Echo

These provided me hours of Mirth…

I was just reading a show recap of Oprah about Wives Who Don’t Want Sex. Don’t ask. I like how they talk about how this is a problem that ruins marriages and lives. Your whole life will be ruined because you lose your sex drive, even more so than by hitting a kid with a car, by letting your baby drown in the bathtub or by shooting a cashier in the face in the middle of an armed robbery. I hate how the media tries to freak people out. I did like how the site mentions how current society makes sex almost a strictly physical thing, with the widespread promotion of things like Viagra. It’s another way that Western Medicine misses the point and only deals with surface issues.

So what is sex and does it change over the course of a person’s life? I don’t mean the maturity swing where one settles in and prefers a steady, monogamous partner versus casual sex with strangers. I mean, how you view it and your relationship to the connection, another person and yourself.

Can it be, the more content you are, the less you want? Sex reminds me of how ephemeral things are. You have a spiritual connection with someone, it transcends time, space and boundaries. You have sex with someone, it escalates to a desired peak and then it’s gone, and you are left thinking, “I was so caught up with chasing something, I totally lost track of the present. And it all seems a bit…disappointing when you come back and look at it.” Does closeness only come by way of sex? I feel like sex shows me why it’s not the answer to intimacy. You sleep with someone and afterwards, it’s the emotional/spiritual bond that brings the feeling of closeness, not having done an act that leads directly to it. It’s like people who think that once they’ve made a lot of money, they’ll be fulfilled, but when they’ve finally amassed a fortune, they realize they still feel the same and have to find other, deeper ways to attain personal fulfillment. I’m usually disappointed with sex in terms of looking for what I love, deep intimacy, connection and spiritual closeness. My disappointment is no fault of my partner, but I think the ideal partner has to approach intimacy the same way, and to also value the same type of deep spiritual connection that I desire and need.

I think one night stands are fine for physical exploration. But if I’m looking for a relationship, then sex loses its importance and appeal to me because I’m looking for something that transcends sex, a greater high, so by searching for it through sex is disappointing and blatantly unfulfilling. It actually has the power to make me unhappy in a relationship. Or perhaps it’s not sex itself, but the type of sex it is. It’s almost like having a conversation–if you’re talking with someone who doesn’t “get” you, your ideas where you come from, so that you find yourself having very surface conversations, you are kind of aware of how unfulfilling the conversation is. It’s probably not a big deal because it’s just a conversation and there are probably other people you can go for stimulating conversation at a level that fulfills you.

But in a monogamous relationship, you only get to sleep with one person. If each person looks for something different out of sex, ie one person looks for spiritual connection while another looks for physical pleasure, it’s like having a conversation where two people are talking to each other, connecting to some degree, but not to the degree where both are on the same page and getting what they need out of it. And you can’t go and say, I sleep with different people and get something different out of each relationship so overall, I have my needs met. Therefore, that one person has to fulfill you in the way that you need, otherwise, perhaps this person isn’t a good match for you.

So often it’s not about good or bad people. It’s just about needs and compatibility. When I cast a project, I see a lot of amazing actors and actresses and I wish I could use them. But sometimes it’s about the right look, about how well they fit into that role, if they slip into it like a second skin, a second soul.

Isn’t that process how we find a partner though? We audition people for a role we have in mind where we have an idea of who the character is, and then we see how well they “fit” into that role where we can truly see them as an integrated component in our universe? It’s about believing, where we can believe that this piece of the puzzle was always part of the puzzle all along, even if it wasn’t always in the box. I don’t think things always fit perfectly with people and you work at it, but I feel like the underlying feeling, is that no matter what, you can still believe that this “actor” IS truly the character who owns this role.

Or maybe it all comes down to fear. And how the hell do we untangle that big ball of enormous emotional mess if we can’t even figure out if it has a beginning or an end?

This Is Why I Don’t Tell You Where To Find My Brother’s Blog:

If Julia got her 2005 Infiniti FX35 she would first drive it to Fremont,CA to show us. We will be the first ones to ride in it. The CDS she would put in her cd changer are New Radicals, Rem, David Gray, Sting, Jet and Boyzone. She will play it on the Bose music system. I think we will love it.

*****

Boyzone?!? That is RECKLESS reporting, boy!

[ps–remember when I told you guys Michael likes to copy me? He tried to set up a blog for my mom. The address? www.jhchunderass.blogspot.com]

How to Tell If Your Relationship is Over

I can’t stop!

Another reason why brunettes rule…

One night, we were listening to KCRW and we heard this song…

And today, I’ve found the video that goes with it.

“It puts the lotion in the basket…”

Stupid White People

http://www.kontraband.com/show/show.asp?ID=1113&rtn=main-topten

Of course. If Springer can do it, then why not Jeffre?

It’s a Beautiful Day

I’ve just spent the last half hour laughing until I had tears rolling down my face.

Michael now has a blog.

I’m extremely protective of him so I’m not quite ready to reveal his address yet, but it’s awesome.

A hint about its title though…

Michael has always liked to follow in my footsteps. I played softball growing up. He aspired to play softball. I played a video game signed in as Julia the Shit. He signed in as Michael the Jerk.
Well, yesterday, I was setting up his blog for him and I asked him what he wanted to name it. He knew that mine is called Car Alarms Are Really Sensitive, so let’s just say that car alarms are really sensitive because cars are really delicate.

Here’s my favorite post of his so far:

Working at a Car Wash place and places I work at

If I ever got offered a job at “Prowash” I would take it. I love to help out to do the codes. And I have done them in the past before I hurt my hand. I can even help to tell every driver what to do. I always wanted a job like that. I would like to work Part-Time. I am currently working at a big firm office called “Mckinsey and Company ” every Tuesdays and Thursdays and stock sodas, juices,waters, upstairs and downstairs. And I do filing and copying. I also work at “The New Orient Restaurant” every Saturday of each week. I work at Mckinsey and Company for a full 2hrs and I also work at The New Orient Restaurant for an hour.

And I also work at The New Orient Restraunt 1hr every Saturday of each week. I count up checks, take orders and help bring the food out to the customers. I can definitely work at the Prowash in Fremont,CA by 680 south. I want to work after school is over. I will be graduating Tuesday June 20, 2006. I am good at doing everything. I will work after Tuesday, June 20, 2006. That is when I am out of school. I will be on time everyday to work. And last but not least I am ready to work any day of the week, except on holidays.

Minutes of fun…

Today I had a rough day. Something is bothering me but I’m not exactly sure what. On the surface it was fine. I enjoy stress, actually. It’s a guilty pleasure.

Then there’s the old one working at the mall. The new one…whoever the hell he is. A work environment that occasionally feels hostile, occasionally feels at home, I can’t commit to either. Some days I don’t know whether to laugh or cry but it’s a delicious feeling when you find the perfect balance between both, a bittersweet edge that feels as satisfying as watching a skateboarder screetch across a rail with a trail of flying sparks.

I was reunited with an old professional acquaintance today (but is it really professional when they’re touching you?) and he seemed sad. Sad to hear I was busy and sad that he wasn’t because business hadn’t been so great. I think we are humbled by people from our past who step back into our lives, because they are the only ones who can really evaluate us by comparing us to who we were.

I don’t know. I don’t know if I was different. I haven’t been back there in so long. Maybe something changed in me, or maybe I’ve always been this way and I’m now coming to terms with it. I just don’t want you coming any closer.

Human beings have always been fascinated with the notion of a “message in a bottle.” These cryptic messages pose a mystery about an unknown place and person…an entire foreign world that the finder’s imagination tries to will into existence by materialising it on the same plane or frequency as his or her reality.

I would love to some day be artistically involved in a project that allowed me to see different modern-day depictions of robots. I think that’s one reason I like sf brian’s drawings so much. I’ve got such a thing for robots. But I guess it’s an Asian thing, huh?

Is it weird that I just had my face in my hands whispering, “Robots. Do you wanna be a robot?” And I suddenly realized my brother was right next to me, because he whispered back, “Yesss…”

I always wanted a big brother.

People who yo-yo diet are the ones who have physiques where the body fat gathers unevenly in targeted areas. Typical A-types, and the B-types who love them.

The Bucket of Truth

The Upright Citizens Brigade did a whole skit on it. Raw, unadulterated truth. Raw, unadulterated truth is purely devastating, in that it questions everything you’ve always thought was real…the tiny assumptions that meld together to form your entire, private subjective world.

I was driving to the Clippers/Wizards game on Friday and I don’t remember how it came up, but my roommate said, “I have something shameful about [your ex] that I never told you.”

He said, “It was around Christmas time last year and I went into Banana Republic…and he was working there. I almost wanted to walk up to him and say, ‘Nice nametag.'”

hehe

I love that Brian deemed it “shameful.” Because my ex is the same arrogant, obnoxious guy who powertripped and always talked about how much money he made as an SAT instructor and thought he was hot shit because he was the right-hand man in a tiny company. Who, after a conversation with my uncles that included him saying that he came out to LA to be an actor but found himself unable to leave SAT instruction because it was a “lucrative business,” prompted my family to tell me that he seemed too materialistic and full of himself.

I’m sure he was working at the BR for the discount. Which seems like a strange thing to do, for someone who loved to boast about making close to six-figures a year…

A review about a local apartment complex from a current resident:

On numberous occasions I have been offered drugs by inhabitants of building #3. Even though I say no and walk away from them, they follow me to my door.

Just last night one of the gang bangers told me, “I want to suck your tits and —- you all night long.” I have informed management about this and they said, “that’s not our problem.”

I’m sorry. I just love Stewart.

Stuff

I figure I’ll call this post “Stuff,” because on our work schedule for this week, it said we’d be starting our week on Monday morning with a “Stuff Meeting.” And indeed, we talked about stuff over croissants and coffee. Nice typo, guys.

Today I’m thinking about interracial relationships.

My parents are open-minded for Chinese parents. In college, they watched me swerve way from business school and major in film and english without uttering a single word of criticism, which shows a great deal of open-mindedness and trust that didn’t go uncriticized by their parental peers. They graciously allowed me to explore an avenue that grated against their own practical senses. But the one thing that they’re not so keen on is the arena of interracial relationships. They’ve already gotten used to the idea that the man I’ll eventually marry may not be Chinese, a notion supported by the fact that I’ve never brought a Chinese boy home (not because I’m not attracted to Chinese men, but because they rarely approach me in a romantic manner. I’ve only gone out with 2 Chinese guys [totalling 2 dates] in my life). So over the years, they’ve revised their stance to–they would obviously prefer if I married a Chinese man, but they would be okay with someone Jewish or white.

Now, I’ve never been one who liked other people being the boss of me and limiting my options. I may not necessarily want to do something, but if you tell me I can’t do it, then by God I am going to fight for the right to do it, just so I have that option even if I’ll probably never use it.

My mom and I are very close but our most bitter fights revolve around interracial dating. She feels that if I wanted to date someone, say, black, I should “just be friends.” But I definitely shouldn’t marry them because “your children will have a rough life because of racism.” Her main point isn’t that she doesn’t like black people, but that, as someone who loves me, she doesn’t want me (or my kids) to deal with the ugly end of racism if I don’t have to. It’s a strange example of maternal protectiveness. The thing that’s bizarre is that she cares a great deal about the black community. She’s always donating computers to low-income school districts and starting educational/outreach programs. She’s always said that when she retires, she wants to work specifically with the education of poor African-American kids to help them rise up in the face of an unlevel playing field. But yet, she’d have a fit if I brought home someone black.

We tend to clash over this quite often. I’m always asking her, “Well if you had to choose, would you rather that I brought home a woman…or a black man?” And she gets really pissed when I get mad at her either way, citing that this shows that her love is conditional. Part of me wants to bring home a black woman just to really fuck with her. But I hate that she’s intelligent and caring and kind and yet, there’s this “thing” that just drives me crazy.

But then I thought about this–if I were to bring home a black man that treated me incredibly well and was everything I’ve always wanted in a partner, then it would be hard to ignore that I’m happy and this person is clearly a good person. But what if, down the road, that person fucked up? What if he cheated on me, turned into a jerk or turned out to be financially irresponsible or draining? Then it becomes this thing where my family can act like I-told-you-so, based solely on the color of his skin. A guy could be Chinese or white and possess the same good traits, but the moment things go sour, it’s unfortunate. But if the guy is someone who is already fighting an uphill battle because he’s gotta be a saint to get my family to look past the color of his skin, and then he turns out to be a fuck up, then it only affirms their mistaken blanket stance on race. That’s a lot of weight to place on a partner’s shoulders. And it makes me angry at how stupid prejudice is. Expecting a person to carry the weight of an entire group on his shoulders, with every action scrutinized. It’s so unfair.

*****
I was out until 4am last night. I went to a surprise birthday party at Boardwalk 11 (a karaoke bar). This girl was rocking out to a Journey song, totally into it, doing high kicks and straddling the mic stand like she should have had teased hair and a leather one-piece jumpsuit. I was staring at her in awe and admiration and said to the guy next to me, “My God…I think she has a penis.” And she must have heard because she looked over, looked me in the eye and shook her head, not missing a beat. THAT. Is commitment to character.

So I’m really tired and all my posts today have probably been written poorly, for which I apologize. I’ll go over them later. In the meantime, I’m supposed to be writing an article about the self-storage industry, which is fucking boring. I’ve realized that even when these articles get published and they send me a copy, I don’t even read them. I’m so bored with the subject that I can’t even get through my own article.

That’s pretty sad.

*****
Michael is coming into town today. He’ll be staying with me for 10 days. I’m sure there will be anecdotes to come.

*****
I’ve lost my exercise priveleges. Hurt my back again so I’m banned from working out for 2 weeks. I’m going crazy. I can FEEL my fat cells multiplying. You fat fuck, I hear myself saying. Just go to the gym. Shoot some baskets but just walk after the ball. YouR doctor will never know if you don’t tell him.

But it’s sick. It’s an addiction. I’m an exercise junkie, the worst kind of junkie, the ones that never even get to find themselves passed out on a dirty mattress in a crackhouse with a dead hooker on the ground next to them.

*****
Good God, I’m so sleepy.