Boy does life get complicated. This last month’s been all about “big boy stuff,” as Bubbey terms it. Over the last several weeks, he and I had gotten into some really bad fights: same old shit but I guess the drama finally reached a tipping point. We’re in couples counseling now. Say what? I know, right? And I mention it here publicly, because I’m not ashamed to admit we’re seeing a therapist. Fortunately, we’re not to the point of divorce court (yet!) or anything that dire, but apparently we both have “anger management issues.” Yeah, when the therapist gave her initial assessment, I immediately questioned her competency. And actually, John and I both docked off points. I mean hello, was she even listening to us? Anger management is not an issue… there’s no physical violence in the house.

To her credit, she explained, “Anger management isn’t just rage: it’s frustration, impatience, resentment, irritation, annoyance, giving the silent treatment…” Oh, well in that case, hell yeah, we have anger management issues! In fact, I’ve had it my whole damn life then!

So we started seeing Linda three weeks ago… we meet once a week, and then afterwards we have a “date night.” And let me tell you, apparently everyone else is already in on the secret about “date night.” Wtf? Yeah, a friend mentioned having hers on Wednesdays and then two coworkers said they did it too… I suppose we totally missed the boat on that one… Turns out, date night is kinda helpful, because it forces us to connect in a new environment (the therapist suggested trying new restaurants) free from the distractions of home.

During our last counseling session, Linda gave us this anger questionnaire about how our parents handled anger when we were growing up. When I told her I got spanked a lot, she had this child services look of horror on her face. I mean, in retrospect, I totally deserved it. I was a stubborn-ass, unapologetic brat and most times I opted for the belt rather than an apology for my stinging words. Spanking is old school, but I think it’s fine. Then again, I guess it’s a moot point: barren womb forever. So whatever, therapy is working out ok. I’m learning new tools. Guess we’ll be master communicators after this.

Hi folks. I know, my blogging has really trailed off. Lately, or in the year rather, writing has moved to the back burner. Sometimes I just feel like I don’t have the stories I used to. After all, San Mateo is no Shanghai…

Plus, with the job, the extracurricular activities, and Bubbey, there’s just too much other shit going on.

I had my 6-month review on Friday. It was pretty much the same as my 3-month, which is good. I’ve been pretty happy with my contributions to openspace.org (yeah, check it out!). Web work is so stimulating; there are always new tools to learn and try. And just so many people doing amazing shit. Have you heard of mobile activism? The Center for Biological Diversity has this really clever way of building their email/mobile list and of expanding their marketing outreach: endangered species ringtones. Have not yet downloaded my polar bear ringtone (no data service so I have to download then transfer via USB or whatever), but I’m thinking work may just have to hop on the mobile activism bandwagon. Yes, I’m a total poseur.

In other news, my brief trip to New Orleans triggered a new hobby. Late at night, John and I stumbled across America’s Best Dance Crew on MTV. Yes, I was up all frickin’ night watching the marathon. The show is similar to the American Idol (blah!) variety of programs (it is produced or whatever by Randy Jackson) but I gotta say, I’ve always had a fascination with synchronized ANYTHING, be it swimming, step, the Dallas Cowboys Cheerleaders (years ago they had a reality show on TNT). Anyway, I was amazed watching these peeps move. So the next day, I resolved to look into dance class. Yup. Ready for this? Hip Hop class. I know, are you on the floor laughing?

There is something about being over 30. You know how when you’re a kid (like under 10), you have this invincibility about you? Then you hit the teenage/adolescent years and all that goes to hell. You think middle school is going to fucking be the end of you… Well I’m finally over that shit. And now it’s like, if I wanna take hip hop, I’m gonna take it. Ok, I wasn’t that confident about it… but I was motivated enough to look up dance classes through San Mateo County Parks and Rec. Would you fucking believe that alongside tap and salsa and the waltz, they offer hip hop? So I signed up.

To be honest, I was really nervous about the first class. I mean, the max class size was 50 people!! And were they going to be a bunch of young, cool punks? I had no idea what to expect, but my god, boy was I pleasantly surprised. All around my age. All different shapes and sizes. All levels of fitness. Thank fucking god. I mean, I do still have a tad bit of competitiveness in me, so I didn’t want to be rock bottom. Understandable.

Anyway, the class is awesome. And such the workout. I haven’t sweat like that in ages. Sure, my moves suck. They are totally stiff and android-like. But I just watch the teacher and try to identify her secrets to fluid movement. That, and I try my damnedest to remember all the fucking steps. One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight. And one…

Whenever I switch to watching myself in the mirror, I just crack up. Cannot help it. Need to just keep my eyes on the teach.

Still, to my credit, I’m actually keeping up with the steps. It’s the movements I need to hone. So it’s a fun new project. It’s works all kinds of new muscles (mostly on the torso). Teach says we can have a performance at the end of our 12 weeks if we want. I think we should wait and see. Just like I obsessed over my Board presentation, I practice A LOT in the privacy of my own home. John tries to give feedback, but what does he know about dance? All he can do is say yea or nay. At least he’s getting some entertainment value out of this. And he’s happy that now he can listen to hip hop when we’re in the car together. Man, I actually have to load that shit to the mp3 player so I can review the moves in my head on the drive into work.

As tourists, John and I had a rather superficial experience of New Orleans. With the French Quarter as our playground, we saw little evidence of Katrina’s destruction. In fact, the downtown area weathered the storm mostly unscathed, suffering only wind damage (according to our airport cabbie).

We noticed lots of vacant rental spaces, but we were told business had been in a slump well before the hurricane. On our visit, shops and restaurants seemed bustling with activity. And Bourbon Street was the same insane debauchery I had remembered from a decade ago.

On our last day, the cabbie drove us through a very nice suburban neighborhood not far from the airport. The homes were beautiful, all-brick structures but two years after the storm, this area still awaited electricity. Watermarks on columns under the overpass showed water levels as high as 7 feet. The water had remained at this level for 6-7 weeks. While the homes were magnificent on the outside, their insides required complete gutting. After being underwater for six weeks, everything had to go– furniture, appliances, utility lines, everything.

Obviously, rebuilding takes time. The sad news is, it’s taking longer than it should. At the conference, we met some of the amazing people credited with helping the community move forward. Among the online resources that have sprouted are Louisiana Rebuilds and NENA (Neighborhood Empowerment Network Association). I hope you’ll consider making a donation.

John and I are in New Orleans… I attended the Nonprofit Technology Conference this week. What a wonderful event. I so love the nonprofit community– these peeps have so much heart. So the conference was cool. Lots of people doing amazing stuff using very cheap or free tools. Saw really moving and engaging videos from Oxfam and Amnesty; powerful email campaigns from Care, and awesome mapping of demographic and CDC data from the Lucile Packard Foundation. Crazy. There is so much to learn.

The keynote speaker was David Pogue from the New York Times. The guy was hilarious: he played all these videos he’s made for his tech column (starring him and his wife). Also, the end of his talk was the best. Apparently, he used to be a conductor for Broadway shows, so they pulled out the baby grand and he started jamming these two jingles, including one ragging on the RIAA (Recording Industry Association of America). OMG, was frickin’ cool.

Now I have a ton of new tools to check out: GrandCentral, Google 411, Miro, voice to text services… can’t wait to play around after I get home. In the meantime, I’m stuffing my face with the phenomenal Cajun/Creole foods of Noo Aw’lins. So rich and hearty. Too bad the two pounds I dropped last week are back on (and then some). Oh well, gotta indulge while I can.

Head back on Sunday. Yeah, jet setters like that. 😉

I can’t sleep… this evening we learned that our friend is recovering from drug addiction. We’d been out of touch with him and his wife for several months (they live back east). Just five years ago, they were a happy couple attending our wedding. They married a year or two after us, sent copies of their wedding pictures to us in Shanghai, and I swear it was only a year or two ago when everything seemed great.

Good people with hearts of gold. There was so much patience and thoughtfulness and love in the few simple and quiet gestures I witnessed. They were building a life together, a home. They worked, attended classes: there was a plan.

And then this happened. First it was cocaine, then crack. Depleted shared savings. Theft, break-ins, arrests. In the months following, he went in and out of rehab. He’s been clean for two months. That’s the good news.

But now, so many questions, so much uncertainty. I crumbled when I heard the news. How? Why? God damn this world. God fucking damn it.

Earlier this month, the office staff attended a 2-day workshop on “Influencing Skills.” John jokes that people at my small government agency never actually get shit done. We just hold meetings or attend conferences or trainings or whatever. Pshaw, he’s one to talk. His company holds scavenger hunts and posh “team building” events and then their “business dinners” in Asia consist of getting clients shit faced at strip joints. I should also mention that at the holiday part, a freaking Board member offered $100 cash to the first person to drink the most shots at the bar. Whatev. At least my shit is still professional. For realz.

Anyhow, the training was so-so. Apparently, I’ve been communicating all wrong in my personal life. That could explain the growing-shrinking rift over the last two years. My poor communication skills and/or his workaholic schedule and unreliable promises to be home “normal time.” I suppose like most relationships, ours is a work in progress. Still, in most matters, I’m happy. Work and friends compensate for the sometimes on-off disconnect at home. So honestly, I don’t know if I’m convinced about the skills training. I don’t necessarily agree with the suggested approach. Sounds too much like running a business. Then again, sometimes I’m just rather resistant to personal change. I like how I am. 🙂

John turned 32 this month. For his birthday, I got him a couple really cute stuffed orangutans. That’s our thing now. And we adopted (co-sponsored) a baby orangutan on Orangutan Island. Kesi’s not on the tv show; she’s just a baby. Poor girl got her hand chopped off with a machete. And the fuckers killed her mother. She’s doing well now though at the Center. She’s a super star student, and Orangutan Outreach assembles really cute updates and photos. A nice touch for an NGO. I’m always collecting data points and ideas.

What else. Last weekend, John and I headed into downtown Palo Alto for dinner. Afterwards, we caught the some street performances by two college acapella groups. Totally reminded me of Duke: study breaks at the cafe or on the quad. The guys’ group was rockin’. Midnight Ramblers from the University of Rochester. They were having so much fun– smilin’, groovin’, singing their hearts out. By comparison, the Stanford women’s group was well, lame and lifeless. We left after the guys wrapped up. They put on a great show right under the Borders overhang on University Ave. Something else to research now: local acapella groups.

Regarding my previous post… I spoke way too soon. In the last two weeks, Power Pill’s been crushed to a very fine powder. Let’s see. First, I got sick. Granted, something is still going around the office (and certainly several peeps fell ill for multiple days) but still, obviously, I’m not as tough as I’d thought. Second, I started seeing a chiropractor, partly because I wanted to start using my medical flex spending account but more so because I was getting sick of the android comments. Plus, it would be nice to regain full range of neck motion, right?

My chiro seems good, but then again, I’m a newbie. He could probably hack me up real well, and I still would not even know. I mean, a crack here, a snap there, a jerk there… who the hell really knows what’s going on? Ah well. Blind faith in the medical community…

I do feel some improvement immediately following my visits. The unfortunate thing is though, as soon as I go to bed and awake the next morning, my neck is back to its good ‘ol fucked up self. I’ve tried pillows under the knees, pillows between the knees, sleeping on my side, etc. I’m still trying to break the code.

Of course sleeping on crunchy, formerly dog piss-saturated carpet last weekend didn’t help. John and I were in the OC visiting my sisters-in-law. Susan gave us an air mattress, but it was half-deflated and with my back issues, I opted for the floor. Needless to say, we had crap sleep for two nights. I’m getting too damn old for such slumber party-esque discomfort. Gotta have my Westin bed.

But going back to the chiro… I’ve been focusing hard on improving my posture. Yes, I have re-evaluated my worksplace ergonomic settings and also put an end to internet surfing on the couch. And I walk around like a bonafide prude with a straight back, shoulders back (no slouching!), and surely something stuck up my ass. I’m sure I look totally uptight, but hey, at this point, my body is shutting down and I need to take drastic measures.

In other words, I think I’m getting the shingles again. I know, how is this frickin’ possible? The first time (October 2006) was already an anomaly. After all, shingles mostly affects old people. I’m 31. I can’t believe I may be victimized again. Fucking A.

You see, several weeks ago I developed this rash on my right ribcage. I didn’t think much of it, but the itchiness has persisted. On top of that, I’ve been feeling a bit achy lately… I was previously attributing the discomfort to my neck/back chiro issue but maybe that’s not it. I don’t know. Last time I saw the chiro, he said my traps and upper mid back were the tightest since he first started seeing me in early February. He kept asking me if I was a really high-strung person, if I was under tremendous stress. I was like, uh to be honest, I’m the least stressed I’ve ever been in my life. Honesty, I have no idea what this could be. He looked at me like I was lying. Little does he know, I don’t (can’t) lie.

So now I’m curious and borderline paranoid. What the fuck is going on with my body? Are these manifestations of stress that accumulated over the years? It’s not as if I’m an EMT or ER physician or snow crab fisherman. Wtf? Meanwhile, my knee is starting to itch… fuck man. Shingles twice? I’m calling the derm first thing tomorrow. This ain’t right. I’m 31. Not cool. Gotta figure this mystery out.

Anyway, back to our trip down south. Sorry, for getting off track… Best part was meeting up with my dear friend Pamela. She and the hubby recently moved back to the States from Shanghai (where we met). They’ve only been back a few months, but they appear amazingly well-adjusted to American suburban life. Seeing Pamela was awesome and somewhat therapeutic… it was as if no time had passed. Kindred spirits indeed.

She and Joey took me out for Peruvian food (very tasty… reminded me a bit of Thai actually) and then all of us watched Oscars night and played Taboo. Good times. See, no stress? So why shingles again, why? Ok, maybe I’m jumping the gun. Will know more once I get this shit checked.

I haven’t felt this energetic and happy in a long, long time. In fact, I feel so much exuberance and zest that John now calls me “Power Pill.” Why the refreshed outlook? Well besides the obvious of having lucked out with Bubbey (from what my unattached friends tell me, the dating world is treacherous out there!) and two great pups, I just feel like things are finally starting to gel over here. I’m making friends (and reconnecting with old ones), I’m doing activities that had always been on my list (skating, riding, cycling), the job is totally kickass (more on that later), and this is super vain but my skin is finally clear. The last point is not one that I bring up too often (it’s a bit personal), but I just want to say, all those super sappy testimonials you see on the Proactive-type commercials? I cry every time I watch those (whether they are real customers or not), because I totally identify with their old feelings of ugliness, insecurity, worthlessness, and embarrassment. Honestly, thinking back to college, some days I felt so sickened by the way I looked, I simply stayed in my room all damn day. And you know how anal I am about school… me skip class? I dunno. It’s hard to describe, and I hope none of you ever feel that sense of paralysis: it’s just crazy. All those things people say about being hindered by body image and self-esteem issues… I really do feel a certain liberation now. Sounds silly but it’s true. John says I need to reconsider my position on elective plastic surgery now… after all, whatever makes you happy, right?

So I have to update on the job (surprise, surprise). I just passed my five-month milestone. You see, at my former job, everything started out hunky dory. Loved the job, loved the people, clean tech was saving the world, blah, blah. But by month five, the shit was hitting the fan every goddamn day. The signs were there… I just refused to look at them.

In contrast, my current place is still rockin’. Sure, there are some deep-rooted internal team issues, but thankfully, I’m not pulled into that. I like everyone and everyone likes me. La dee da. The other stuff, they are working on.

A couple weeks ago, a few of us attended a workshop on environmental diversity– expanding environmentalism and outreach to diverse communities, and it was a really informative session. They had all these panelists from really cool nonprofits and independent media… These people are amazing– they’re out there inciting action, engaging people in their community. We all felt really inspired, and for the next fiscal year, our team is really going to focus on outreach to new communities.

I had my first presentation to the Board this past Wednesday. My god. I was obsessing. Had the slides ready like a week before, and then I saw the GIS person’s slides and she totally created her own template. Mapping people, I tell you. All into pantones and RGBs and shit. Her template was awesome, which in turn, threw me into a tizzy because mine was just a plain gradient background.

So then, I had no choice but to spend an inordinate amount of time creating my new template: late nights at home, a mini breakdown because Bubbey (Mr. Visio himself) kept dismissing the importance of an impressive template… but in the end, I sliced/cropped an image from Keynote (Yes Apple, thank you!) and came up with a nice, clean template. Whew! Thank goodness.

John kept saying I was too competitive, but it wasn’t even about that. I didn’t much care to surpass Casey. I just didn’t want her slides to be a 10 and mine to be a 2. I had to at least be an 8 or 9, right?

Anyway, in signature style, I overprepared my ass. I was practically rehearsing my lines in my sleep. I ran through the slides in the bathroom, in the car, at the store… it was insane. But it paid off! I seriously rocked it. Afterwards, all the big dogs were blown away, and the next day, I got so many compliments, including people asking if I had done power speaking or a lot of public speaking events!!! Boy did I fool them! Ha. I mean, to be blunt, their standards obviously aren’t that high, but still, I was so pleased especially since I used to have major social anxiety! So their comments really made my day. And, now I have a nice template I can reuse for next time. Hee, hee. I’m such a nerd.

The weather has just started to warm. Yes, we had a good month or so of rain and cold, and I was actually beginning to forget this California sunshine that everyone always brags about…

John took a couple pictures of Bemby enjoying the return of good weather. Pictures of Marty to follow.

Hello, hello. Can’t believe another two weeks have passed since my last post. How lame am I? Well, first I must say Happy Chinese New Year. It’s the year of the rat, which means my mother is turning 60. Wow. My perception of age is all screwed up. I still think of myself as a young adult and my parents as 50 y/o. Geez, I really need to get with it.

So anyway, CNY was cool. Since I lamed out on my coworkers for Christmas (meaning everyone else handed out gifts…), I brought in a big box of pineapple cakes which my coworker Paul described as a pineapple Fig Newton. The next day, John and I also made jiaozi. Following this super easy recipe, John made the filling and I sat for 90 minutes to wrap 100 dumplings. They turned out super tasty. We’d gotten a nonstick skillet just for the dumplings (guotie style is the only way to go) and man, the brown crispy bottom was perfect, just like how Wu ayi used to make them. I made John take pictures for proof, which is always needed in my case.

Just to make sure it wasn’t all a fluke, I also cooked some up the other day for my friend Tina. She was crazy impressed. Ha, that’s how low the expectations are for me. 🙂

In other news, we had some peeps over for dinner a week ago. Got the place all spic and span. Made our usual go-to dinner party meal: Costco beef tritip pot roast. The evening’s guest of honor was my friend Joe’s girlfriend. All of us had been hearing so many great things about her (doctor, rock climber, hiker, conference speaker, hottie, etc.), and this was the night to finally meet her. Ever the skeptical, John insists there’s no way she’s all those things. “She’s a phantom girlfriend. She sounds too perfect.” I disagree. Perfection is possible. Already, I can name at least two people who I would consider perfect. Sure, they aren’t everywhere, but they are there. And I notice (envy) them. Anyway, the point is, she got sick and had to bail last minute. John says that only furthers his point, “I knew it! She’s not real.” But I think it’s really sweet that Joe is completely enthralled with his new lady. The Salad Years are good times.

I do hope to meet her some day soon. She sounds quite inspiring actually.