One
One word. No explanation.
1. Yourself: Nuts.
2. Your partner: Undiscovered.
3. Your hair: Black.
4. Your mother: Loving.
5. Your father: Solid.
6. Your favorite item: Pen.
7. Your dream last night: Forgotten.
8. Your favorite drink: Water.
9. Your dream car: Classy.
10. The room you are in: Office.
11. Your ex: Phony.
12. Your fear: Helplessness.
13. What you want to be in 10 years: Content.
14. Who you hung out with last night: Brother.
15. What you're not: Successful.
16. Muffins: YUM!
17: One of your wish list items: Confidence.
18: Time: Limited.
19. The last thing you did: Yawned.
20. What you are wearing: Clothes!
21. Your favorite weather: Cool.
22. Your favorite book: Touching.
23. The last thing you ate: Hamburger.
24. Your life: Routine.
25. Your mood: So-so.
26. Your best friend: Busy!
27. What you're thinking about right now: Supernatural.
28. Your car: None.
29. What you are doing at the moment: Grading.
30. Your summer: Sticky.
31. Your relationship status: Spinster.
32. What is on your TV: Huh?
33. What is the weather like: Nippy.
34. When was the last time you laughed: Earlier.
35. One of your worst traits: Impatience.
Final thought: Added one there at the end.
Dreams have a deeper meaning, right?
Had another strange Jensen Ackles-themed dream last night. He was driving us somewhere (yes, even in my dreams I'm chauffered around), and we got into an argument over something I can't recall. I got so mad I turned to get out of the car, but he grabbed my arm and started kissing me. I start yelling, "What the heck are you doing? You're gonna get us killed!", but it turns out we're stalled at an intersection or a red light or something and there aren't any other cars around. Which is good, coz after that point, the dreams veers off into decidely adult territory. Geez. I think it's the pressure of realizing it's only a few weeks till the end of the semester and one of my classes is super, super behind. We missed two classes and they are refusing a make-up session, with the consequence being they are now forging on with their interview project with their sails at half-mast. Meaning, they only have the foggiest idea of what they're doing and of course, it's partially my fault (not wholly, coz the reason we lost the classes was coz their old teach didn't finish grading their presentations last time and foisted it off on me and coz they had to go to some sporting event required by their faculty). So, yeah, it's bothering me. And when I'm bothered, I go the kinky route with whatever happens to be in my head at the moment and what's in my head at the moment is Jensen Ackles. Or actually, Dean Winchester, coz in the dream, I distinctly saw Dean's necklace. Also in my head are worries that I will never get a freakin' driver's license (damn parallel parking to hell!), that perhaps I'm a tad bit emotional (that getting out of a car thing at an intersection? Been there, done that) and I am obsessing a bit too much over Supernatural. Hit the blend button and voila! There' s my dream. Not that it was overly unpleasant (I mean, come on...it was Dean Winchester. In a car), but I know myself well enough to know that when dreams like this come a-knockin', there's something more than meets the eye in my life. And I'll be darned if I have any idea what it is, aside from work-related stress, which to be honest, isn't all that serious. At least, I don't think it is. Then again, sometimes my body seems to know stress better than my brain. Like, when I was in Hong Kong for Christmas. Third day into the trip, I get this debilitating stomachache. It doesn't go away until we touch back down in Bangkok and I'm with my parents. My mother notes that I always get some kind of ailment when I'm away from home for more than a few days. I think it has something to do with feeling out of control. That always stresses me. Hmmm, that sounds like it needs more analysis. Anyhow, gotta go. Got some stuff to finish up so I can have brunch with Goldfinger tomorrow without the strain of undone work hoveirng over me.
Final thought: Still not complaining about the Dean dreams. 
Messiness
My boss called me today while I was out having lunch with my folks. I've had two extraordinarily busy weekends, so it was great to just kick back and relax for once. Turns out he needed me to go down to the station and record a spot - or actually, more specifically. a bit of aural filler. All I had to do was say "If you would like more information, call so-and-so number". It took me under five minutes. Of course, afterwards I got to survey the office and geez, I was just there yesterday and it's already a freakin' pigsty. Don't wanna sound sexist, but I think part of the reason is its two main weekend residents are of the male persuasion. The only girl on staff, I gather, works solo next door. Ugh, and that gives them free reign to trash the place like two punk rock stars in a five-star hotel. Shiver. There's always a mini-landfill in the trashcan come Monday mornings. How do civilized people exist in such self-induced squalor? Yet another of life's many mysteries.
Final thought: Haven't they ever heard that cleanliness is next to Godliness?
Preferences for the male species
Hahaha, I found this on Bzoink while I was taking a much-needed break from correcting assignments I swear if I see another "The habitats that support biological diversity are lost by the loss of forest", or similar, I might scream. We're doing cause and effect right now, and I spent a full ten minutes going on about how sentences that begin with "because" or "because of" are unacceptable in academic writing, and can you believe it? It still showed up in like eighteen separate workbooks! Sigh. If it wasn't funny, I'd cry. Anyhow, was goofing around and found this survey - it's actually about qualities in a girl, but the questions aren't gender-specific, so here goes.
What you prefer in a guy....
1. What's the first thing you look for? Signs of animate life!
2. What's your biggest turn-on? A really, horrifically, amazingly big...intellect.
3. What's your biggest turn-off? Arrogance.
4. Hair color? Any, as long as it's not white (no offense, I'm not into much older guys).
5. Hair length? Again, no preference.
6. Eyes? Gee, I'm just not that hung up on physical appearances.
7. What stereotype? Romantic nerd.
8. Cute or sexy? Sexy, definitely.
9. Quiet or outgoing? Smooth blend of both, to complement me.
10. Good kisser or good at "other stuff"? Pass, LOL.
11. Athletic or poetic? Poetic, natch.
12. Body type? Any, as long as he doesn't make me look larger than usual.
13. Short or tall? Taller than me, please. I wanna be able put my head on his chest.
14. Short dating relationship or a long, serious one? Well, that all depends, doesn't it?
15. Experienced or inexperienced? Experienced enough to be able to take the lead.
16. Looks or personality? Personality...and I don't mean he should think he's a cactus or try to cook bacon on his head or something, but he shouldn't be as bland as white bread.
17. Younger or older? Not too much either way!
18. Deal maker? Ability to recite at least one season line-up of The X-Files and/or capable of writing a song centered on yours truly.
19. Deal breaker? Dissing my family.
20. Could pass as which celebrity's twin? Jensen Ackles, LOL, with a little Darren Hayes thrown in. Or, if really hard-pressed, Zach Braff with a little less slacker eyes.
Final thought: I suppose when the time comes though, I'll toss all my lists out the window.
Even when you think life is routine...
Had a nice chat with Goldfinger yesterday evening. Our lives are so routine nowadays. I'm not complaining, I enjoy routines. Never was one for dealing with unpredictable events. Howwever, things are never as fixed as I hope. Turns out we both didn't make it to the Chula-Thammasat traditional soccer game. He was busy churning out his thesis proposal and I was stuck at a two-day workshop on lesson planning. Even in routines, life can get off-track. Ah, how the best-laid plans oft do go awry. Hopefully, next year we'll both have time for stuff like that. Our routines then will hopefull give us more leeway.
Final thought: The only predictability is unpredictability.
The attack of my inner fangirl
Had an...interesting dream featuring Jensen Ackles last night. As this blog is already pushing the limits of PG-13, I won't go into details (cue wicked grin), but suffice to say, it was NC-17. I think I've yet to have a non-$3% dream about Jensen Ackles aka snarky, smoldering, supernatural phenomena busting Dean Winchester from my newest fave show Supernatural. He really inspires that aspect, doesn't he? Had a Tru Calling-themed dream a while back, and there was nothing vaguely sexual about it, coz although Eliza Dushku is a beautiful woman, she's got one too many X chromosomes to be my type. God, but as one magazine put it, Jensen just exudes this animal quality that makes it hard to think about anything but that. For me, at least. The man is not just extremely hot, oh no, nothing as banal as that. He is rip-roaring, raging, burning white-hot hot...(disappears into a Jensen-induced coma for the next five minutes)...okay, now that I have thoroughly embarrassed myself and exhausted my supply of adjectives to describe a conflagration, I'll get to the point. So, I have this dream, and I decide I totally need a Jensen fix. Since the Supernatural season one reruns are way past my bedtime, I go online and YouTube it for my fix. And can you believe what I discovered? A clip of Jensen Ackles singing! At a wedding! Very well! Okay, so he was actually harmonizing, and you actually only see that it's him in like the first five seconds of the clip, but my God. Chills, major chills. My stomach did a tiny somersault, and then it just completely flipped over in awe. That boy can sing! I was floored and am now completely in love with the song Crazy Love, from Van Morrison. So of course, that started the search for more Jensen singing and tada! There he is, in a season two moment, giving REO Speedwagon a run for their money, crooning Can't Fight this Feeling Anymore and making me swoon something awful. Seriously, beautiful people have got to leave something for the cosmetically different to excel at. The boy can act, the boy can sing, the boy can pose...what's left for us non-gorgeous folk? Pie-baking? Competitive eating? Scrimshaw? Oh, well, I can't stay upset too long with this sexy specimen of humanity. Oh my Lord, I am officially the biggest, most high school, most pathetic fangirl that ever lived. Forgive me for temporarily converting my blog into a mini-shrine to the man who portrays Dean Winchester. I promise you it's not permanent, by any means, but I just need to see those chiseled features a bit more than usual. I get that way when I'm under stress. (And if you're reading this and going, "What? I don't see any pictures of the guy", then know I've already taken it all down. Breathe a sigh of relief.) Also, I don't usually post addresses to things, but I have just got to share the clip of Jensen singing. He's doing backup for Jason Manns, and yes, I'm more than a bit biased, but he sounds amazing. If you're interested, here you go: Voila! Okay, okay, enough gushing. Sorry for anyone searching for a post on something relevant. My deepest apologies, but everyone's gotta have their teen nuttiness moments, right?Final thought: Stress does a strange thing to a person's sleep cycle, like introducing sexy celebrities into them. Hey, no complaints here!
A sensitive issue
Why is so hard to find sensible underwear? Okay, turn away now if the subject of women's undergarments makes you squeamish, coz that's my rant for this post. Still with me? It's like, all you can find are thongs and bikini-cut briefs and other panties that are great if a) you don't want a visible panty line (according to something I once read, it's the "dreaded VPL") or b) someone is actually going to see your unmentionables. Neither of which are particularly great concerns of mine. I just want something - God forbid - normal. Something that goes on under your skirt or pants. That's it. I should have a choice of underwear that doesn't make me feel like I've given myself a wedgie or comes in a package labeled (gasp!) crotchless. What the hell? Okay, I may be naive or dumb, or possibly both, but I never understood the logic behind crotchless panties. Why wear anything at all then? Full briefs. In cotton. Or lycra. Or a blend. Is that too much to ask? Sensible, like I enjoy my shoes.
Final thought: I'm all for nice underthings, but most of the time, I just want comfort. Dental floss just won't cut it.
Three's a charm
Whenever I teach writing, I'm constantly telling my students - "three's a charm". Three paragraphs, three examples, three, three, three. And it really is. Something about the number three that seems to endow it with some strange psychological magic. At any rate, it's the focus of my list today, adapted from one I found over at Bzoink (getting to be one of my new fave sites).
Three things I love:
1. Family (this includes close friends).
2. The color black.
3. Italian sausage on my pizza.
Three things I hate:
1. Arrogance (not a good color on anyone).
2. People who leave their cell phone on in inappropriate situations.
3. Thai public transportation, especially at six in the evening.
Three things that scare me:
1. Having nothing to do.
2. Not being able to do something I ought to be able to.
3. Being swindled.
Three people who make me laugh:
1. Myself! (hahaha)
2. My brother, definitely.
3. Goldfinger, especially when he can't pronounce a word.
Three things I understand:
1. How you can love someone and not have to be with them.
2. That anger can be a balm.
3. How the wise learn quickly to keep their mouths shut.
Three things I don't understand:
1. Politics. At all.
2. How they got those pennies into those tiny little bottles.
3. How some people can be so dumb you wonder how they don't stab themselves with their forks while eating.
Three things I can do:
1. Roll my tongue.
2. Cook scrambled eggs.
3. Type in Thai (albeit quite slowly. Okay, pretty darn slow, but I can do it!)
Three things I can't do:
1. Forgive and forget. I can do the forgiving, but I can't forget.
2. Touch type. Yeah, still can't do it after all these years.
3. Parallel park.
Final thought: Yes, three's definitely a charm.
Ownership issues
Been finding money lately. Oh, not much, one or two baht there, fifty satang here - amounts to maybe a cent, at the most. I remember how as a kid, my brother was always finding money. One of my aunts said it was because in a past life, he was a pirate, and the money he found was simply his treasure being returned to him. Intriguing theory, but once I got older, I realized that if that were a sound proposal, my brother wouldn't be the one finding money - it would be the people he stole the money from. Coz, after all, wouldn't it be theirs rightfully? Course, ownership is a hard thing to prove sometimes. If my parents buy a car, but I drive it and pay for the gas, is it technically theirs or mine? Since they bought it and they have all the legal papers, then it could be construed as theirs. But I'm the one who uses it, and cleans it and fusses over it - if I do all these things, does it become mine by default? And on a completely different hand, since eventually all of my parents' money and belongings (which are not claimed by taxes) will be mine, then does that mean the car was mine to begin with and all these ownership questions are moot? Moving from inanimate objects to relationships - okay, so I know that "owners" and "possessions" don't exist in relationships - but metaphorically speaking, when you love someone, you belong to them, don't you? You say to someone, "I am your girl (or guy)", meaning you love them and pledge yourself to them only. Does it work like that though? Just because you love someone, can they automatically lay claim to you? Who belongs to whom, then? Do you belong to each other? Or should the whole idea of ownership in relationships simply be tossed out? I'm sorry if this post has offended anyone, but it's just something I've been thinking about. You see, when I was in love (was? who am I kidding?), I knew well and truly that my heart was out of my possession. I was his, completely. His girl, first and foremost, and my family and friends' girl next, and society's, and last and least of all, my own. I've only now begun to reclaim bits and pieces of myself, and it's an arduous and frustrating process, but that's what happens when you give your emotions away to someone unworthy. Something to ponder for Monday.
Final thought: Ownership can be a b*tch sometimes.
Those who loved are damned
P'Noung (who used to study in the same program with me), lent The Kite Runner to me and it is brilliant. There is no other word for it. Reading the first paragraph reminded me of how I felt when I started Memoirs of a Geisha. I got this sense of "Whoa, this is major". I think every good book makes you do that, gives you goosebumps, makes you actually stop and say, "My God!" There's just so much beauty in Khaled Hosseini's words - it's the kind of beauty that makes you want to cry, like watching the snow fall. Lovely, but melancholy at the same time. It tells the story of a privileged Afghan boy named Amir and how he spends his entire life trying to win the attention and affection of his powerful father, called Baba - and ultimately, what he sacrifices to this end. Key to the plot is his friendship with his servant, Hassan, a dedicated boy who practically worhsips the ground Amir walks on. This is the paragraph that struck me the most:
...he would remind us that there was a brotherhood between people who had fed from the same breast, a kinship that not even time could break.
Hassan and I fed from the same breasts. We took our first steps on the same lawn in the same yard. And, under the same roof, we spoke our first words.
Mine was Baba.
His was Amir. My name.
Looking back on it now, I think the foundation for what happened in the winter of 1975 - and all that followed - was already laid in those first words.
There are a lot of themes in the book, but for me, that paragraph epitomizes that one that was the most potent to me - the damning effects of love. Sometimes, you care so much about someone, you lose yourself and when you find yourself again, you may not like the discovery. I was like that, for a long while, and then I woke up, and it hurt, but I got over it. Slowly. Painfully. But finally. When a bond is forged, there is no pain, but when it's broken...there's blood, there's tears, there's anger...it's a messy, messy process. There's nothing beautiful about it. Which is kinda what this book says...but I'm giving too much away. If you're looking for an engaging read, I highly recommend it - The Kite Runner, by Khaled Hosseini. Brilliant. It's now on my top ten list.
Final thought: Another wonderful quote - "And that's the thing about people who mean everything they say. They think everyone else does too." Khaled Hosseini, The Kite Runner
If you believe...
It's Wednesday. Someone once told me it's called "Hump Day" (don't giggle!), because you had to jump over it to get to that magical last part of the week. Well, I'm a-jumping. I'm not very tired, not yet really, but I'm getting there. I think that if I keep thinking to myself - I'm not tired, I'm not tired, I'M NOT TIRED - I might be able to stave off fatigue. That and going to bed at nine like a third-grader. Ah, the power of positive thinking.
Final thought: I'm not tired...ooh, I think it's working.
I hate my housekeeper
Just got off the phone with Miko. Found out online last night from Monika she's back in Thailand. I am so totally out of the loop. Anyhow, we chatted - she's going to be putting in a six-day work week at one of Bangkok's swankier hotels. For no money. Sounds like abuse to me, hahaha. But she's more than capable. If anyone can take stuff stoically, it's Miko. God, I miss my friends, especially my best friend. I have a photo of the two of us posted on a tagboard above my computer. Finished "renovating" my space last night. Tied a bow to my computer (it's cute, it makes it a girl computer, hahaha). Cleared up all the clutter. Put up a new photo, a collage and a poem I like from Pablo Neruda. All very nice. Heard that it's good to surround yourself with positive energy if you want to affect positive change. Reorganized my clothes. My clothes are a sore point at the moment. I recently bought a whole new bunch of tops, and I'm one of those people who needs her things washed before she'll wear them. All these had to be handwashed by my housekeeper. Well, she ruined like five of them. There are three very noticeable stains on one, dark spots all along another and just random griminess over the rest - I am so mad. She always does this. I mean, it's not like this is the first time this has happened. She's just lazy. I have told her before, and so has my mom, that if it's new clothing, and she's uncertain if the color will run or not, to wash them separately. But coz she's a laze, she doesn't. She has like four jobs to do (she doesn't even have to cook), which all get finished before noon and she's still lazy? She's messed up a few t-shirts before, one I liked especially - mostly, I let it go, because they were pretty old and I can just wear them around the house. But these are all new items, which I took time and effort to pick out and purchase. And where the heck am I going to wear them now? I am seriously fumed, but I bet it's a lost cause. My parents are too nice to make anyone pay for anything, especially if it's their own stupidity and laziness.
Final thought: Oh, my that last bit wasn't positive at all, was it?
Caught up
Talked to Goldfinger today. He has an exam tomorrow. He's also working on his thesis right now. Ugh, seems like only yesterday I was freaking out over mine and look at me now, baby! Yippee! It's over. Sometimes, I still have to pinch myself to make sure I'm not just dreaming. Talked for a long spell about our holidays and caught up on our lives. I'm been so busy we haven't really talked in awhile, it was nice to catch up. His faculty only has seven students. It's hilarious. I've given them all nicknames, coz, really, who could resist with only seven people? Like, went to visit him this one time in class, and there was this one chick who was all, "Are you guys a couple?" God, could she be any more nosy? So I call her Overly-Eager Chick, and other variations. Didn't her mother ever teach her to mind her own business?
Final thought: Goldfinger was actually listening to a Savage Garden song when I called. Are we on the same wavelength or what?
Nasty, dirty habits
I really want a hamburger. A big, juicy, beefy hamburger. With fries. Don't know why, just do. Sometimes I wonder if my quality of life would improve if I became a vegetarian. Or at least gave up red meat. Course I can't. I tried living two weeks without meat and ended up eating a ton of eggs. Or rather, not can't, but I find it exceedingly difficult. Just been wondering about all the bad little habits I have, and wondering how many of them I can actually do something about. Biting my nails - well, that's almost a lost cause, I've been doing it since I was a kid. Swearing - that's only really become a problem recently, so maybe there's hope yet. Soda addiction, being loud, constantly fishing for attention - I suppose it's possible to tackle them. Hey, that's what a new year is for, right?
Final thought: God, I could go for a burger.
The Attempt
In ancient times, one of the cures proposed for mental illness was removal of the patient from his or her family. Makes perfect sense to me. Don't get me wrong - I love, love, love my family. They are my everything. But sometimes...ugh. It's as though they purposely set out to sabotage you. You resolve to do something to better yoruself, and they either thwart your plans or ridicule you to the point that you abandon your goal. It's as though they're so used to the old, flawed you, they unconsciously keep you from changing. It's frustrating, to say the least. I don't think they know what they're doing, so I guess I just have to deal with it, if anything is going to be better. Not that my life is awful, or anything, but things need improvement. I don't know, but it's two days into the new year and I am determined there are going to be changes in my life - if not major, then by God, minor. Emotions-wise, definitely. I am sick of being an emotional punching bag. I am sick of being a doormat, of playing second fiddle, of being everything but first. I am sick of feeling that I have to either scream or cry all the time. I have to break out of my role of the loyal pet, the animal that no matter how much you physically and verbally abuse it, it just whimpers and stays by your side. I have to believe that I am worth more than that, or I am doomed to an existence of anger and sadness. I know this is a pretty negative view to take of myself, but I'm living my life more realistically, and this is the truth. I feel like I've been drowning, and no one has bothered to try to save me. And why should they, if I am perfectly capable of rescuing myself? I just haven't attempted it. This is the year then. This is the year, and this is me - attempting to save myself. Who knows if it'll work out, but trying is worth something.
Final thought: Sometimes all you can do is try.
Danger all around
It's a new year. The celebrations here in Bangkok didn't get off to quite such a great start. Just hours before we started counting down the old year, bombs detonated all over Bangkok. One went off right at the bus stop I wait at when I go to school. Suffice to say, people were and are freaked. It's so surreal. This is not the Thailand I know. There is something dreadfully wrong about hearing the word "bomb" connected with the place you live. Shudder. I said a quick prayer for everyone. I'm saying a prayer for myself. This is the Year of the Boar, my year. It's the year I want to dedicate to cultivating willpower. I have so precious little of it. I have to stop making empty threats, because once you do that, you become...pathetic. And I don't like being pathetic. At any rate, I'm off to sleep coz I gotta work tomorrow. Hope everyone else is having a brilliant new year.
Final thought: Wishing for a peaceful, safe Year of the Boar.