I'm proud of myself for being able to shrug things off more often and sooner now. I still have a ways to go, but am continuing to make progress.

She longs for romance...

My co-worker, Doug, just told me that what and when one eats at night before going to bed affects sleep and dreams.

It never really occured to me before that what I eat for dinner would have an effect on what I dream! That actually makes sense, though. And now that I think about it, the last two times I had a hard time sleeping and bad dreams, I'd eaten something really salty and spicy pretty late in the day.

Well, if it's as simple as changing my diet to avoid bad dreams, then I guess I'll welcome them back into my life. But I'm still going to try to get more involved with reality and get going with my life.

I think I wouldn't mind having dreamless sleep every night for the rest of my life, even if dreaming may aid in surviving. I think I could fare fine without it.

I'd like to deal solely with reality from now on. I want to start living more fully in the real world. I'd like to remove myself from the fantasy world or any other realm that takes me away from reality for significant periods of time. (Or I will soon find a way to spin it all into gold. My co-worker, Doug, believes it is just frustrated creativity. I would like to believe him.)

Just reality for me from now on, baby.

Why do I want to live in Palo Alto or elsewhere here in the Bay Area when I could live somewhere in Europe or in Hawaii or at another paradisical location near the equator? Because my wellbeing and financial success depends largely on where I live? Do they really? (And here is best?) I haven't even settled into a career yet.

I guess the main reason I want to live here is that this is where I think I have the best chance of finding like-minded people to befriend and connect and bond with. But I want to be more flexible. I don't want to be as narrowminded about where I would live (among other things).

So I have another reason to become a celebrity or otherwise famous and rich (like some writers, musicians, actors, athletes). They seem to be able to make a living, still make a lot of money, find companionship and admiration, no matter where they choose to live.

And I figure, the more exposure I'd get as a celebrity, the greater the chance I'd have of love finding me.

This weekend... I met and had dinner at In 'N Out with three of Babe's friends who were visiting from the east coast. Played poker without real money with them for a couple of hours. Went down to Cupertino Village to get Babe's hair cut at Cali Hair. Read an article in Marie Claire, while waiting, about men cheating on women. Felt bad about cheating in the past. Got over it after venting about it to Babe. Bought a rose/coffee-colored striped dress, instead of the polka dot dress, from the BCBG in Santana Row. Felt guilty about how much I paid for it. Shopped at Valley Fair for some suit pants and a dress shirt for Babe to wear at the wedding. Saw a T-shirt at Hot Topic that said, "You laugh at me because I'm different. I laugh at you because you're all the same." Thought it was clever, but would never wear that on my chest. Ate dinner at Hotaru. Turned down going clubbing in the City. Played CS for the first time at TapEx with the guys. Had fun, but got frustrated in the end when we played a level in which all the weapons were on the ground and I would last an average of about five seconds before dying. Worked out for under an hour at the gym. Saw someone I thought might be Malou Nubla. Felt utterly blissful while listening to music and driving all the way out to a company picnic at the Little Hills Park in San Ramon. Boiled in the heat. Surprised myself by successfully keeping a 6-yr-old girl named Shruti company for a couple of hours. Stopped at my parents' house to pick up some mail from the IRS and the DMV. Checked out some of my baby pictures that dad had printed out. Hugged mom. Met Babe's mom. Had dinner with Babe's parents. Hoped that went well. Worried a little when they kept suggesting that he move back to Maryland. Got tired while watching Biography on Steven Spielberg on TV. Felt as if I've finally reached a point at which I could live alone without roommates. Typed this post. Ended this post.

My coworker, Doug, is big into transcendental meditation. He regularly gives lectures on it up in SF. Says he's been meditating since he was 13, and says I should try it one of these days.

Not once in my whole life until now have I ever really been interested in meditating.

He says, "...we are capable of feeling increasing inner happiness, less and less dependency on the ups and downs of life and feeling more expansion of the senses, too... There is nothing more more fascinating, nothing more absorbing, nothing more blissful than experiencing things, experiencing the world, on that most intimate level, the level that is our own Self."

Hmmm... (or Ommm?) I still don't feel all that interested in giving meditation a try, but I'll mull over it.

Per how I feel today, and a lot of the time, I'd opt to get fantastically wasted on drugs and/or alcohol amidst intense physical activity and an overload of awesome sounds. Maybe kinda like an old rockstar, but sans an instrument...

Wholesome schmolesome.

As it is, we are who we are.

And most of us are defined by our vices. Who would we be without them? Certainly not ourselves.

If you could do anything for one night, anything within your own physical and mental limitations, but with no financial limitations, and with absolutely no physical or mental consequences or side-effects after the night is over, what would it be?

The puppies are finally here. My roommate brought them over to our place on Monday night. Coco (the girl) and Kiki (the boy). They look like stuffed animals, and they're lovable x 10!

It's very hard to take good pictures of them because they move so much and so quickly. Also, they're aware of the camera and avoid it. When they see it, they duck their cute little heads and head for corners.

Yesterday, as soon as I came home from work, they started jumping up and down excitedly like little rabbits, trying to reach me hovering over them in their pen. I felt so loved and wanted!

Pardon my being girly for a couple of minutes. Love this top and this skirt. Wonder if they'd look good on me (not together)...

About the housing thing... I thought my roommates and I would be moving to the upstairs apartment this month, but we're actually scheduled to move up on September 12th. Babe's roommate is moving out sometime in September too, so he'll have to find a new roommate or move into another place.

Housing changes and moves always get me thinking about a whole bunch of other things that compel me to look at the future and where everything in my life is going or not going, and where I could or should be going. How rooted am I, what/who is keeping me rooted, what do I really have and really not have? Friends. Parents. Relationships. Trust. Distance. Time. Possibilities. Options. Money. Work. Meaning. Loneliness. Love. God. Etc.

I'm shoving thoughts about most of these aside for now. A week of them has burned me out. If it's true that the more I think the more calories I burn, I'd be a nasty anorexic-looking, waif-like thing.

Now I'm interested in taking an acting class. I hadn't really considered taking one before.

I figure taking an acting class would be more productive than taking a public speaking class, which I have thought of taking. Through acting, I could learn how to communicate better in front of other people, emote, role-play, and get myself fictionalized, all at once.

BT - Somnambulist

I shopped today after work for the dress. Went to Santana Row, the shopping center with the stores with the kind of clothes that I feel I should be wearing (and would be wearing if I was rolling in dough).

Going from shop to shop, I got a major case of clothes lust. It was painful. I always look at the pricetags before I try anything on these days, or I know I'll get myself into trouble. I end up not trying on anything at all.

One of the saleswomen at BCBG wanted to help me out. She suggested a top and a couple of skirts and dresses and shoes to go with them. The styles and patterns of the clothes aren't anything I would normally pick out for myself, so I was surprised when they actually looked good on me. The sheer black top with beige polka dots and the 60's style dress made out of the same material were really cute and flattering. And the old style closed-toe shoes were adorable with both outfits. Totally Maggie Gyllenhaal! I'd never tried on anything like that before. I wanted one or the other, the top or the dress.

Alas... $240 for the dress, and around $100 for the top. I can't do either one right now. Maybe if I think about it long enough, I'll find some way to justify spending so much on the dress.

I think I'm a supersensitive pheromonometer of sorts.

Try changing in the car while driving. I used to do that quite successfully on my way to the gym in Castro Valley from Berkeley on 580. Back then I drove an automatic. I guess it wouldn't be that much more difficult now in my manual, as long as I finish changing while I'm still on the highway.

We got to Reno late on Friday night. We met up with our friends at Circus Circus and watched them gamble for a bit. I didn't gamble. There were a lot of drunk people stumbling through the Silver Legacy/El Dorado area. A lot of white women with big boobs. I always forget how big the average white woman's boobs are. I don't have the priviledge of seeing them as often as some others. Unfortunately, I think they've become somewhat of a fixation.

Whenever I see intoxicated people these days, I wonder if I could be one of them again. I feel quite removed from the partying world now. I feel like I'm looking at them from an outsider's perspective. A different perspective. A more wholesome one.

Within the past month, I've been thinking more about transforming into a wholesome person. A significant change in thinking for me. Since I left my parents' house, I have equated wholesome with religious, frigid, prudish, conservative to a fault, homophobic, fun-ophobic. Basically, everything I wanted to get away from.

Maybe I realize that wholesome is not all those things. Maybe now I see wholesome as an absence of vices. Wholesomeness is vicelessness. A worthy pursuit. Maybe now I'm ready to be wholesome. Give up the night life and all the sensual pleasures it has to offer (as if I haven't already). Give up the tendency toward the liberal and risque. Go all out for health, purity, loveliness.

Maybe it's too late for me.

Maybe it's like your virginity. You're born with it, but once you lose your wholesomeness, you can never get it back. I'll have to re-think this whole becoming-wholesome thing... some other time.

Babe and I decided not to go mountain biking on Saturday, and hang out with the group instead... a decision I don't regret, though I did/do feel disappointed that I didn't get to go biking. The others already went biking on Friday.

It took forever for the group to get organized that morning, and I lost my cool for about 40 minutes. Only 40 minutes. I let my attitude go after Babe pointed out that I was being too obvious, and my attidue wasn't good for my rep. I realized that I was thinking like my dad. He always said he has no use for the group; the group is cumbersome, slow, not to be trusted or counted on, and that is why dad is a loner. There's nothing like realizing I'm thinking like my dad to stop me from making an attitudinal u-turn.

We went lazy rafting around 3:30pm. I stripped down to my bathing suit and didn't think twice about it. We're here to get wet and tan. I hadn't had time to remove my armpit hairs, and I thought no one would notice. Or if they were to notice, I wouldn't really care. Babe told me later that he noticed, but didn't have the opportunity to tell me. Please. There were opportunities.

It was fun falling into the water. I got concerned when other people and Babe fell into the rapids and couldn't get out easily, and I think that was more drama than I've experienced in weeks. Shit! Now I was being my mom. The over-concern. The fearing-the-worst. I don't want to be that way. Maybe I'm fighting a losing battle. Anyhow, I'll keep on fighting...

It took forever for the group to get organized for dinner, but this time I was good about it. I kept my cool. We didn't eat until 10:40pm. I was so hungry and dehydrated that I was weak in the knees. Can't remember the last time I felt that way. I wanted to drink that night. During dinner there was some talk about car bombs for everyone. But that never happened.

I conked out around 3, and slept so well that I didn't hear the guys coming into our room to smoke up and talk. Else, I might've gotten up and asked if I could take a hit or two. I was tempted all weekend to smoke a cigarette, even though I probably already got my one-cigarette-a-daily-quota from the secondhand smoke in the casinos. Can I still call myself a social smoker? Or am I now just a smoker?

Sunday, we headed over to Atlantis for more gambling. After deliberating for an hour or so, I put my name down on the waitlist for the hold'em table in the poker room. But it took forever for people to leave the table, and I didn't get to play before we left for home. I gotta get the guts to put my name down on the waitlist earlier.

And that's about all that happened over the weekend that I want to talk about.

I crossed the Dumbarton Bridge for free two days in a row.

I forgot to go to the ATM before crossing yesterday. The toll booth worker stepped out to get my license plate number from the back of my car, and came right back around. She said the guy behind me said he'd pay for my toll. So I waved a thanks back at him and drove off.

Then it was a little bit awkward on the bridge. I felt better after he drove his red BMW right past me.

Someone must've helped him out in a similar way in the past. There must be some hidden code of whatever that says if someone behind you paid for your toll, you should pass the favor on to someone in front of you who doesn't have the toll. Or why else would he have helped me out? It wouldn't have taken a minute for the tollbooth worker to process my ticket.

I recognized today's tollbooth worker as that guy. Darn. I'd managed to avoid him for two months. When I gave him a 20, he handed it back to me and smiled. "No charge." I said a quick thanks, grabbed my 20, and sped off before he changed his mind or tried to get something in return for the favor.

Can't he get in trouble for letting me pass through for free? Don't they have cameras? Don't they have devices to count how many cars pass through a day? Won't they find the till short and know it's his fault? If he let every Asian female between 25-30 through without paying at least once, wouldn't there be a significant deficit?

Well whatever. Four dollars buys me a good fast food meal tonight.

I'll be in Reno/Tahoe this weekend with the rollerhockey group. Mountain biking on Saturday, unless price and availability of bikes becomes a problem. If we end up just chilling at the lake, I'll still be happy as long as it's hot and my tan lines get darker. I might try to actually play blackjack or poker at the casinos this time instead of just watching. I say that every time, but I never do it.

I still haven't gone clubbing or drinking with a group of friends on a single weekend this summer. We tried to get a group of people to go out for a couple weeks straight with no success. Then a bunch went clubbing last weekend. I wondered a little about why we weren't told about it until afterwards... until I heard that my ex had gone.

Sometimes I wonder why we still can't all hang out. It's been a year since D and I broke up. I've had no ill feelings about him for a really long time. So why do our friends, the Cornell group, still not invite both of us to the same events? Does that mean D's still uncomfortable or unwilling to hang out with me? Maybe our friends' not inviting us both to the same events is creating the illusion of a problem when there really isn't one.

So, I wonder whether I should start talking to D again so he knows, and our friends know, that I have no problems with hanging out him and them altogether. Maybe D would be unwilling to be friends with me. Then reaching out to him would be a waste of time, since I'd only be doing it so we could all hang out.

Actually, it's really no big deal the way things are right now with D and our friends. But I wouldn't be happy with this kind of thing to happening within both groups.

What do guests at weddings wear these days? I really don't know. I haven't been to a wedding in awhile. I'm going to one at the end of this month.

I feel a bit of pressure to look really good at the wedding, especially since the people getting married and their friends are a few years younger than me. I have in mind what I want to look like and what I want to wear. But maybe that mental image of myself is totally unachievable...

I'm looking for a white, pale, or pastel dress that falls past my knees... with sheer layers and thin straps. I didn't find anything like that at the stores yesterday. I tried a few on anyway... and did not look good. Is it the dresses? Or is it my body? Three-way mirrors are of the devil.

I haven't bought a dress in nearly three years.

I don't even know if what I'm looking for is appropriate for the wedding. Maybe it's not dressy enough. Maybe it's too dressy. Do I have to wear a dress, or would a dressy skirt and top do? What would you wear?

Misconception #1: When I lose in poker, I do not hold it against the person I lost to.

I may be upset when I lose a hand or many, but only for a few minutes or more. It's never personal, and I never, ever take it off the table. When I leave the table, I don't remember any of my winning hands, and I don't remember any of my losing hands.

Whatever happens at the table stays at the table.

If I am pissed at you while we're playing poker and after we leave the table, then you did something to piss me off before we sat down. If you don't like the attitude I bring to the table, and you want to resolve our off-the-table problems, talk to me about it.

The compilation CD (formerly the compilation tape). One of my longest-running favorite things to receive from someone.

It so aptly embodies the creator. At least in my imagination, if not as much in reality. Each different song is reflection of the nuances in the creator's different characteristics.

It seemingly allows one to get closer to the creator, to him/her better and more intimately, without needing to actually spending time with the person. Giving away a compilation CD is giving someone an avatar, which seems to say a lot and mean a lot.

Now, if a person found himself/herself unable to create a compilation CD - say, he/she couldn't come up with more than a few favorite songs to put on the CD, or he/she couldn't narrow his/her selections for the CD down to 15 tracks or less - what would that say about the person, if anything?

Got one for me?

I meant to post earlier about guns and how for a couple of seconds, maybe minutes, I actually felt like going to the gun range and trying one out. Basically just for the clicks.

I saw S.W.A.T. on Saturday, and during the movie I found myself paying attention to the gun noises... the clicks and clinks and other such sounds that you hear when the characters are handling their guns and preparing to use them. They were very satisfying sounds. I was captivated by them the same way I'm captivated by interesting and unique percussive sounds in music. I could imagine what it would be like to be a gunophile hearing those sounds... delicious sounds.... like scrambling eggs, popping popcorn, etc.

I don't think I'll actually make it out to the gun range, though. Gun sounds aren't a good enough reason to go. I could try to find some beats or sound clips containing those gun sounds instead.

I browse through the online photo galleries of Asian party's from time to time, not frequently, only to keep tabs on what the women are currently wearing on their faces and on their bodies, so that if I ever had to or wanted to jump back into the scene, I'd fit right in and not look like an old fart in old clothes.

I just looked through one. Seems like girls kissing girls is still a rampantly growing trend. I think it's way overdone now. I can't go through one of these galleries without seeing at least one photo of two Asian girls kissing each other. And we know they aren't kissing each other because it gives them shivers!

I still have a huge issue with these fake, pretentious girls who kiss at parties just to excite and get the attention of guys. There are no real erotic or romantic feelings behind their kisses. They aren't turning each other on. They just kiss in hopes of turning on the men around them.

You straight or gay guys out there... If guys kissing other guys turned women on, how would you feel if you saw two straight guys making out just to get women excited? Wouldn't that disgust you? Wouldn't you feel unfairly exploited?

It's sickening to see these fake, pretentious girls do their thing when there actually are girls out there who genuinely enjoy kissing other girls. The faux lesbians and bisexuals are a mockery to the real lesbians and bisexuals, and to the other girls who genuinely enjoy kissing other girls for the sensual pleasure of it, the softness, the sweetness...

'Course, I have yet to talk about this with a bisexual female or a lesbian to find out how they really feel. I just imagine they're as incensed as I am.

Oops. Published a post I hadn't finished. It was about Babe's roommate moving out, and me moving in Sept. I'll finish it later...

I think I've finally gotten to the root of the problem. It's either the laundry detergent or the rubber in the elastics. It could be both.

I bought unscented, dye-free laundry detergent today. I should've done so when the doc told me to. Hopefully now the damn rashes will stop coming back to make my life an itching hell. I've had to go commando since Saturday evening. It'll be nice to be able to wear underwear again. Then again, it's been quite nice not...

Are professional writers, on average, more intelligent than the average person? Or do most writers who appear to be more intelligent only seem so because of how well they choose and use their words?

I'm more inclined to believe that they're not any smarter, on average, than the rest of us. If we were all just as clever with words, and we all had equal ability to translate our thoughts into words, I imagine we'd be surprised about who appears more intelligent than the rest of us.

I'm going to make it a point not to make any more friends who are software engineers. I'm sick of being one of the only ones among most of my friends who is not currently programming or otherwise working within the computer industry.

The question is, how did I manage to befriend so many software engineers and not many other types of people? Can I blame geography, demography, or my first software engineer ex-boyfriend, who may have started it all? Am I particularly attracted to the software engineer type? Or are they particularly attracted to my type of person?

Actally, it seems like awhile since anyone, besides my man, has been mentally or physically attracted to me. I hadn't really stopped to think about that a whole lot until lately. It's been some time since the last time I had even a small suspicion that someone might be interested in having slightly more than a simple friendship with me.

Who knows, maybe things would be completely different if I was a female software engineer... *smirk*

But am I ok with that? Am I ok with not being as attractive? Am I ok with not having people-magnet status? Do I mind that I don't catch people, particularly guys, looking at me anymore?

No.

I'm going to try for a second bloom. I'm done trying to make the most of myself as I am now. I'm more than ready to start creating myself. I would like to create Jennie the superhero, the rockstar, the goddess, the irresistible, the unforgettable...

The transformation commences today.

What're you using these days to download music now that it's kinda not cool to use Kazaa and other such music file sharing tools? Tell me.

I'm beginning to believe that the probability of a prophecy born of paranoia and pessimism turning into a self-fulfilling prophecy is directly related to the amount of worry experienced over it.

And that, in itself, worries me.

It was hard to get through today at work. I know I should feel very fortunate to have a job right now. It's been harder and harder for me to be content here lately. I just need to hang in there for a couple more months.

And then what?

I feel like I'm trying really hard to figure that out. But maybe I'm not really trying that hard at all. I will try to try even harder.

I have this vision pretty often these days. Especially when I've got so much inside. So much of an anonymous mix of emotions that I can't adequately describe. An abundance of them.

I see myself on a dark stage. Lips right up against the mic. Screaming through the mic. Screaming through the instrument in my hands. Screaming it all out. Passionately, openly, liberally. Sweating it all out. Whole body, heart, and soul. Working it all out.

I'm tired today. Between the itching, insomnia, and bad dreams, I didn't get that much quality sleep last night.

I went back to the doc's office yesterday. Apparently, wearing thongs, brazilian waxing, and swimming in public pools is the ultimate rash-inducing combo for me. I did them all this past weekend. The doc tells me to give them all up. But I can't do that... I'll give up, at most, one of those things. It's probably going to be the waxing.

I wish I didn't have bad dreams so often. I guess it's time to consciously try to take control of my dreams... maybe give that lucid dreaming crap a try.

I'm trying to become a better person again. Starting with sucking things up. I hope sucking it all up instead of gushing it all out isn't part of the reason I have bad dreams. Even if so, I'm still going to try not to outflux as much.

Kinda feels like my outflux doesn't equal the influx at this time. I mean, I feel like I'm always sharing with people more about myself and more of what I think and feel and do with other people than they are sharing with me. Though I don't feel as if that's directly hurting me, it just doesn't seem fair.

Sometimes I seriously think about starting a secret life. It might be fun and thrilling, but I don't really think I'd be able to get away with it.

Fiction is too often more interesting than non-fiction, fantasy more fascinating than reality, to me. The facts that make up the interworkings of the human body and mind are indeed marvelous... but the fictional lives and scenarios in stories, books, and movies are more intriguing than the lives and scenarios of the real lives and scenarios around me.

Since I was young, I've had a habit of fictionalizing the non-fiction people around me, imagining they are more than they are, with lives more intricate and Hollywood than they are... Like characters in a script. In the script that belongs to the movie that is my life...

Thus the blur between reality and fantasy. It becomes hard to answer the simple questions about the things that define being...

What is life? What is love?

Sometimes I can't quite remember...

"I never did mind about the little things."

I always did remember that line from the movie.

Suck it up, Jennie.

Suck, suck, suck it up.

I think the key is for me to remember that the reason I'm not engaged or married right now is that I don't want to be.

It's not because I don't deserve to be. It's not because I'm a particularly late late-bloomer (though I was in HS). It's not because I'm not mature, interesting, attractive enough to grab for myself a mature, interesting, attractive, marrying man.

It's not because I'm picky to a fault, or that I'm peculiar and rare enough that there are very few and far between good-fits for me out there. It's not because I don't already have a good man, one that's good enough to keep around for a long time.

It's not because of any fault of mine.

It's simply, plainly because I don't want to be...