hardships. She had convinced me for three years that if I failed at this relationship, I would surly fail in all others. I was not the ideal girlfriend, and not the type that any male would consider attractive - I was too crude, too quick to temper, and too opinionated for my own good. I believed it all, until I ended the relationship.

I no longer wanted to pretend to be someone I was not, I no longer jumped at every possibility. When I met JC again in 2011, I had reached a pinnacle in life, where I had accepted that I could potentially grow old... alone. And I was happy with that. As long as I was content with myself, I needed nothing else. For much of my life, I had convinced everyone, including myself, that I didn't want to get married, but I don't think I truly believed it. In the back of my mind, there was a timeline for when I should get married, when I would then need to get engaged, and how long I would need to date before any of that happened. The last relationship pushed me to accept that having that ideal strained any chance I had of finding true happiness, whether that be with someone, or simply with myself.

Initially, when JC started to contact me, I sent him responses, only enough to keep him interested. I never agreed to meet up with him, and when I found that he would be at events that I was attending, I would make sure everyone else knew to keep us apart. Or merely steer me away from him. It wasn't until he stopped contacting me that I decided to reach out. First it was midweek coffee... I was entirely uninterested, topics of conversation were random and to the onlooker, weird. I called him a couple of times just to see how quickly he would come over, and within two days, I already knew that should I continue engage him, it would be serious. I had an idea of who he was, and I knew myself... and I didn't see him and I getting into something... not serious. Just as soon as we met the fourth time, I made this clear to him.

Maybe it was the fact that I was so certain, or maybe that I had epiphanies about a future with him, and that included children. There were times, early, early on, where we would talk about our childhoods, and how we would raise our children when we grew old that made me really want this, with him. I really never felt that way with anyone else before. Thinking about it now, I would be missing out on a life of true happiness and genuine love for another person. Without first realizing my own faults, and failings, I would have never reached a point where I would appreciate the very things that once repulsed me... I remember feeling overwhelmed and very distant because here was this guy so certain that he wanted a relationship, and so strong/aggressive in his attempts that I became very removed. It took being in a relationship where it lacked intimacy, affection, and care for me to appreciate all of the qualities that initially turned me away from JC.

It'll be nine months in five days, and I am still as happy as ever, albeit some misunderstandings, but not once have I ever thought of being, or wanting to be, with anyone else. I love you, babe.