Hello Kitty and Stereotypes

I was riding in the car with a few of my friends when I noticed a Hello Kitty sticker on the car next to me. "Hello Kitty!" I exclaimed. I looked for the driver, meaning to tell her (I assumed it was a female) that I really liked her sticker. Boy was I in for a surprise. The person driving the car was not the young Asian femal that I had imagined, but a fifty-year-old white man. My jaw dropped. How was this possible? I thought. Maybe the car belonged to his daughter or a friend or something? Then I realized that I was being stereotypical and that not only young Asian women liked Hello Kitty. Who knows? Maybe it WAS his sticker. Maybe he likes Hello Kitty or maybe he thought it was cute. There's no need to justify by making up reasons why it was there. That's when I began to question what else I stereotyped. Did I expect giant pick-up trucks with flames painted on the side to be driven by hulking white men? Yes. Did I expect that only girls would like Hello Kitty? Yes. Did I imagine that fifty-year-old white males to only have sensible cars that had no cutesy stickers on them. Probably yes. Well, maybe it's time to let go of the stereotypes and just let people be. I mean, I don't fit the stereotype of most  girls. I don't like going to the mall. Or gossip. Or whatever it is girls are supposed to like. On the other hand, I do like spiders. And spider webs. I like rodents. And playing in the mud. I prefer food shopping or shoe shopping and I would rather watch action/adventure movies than romantic comedies. I like all kinds of things that girls aren't "supposed" to like. So if I don't fit the mold, then why should I fit other people into molds? By the way, I'm also fascinated (and repulsed) by mold.

Burnt Tongue

Whenever I cook pasta and I want to find out if it's done cooking, I take a strand of pasta and fling it against the fridge. If it sticks, it's done (learned that from watching The Golden Girls). Matthew, however, likes to scoop up a strand of pasta and chew on it to see if it's cooked to his satisfaction. "Why waste pasta?" he often tells me.

Well, I was making alfredo linguine for dinner and I decided to try out Matthew's way of seeing if the noodles were done. I scooped out a strand of linguine, blew on it, and tried chewing on the strand. Unfortunately, in my eagerness to try it, I did not notice that there was still boiling water dripping off of the noodle and accidentally burnt my tongue when tasting it. I thought to myself, It's just a little burn. It'll heal up quickly. And if it doesn't, then I'll just chew on one side of my mouth to avoid the burn. Well, let me tell you, it is nigh near impossible to chew on one side of your tongue. When I had finished making the linguine and put it all together with homemade alfredo sauce, I found that I had a hard time keeping food to just one side of my tongue. I then realized that I could eat on one side of my mouth if I had a toothache or a mouth ulcer, but it was way too hard to do that if my tongue was in pain. Needless to say, I spent the rest of dinner in silent misery, crying "Ouch" every time the noodles or sauce hit the burnt side of my tongue. Take a lesson from this, readers, there are better ways to find out if your pasta's done cooking than putting it in your mouth. At least cool it off with some cold water or something before tasting it. Or maybe my boyfriend is not as sensitive to heat and pain the same way I am. In either case, I learned my lesson.

Lack of Belief

I was talking to my mother when I had an epiphany. She was asking me about what kind of job I wanted when I got out of school and then she said that if I don't get a career job right away, would I just settle for a job that paid ten dollars or so. I said that I would demand at least $30,000 a year (and that's an extremely low starting salary for someone with a master's degree). She persisted, however, as she kept saying, "Well, if you don't get a job like that, couldn't you just settle for a job that paid $10 an hour? You know, just some job at McDonald's or something like that?" I didn't know what she was getting at, but I didn't like the lack of confidence she had in me. Maybe she was asking that because she was desperate for me to move back home and she just wanted to know if I would accept just any job? Or maybe she wanted to know if I would be too demanding with my first career job and starting salary. In either case, I had a sudden epiphany: I didn't believe in myself because my mother didn't believe in me. Neither did my dad. I don't know what my brother thinks, but hopefully, it's better than what my parents think. For all that it was worth, I suddenly realized that my parents didn't believe in me much when I was growing up. They expected me to do well and kept pushing me harder and harder, but it seemed like they lacked the actual confidence that I could do it, that I could actually succeed at something. I know that I should have realized this sooner since it's apparent from the way they treat me, but when that's all you grow up with, it's hard to see anything else. It wasn't until I went off to college and made friends there who DID believe in me that I realized how my parents were wrong. They were wrong to expect so much and push me so hard while criticizing me and calling me a failure because I didn't meet their definition of "make something of myself." It isn't until I got real love and acceptance that I realized what life could be, how relationships could be. I felt like my relationship with my parents is just this mindless obedience of doing whatever they say and then taking their emotional abuse when they became disappointed. Now that I had something to contrast it, I suddenly saw it for what it was and let me tell you, I didn't like it. Then again, that begs the question: Why am I still working so hard to gain the approval of people who don't treat me well?

The Beach!

Some friends and I went to the beach today! It's been three years since I was last at a beach and I can't believe I waited so long to return.

Finding parking was terrible ($25 for parking?! Really?!), but the rest of it was pretty fun. We took a stroll on the boardwalk and then went on to the beach. We had to pay $9 per person for a beach pass to get on to the beach itself though. I've never had to pay to get onto a beach before and let me tell you, I'm not doing it again. The beach itself was nice. The ground was hot, but the water was nice and cold, a relieving contrast to traipsing around in sunburnt sand. It was fun watching the seagulls and people. There was a cooling breeze coming from the ocean although when the wind picked up, it was so strong that it blew away people's beach umbrellas and cooler lids.

There was one group of people talking about the ocean and the guy said, "Did you know some people believe that the ocean was made out of God's tears? It used to be a pond." Then his umbrella blew away and he had to chase after it. A woman nearby heard his story and said a rude comment, but later on, all three of her beach umbrellas blew away. She was too busy playing near the water to notice so she didn't even know that her umbrellas were gone until she came back later. Hah! I thought. She got her just desserts. 

After a while, I decided to go to the water myself. It was so mesmerizing watching the waves roll in and out and as soon as I stepped up to the waves, I felt an immediate feeling of coming home. "It's been a long time," I felt the ocean saying to me. Yes it has, Ocean. Yes it has. I can't believe I've waited this long to return to the beach. I know that I'm terrified of it, but it's also something to respect and admire as well. There's a line in a song that goes, "I hope you still feel small when you stand beside the ocean." That's how I felt. Then I looked up and down the shore line and thought, I don't see how you CAN'T feel small. The ocean is HUGE. I slowly stepped into the waves until the incoming tide came up to my thighs, then I stopped. I just stood there after that, letting the waves roll over me, laughing and squealing like I was five years old again. There were times the waves were small and didn't even reach my toes. Other times, the waves were huge and I had to run away from them. Even then, I would get soaked all the way up to my waist. As I watched other people "catching a wave", I envied them and wished that I had brought my swimsuit so I could ride waves, too. At least I wore my short shorts so I could stand in the water and let it wash over my legs.

I could have stood there for hours just letting the waves roll over me, but after a while, my friend came and asked if I was ready to go home. I took a few last glances at the ocean. Until we meet again, Ocean. The ocean seemed to wave goodbye to me. Until we meet again.

The Day I Almost Went Clubbing

I came home from work and was getting ready to go clubbing for the first time. Before I left, I called my brother and asked him what it was like. He told me that he didn't really like clubbing very much, he just sat at the bar and drank.

"I don't want to do that," I told him. "I thought that clubbing was more like dancing."
"It is if you want to dance. I just sit at the bar and drink."
"Well, maybe I won't like it because I don't like drinking and I don't like loud music. I'm also tired."
"I don't like it, tired or not tired."
"Then why do you go?"
"My friends make me."

I decided to go anyway, just for the experience. I showered and got dressed, then met up with the friends who were going to take me there. They were getting dressed, and waiting for another friend who knew more of the clubbing scene in the area. When she arrived, however, she said that most clubs don't have anything happening before 11 pm so she suggested we go to a nearby tavern to have a drink first. I didn't mind, but I told my friends that if we weren't going to the club until eleven, then I was just going to have a drink at the tavern and then go home. I ended up paying three dollars for a lemonade while everyone else had alcohol. I tried making conversation there, but the music was just so loud that I couldn't hear anyone and people had a hard time hearing me. After half an hour, I gave up and went home. I'm not really a night owl or a party person so I decided that if clubs were places that only started the fun around eleven at night, then I didn't want to go. I know it sounds boring, but I'd rather get my sleep instead of forcing myself to be a place with loud music and alcohol just so I can get the "experience." I'll leave the clubbing to the other young thangs in this town. This girl is going to get some beauty sleep.

A Second Chance At Life

I had a near-death experience and it cured me of my suicidal thoughts. I was driving to work and decided to stop by the deli to buy something for lunch. I almost got into a car accident however when I realized that I had to turn left and that there was no left turn lane and no left turn light. My car was already angled in a way that it was hard for me to back up or to just go straight so I doggedly kept trying to turn left. Cars were honking at me from all angles and two cars almost t-boned me. Somehow, some way, I inched forward and made it through. I did make it to the deli, but by the time I got there, I was too shaken to even order anything. I just picked a menu and looked at it without really seeing anything. Then, after a minute of just staring blankly, I folded up the menu, put it back, and drove to work without buying anything. I can't believe that I was so stupid to risk my life for a stupid bagel sandwich and then not even buy one.

I was still shaking when I got to work and I had to sit at my desk for a minute and just breathe. I kept saying, "Thank you, God. Thank you, God," the entire time while I tried to calm down. I eventually got a hold of myself and decided to do something to change. I looked up tips on defensive driving, wrote them all down, and recited them to myself. Then I swore to recite them every time I got behind the wheel. I continued to thank God for the rest of the day. I felt like He gave me a second chance at life and I told Him that I was not going to waste it. I didn't want to commit suicide anymore. I now know how precious life is and how quickly I could lose it. I wasn't going to waste my second chance. From here on out, I'm going to be a lot more careful and a lot more thankful.

Spamalot

They were having Plays in the Park this summer and so I decided to attend. I went to see Spamalot and boy was that show racy! It was much more outrageous than I thought and I even found some parts offensive, but I suppose the show is meant to be a bit inappropriate. As I watched King Arthur and his knights go on a quest for the Holy Grail, I was surprised by how often they were sidetracked or how the show kept going off on tangents. It was a good show though, and I vaguely remember a few of the same scenes from watching Monty Python and the Holy Grail when I was sixteen. I loved the songs, too! "Whatever happened to my Part?" for example, sung by one of the main characters who was prominent in the first act and who practically disappears after that. The song is also known by the apt title, "The Diva Song." I also like the song about Lancelot being gay. "His name is Lancelot, and in tight pants a lot, he likes to dance a lot. You know you do." Then there's the song about King Arthur singing how he's all alone even though his trusty servant Patsy is standing right next to him. My favorite song, however, is "The Song that Goes Like This" which begins, "Once in every show, there comes a song like this. It starts off soft and low, and ends up with a kiss. Oh where is the song that goes like this? Where is it? Where? Where?"

There was also a scene where one of the cast members was talking about how one could not make it on Broadway without Jews and the audience laughter died down. The cast member continued to sing a song about it and there were a few nervous laughs but mostly silence. I thought that was a bit much so I just sat nervously in my seat while the performance went on. It wasn't until later on during the show that the guy playing King Arthur looked out at the audience, raised his hand, and said, "Are there any Jews here?". Several people raised their hands and the audience seemed to relax so I relaxed too

I also thought there were too many people for the ensemble cast, but other than that, the show was great. I listened to all of my favorite songs again on YouTube a few days after I saw the show. I actually thought that the cast from Plays in the Park did it better than the original cast. They were much more dramatic and expressive, but maybe it's just because I like that kind of thing. Oh well. I'll see about going to more plays this summer. It's only seven dollars and I had a really good time so I want to go again.

Robo Shirt

I wore my robot shirt to work the other day. It's this dark grey t-shirt with a robot face on it and hearts. I got compliments from one camp student who liked my shirt and the robotics teacher, naturally, also liked my shirt. As a matter of fact, he liked my shirt so much that he asked me to stand in front of class to show my shirt to everyone.

"Oh," I said, a little surprised. I stood in front of class like something on display and let them take a gawk at my shirt.

"This is a cool shirt," the teacher said. "Everyone go out and get a shirt like this."

I don't know why but that made me feel really special. I guess it's the little things like that which matter in life. I spent the rest of the day with a smile on my face.

Swimming!

I went swimming for the first time in years! My summer job has an indoor swimming pool and, luckily for me, it's free for summer employees. Yesterday, I got off work ten minutes early so I went to try out the swimming pool for the first time. It was one of those pools that was divided into lanes so people can swim laps instead of a free, open swimming area. I didn't mind too much. All I had to do was to avoid others swimming in the same lane and that wasn't too hard.

Let me tell you, beginning to swim again when you haven't done it in a long time is no piece of cake. Within the first ten minutes, the muscles in my back were already sore and I was afraid that my neck was going to end up in a painful pinch from the fact that I kept trying to hold my head above water.

I tried swimming with my head underwater as well, but then I quickly realized that I didn't have the lung capacity to hold my breath anymore. It had been too long. So I went over to the shallow end of the pool and practiced holding my breath and doing dead man's float. After I got up to thirty seconds, I tried swimming again and gradually learned to trust the water.

After about half an hour of swimming, I looked around me and noticed that others were swimming so much better. There was a little boy swimming next to me that moved so easily through the water. Others  were very graceful as they dipped in and out of the waves. There was even a fully-dressed woman wearing a headscarf who kept doing headstands in the water! What are they doing that I'm not doing? I wondered. After watching them several times, I got it: they were swimming slowly. I, meanwhile, was frantically doing breaststrokes and frog swimming in hurried, rushed motions. Maybe I should try it like them, I thought. I took a few deep breaths and plunged back into the water.

Let me tell you, swimming slowly made all the difference. Instead of worrying about running out of breath or doing the motions correctly, I told myself to slow down and just take my time. Immediately, I was gliding through the water and expending less energy.

This made me start to wonder if I hurried too frantically in other parts of my life. There was the car accident a week ago and now this swimming revelation. Where else in my life should I slow down and take my time?