I have always been tall.
I am still kind of tall.
But growing up, I was always the tallest girl. Except for one girl who was from Africa who only was at our school for a half a year.
In PE, the boys always picked me to be on their team for basketball. I couldn't run, but my strategy was to stand under the basket. They would do all the work of running and getting the ball and would then throw it to me. I almost always made the basket.
It was a good life being tall.
For a while.
Then I wanted to start dancing.
And there were never enough boys in the class. So I ALWAYS had to be the boy.
I know how to dance....like a boy.
And my alpha dog personality also makes it hard to try and learn to dance like a girl in addition to learning the steps. I don't like following.
But I love being a girl. So I have learned there is an art to dancing. And there is an art to dating...much like dancing.
I am learning.
And doing quite well, I must say.
I am at work the other day, glowing to my co-workers about my fab date with Jon.
"The only issue we had was the hand holding. We kept repositioning. It didn't come naturally."
And I demonstrated how I held my hand out to him.
My co-worker noted this..."Is that how you held your hand with him?"
"Yes."
"That is how the guy holds the hand. You were holding it like a guy."
Another co-worker piped in, "The girl's palm faces forward. The guy's faces back."
It was like I just landed on a new planet.
WHAT!
How could I have been holding hands WRONG all these years?
Laughter ensued at my faux pas.
"It's my elbows. They are funny and that is why I hold my hands like that."
"Your elbows are fine. Everyone's elbows do what yours do. I think it is your brain." said Kate.
I called my friend Leigh and told her. She covered the phone fighting back a burst of laughter to tell her husband, "Kiki holds hands like a boy"
To which I said, "Shhhhhh" like we were in 7th grade and she had just announced that I liked someone. "Don't tell him that."
Her husband in the background yelled, "Be the girl. Let him be the boy"
Cut to me screaming into the phone, "I didn't know I was not being the girl!"
I am sure that it comes from being taller than the guys I date. And the fact that I am usually walking faster than they are. Or maybe it is a control issue. I don't know. Again, I didn't know I wasn't doing it correctly until two days ago.
I spoke to Jon and mentioned it.
He said, "It didn't even dawn on me, but now that you mention it, we were having a couple of technical difficulties."
"I don't know how to hold hands!" I mock sobbed.
"There really isn't a WRONG way to do it, I guess."
"Yes there is. I will definitely try and be the girl."
"And if that doesn't work, I will then try and be the girl."
"Oh no, don't do that. I will definitely try."
If I can learn to dance like a girl, I am sure that I can learn to hold hands like one.
20 men.
That is how many men I dated last year.
Some were people I saw more than once. Some were one time coffee dates.
Some were even, dare I say, headed for relationships...only to not go that direction.
But 20 men.
My posts started to sound like I was trying to go for a dating record or something.
Mads told me towards the end of the year that I might want to not write about the dating sooo much because the repetition of the outcomes started to make me sound like I couldn't filter out the assholes, or that I couldn't decide that they were assholes until too late, which would make my filter broken.
But even though I wasn't writing about it, I was living it.
And I am writing a book about this past year.
But I will call it fiction, since you know how Oprah is if you lie about that, and also, I would hate for people to question some of my judgments, so I will throw in some made up stuff and voila, fiction.
But what isn't fiction is what has been happening lately.
I have met someone.
My friends have made me abide by a set of rules that I never have before.
So in meeting this new guy, who we will call Jon, I chose to exercise my new set of rules.
And we are dating.
Like dating dating....not hooking up after karaoke.
Or hooking up after he tells me he has a cool record collection he wants me to see. Or hooking up because the making out is so hot.
No, we are dating.
Activity dating: the Getty, the Grove, Bowling, etc...
And I know normal people date like this. But I never have. Maybe once. But otherwise, I have always gone about it in a completely different way.
This is fun.
And I am really getting to know him.
And the more I get to know him, the more I realize I absolutely don't know about him.
Which makes every meeting more interesting.
Here is what I do know: I am excited but not giddy. I am guarded but surprisingly still open. I am attracted but not rushing to see how we mesh in the sack. We laugh. And compliment each other. And hold hands.
On Saturday he said, "I wish people that I knew were here, so they could see me out with you. I like the way I feel when I am out with you."
To which I replied, "WEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"
But on the inside.
I think I may have actually said, "Aw, how sweet."
And squeezed his hand as we walked hand in hand under our umbrellas getting our feet wet in puddles.
I just left a photo comment on Sarah Grace's myspace page.
It reminded me of a funny moment that happened to us.
The troupe we were in was doing a Midnight Summer's Dream and I forget what the line really is, but Sarah or the guy we hung out with who was a pain but extrememly funny, said, "Here comes Thisby" a la Bill Cosby.
And it cracked us up.
Thinking about it made me laugh during a meeting.
It was slightly embarrassing but the memory was totally worth it.
We have a woman at work who is a little nutty.
She used to be very nutty.
We used to play a game of who would play us in the movie version where she comes in and goes postal and kills us all.
It actually was funny, despite how morbid it sounds.
Anyway, she is better. Sort of.
She offered white chocolate to everyone the other day.
Another co-worker said he was making copies and he saw her fiddling with her pockets.
Then some candies popped out onto the floor. He saw this all happening out of the corner of his eye.
She picked them up and put them in her pocket and then took them out of her pocket and offered him some. "Want some candy?".
He took it and said "mmmm - for later. Thanks."
She walked away.
He looked at it and noticed it was covered in lint.
He didn't eat it of course.
But there were a few who did because they ate it in front of her.
My giggling fit due to this story happened slowly but strong.
I couldn't stop laughing.
Even while filling my car up with gas.
And with everyone being sick around the office, different sick stories have surfaced.
"One time, I was so sick that..."
stuff of that nature.
I won't say who and I won't say what, but several #2 stories have made milk (if I were drinking milk at the time - which I wasn't, it was a latte and ouch) come out my nose.
I think laughter has been the only thing keeping me sane this week.
Oh and Pilates and Belly dancing.
And my good date.
And, oh wait, I think I am diluting my original point.
Laughter....only laughter is keeping me sane.
To which you might say, "You might want to look up the definition of 'sane' ".
To which I would say, "Don't make me laugh."
Ah, a year has passed since I broke up with Farkle.
And I took it as a lost weekend kind of year.
I played.
I partied.
I dated.
And I came to an amazing epiphany this weekend.
I needed this year.
But I am glad it is over.
I have had a lot of clutter in my life and in my apartment that had been accumulating.
Claire (sweet petite Claire) helped me move my old couch down to the curb.
Good thing, because it was blocking the romance section of my apartment according the feng shui.
And I got rid of my old computer.
And my old keyboard and monitor.
Swept away the dust. Cleared the clutter.
Decided that all events have led me to where I am now.
And that it ins't a bad place to be.
It is just a place of change.
Change my behavior to change my life.
And change is hard.
Because it means that all the perks of the bad choices will not be calling or emailing anymore.
And it means that I don't get to play victim which contrary to popular opinion really gets you some mileage.
And it means that without the distraction of immediate bad choices, I am faced with the reality of the results of long term choices (read: rut) that I had not had to look at (read: job).
So I cleaned.
Listened to music and burned candles and sage to refreshen the apartment.
And the apartment feels refreshed.
And my hope is that my outlook will soon follow suit.
I admit it.
I am a voyeur.
I read Myspace profiles and try and piece together lives based on what is placed out there for the reader to find out.
I have become fascinated with one profile in particular.
It is a woman who is in her early 30's.
She went out once with an ex of mine before I knew him.
He told me how she had this creepy collection of dolls.
And talked baby-talk through them.
I have recently been reading her blogs.
I think she may be a little retarded. I roll my eyes at how bad her choices are and how she writes about it and doesn't see how sad she sounds.
And she always writes the same way about every situation.
Presents the problem.
Then tries to garner sympathy.
And then rationalizes with "I mean heck"
I almost play a drinking game by myself.
If she says, "I mean heck -" once, I get to take an imaginary drink of wine
(I mean heck, I am at work, so there isn't really alcohol for me to drink).
If she says it twice, I get to have another shot of wine and eat a piece of see's candy from the box that one of my co-workers keeps bringing in.
(I mean heck, it's not like she doesn't want me to eat it, and anyway, I mean, I am going to the gym, heck, sometimes I work out twice a day).
I have found that I am now obsessed with this woman's take on her life.
She talks about her sucky ex who sounds like he was using her all the time.
Sometimes she writes about how she is over him.
And then the next time, she is excited he is taking her out for an apology dinner.
She sometimes lists her exact diet for the day
(But I mean heck, I have done that, so cut the girl some slack).
She talks about her work out routine. How many reps she did on her legs, her arms, etc.
She talks about her errands.
Her photos all range from her being thinner to her being a little heavier than that.
She stands in a weird pose that always looks like she is hiding something.
And I always think her life sounds pretty pathetic.
And yet, there I am reading all of it.
Cringing.
And yet, still reading. how. pathetic. SHE. is.
I am so glad I don't do ANY of that.
Please don't shine that mirror on me...I am only a voyeur.
I am not that into family.
I am into my immediate family - Mom, Dad, Sis, her kids.
But otherwise, I am not really a "family" person. Neither is my dad. Except when it comes to my sister and me.
My dad has an uncle - Bill. He married the woman who lived 3 doors down from him growing up. They have been together since he was 13 years old.
He became a doctor. They had 3 kids. One kid is an artist, another is a doctor and the third is a photographer.
I remember the photo christmas cards every year. It was the only way I knew who the kids married and what their kids looked like.
I got a call from my dad on Jan 2 telling me that Uncle Bill passed away on Jan 1 shortly after midnight.
The night before, he looked at his wife and told her that he still thought she was the most beautiful woman he had ever known and that he loved her.
He was 93.
What a ride they had together.
He died in his sleep.
My dad said he would go to the memorial service if I went. We both wouldn't normally have gone. But it felt like the right thing to do.
It was held yesterday. On a clear, windy day in Whittier.
Because of the wind, all the smog was gone.
The breathtaking chapel sat on a hill. Out the window, you could so clearly see downtown LA.
Someone said that the wind was from my uncle flapping his new angel wings.
I rolled my eyes a little.
How sappy, I thought.
During the ceremony, everyone gave stories and memories of this man.
His service to his community, his love of being there for everyone. His children felt he was their hero.
He was a pillar of honesty, trust, and loyalty.
I sat there trying to recall my own memory of him.
He always had a smile on his face. And they used to have the most amazing avocado tree in their back yard. When we would visit, they would give us a bag of avocados as a parting gift. mmmmm....avocados.
I didn't know much about him.
But I learned a lot yesterday.
And it made me feel like there is a lot you can accomplish in one life, and a lot of people's lives you can touch.
The love he had with his wife was almost like a fairy tale, but it made me know that I can't settle for anything substandard when you see what the real thing looks like.
The reception was wonderful.
They had several photo albums on the table.
It was amazing to see my grandma as a teenager looking so glamorous.
it was also cool to see all the places they traveled and how San Francisco looked in the 50's.
Because of the fading of the film, it made it seem even more nostalgic.
But that could have also been because it was a memorial service.
It wasn't a sad affair.
It was actually very energizing.
Kind of like my great-uncle was.
By the time we left, I felt like I had gotten reconnected to a part of my heritage.
Driving home through the hills back towards the city, the view of the city twinkled in the dark below me.
And I rolled down the window and let the wind sweep against my cheek.
Perhaps it was my uncle's wings.
Perhaps not.
But this time, I didn't roll my eyes at the thought.
The thing about making plans at new year's, is that you make them thinking that you will magically step into the new year with a whole new energy that will make those changes easy.
And sometimes, you do get wind of this energy and you are filled with positivity and a motivation that gets stuff done.
And sometimes, you don't.
And you look around your apartment and wonder how you didn't get the dishes done and how the laundry continues to pile up and you can't get enough sleep and everything feels like it did a week ago.
In those moments, you need a kick.
This morning, I was still sleeping in to get over this lingering cold and I got a message from Jazzy.
After more hours of lingering in my pjs, we made a plan to get some lunch.
At the diner, we saw one of my former dates. One that didn't end well. We saw each other but we both played the "I didn't see you" game. Which worked out perfectly.
After lunch, Jazzy and I headed to Chinatown. I love it down there.
I wasted a million pennies in the fortune fountain just trying to hit SOME cup.
Jazzy got one. Luck I think.
I usually have pretty good aim. But not today.
"You should try aiming" Jazzy said.
"Oh really? Aiming? Ohhhhh" I said rather defensively.
I foraged my wallet for more pennies with the craziness of a teenage boy who is about to get lucky looking for condoms.
No amount of pennies was going to change my luck it seems.
We ran in and out of various curio shops looking for the perfect gift for two of Jazzy's friends. She got me a cool jade ring.
I am wearing it now.
It is pretty.
It looks like a jade lifesaver on my finger.
I was supposed to go out tonight.
But I lost some of my momentum on the way home.
Which is probably the best for getting over this cold.
But a day like today with a friend like Jazzy makes me realize that it was the kick I needed.
I feel a little more motivated towards the new year's goals.
I just washed a few spoons and fixed a button on a sweater.
Oh yeah...I am on fire...watch out!
Hello 2007!
I am so glad we met when we did. 2006 and I were good. I mean better than good. Well, we ended well.
It wasn't always so.
But I learned a lot.
A. LOT.
About myself and what I want and how I still get angry when certain buttons are pushed.
And that is all good stuff to know.
And every time I made head way, I was brought back a few feet.
Only to start again.
Which brought my ire up.
But lessons are learned that way.
And I made a graceful exit out of 2006. I think.
Except that I have a cold.
And now I am coughy girl.
And have a funeral to go to for my great uncle who died right after midnight on
Jan. 1.
Which is not a bad way to go when it is done peacefully and you have had a full, positive, amazing, love-filled life.
Which he did.
So the funeral is not sad.
And the new year's party this year was good.
Small, mellow and good.
And I walked with Claire around her hood in K-town.
And I went on a few more dates with some very hot men.
And I take fully responsibility for my actions, distractions and choices in 2006.
ALL OF THEM.
Which makes me wonder about my dream last night. Where I met Steve Martin and he got jealous when I told him that I partied with his brother Peter. Who he mentioned was retarded. I don't even know if Steve Martin has a brother in real life. But in the dream, he looked like the Progressive Insurance guy from the commercials.
And then I dreamed that I bought my mom a dirndl dress in East LA and was wearing it home. I looked like Snow White.
And I can't help thinking that this doesn't bode well for 2007 to begin with such crazy dreams and then I remember that I still have a cold.
Which gives me hope that this was a faulty start because of the cold medicine and that I can still say that this will be my year.
The year when I get my body to a healthy weight where I don't feel marginalized in social settings. The year when I don't stay in relationships for their immediacy.
And where I finally say, "I count. I can do whatever I want and succeed as much as anyone" and really believe it.
Because I can. And I do.
Cheers 2007. We are gonna get along. I can tell.