Once again, I find myself struggling to ward off what seems to be the inevitable. Am I amidst yet another “mid-life” crisis? God, feels like I’ve been through so many already. By now, I should more aptly be in a near “end-life” crisis if anything. But no, I’m exactly one week away from turning another year older and despite having successful stretches of good feelings, I predictably return to this point of dissatisfaction. I’ve discussed it before, and by now, you are certainly sick of the same old drill. What is this thing I am chasing, right?

Only three years ago, I swore that all I wanted was clear skin. If somehow the world order would grant me this, I vowed to be happy forever. Through endless bizarre diets and medications and obsessive compulsive web research, I ultimately found the answer and received what I most desired. And now my greedy-ass self has moved on to the next demand. At what point is this just a moving target for continual self improvement? At what point is it an emotionally destructive game of self denigration?

I went to the open mic again tonight. The same one I attended last week where I was so moved and touched by the words of a young writer/poet. He performed again today and was just amazing. So fucking brilliant, and I can’t help but feel disappointment with myself. I am an entire decade older and what talent have I? Who is my audience? Whose praise do I seek? Honestly, I think it is my own. I see so much beauty and intelligence and wit and talent around me– in people I know, in people I don’t know. And while I am relieved to have this freedom from the physical disfigurement I once suffered, and I’m happy about engaging in exercise activities I enjoy, I often feel such sadness that my life is wasted without any significant movement. So much greatness, so much brilliance around me and I… I feel so ordinary. I admire so many people, but I see so little to admire in myself.

I know this sounds ridiculous. My body even agrees because every time I feel this disappointment, my body does this laugh-cry reaction. The world is falling apart, and I choose not to appreciate what I have but to instead dwell on this insatiable search for whatever thing I can’t even describe. It’s stupid. Maybe part of it is that I do appreciate my good fortune, and that’s even more reason why I feel something about me should be extraordinary, because I have received so much in this life. How do I convert the good input into good output? Ugh, too much time on my hands. If I spent these agonizing hours learning Spanish or dancing hip hop/bboy or cooking or learning software, then perhaps I would be something more. I don’t know, but to be nearly 33 and still be haunted by these demons, I just don’t even know what to say.

And so I’ve decided to seek help. I’m always touting all my employee benefits… I might as well try out the therapy services. I’m not ashamed: I just worry about articulating these feelings in any sensible way such that someone can actually help me. I shall call first thing in the morning. I need to stop running around in circles.

The latest Cary Tennis Since You Asked column entitled “Hot for Married Coworker” made me chuckle.

John and I went camping last Monday down in Big Sur. Is it just me, or do all the beaches around here look the same? Seriously, I felt like we could have been in Mendocino or Half Moon Bay or down in Santa Cruz. Yeah, it was beautiful, but I’m not convinced camping is all it’s cracked up to be. I’m cool to go hiking, but at the end of the day, what beats a long soak in the hot tub and a cozy sleep in my own bed?

Yeah, yeah, it’s the experience of getting away from it all. Must the escape be so extreme? I mean, no cell reception AND no wifi? Why isn’t it sufficient to just sunbathe on your patio, or lie out in the park? I just don’t get it. And what exactly are you escaping? Is life so bad that you need to head out to the quasi-wilderness only to recreate the creature comforts of your abode? If it’s just a vacation, fine. I get it. I get the desire to change your scenery, to see new things. But in my own defense, I get a lot of fucking enjoyment from being connected, from reading blogs and twitter feeds and whatever. I don’t find a need to pretend like I’m a settler moving west for Manifest Destiny. Ah well, as my coworker explained, camping’s not for everyone.

I should mention a few things too about our campgrounds. Most public campgrounds do not allow dogs, so thank goodness we found a private campground with luxurious amenities like hot water, shower facilities, and toilets. Yes, it was pretty much car camping at Big Sur Campgrounds, but hey if you’re not an uber purist, this place is very clean, their staff is nice, and location is convenient, just north of Pfeiffer Beach.

That said, sleeping in a sleeping bag on the ground is not comfy, and when the temps dip around 40, it’s pretty damn chilly. The dogs did not rest well at all. Certainly by morning, we had four crankpots in the tent.

As for the tent itself, I was glad to benefit from the latest innovations in camping equipment. Tents now are surprisingly easy to assemble and so light to lug around. Years ago, we had overnighted in a tent on a whitewater rafting trip in West Virginia. I don’t really acknowledge that trip as our first camping experience because we totally ended up raiding the WalMart for all sorts crap to make ourselves comfortable, but point is, back then, I had borrowed camping gear from my friend Andrea, and let’s just say, pitching her tent took way longer than 5 minutes. This time, it was so simple. We were done so fast, we were on to the next to do (yes, I have a todo even on vacation).

Interestingly, a couple of lots over, I watched in disbelief (and horror) as a small family unloaded their SUV chock full of shit. Jesus, there were only three people (2 adults, 1 child), but the amount of crap they had packed could have supported an entire summer camp. They had this monster-ass tent with multiple rooms, they had carpet for outside, chairs, a table-top grill, a tablecloth, for crissakes! I mean, I dunno where they live, but is it really necessary to recreate the comforts of suburban life in the middle of a forest? I just don’t understand the appeal. Why not just BBQ at home? If nature is what you seek, go be in nature without all the junk. Totally bizarre.

As for my relationship with nature, for me, I’m drawn to just exercising outdoors. But I don’t have to be in a remote or undeveloped area. In fact, I am probably more of a city parks kind of gal. I like paved trails, sidewalks, picnic tables, basketball courts, tennis courts, swimming pools, etc.

Maybe that’s why I was bored. Yeah, we took the dogs hiking along the beach, the drive down was very scenic, we pitched the tent, built the campfire, etc. But by the time we finished dinner, there was nothing else to do. And when I’m idle, I get extremely sleepy. I hit the sack around 8pm! John said we’re supposed to tell stories around the campfire, but I had spent the entire day with him already… what more was there to talk about? What stories? He knows all the stories of my life. Oh well. He admitted he was bored with me too.

Next time I suppose we’ll try camping with a group. I dunno. I’ll give it another try. Sigh. I’d so much rather go rollerblading or swimming or biking in the neighborhood though…

Why hello there, stranger. Why this repeated neglect? I have no worthy explanation. I just haven’t been feeling myself. I recently switched to this flex work schedule, and while initially, I felt like a rockstar getting in early and leaving “normal time,” of late I’ve been feeling fatigued. Perhaps I’m due for another visit to the doctor, because although my body is probably its healthiest (by the numbers) since high school, I somehow feel more fragile. I’ve noticed, for example, that now when I get sick, my entire body just goes limp, like I’m on muscle relaxer or something. It’s the oddest thing. Take today, for instance. I started developing a sore throat yesterday at work. Sneezing, burning eyes. Overnight, I didn’t sleep well at all, thanks to Remy’s sick poopies. I also had some disturbing work-related dreams with office politics (but I’m not even involved with office politics in real life!). By morning, my throat was so sore, I couldn’t even swallow. And the rest of my body was too damn tired to even move. And this has happened the last few times I’ve gotten sick. Something is not right.

Is something troubling me? Nothing outside the ordinary. Work wise, sure, I have those insecurities I mentioned before about staying ahead of the curve and remaining relevant… but whatever, not like I’m losing sleep over it. I suppose I’ve been thinking a lot about my friends. So many of them are unhappy… for various reasons: some are alone, some have shitty jobs, some are overweight, some have addiction issues, some are in relationships that are volatile or incomplete. I struggle with how to help them take action and feel better. I suggest therapy services I found that are free/low-cost. I suggest rec classes through the local community parks & rec departments to jumpstart exercise/fitness. I mention nutritionists to help them learn new ways of eating. I invite them to go skating/swimming/biking with me. NOTHING happens. I’m not upset because they aren’t listening to me. I don’t claim to be the authority. But what does piss me off is their inaction, their CHOICE to not do anything about their unhappiness. Yes, sometimes, you just need to wallow in self-pity. But for how long, really? Days, weeks, months, years?? The bottom line is this. If you’re done, then end it. If you are not going to end it and you’re unhappy, then do SOMEthing because really, what’s the point of living otherwise? And no, this isn’t some passive-aggressive attempt to send a message to my friends who are frustrating me. Believe me, I have already voiced this directly. And they know what they need to do.

Anyway. I’m home today. Felt crazy weak and tired this morning, but now I’m feeling better. John takes wonderful care of me when I’m sick. He made me a grilled cheese with his homemade bread, and he’s also making homemade chicken soup. In the future, I should get sick once a month just to lap up this luxury.

Btw Kat, the cranberry juice DOES work wonders for the sore throat! Thanks for the tip!

Well it’s official: John’s last day of work was last Friday. Yes, it’s been a long time coming, but he finally cut the cord after 8 years. It’s time for a change. Sure, the economy is shit and the job market sucks, but we’re done trudging through the mud. We’ve been preparing all our adult lives for this kind of flexibility and freedom to take risks. Enough is enough.

To be frank, in the beginning, I was reluctant. I’d had my fair share of shit jobs, so I admit I had a case of “You don’t know how good you’ve got it” attitude. But ultimately, he’s the one who’s unhappy, so if it doesn’t feel right for him, who am I to say otherwise? And so he’s packing the bags. Just. like. that.

I’m at ease with the decision now (he broke the news to them about two months ago). I mean, it didn’t take THAT much convincing. I could see the depression and unhappiness creeping back. Last summer’s respite was just that: a break to see if the symptoms would disappear once the alleged stressor was removed. After he went back to work, the symptoms reappeared.

Sure, he’ll still need to develop coping mechanisms to deal with future imperfect jobs or stressful environments, but at least for now, his current relationship with the employer comes to an end. And so begins another new adventure.

I proceed excitedly but cautiously. Downgrading to SINK from DINK is a substantial drop in income. But I remain hopeful: this will challenge us to become more resourceful and more creative. I’m a little sad to abandon my recent pricey hobbies (shopping, theater, classes) but ultimately, I know that freedom is priceless. And I remember that for many years, John toiled so I could pursue my interests. Now it’s my turn to return the favor.

So next week begins my official status as breadwinner (for real!!). And I really am psyched. I’m ready to be a Clydesdale the next several months while Bubbey frolics in the summer breeze. Haha. It’s not completely one-sided. I’ll be getting some delicious home cooked meals out of this. 🙂 Washed clothes and a clean house might be another story, but I’ll take what I can get…

Since college, I’ve always had guy friends. My roommate at Duke was like Miss Popular in high school: the smart, sporty cheerleader chick. You know what I mean. I, on the other hand, was the awkward, nerdy dorky chick. Thankfully, I wasn’t scrawny too like I had been in middle-early high school (before I got into weight lifting) but still, I was definitely socially awkward, inexperienced, and sheltered. I suppose rooming with a social butterfly like Jo opened me up a little bit. I started actually hanging out with boys– probably by association to Jo than anything else. Regardless, I befriended many of them. The relationships were always platonic. Yes, I found some of them attractive but not really in the “jump his bones” kind of way; I just really enjoyed the camaraderie. My fondest memories are just of us hanging out, lunching at the cafeteria, making fun of the teachers, laughing. I loved their sarcasm and wit and humor.

Of course, at various points during my first two years in college, I did end up falling for a few of them. They never felt the same way. That was the story of my whole romantic life up until then. I always fell for the multi-talented, sharp dude, and he never reciprocated. Instead, he would talk about some other chick he was pining after. Yeah, I had a decent personality, but whatever, in the end, personality was never enough to take things to the next level. And so there I remained. For the two guys I had crushes on, being friends was difficult. But with the others, our relationships were simply great friendships. And I really believed that platonic relationships between guys and girls were possible.

Fast forward ten years. Previous to my current job, I worked for a fuel cell startup– an engineering R&D place, meaning I was one of 3 women among 50 guys. I had lunch with these guys, I went rollerblading with them, I had dinner after work with them– sometimes alone. To me, this was never anything more than simply connecting with another human (who happened to be male) and enjoying his company. Sometimes John joined. Sometimes he didn’t. He always knew what I was doing. I didn’t sneak around rendezvousing.

Anyway, there was one dude I hung out with maybe 3-4 times. We talked about the usual stuff: that hellhole of a place where we used to work, our coworkers, what we’re up to… I never flirted or touched him or anything! We were going to try this new pizza place once but it turned out to be short order. I suggested we get it take out and then just hang at his place. He said no because his place was dirty. Ok, whatever, let’s dine somewhere else.

On another occasion, he was dropping me off after dinner and we had this weird discussion about prostitution. I don’t know how it came up, but he knows I’m feminist and I don’t buy into that “woman’s personal choice to work” bullshit. Anyway, he said something like men have needs. Yeah, THAT argument. I was completely shocked and truthfully, a bit offended and disappointed. And I told him so. Seriously, I don’t fucking care about a guy’s needs. He should deal with it and not at the expense of others. I mean, this is not like a guy with stubble needing to shave, and so he gets a disposable razor and chucks it afterwards. You know what I mean??

When we arrived at my house, I invited him in for tea or whatever. I was still in disbelief about his stance and it was otherwise a weird conversation to end on… John was home, and then the three of us talked and then he headed out. After that, we sort of lost touch.

In part, I was taken aback by his position on prostitution but beyond that, I just grew busy with work and my new year’s resolutions. I figured he’s probably just a “friend for a season” sort of thing. (you know, “friend for a lifetime”, “friend for a reason”, “friend for a season.). And that was that.

A year passed. He emailed me. I replied that things were insanely hectic, which they were. I didn’t ask to meet up. I was at a different place in my life with friendships. I felt like I had been over-engaging… like I had been trying too hard with my friendships, so I was scaling back. Whatever.

Three months later, another email. Just seeing what’s new. No big deal. Then three month later (last week), I got the strangest message.

Basically, he confessed to starting to like me, and the reason he didn’t want to go to his place for pizza was because he was afraid he would make a pass at me! WHAAA?? Yeah, OMFG I am totally clueless, right???

The email disturbed me on so many different levels:
1. Huh? How is this possible? I never intended to give any message that would result in this.
2. This kind of shit does NOT happen to me. Seriously, it’s a fucking miracle that I even snagged John. It’s not like I’ve ever been hit on at a bar. I’ve always had to buy my own goddamn drinks, thank you very much!
3. Am I naive to think platonic relationships are possible?
4. What the hell happened to my radar, my people reader? Apparently, it’s not fucking calibrated!!
5. Why now? I mean, the last time we hung out was late 2007. Why is he telling me this?
6. Is it not apparent to everyone I meet that I am an uber control freak who has MAJOR issues with infidelity? Really, there is no excuse for cheating. Married or unmarried. If someone is in a relationship, fidelity needs to be upheld. It’s just so tied to honesty and trust… Ugh. Don’t even get me started…

So the thing is this: I feel a little disappointed that somehow the relationship was misunderstood. I mean, maybe people can’t help feelings but they can totally control actions. So why is he telling me? Is he throwing a bone to see if maybe the feelings are reciprocated? Is it just closure? More importantly, what are the implications of this on my other friendships with guys? Part of me is pissed! I mean, if I want to see a play with a guy friend who also happens to love Les Mis, why not? And if we grab dinner before/drinks after to discuss, why not? I can spend 8 hours shopping/eating/hanging out with my friend Pamela late into the night. We’re kindred spirits. Who’s to say kindred spirits must be the same-sex (if you’re hetero).

I turn the scenario around. Say John starts hanging out with a lady at work. Grab dinner after, hang out until 9:30 alone. If they are friends, they are friends. I don’t deny that a red flag won’t raise, but that’s because he’s typically not a social person. He doesn’t do a lot of friend activities. But would I forbid it? No, because ultimately, people are going to do what they want to do. Whether we are married or not, in a relationship or not. I am not going to live in fear or worry about what might transpire when he is alone with someone else.

For me, I know that I have no other intentions with my guy friends. Perhaps my lesson is that I cannot control the other party. But still, I can control my response. And respond I did.

Of course, now I’m going to have to poll all my other guy friends to see what this is all about…

My brain is so frickin’ full right now. I attended a tech conference in SF from Sunday through Tuesday. The Nonprofit Tech Conference rocks. Seriously, if you’re not on the bandwagon yet, get on it. I attended my first NTC last year in New Orleans. This year’s production was even bigger. In fact, they sold out at 1600 attendees. Anyway, it was intense. As usual, I was a lame networker but it’s ok. I learned tons and of course, now I have a long list of things to research further. I’m psyched and yet very overwhelmed by how much there is to study.

Btw, the plenary speaker, Eben M., a law prof from Columbia, gave a totally deep talk about the ownership of knowledge and how that restricts education and access to a better life. Everyone knows I heart Microsoft AND Google, but he spoke of them like they were Sauron in Lord of the Rings. Interestingly, he suggested that if Gmail were a “free” tool owned/operated by the government, people certainly would not be handing over all their information so nonchalantly. Rather, they would be throwing fits about the violations or potential violations of privacy. Eben is hard core. Dude does not have a Gmail account, and he runs his own servers and shit. In the end, I couldn’t help but feel a bit whorish, like I had sold myself out to all of them : Yahoo, Gmail, FB, Twitter… He suggested that all of this knowledge (behind the tech tools) should be open source; it should be treated similarly to physics: everyone should have free access to knowledge because by depriving people of knowledge, we are depriving people of a right to education and to a better life. I dunno, I’m probably muddling all this stuff up, but let me tell you, at 8:30 in the frickin’ morning, this was heavy shit. Still, I appreciated his boldness, his sort of unapologetic candor, particularly at a conference where half the expenses are underwritten by Microsoft and Google and the other tech titans. In the end, I suppose I hang on the belief and hope that MS and Google ultimately do care about things beyond making money. I want to believe in a sincere goodness. Maybe I’m naive. Or maybe I’m just too damn lazy to go totally open source. Do you know how much of a hassle that would be? Baby steps perhaps. Maybe we’ll start by opening our home wifi network: everyone should have access to free wifi, right?

In other news, yoga class is moving along. I enjoy yoga a lot, but I’ve come to realize that I don’t love it as much as I used to and I attribute this shift to my ADD. Seriously, I find myself thinking about work-related items even as we’re getting ready for the “yoga sleep.” Thankfully, my grampie instructor has upgraded his cassette tape (?) from the 15 minutes/side format to like a 45 minutes/side version. Nice to have a bit more peaceful music before being jarred by the flipping of the tape. Anyway, teach is really good but I need to get on with things, you know, move on to standing poses and shit. Enough with the stomach exercises, please! Ugh.

Speaking of exercise, John got me an exercise ball for our anniversary. I’m skeptical but opening up to an alternative to my conventional desk chair. I also ordered “Miracle balls” online. Can’t wait to give those a try. Would be wonderful to work out all the knots in my back on my own on a daily basis.

So you know how my latest thing is bboy/bgirl dancecrew events? Well I totally found one on Saturday, and I was all up for going. And then I read the flyer again more closely. Admission is $5 and requires a middle/high school ID. Say what? Can old geezers not enjoy such events? So then I was thinking: well if they required college ID, I’d rummage around for mine and go. But middle and high school? Do you know how fucking long ago both of those were for me? At this rate, I probably identify more with senior citizens than I would middle/high schoolers. Totally depressing.

K. Other interesting developments but can’t share right now. More soon I hope. Off to bed.

I’ve been doing a lot of thinking lately… I’m back in a funk again, of sorts. I don’t know what prompted all of this, but I just feel dissatisfied, incomplete. Now before you suggest children as a probable fix, let me just stop you right there. My issue is with myself. I just feel so damn unaccomplished. Ugh, it’s frustrating really. I should just focus on learning and enjoying but I can’t help obsessing about the end point. What’s the final deliverable? What do I have to show for? Why do I drive myself insane with all of this nonsense?

Take, for example, my job. Frickin’ best job I’ve ever had. EVER. Great hours, good pay, awesome boss, stable, steady… I just got approved for a flex work schedule too: work 9 hrs/day and get every other Monday off. Totally sweet. But what do I obsess over now? Staying nimble, staying relevant, keeping everything at the cutting edge. I have this fear of losing that edge, of falling behind, of letting the agency down if I’m not constantly learning the latest and greatest. And then what about five years from now? There’s nowhere up… is it ok to be in the same position five years later? How do I know whether that’s acceptable or not? And let’s just say, however unlikely, I lose this job. How marketable am I in this current market? Ugh. The worry and anxiety. Why does it come in waves?

Last weekend, John and I were in Long Beach visiting his sister and some of our friends. Was a great short trip, but I found myself envying others. I had all this hype and excitement about getting style advice from Pamela and even though I thought I had make progress, as soon as I climbed into Pamela’s car, I realized, I was only at 2 of 10. I blame it on flying and traveling: it makes me way too minimalist and then I wear the laziest outfits. But anyway, yeah Pamela looked great and so effortless (even though I know otherwise). And then of course, she is a native Spanish speaker so that’s something to envy. 🙂 John’s sis? Totally stylish and beautiful and healthy and completely independent and self sufficient. Like why can’t I be like her? Project manager for a gabillion people, making good money, supporting herself, doing her thing, reading, learning, being healthy. Living comfortably in the OC. A few months ago, she said she was sick of the OC– very comfortable but too damn boring, like being on autopilot. She was thinking about moving to SF. But now, she’s rethinking… I mean, why move, really? The weather in southern Cal is beautiful. Good job, friends… why uproot?

I wouldn’t want to NOT have John. That’s not what I’m saying. But I suppose what bothers me is this realization that I depend on him for a lot of things. And that vulnerability bothers me. Now I could argue that I don’t HAVE to rely on him, that I could be self sufficient if I really needed to… maybe deep down, I question whether that is really true. Perhaps I need a test to prove this to myself.

This is my problem. Again, the constant searching for something. This week I started thinking that I was becoming too complacent, so I started backing into my garage again. My logic? Gotta keep up those skills you know… and I proceeded to back into our storage boxes in the garage. Nice.

I enrolled in the Spanish II class at the community center, and fuck, now I’m at the bottom of the class. Seriously, the competency spread is way too wide. I partnered with a lady this week in conversation, and she got all frustrated having to practice with a dumbo like me. And I’ve been listening to CDs in the car and studying the book! So frustrating!

I must have ADD. Seriously. I’m turning into a perpetual dabbler. I recently watched Planet Bboy, a movie about breakdancing. Now, a few days later, I’m contemplating a bgirl workshop in SF on Sunday… yeah in like 2 days! Am I crazy? And I already found two upcoming “battles” in the area. I mean honestly, what the fuck is a dorky Chinese suburbanite and her Boy Scout hubby going to do chilling out at a dancecrew event? We’ll have to go to PacSun or Zumiez to get the right attire just to be spectator. What a freakin’ mess. I’m telling you: I got problems.

The weather was absolutely gorgeous this weekend. Full sun, blue skies, warm temps. No reason to complain…except that I’m highly allergic to pollen and grass. So what started off as a wonderful weekend, ended with me in bed at 3 p.m. on Saturday with bee-stung eyes, a runny nose, a sore neck (from sneezing maybe 50+ times), and a huge pile of used tissues. I swear, I felt like I was on a muscle relaxer or something. Everything felt so tingly and weak. Yes, I took Zrytec. Yes, I did the nasal spray. It was simply a beautiful day with blooming plants, and well, my body just couldn’t hack it. So Saturday, sadly, was a bust. I didn’t wake up until this morning (Sunday).

Thankfully, today fared much better. John and I ran a bunch of errands to prepare for the week: farmer’s market, Trader Joe’s, Costco. In the afternoon, I did laundry and basked in the warm sun through our office balcony. I tried to use up the remaining couple dollops of self-tanner (which had expired last year). Yeah, nothing happened. No sunless color. What a drag.

Later on, John went to the gym (since he skipped paddling practice this morning) and I dusted off my old xlider skates. What a workout! I was glad to see I still had enough coordination to skate around the rink a bit, but boy, my abs were feeling it. Maybe I’ll get into this whole fitness thing. As it is, I’m trying to bike during the week at lunch and then add some kind of activity in the evening. As you can see from my tweets, I recently read an article about achieving and maintaining the highest level of fitness… normally, I have little interest in physical fitness, but this article actually intrigued me. Deep down, I think I just want to have a dancer’s body. Ha. Anyway, I suppose it’s a good thing to schedule regular daily exercise and to try and change it up to have some diversity. We’ll see how long this lasts…

Anyway, this evening I got to surfing around on some sites I used to read when I lived in Shanghai. Next thing I knew, I started to miss the old stomping grounds. Maybe it wasn’t even so much the city, but rather, the adrenaline… the constant motion, the diversity, the risk-taking, the new ideas… not mine but others’. As I read posts from bloggers I used to follow, I recalled how important my blog used to be to me… how throughout the day, I used to jot down notes about my experiences. I would write them down, so that I could return later to write about them. And I actually did.

I barely even posted twice last month. And just like that, I felt deflated. Disappointed that I had let up on something for which I had once felt so much passion, and sad that I no longer seemed to have stories and experiences worth sharing. In essence, I had become boring. While I obsessed about filling up my Google calendar with the tedium of my daily life, others were writing about their continuing explorations and discoveries in the ever-changing Shanghai cityscape. All these months, I had thought I was making progress, progressing towards my life goals: becoming active, learning Spanish, cooking, doing my makeover, and so on… and yet in the end, I felt quite ordinary and unaccomplished. It’s difficult to explain really, but it seems to return again to this endless search. What is it that I want from this life? I want to be happy but what the fuck does that mean? Why does my rubric for happiness seem to always shift? It used to be that I wanted to have the experience of living overseas. Then, I wanted a kickass job… Perhaps I am just destined to never be satisfied. I don’t know.

Is it that I want it all? I don’t even think I’m that greedy. I just want to be the best that I can be. Does that sound totally ridiculous? Am I just all demands without the necessary efforts. For example, I want to be smart, but I don’t read. I want to have a dancer’s body, but I don’t follow the dancer’s workout regimen. I want to be musical, but I don’t practice. I want to be multilingual, but I think/speak/write only in English. I want to be stylish but I resist/question expert fashion advice. Wtf is wrong with me? Maybe my parents are right: I’m intractable and freaking unruly and in many instances, a know-it-all. I’m downright annoying. Seriously, I’m annoyed with myself. Ugh. Swear to god, this “work in progress” shit is a frickin’ pain in the ass. Time for a hot shower. Gotta re-examine this bullshit tomorrow and figure out what the hell is going on.

Eeek! April already. Fuck, I need more time. My dear friend Pamela and I had been trying to connect for days, maybe weeks. She was wondering what the hell I was doing that was keeping me so busy. I know, seriously, you’d think I was saving the world. Not even close.

So early last month, John and I survived our first time skiing. Hurray, hurray. Normally, this probably would not even be news, but given the recent death of the famed Natasha Richardson from a fall on the beginner’s slope, I count us doubly lucky. And no, we didn’t wear helmets. So despite putting ourselves in a high-risk, dangerous, potentially fatal situation, we had a pretty fun time. Prior to our lesson, we went on a bunny slope that was well, probably not a good idea for people with zippo experience, but you gotta love peer pressure. Our damn friends conned us into going and by the time we finally made it down the hill, we were 10 minutes late for class! And you know how I am about class and punctuality. Anyway, the ski lesson was helpful. I skiied down a big hill afterwards. Definitely put in a full day’s work. All in all, the Tahoe trip was a blast. My buddy Dave rented a cabin and a group of us lived it a la MTV Real World, with a pool table, ping pong table, and most importantly, a hot tub. Perfect after a long day on the slopes.

I fully expected Day 2 to be lax, but screw that. We went snowshoeing and well, let’s just say it was awesome for like the first two hours. For the last hour? A bit much. Dave and Jeff worked us to a frickin’ nub.

Come Monday, I was like Kramer in his tight Frankenstein jeans. Seriously, I even had trouble going up and down the stairs… for the entire week following. Yeah, these snow sports whipped my ass. Enjoy the pictures of me looking ridiculous in my winter gear. In my defense, let me just explain that I am deathly afraid of the cold and thankfully, my snow clothes kept me warm and dry the entire time. So remember: function over style… at least this time. Don’t hold it against me, please!