joannasoldout's Xanga

Monday, March 17, 2008

Mon, 17 Mar 2008 02:29:04 GMT

10pm is my second favorite hour of the day. I'm an early riser, which means I'm also an early sleeper. So ten o'clock means curling under blankets with minty fresh breath and cold toes (having suffered 1 minute flossing + 2 minutes brushing + 2 minutes face washing = 5 minutes fidgeting on cruel, cold bathroom tile), half-paying attention to whatever book is in my lap, while waiting for him to come out of the bathroom, turn the lights off and kiss me good night.

Tonight, the ritual's a little different. He's not here, because he's stuck in the office. Again. Third night in a row, and your guess is as good as mine whether he's even making it home at all. (To my multi-paragraph "Are you coming home?" e-mail, the only response I got was "I love you, talk later.")

And while I miss him and worry that he's working too hard, I can't help but appreciate the calm in the air. It's the kind of stillness that only happens when you're alone. When the ticking of the clocks gets louder and louder until it's almost unbearable. And time - normally a crazy torrent that sweeps you away with no concern for where you want to go - slows down to a trickle.

Drip, drip, drip.

--

When you look back at the past ten or twenty years of your life, what are the major markers that you use to divide up that time? I guess the standard ones would be a graduation, a new job, the beginning or end of a relationship. It's funny, how it's easy to note the moments of change, but harder to remember the filling stuff that happened in between.

Even silly things, like I don't remember what I did for my 22nd or 23rd birthdays. But I remember my 21st (doesn't everyone?) and my 24th (it was 10 days after I lost my brother). And then it gets fuzzy again...

It's also funny, how the markers change as you change. A friend of mine this weekend was telling me how it used to be about boyfriends for her. "When I dated this guy," or "after I broke up with that guy." But now, having been out of school for several years, it was shifting to jobs. And then, we anticipated, it will be weddings. And then children... and then- ?

--

Paul finally, actually, officially got down on one knee this week.

Nevermind I'd already bought him his wedding band (of his choosing, from this little jewelry shop when we were in Germany last month) (And then mock-proposed to him all over Berlin). And nevermind that I'd already seen the ring ("THE ring!") a month ago; only reason I hadn't been wearing it sooner was because it was too big and had to be resized.

So, point is, I can't imagine he was too nervous about what my answer would be.

But nevertheless, there he was, goofily asking me that question I guess every girl dreams of getting asked - though without the goofy part. And I'd answered with just as much silliness, thinking about how absurd this tradition was in the context of our relationship. But here we were, playing it out anyway.

--

What amused me further, was watching myself (like it was an out-of-body experience or something) feel compelled to change my relationship status on facebook the next day. I guess it was my modern-day, efficient, low-key, instant-gratification way to announce the happy news to the world...

And it was so unexpected and lovely, the bombardment of "congratulations" I received from friends, many whom I had not spoken to in years!

(And though I can't imagine myself sending out any kind of official engagement announcement, I thought it'd be fun to do "Save the date" notices featuring a big picture of our dog, saying, "Mommy and daddy said that by this time next year, I can't be called 'bastard' anymore. Please save the date and join us for cake!"... But Paul thought it was inappropriate and nixed that one. What a party pooper, eh?)

--

"A year and a half isn't really all that long to plan for a wedding," my best friend says today - not to be an alarmist, but because she's already planned three of 'em and she's being practical.

"Eek!" I think, already feeling time whisk me ahead, rushing me toward becoming "Mrs." and then to whatever else lies up ahead after that.

Drip, drip, drip.

I just want to savor this moment. And then the one after that. And then the one after that.

Wednesday, March 12, 2008

Wed, 12 Mar 2008 19:27:31 GMT

For all you LA people who have a secret crush on Spike Jonze (mine is not so secret, but I seem to be on the wrong side of the country!):

Wednesday, March 05, 2008

Wed, 05 Mar 2008 22:30:28 GMT

Whoa, leave xanga for a year or two and all of a sudden, it gets so fancy schmancy that you can't even figure out how to post an entry anymore... What's with all these icons?!

In any case. Hello there. I'm back... I think. I'm pretty sure of it. I've been gone for a while, but I missed you. (Yes, you!.. How ya doin?)

_____

I got the following forward from a co-worker yesterday and thought it was lovely. I guess I'm late by a day with this, but that's not so bad considering I'm that girl who mails out Christmas presents six months after everyone else has taken down their tree:

------ Forwarded Message ------

Date: Tue, 4 Mar 2008 09:14

March 4th?

Back in college I worked for a woman who received flowers for March 4th. After wrongfully guessing all the obvious reasons she received flowers, she went on to tell me about why March 4th has been an important holiday in her family for generations.

“It’s the one time a year the calendar instructs you to do something,” she said.

March forth.

While they celebrate it as their own special day, I’ve adopted it as my chance to change or start something I’ve been meaning to do but haven’t.

Each year I share this day and story with others, and each year I hear back from people declaring how they used today to march forth.

_____

It's not March 4th any more. But the sentiment was really beautiful, so I wanted to share it with you.

My boyfriend (well, technically, I guess he's not my b-f anymore, exactly, but I'm not one to throw the word "fiancee" around; it makes me feel funny... More on this whole fiasco /conundrum some other day) thought we should create our own holidays and celebrations. I quite liked that idea.

In college, my friend Caroline and I celebrated the 10 year anniversary since we'd met. We couldn't remember the exact date, so we just picked International Pi Day (3/14) as our personal BFF day and took ourselves out to dinner.

I think it'd be nice to designate a different day of celebration for each person in life I cherish. Maybe we should all take time to express our appreciation of each other, and help each other march forth throughout the year.

Tuesday, March 13, 2007

Tue, 13 Mar 2007 20:50:14 GMT

According to the Food Marketing Institute, meat was the most shoplifted item in America's grocery stores in 2005. Store detectives speculate that these meatlifters feel entitled to have steak instead of hamburger on occasion, as a reward for their hard work.

(from Slate.com)

Friday, December 08, 2006

Fri, 08 Dec 2006 15:23:31 GMT

There were so many brisk afternoons at the end of winter, at the end of my high school career, in which I didn’t want to go home. There was this ache in my heart that wouldn’t go away, kind of the way your stomach hurts when you haven’t eaten. Except I didn’t know what was wrong with me or how to fix it.

So at five in the morning, when I woke in a panic, I would call my best friend who was in college and undoubtedly up studying. She would stay with me until it was time to start the day, soothe me by simply being on the other line, relieving me of my unbearable solitude for at least a little while.

In the afternoons, I wandered from bookstores to malls to airports, trying to find some hope, some end to the darkness I harbored.

There was this one girl who was oftentimes party to my meanderings. I am not sure if she was aware of how much her companionship had meant, but nevertheless, she was always game to whatever it was I would suggest doing and I always appreciated her company.

Our brothers were the same age. We chatted about them over mocha lattes and biscotti in the same frivolous, dismissive way we talked about who got into what college and how good a kisser that one guy was whom we had both hooked up with on different occasions.

We wondered if they were friends, our brothers, but then dismissed that notion as well, since hers was kind of a skater punk (her words, not mine) and David was… well, he definitely wasn’t a skater punk….

She was never one of my best friends, but for some reason our lives always intersected.

We probably would not have communicated in college, except she ended up at the same place I was. So we would occasionally meet up for coffee. And then there was that one night things got a little crazy when she came with me to some launch party that a couple of people I knew were throwing. We flirted all night with two guys whose names were Mike and Mike, except I think she ended up going home alone and I didn’t….

After I graduated, we lost touch until she showed up to my brother’s funeral. I looked up, and there she was, hugging me (and I guess I finally got the answer to the question of whether our brothers had been friends). I was grateful that she’d been there – again, more than she probably realized.

We exchanged phone numbers and business cards. I cracked a grin and made some comment about how old we were getting. Who the hell would have imagined that we’d have business cards to exchange??

(And then, of course, we didn’t really communicate, though when I moved back to NY, I did find that business card crammed in a Diesel gym bag that I had given my brother for his high school graduation. I filed it away with the stack of business contacts and doctors’ numbers that I had piled up in the corner of my desk).

Then last year, the day that I closed on the little house I bought, Paul and I almost literally walked into her at the Ikea down on Delaware Ave in Philadelphia. We were walking in to buy some miscellaneous things, like a shower curtain and a garbage can, and there she was walking out, hand in hand with some guy whose name I now forget.

I yelled out to her and she turned around, looking surprised but pleased. She introduced me to her boyfriend as “Joanna, one of my best friends from high school.” This made me laugh, because it wasn’t completely true, but I thought it was awfully sweet of her to phrase it that way.

We exchanged phone numbers again. I politely pretended that I didn’t already have her number in my phone and took it down again.

And then, of course, I didn’t call. I was still too busy mourning and settling into the new life that I had hastily taken on.

I just found out two days ago that her brother had passed away last week. It was unexpected and cruel and unfair, and I could only imagine what she and her family were going through.

He was twenty-two, the same age David would have been, of course. He was two years older than my brother had been when he left - and still much, much too young to be taken so abruptly.

I picked up the phone a dozen times, trying to find the words, wondering if she would even want to hear from me, who probably could understand her pain better than most of the people around her. I couldn’t figure out if this made it better or worse.

I cried for her, remembering how the past two years have been for me, hoping that it would be at least a little easier for her (though of course, it never happens like that either). I cried for her parents and my own parents, the heart ache of having to bury their only sons, two boys who were tall and healthy and smart and had the rest of their lives before them.

And then I finally called her and told her the only things that I had wanted to hear – that I was thinking of her and sending her my love. (I know from first-hand experience that nothing can be said to make it better; you just have to be there).

Tuesday, August 15, 2006

Tue, 15 Aug 2006 15:00:48 GMT

Early Saturday morning, I was rubbing my eyes while standing in front of the closet and trying to figure out what to wear.

Normally, this whole process feels so cliche that I give up and throw on a pair of jeans and a tee-shirt without a second thought so I can get on with the rest of my day.

But I was forced to ponder because I had a rather unusual itinerary that day - I was supposed to attend a service at the Buddhist temple with my parents in the morning, immediately followed by a date with Paul and a co-worker at Hot Import Night in Shea Stadium (to gape at fast cars and faster girls - or so I've been told).

So I thought about it for a while and then decided that the best thing to wear would be a pair of jeans and a nice tee-shirt... so that's just what I did.

---

One of the best things about California, for me anyway, was the fact that so many people made the extra effort to get personalized license plates.

It's so kitschy and earnestly self-involved and funny all at once, isn't it?

My favorite was a lady whose license plate said "SOCLA-C" - just 'cause it was ironic and I didn't think she was meaning to be.

This weekend, I found some others that I like almost as much:

Though I think this is my absolute favorite:

---

While I didn't see as many hot half-naked girls as I was told about, it was still fun because:

a) I won this cute green t-shirt (the same one this girl is wearing below) by singing "ba-da-ba-ba-ba... I'm loving it" for the folks from McDonald's.

b) I took full advantage of the opportunity to take lots of blackmail pictures of my co-worker, Rodger.

c) I got a free trashy thong from these girls... and I didn't even have to sing this time!

d) I made some new friends to hang out with (hee hee!)

e) And lastly, I got to walk around holding hands with this guy. (He even came home with me afterwards!)

Thursday, August 03, 2006

Thu, 03 Aug 2006 15:39:09 GMT

My trip to LA's off, by the way.

They were nice enough to call me last night to tell me, right in the middle of me packing my bags.

So sorry, guys. I was really looking forward to it.

______________________________

My boyfriend has a cousin in Oregon who just got married last year.

When Paul was being introduced to the new Mrs, his cousin mentioned that he was the guy from New York he'd told her about, and she started laughing.

Apparently, what had stuck with his cousin from the last time he visited NY was that Paul staunchly refused to move aside for anyone when walking down the street because he was adamant that people needed to learn how to share the sidewalk. His cousin had found this both startling and amusing, especially coming from a small town in Oregon.

Paul eventually realized (I don't know if this was with or without my help - since I did point this out to him a few times, but maybe he came to his own conclusions?) that his actions weren't really teaching pedestrians to be more considerate; instead, he was only collecting dirty looks and curses muttered under the breaths of all the people he'd brushed by.

---

On Monday, I think I got hit with the brunt of the karmic ill-wishing that he's probably accrued over the years - quite literally.

A little after 6:30 this morning, Paul and I were walking the dog up 6th Ave. We were on our way to check out a doggie day care for Ketchup (I always questioned why people would feel compelled to spend gobs on money on having their pets babysat during the day, but now I completely and utterly understand).

A woman was walking rather quickly down the street towards us. All I remember is a blur of ugly lime green polka dot blouse, yellow pants (skirt? shorts? I don't remember) and sunglasses. I saw Paul move to the left with Ketchup, and I moved over to the right so that she could pass between us. I couldn't go any further right than I did, mind you, because there was a big building in my way.

I guess she decided it was too much effort to veer her course a few inches over to try to squeeze between us, because she basically slammed right into me. She checked me so hard that I immediately had tears come to my eyes (and my shoulder still hurts from the hit - it feels like I've been in a car accident).

A split second before it happened, I even saw her brace herself for the impact - in other words, it was definitely intentional - and then she didn't even look back, just kept on going her way.

"Excuse me," were the first words out of my mouth. And then an angry, "Hey, what the fuck was that?" to the back of her head as she scurried to her left and disappeared down 23rd, leaving me dazed and angry.

---

The fact that she hit/hurt me is annoying, but what really bothers me about the whole incident is that it was done so deliberately. It feels almost evil... And it makes me want to pray for karma to kick her in the ass really, really, really hard.

Thursday, August 03, 2006

Thu, 03 Aug 2006 13:42:14 GMT

It was the third day of their long-anticipated vacation to New York, and the old couple had determined that nothing - not even this overbearing heat - would stop them from enjoying themselves.

They had taken an early supper and then meandered about the city, when they came across a little park that seemed like the perfect place to stop and rest.

The center lawn was full of people sitting on blankets or simply on the grass, watching a woman perform on a little stage with her band. Babies cried, children licked their popsicles. And young couples held onto each others' hands, even as the sun shone brightly and the sweat trickled down their backs, their faces and their arms.

The two found an empty bench in the shade and decided to sit down.

A distressed-looking girl sat on an adjacent bench. She kept on looking to her right and then to her left, and every so often would stand up to peer into the little enclosing where a dozen dogs were playing. She was obviously looking for someone.

After about twenty minutes, the girl sheepishly asked the old man for the time. He twisted his arm to show her his watch.

8:20pm.

She bit her lip for a moment and shook her head.

"He's almost an hour late," she said, standing up. She sadly gathered up her purse and the large plastic bag that had contained a picnic dinner.

"Have a nice night," she nodded to the couple and slowly walked out of the park.

At that moment, she - nor they - had no way of knowing that about a mile away at another park, there sat a boy and a dog who had been waiting for fifty minutes, peering anxiously out into the street and wondering why the girl they awaited did not come.

But of course, she would not know this until later, when she called him, angrily, from a pay phone - after begging a nearby hotdog vendor to change her dollar bill into quarters.

He had not been paying close attention in the afternoon when they had gone over the details of their rendezvous. And she had simply forgotten her cell phone in the morning as she and the boy had left their apartment in a rush to get to work...

Which resulted in their quaint but poignant afternoon tragedy of what could have been but was not.

Tuesday, August 01, 2006

Tue, 01 Aug 2006 22:06:42 GMT

"Thank you for existing."

Words that I don't ever utter, of course - though I am always thinking them.

Words that I want to say to those I don't ever get to spend enough time with, friends I mean to reach out to except that I'm too busy working on some presentation for the client and then I have to go work out and do laundry and watch Conan....

We'll meet up - randomly, of course - at some diner in Hermosa Beach or a cafe in midtown. We'll order coffee, swap stories of adventures partaken since the last time we had seen each other. And I'll walk away, inspired to live out my life as best as I can, so that there will be bigger, crazier stories to share the next time we see each other.

"Thank you for existing."

Words that I guess I should say while I still can.

(And I don't mean this in any kind of cheesy carpe diem kind of way... But I remember someone telling me at my brother's funeral that they thought it unfortunate that people only gather around to say nice things about you after you are gone. Why can't we do it while they're still around to hear how great they are?

We should all get together, guys, once a year and celebrate each other. We can take turns sitting cross-legged in the middle of the circle and have everyone go around and tell a wonderful story about each of us)....

---

There was this one day that Alex and I took the long way home on his moped. We were riding up a steep hill back to the Seoul National University dormitories where he lived and his shitty bike was having a really tough time with the combined weight of our bodies, heavy bookbags and takeout dinner. The poor thing was going at about 7kph, no matter how hard Alex pressed on the accelerator.

The jja-jang-myung delivery guy who was directly behind us patiently rode until he couldn't take it any more. He honked angrily a few times but there was absolutely nothing we could do. So we started laughing as we putzed up the hill, and then laughed even harder when the guy zoomed past us. Because there we were, still struggling up, still laughing merrily, long after we lost sight of his crazily dyed hair and large, shiny delivery container

I think this is how I want to remember Alex: with my arms around his waist, a big smile on his face, his body still convulsing because of our silly laughter, the air smelling like autumn leaves and his cologne. He wore Happy by Clinique, which made perfect sense to me, since he was the happiest guy I knew... and I utterly adored him.

---

I received an e-mail this morning informing me that Alex had passed away last week... in one of the most awful ways that I can imagine.

The only article that I found about his death was the one that I sent Sharon. It's so cold and informative, it's just another article in just another newspaper about just another guy... and my heart aches for what he must have been going through. http://www.thelocal.se/article.php?ID=4434&date=20060727

The last time we had corresponded was him asking if I was coming to Germany for World Cup, because he and some other friends were going to be there. There's a lot of "I wish I had"s and "I should've"s...

But none of it helps - that's a lesson that I've already learned now.

---

I was always thankful that you existed; that you walked the earth, somewhere -even if it was nowhere near where I was.

I hope you've found peace, oppa....

Sunday, July 30, 2006

Sun, 30 Jul 2006 08:26:48 GMT

hee hee...