The Business of Photography

August 30th, 2010 § 0

I watched a five day online workshop on wedding photography last week.  It opened my eyes, to say the least.

I don’t think I’m cut out for it.

*

Basically, the photographer leading the workshop was alluding to the fact that you have to sell yourself.

I’ve been a follower of the ins and outs of wedding photography over the last three to four years and even had the opportunity to “watch” at Charlie’s wedding the way a real photographer worked a little closer than a guest would have.  The way the business of wedding photography is going, I just don’t think I’ll be up for it.  I can intellectually grasp and understand the reasoning behind it–I just can’t be a part of it.

*

The “new” direction wedding photography is going, like I mentioned is to sell yourself.  Every.  Single.  Part.  Of.  Yourself.  Every move you make that could potentially be visible to potential clients is extremely calculated.  Blog posts, facebook functions, twitter posts, etc.  It’s not just being “aware” that your audience could be your clients, it’s that you are specifically targeting your audience.  A comment on someone’s blog is meant to be a way to drive people onto your site.  Posting a “personal” non-offensive blog post is done because you want customers to “connect” with you.

You have to essentially try to be “viral.”  You have to be this walking commercial of yourself.  You have to be this extremely extroverted person.

*

I suppose I do and have done that to a certain extent–become more aware of what I say online.   I mean, I don’t even have my name posted on this site so that people I know don’t find it.

I do that for certain personal, not financial, reasons:  I want to hide parts of myself from certain people.  I’m an introvert and really private.

*

I suppose I had known a lot of the business end or at least have seen over the last few years the marketing other photographers have been doing, but never really “intellectualized” what they were doing.  I suppose it all lost its “magic.”

All I heard in the workshop of this extremely successful photographer was greed and self-centeredness.

I didn’t like it.

Horrible Hormones

August 25th, 2010 § 0

The one thing I’ve noticed over the last year or so is just how cliched “girly” I’ve become.

For the most part, it’s because of my hormones.

I know I say and have said it a lot, and it may seem like it’s to a point where even I roll my eyes at it, but it’s completely true.

*

I’m on the pill and have been on and off for the last 10 years.  I did take a couple of breaks from it and they were actually kind of nice.

I picked them back up again a little over two years ago and since then, I can tell that my hormones are a little more “out of whack.”

*

Let me first explain that I was never really in touch with my body and my cycle.  I’ve been more or less irregular, off the pill, for my whole life.  Sometimes my cycle was 32 days, sometimes 38.

The last break I took I did so because I wanted to be a little more in touch with my body and read the changes I went through each cycle.  I think it really helped.  I had less migraines and less mood swings.  I could tell when my period was coming, instead of wondering and hoping it would be soon.

I went back on the pill just before Alex and I started dating.  It was the same brand/prescription I was on before, so I could only assume that this last year or so has been my body growing and changing.

*

I’ve noticed that I’ve started to really PMS on my second week.  I still do so the third week, but the second week is the worst.

I get a migraine, I could only assume, when I am supposed to be ovulating and then usually the day before my period.  They are usually pretty bad ones, too.  I am super highly irritable during my second week.  I could be on one end of the happy-sadness-anger spectrum and in a moment’s notice go to the other end.  In my previous posts about my roommates, you could see how I can get really fixated, angry and self-righteous when I’m PMS-ing.

Week 2 and week 3 means two weeks a month where I’m highly emotional.  Great.

I have a feeling that a lot of the depression I’ve been feeling over the last few weeks has been augmented by my hormones.  Last week, I got highly sensitive to something that Alex said and I just started crying.

*

I wonder what my body is trying to tell me.  Is this something that is “normal” for women my age?  Like some unspoken stage of femininity?  Women who don’t have kids don’t have certain hormones released and therefore their bodies are different than someone who has a kid.  I remember watching one part of a Sex in the City episode (I hardly ever watched the show.  I might have seen a total of an hour and a half of it), where Samantha is in the doctor’s office and the doctor is telling her that she might have breast cancer and that it was higher or more likely to happen in women who hadn’t had kids (or something to that effect). Is this my body telling me to pop one out?  Is this just who I am?  Is this just my personality?

*

I told Alex that I wanted to have a kid sometime within the next year and that I wanted to go off the pill sometime before then.  It’s recommended so that my hormones resume back to “normal.”

I’m actually kind of looking forward to getting off of them.  But, we’ll see what happens.

First Day of School

August 25th, 2010 § 0


Alex just "had" to take a picture.

Today was my first day of school.

Normally this wouldn’t have been such a big deal.  I’ve been going to school on and off for the last 9 years.  What made this somewhat special was that it was my first day on a new campus.  In the past 9 years, I’ve only attended one community college.  Today, I stepped for the first time on a different campus.

I was sort of dreading today.  Santa Barbara, the city as a whole, from what I’ve seen is full of slacker college kids.  Okay, maybe I’m exaggerating, a bit, but I still had a pretty skeptical attitude about it.

I thought about walking around campus last week, or even on Sunday, so I could orient myself and find my class.  The last thing I wanted to do was be late to class on my first day and have my seat given to someone on the waitlist*.

*

Luckily, I had checked my schedule the night before.  I was initially prepared to go in at 8 in the morning, but upon further review, I had classes both Tuesday and Thursday and it was Thursday that I have to go in early.  Good thing I checked.  By the way, what kind of school uses “R” to represent “Thursday?!”  I’m sure that’s why I missed it the first time around.  My San Diego school used “Th,” by the way.

It worked out that Alex was going to go into work late so he was able to drop me off.  We’re close enough to the college for me to walk–only a mile away and a quick three minute drive, but it would still take half an hour of walking a little more leisurely than I would if I were working out.

That made it feel even weirder, but in a good way.  Alex was really proud of me and felt like a proud parent dropping off his daughter to school for the first time.

*

My class was actually really easy to find.  The campus was a lot smaller or compact than I thought it was.  Even though I found my class right away, I still caught a glimpse of the view.

*

*I made the rookie mistake of sitting in the wrong classroom for the first 10 minutes of class.  It confused the hell out of me and changed my positive perspective.

I sat there listening to the teacher for about 10 minutes, trying to figure out my escape.  I sat in the front of the class.  I finally just gathered my things, got up and left.

My class was actually the class next door.  I walked in 15 minutes late and had to sit in the aisle on the floor because it was so over crowded with crashers.

*

The view from the cafeteria balcony. That's the harbor in the background.

After class I decided to walk around a bit, but not too much as I had to find the bookstore to buy the lab manual for the lab part of class.  I was really amazed at how nice the campus and views were and how different it was from my school in San Diego.

*

One thing I noticed was that it just felt different than my other school.  I actually felt the “College culture” for the first time. Maybe it was the fact that I live somewhere else other than home.  For the first time it felt like “I had left for college.”

It was different in San Diego.  I drove to school, went to class, drove straight home.  I think that a lot of people who went to that school were people who lived and/or worked in the area.  It was almost an extension of high school.

It seems that “people aren’t from Santa Barbara, they go to Santa Barbara.”  There aren’t that many locals here.  “Kids” move away from home and choose to move to Santa Barbara for school.  A lot of the people who attend this community college do so because they plan on transferring to UCSB.  So, although it isn’t a university, there is still the feel and atmosphere of one.  It was more like these people are full time students there to study (and party) than had school as a second or third priority.

It was a little inspiring.

*

I ended up walking home.  I had to time it so I knew how early before class I would need to leave home.

It was such a beautiful day out.  The whole summer up until last week has been gray and cold.  Last week, it cleared and warmed up here and has been so lovely.

West Beach on the walk home.

There were two ways I could walk home and I decided to talk the more scenic route which goes along the shore.

The walk home was almost perfect.  It was warm, but not uncomfortable.  The wind was light but not cold.

I passed by West Beach and Leadbetter beach and I was really tempted to hang out on the beach for a while.  I couldn’t because I really needed to time my walk right.  But, the temptation was almost overwhelming though!

I walked through Shoreline Park which was surprisingly uncrowded for such a nice day.

*

For the first time in Santa Barbara, I realized why Alex liked it so much.  I had been holding onto San Diego and all the good things about it to really see the good things about Santa Barbara.  I could really understand why some people could see this as glamorous and maybe I’m falling for it, too.

Roommates

August 24th, 2010 § 0

So Alex and I have two roommates.

There’s Steve who’s been there for maybe a year?  He’s a sous-chef at a private college around here.  His family has owned restaurants and he’s worked in the food industry for a while.  He just graduated with his AA in Spanish.  He’s going back to get a degree to teach English as a second language.  He’s a decent looking guy (although I personally am not attracted to him, I can see that he would be good with the ladies) and really nice.  He’s just a couple years younger than I.  He surfs and is kind of laid back.

Then there’s MK who moved in a week before I did.  She’s a little younger (early 20′s).  She works full time as a host in a restaurant and goes to the local community college.  She owns a cat who is borderline annoying sometimes.  MK is really nice and bubbly, and we say hi to each other in passing and sometimes make small talk, but we’re not the same level, personality-wise and in our likes and dislikes, so I couldn’t foresee myself being really good friends with her.

The way our house is set up is kind of nice in the fact that Alex and I have our bedroom on one side of the house, and they have theirs on the other side, and we’re separated by the living room and kitchen.

We don’t really socialize or hang out in the common areas.  We all sort of keep to ourselves, except for when we use the kitchen, when we might run into each other.

*

I’ve sort of carved out my steak in the kitchen.  All four of us have our own cabinets and then there’s a couple of “shared” cabinets where any one can use whatever is in it.  Granted, I have the most stuff of everyone here.  I suppose I’m different in that aspect.  I had been on my own and I guess I’m the most “working professional” who “had her own place.”  I guess that means I’m the most “grown up” in that aspect–I’ve lived an “adult” life whereas the other two are still in this “student” life mentality.  I must exclude Alex from this because he’s just different.

I was like them at one point.  I was like that with my ex-boyfriend.  Although, there had come a point later in our relationship that although I kind of tidied up, I never really “kept up (cleaned)” the place.  One morning, I woke up and grew up realizing, “What am I waiting for, my mom to dust and vacuum the place?  Am I waiting for someone to clean up after me?”  So, from that point on, I made more of an effort to clean and live in a “nicer” space.  Even when I was growing up, although I kept a super messy room, I knew that at times, I had to clean up because after I did, it made me feel mentally better–like fung shui had something to it.

Anyway, I’ve been here for almost two months, and I’m getting to a point where I can no longer put their messiness passed me.  No one really uses the living room.  It seems that Alex and I use it the most–which is hardly ever ourselves, sometimes couch surfers Alex hosts.  The kitchen, however, gets to me.  I brought up a cookware set that Angie gave to me and they were so much better than the pots and pans that were left by roommates past.  I told Steve that he could use it and whatever was in the “shared” cabinet.  MK has her own cookware (although, she only uses 2 pots and only eats Spaghetti and fried eggs.  Only.).  Neither of them wash their dishes right away.  Dishes sit on the counter or on one side of the sink for a week.  It bugs me.  MK not so much, although it bugs me when she puts her dirty dishes on both sides of the sink instead of leaving one clear and she’s messy on the counter and on the stove (her bits of broken uncooked spaghetti sits under the flame).

Steve, however, uses “my” cookware.  Not just that it’s “mine” but because it’s “shared.”  He’s not the only one who uses it.  So, the fry pan he used sits on the kitchen counter dirty for a week.  What if I wanted to use it–the only fry pan in the house?  *I* have to wash his shit and that’s not fair.  I wash all of my stuff as soon as I can.  The longest I let something sit is maybe overnight, but I get to it first thing in the morning or the soonest I can.  It’s not only the fry pan, but the rice cooker, or something else.

Luckily, it isn’t mine (“inherited housewares” as I call it because prior roommates left all this behind), but there was one nice bowl I used for cereal and a week after I got here, there was a huge chip on the rim.  What the hell?

*

I’m also the only one who cleans.  The kitchen counters are full of crumbs or drippings from whatever they cooked and dropped on the counter.  I’m constantly wiping off and cleaning up my stuff, which sometimes includes their stuff.  It annoys me.  I really make an effort to clean around their mess, but sometimes I just can’t stand it.  If they want to live like that, it’s their choice, but they should know that they aren’t the only ones who have to live with it.  A little respect for others would be nice.

*

Last night, I couldn’t take it anymore and I wiped down the counters and rearranged the appliances.  Just as I was leaving the house to meet up with Alex for dinner (he was working a late night), I heard MK in the kitchen with one of her friends.  I thought to myself, “Great, I can’t wait to see what kind of shit they leave out or mess they make.”

This morning, I noticed that our salad spinner colander was in the pile of dirty dishes on the counter.

It annoyed me.

I guess I’m too possessive or territorial?

She, or possibly her friend, went into our cabinets and used something without asking.

For one, there’s another salad spinner in the “shared” cabinet.  She should have looked there.

Two, I have a bunch of really good/high end stuff in my cabinets.  Steve at least knows not to go in and I can assume knows the value of some of the stuff I have (All-Clad pan, Le Creuset cast iron pots, etc).  I think he knows to stay away or ask first.  It was a cheap Ikea plastic salad spinner.  But, the fact that they are willing to go through someone else’s stuff, who knows what else they might try to use without asking.  And I’m going to be the bitch because if they break any of my stuff, they will pay for it.

I’m going to appear to be the “bitch” by asking them for money for it.  I think it’d be their own fault for 1) not asking and 2) not being respectful of other people’s stuff.

And if they ask me if they could use it, I’d tell them how to use it properly (i.e. no metal utensils on my pans), to make sure they wash the stuff immediately afterward, and if they ruin it, they’ll pay me for it.  A salad spinner from Ikea?  Okay, maybe not.  A $200 Le Creuset Dutch oven?  Hell yes.  I worked “hard” for this stuff and plan on keeping it for a while.  That Dutch oven I can and plan to pass on to my kids.  I’m not about to let some punk college kid think they could treat it like shit.

I just don’t know how I would go about saying all this stuff without being super passive aggressive materialistic about it. Hopefully it’ll never come to it.  Or I’ll just stick Alex to do it.

*

Don’t get me wrong, it’s not that no one can touch my stuff.  I would trust, for instance, Alex’s friends who came to visit us this passed weekend and cooked with us.  If I knew I could trust someone not only that they could handle this stuff, but trust that they have enough respect for me that they put in the effort to handle my stuff as well as they could, it’d be different.

I suppose it would have been different had they not left it out in the dirty pile of dishes.  Had it been washed and on the drying rack, I would have given them credit for recognizing the responsibility they took on by taking someone else’s things.

*

We’ll see what will come of this interview in San Francisco.  Alex is still waiting to hear back from them.

“Home”

August 23rd, 2010 § 0

I forgot to post something about my weekend “home.”

Unfortunately, I was “stuck” in the catch-all room I had stayed in just before I moved to Santa Barbara.  See, my brother took over the room I was in (which was the old master bedroom and had it’s own bathroom), and his friend moved in and was renting the room my brother was in.  So I got the smaller room with a lot of junk I still have to clear out.  I couldn’t sleep.  I ended up falling asleep at 4 in the morning all three nights.  Maybe it was the unfamiliarity.  Or the bed.  Or facing a different direction than I slept before.  I was a zombie the whole weekend.

So, I drove down by myself Thursday night.  Alex was flown up to San Francisco for his job interview.  Friday, I went shopping at some of the stores they don’t have near Santa Barbara.  I picked up the last of the kitchen gear I’ll probably get for a long time.

I had collected so many spices in our pantry that I needed to go back to Crate and Barrel to pick up a few more.

I spent the rest of the night with Ronnie and catching up with her at her place.  We went “shopping” at the outlet and had a quick dessert from Yogurtland.

I met up with my co-workers from my immediate group Saturday morning.  My friend/co-worker Amy had just purchased her first place, a condo a couple of miles from my mom’s house, so she invited some of us over.  It ended up that there’s drama at work right now, so only me and a former co-worker, JD, who quit to join the Police Academy had showed up.

It was really nice seeing them and being around them.  I hadn’t seen JD since he had quit a couple of months before me.  We always talked about how we were going to quit, because he was one of the few on my team who knew I was planning on going up to Santa Barbara.  He’s a really funny guy and it was interesting to hear a couple of his stories from the academy.  It was lovely seeing Amy, too, because she’s one of those girlfriends who you could kind of dish it up.

I have a different personality when I’m around certain people.  At work, I was pretty outspoken.  I always gave my opinion and was known to be bitter and honest (borderline mean, in a funny way).  The way we spoke with each other at work was really different than how I would talk to one of my other friends.  We were almost “jock” like–always putting each other down and making fun of each other.  As mean as we could be to each other, it wasn’t taken literally.  I could never “make fun of ” Alex like I did my previous co-workers.  I think he just wouldn’t understand the “light-hearted” humor behind it (even though it would be “mean”) because it would be out of character of me to do so with him.  So, it was nice to be able to “pull that” out of me.

My old desk partner, Marty, didn’t show up because of “drama” going on among the group.  So, I went to visit him at work.  He came out of the building and we chatted in front for 20 minutes.  Marty and I used to verbally abuse each other because we were on different sides of the political spectrum but as much as we bickered like an old married couple, we were really good friends.  He was like an older brother (he’s 7 years older than I) and I was a bratty younger sister.  It was really cool seeing him again.

I picked up Alex from the airport and we went to Ikea to return something and picked up a couple more jars for the kitchen.  We were both really tired and after a quick dinner at Panera (his FAVORITE place to eat in San Diego because he LOVES bread and their bread is the closest he’s found at a “fast food” restaurant than comes close to bread in Germany), we went home and practically slept the rest of the night.  Granted, it was on and off because neither of us could stay asleep for very long.  It was a long night of tossing and turning.

On Sunday, we met up with Ronnie, again, and went to the more popular and better farmer’s markets in San Diego.  It was really nice and we picked up a couple of herbs to plant.

Lemon basil, french thyme, curly parley, rosemary, sage and green onions. All pesticide free.

We then met up with “the girls.”  I call them “the girls” because I don’t have any other better label for them.  We all worked the graveyard shift together.  There are two older Filipinas who are our mom’s age:  Beth and Susie.  They are almost like twins–sometimes we even call the other the wrong name.  I’m a little closer to Beth only because she sat next to me for a while.  Beth is like the cool hip mom I had always wanted.  She’s really kick back and has this almost Holly Golightly attitude about life and shopping.  Susie’s a little less “go with the flow” than Beth.  Susie loves to garden and her and her husband had tons and tons of roses in their backyard.  She’s the one who’d always come into work and leave flowers on our desks (our “in house florist” I used to call her).  Angie is like an older sister and someone I admire.  A traveler, foodie, super smart and really “gourmet,” she would come over and we’d always have fun talking about stuff.  Debra is just a couple years older than I, but closest in age to me.  She’s a little more “urban.”  She has a super friendly bubbly personality, but she is one ghetto bad ass which you would never think.  She also is a FOB and we make fun of her sometimes because of it. She was born and raised in the PI until 8 years old but she doesn’t remember how to speak it.  But she still kept her accent.

Alex, Ronnie and I met up with them at Angie’s brother-in-law’s Chinese restaurant.  Her brother-in-law is the chef and owner and he hooked us up with some really good food.  It was also lovely to meet up with them.

Afterward, Alex, Ronnie and I went back to my mom’s house because my mom wanted to have a BBQ for us.  It was some really good food.  Although I don’t eat a lot of meat, I kept going back for more.  My sister didn’t come.  I was dreading it.  It sucks to think that way, but I think it made it less “stressful” that she wasn’t there.  It’s been awkward at family gatherings.  I’m sure by now, she and her boyfriend know I’m not very fond of her.  Maybe I’ll get into that later.

Afterward, we drove back up to Santa Barbara.  Luckily, he did all the driving while I was able to nap in the car.

While I was there in San Diego, I didn’t feel quite “at home.”  Like I mentioned before, I knew that everything was different now.  I couldn’t “easy” go back to that life I had.  Although I’ll visit my old co-workers again and again, even if I began to miss interacting with them, I know that it’ll never be the same again.  The funny thing is that when we got back to Santa Barbara, it actually felt nice.

While I still feel like I’m on “vacation” up here in Santa Barbara and don’t quite feel as “at home” in San Diego as I was before, that feeling of not belonging anywhere is passing.  I guess I’ve gotten used to being up here in Santa Barbara long enough to make it feel a bit more “regular.”

Ex-Girlfriend Complex

August 13th, 2010 § 0

I have an ex-girlfriend complex.

I don’t know why I keep doing it to myself–why I am so intrigued by her.  The curiosity is what’s killing me.  I want to learn more about her, but the more and more I do, the more and more I dive deeper into this pit of insecurity.  I suppose I’m masochistic like that.

He’s friends with her on Facebook.  He’s also friends with his other ex-girlfriend.  However, only this particular one is the one that gets me.  Maybe it’s because I can’t know anything about the other ex–her profile is privacy protected.  Or that she’s far away in Germany.  Or she’s further in his past than this other one.  Or that she’s married and has a kid already.  Or that she’s not “like me” (at least, that I know of).

They don’t talk much or often, if really at all.  That I know of.  Once, his mom had found some stuff she left in her basement and she asked Alex to ask her if she wanted any of it.  That’s to the extent of their last conversation, as far as I know.

This ex-girlfriend has a boyfriend and in what seems like a stable relationship.  She wasn’t even his last girlfriend (the one just before me).  So why am I so intimidated by her?  She’s Filipina.  She’s from San Diego.  Her dad was in the military.  That seems to be all that we have in common.  Maybe that’s why I tend to compare myself to her.  It’s so easy to.  It could also be because most of his close friends knew her.  A couple of them might even still be on “Facebook friends” status with her.  Maybe I’m paranoid that I wouldn’t live up to the legacy she left.

But she seems totally different.  She’s so extroverted and active and talks a lot and drinks wine and parties and surfs and is adventurous and seems smart (yet kind of ditzy at the same time in a sorority girl type way) and so much more appealing than me.  I seem so boring compared to her.  I have to ask myself, “Man, why is he with me?!”

By the way, I eventually asked Alex what happened between them and it turned out that in the end, we both ended our relationships in the same way: she was unhappy, I won’t go into details, she met someone at a party who sparked her interest and broke off with Alex.  I can relate to her because I did that sorta with my last boyfriend for Alex.  We both didn’t cheat on our boyfriends at the time.  I sorta make it up in my head that her experience is similar to mine.  I didn’t cheat, nor did I have any intention on ending up with Alex, but the idea of Alex is what caused the realization that I was unhappy and something had to be done.

What’s weird is that I’m not afraid that she’d come and take him away.  Far from it.  I don’t think that he’s still in love with her (although she was the one who broke up, so who knows if he still harbors tiny lingering feelings that she was “the one”–I mean, just because she didn’t feel that way about him, doesn’t mean he didn’t/doesn’t feel that way).  But the idea that he was with someone “better” than me, makes me feel like he’s just settling and will move onto someone better once they come along.

*

Don’t get me wrong, it’s not like Alex doesn’t love me. I know he does.  As dismissive as I can be about it and/or the compliments he gives me, I’ve gotten the point that he does love me.

I suppose I just fear that he’ll find me out as some sort of fake: I’m not as awesome as he thinks I am.

I know, I know.  He’s with me for a reason.  We talk about marriage and kids and I could only assume that I’m being completely idoitic about it.  But that doesn’t help for some reason.

I suppose it’s the vulnerability.  With the exception of my first “boyfriend” I’ve always been the one to break up with a guy.  If there were one guy who could break my heart and I mean, really break it, it would be him.  My heart is in his hands.

*

I only really recently realized how “needy” (in an affectionate-good way) he was and it has to do with sleep.

I think that I only noticed this within the last year but in the morning when we wake up, at first glance, I’m curled up in the corner of the bed, or almost about to fall off and it looks as though Alex had taken over the whole bed.  I used to joke about it and he used to say that he would come over to my side of the bed because he wanted to be close to me.  I always brushed his response as if it were just a sweet half joke.

I spent five years with my ex-boyfriend sleeping in a certain way and I suppose I have to unlearn it.  I’d cuddle in the crook of my ex’s armpit only for so long.  It was only 10-15 minutes or so.  And then he’d motion to lift my head so he could move positions or turn over.  I had gotten accustomed to that.  In the middle of the night, if his arm was still under my head/neck, I’d lift it in my sleep and he’d know he could move his arm.

For the first year or so, I would do that with Alex.  In the middle of the night, I’d lift my head, but he wouldn’t move.  He laid there static as a statue.  It was weird to me at first.  But now, as it takes me hours sometimes to fall asleep, I really appreciate it.  He’s almost the perfect body pillow!

I’m a bit of a tosser and turner myself, so I tend to sort of move over on my side, or stomach or something.  He is also an extremely hot sleeper.  I make fun of him sometimes that I know he’s almost falling asleep because his body temperature rises 10 degrees.  I told him that when I visualize it, it seems just as intense as this.  Sometimes he gets so uncomfortably hot that I have to move away from him.

Anyway, for whatever reason I moved away from him, I’ve caught him some nights moving over on my side of the bed and reaching over to hold me.  That at least makes me smile and sometimes makes me feel better amidst all this insecurity.

Touchdown San Diego

August 12th, 2010 § 0

I just got “home” a few minutes ago.  My first time back to San Diego since I quit my job and moved to Santa Barbara.

The last few nights I’ve been staying up later than I’ve gotten used to because Alex has been working on his portfolio for his job interview tomorrow.  I was really, really tired but not sleepy, so I couldn’t take a nap today.  But, once I hit Long Beach, a drive I was a little more familiar with since I used to drive to his friend’s house to meet Alex there–sort of a half way point between San Diego and Santa Barbara, I perked up and thought the rest of the drive was going to be “a piece of cake!”

Whenever I drive long distances, there seems to be three mental stages.  The first stage is the unfamiliarity of the area.   Because of that, the drive seems really long and you’re constantly wondering “are we there yet?” in anticipation of the next turn.  The second stage is when you’ve driven the route enough times that the familiarity actually makes it short, or at least “not bad of a drive.”  And then it turns for the worse and the last stage is when the familiarity is actually a drag.  Luckily, the drive between Long Beach and San Diego is in the second stage whereas the drive from Santa Barbara to Long Beach is still a little unfamiliar to me.

Anyway, I drove to McDonald’s first and picked up a little something to eat and then to a gas station near the house to get a car wash, but the car wash was closed.  Even though I was in familiar area, I didn’t feel as nostalgic as I thought I would or should have.  Yes, the familiarity was nice, but I feel like I’ve sort of already emotionally pulled away.  It was still pretty routine to me.  I could drive to Trader Joe’s with my eyes closed.  But, it wasn’t like before.

I realize that if we moved back to San Diego, for whatever reason, I wouldn’t be driving the same roads or even be in the same area as before.  (Alex either wants to be  a couple miles from the beach, or downtown in some sky-rise lofty building.)

I did have a nice surprise waiting for me.  My old boss told me that he was going to send me a gift certificate we qualified for a contest a couple of months ago so I had him send it to my mom’s place.  I was just expecting an envelope with just a gift card, but instead, I got a card signed by some of my old team-mates wishing me well.  How sweet.

I’ve got a pretty packed weekend ahead of me.  Meeting friends and shopping.  I’ll write about it after I’m done with it.

Dreaming of my Dad

August 10th, 2010 § 0

I had a dream this morning about my dad.  I should have written about it earlier, but I wasn’t sure if it were something I wanted to remember.  But, it was vivid enough to still sort of remember hours later.

There were 2 parts to the dream.

The first part was either learning that my dad was dying, or he had just died.  What I remember most about it was that in my dream I was crying so hard it sort of knocked me out of my dream state because I thought I was crying in real life.

After I finally woke up later, I asked Alex if I were crying in my sleep.  I wasn’t, though, I could very well have been on the verge.

*

The other part was right after I fell back into that dream state.

He was alive this time and Alex and I were happy about it, but he shouldn’t have been or at least knew that he was dying.  He knew that his time had come.  Instead of taking advantage of this second chance, or fighting the sickness (again), he had decided on his own terms when he was going to die.  He had made midnight that night the time.  He was going to inject himself with something, almost like an execution.

We were somewhere in a house bordering the woods and there were a lot of people there that day.  It was sort of like a fair or party going on and it seemed like I was the only one kind of freaking out by my dad wanting to do this.  Through out the day my dad was mingling with other people there.  At one point, I came across him talking to someone.  He was talking about what it was like to die or explaining what he was doing later that night.  I tried to sneakily listen in so that I could find out his reasoning for not wanting to live again.  But, the person he was talking to nudged his/her head toward me to kind of tell my dad I was there.  My dad told the person loud enough for me to hear, kind of chuckling at the same time, “Ha, that’s okay, it’s not like she did anything anyway” or something along those lines that I didn’t make any hard decisions about what he should do the first time around.

When my dad was sick, (my brother and) I kind of sat back.  My mom and sister kind of quibbled over whether or not my dad should keep fighting.  When they told him in April that the chemo wasn’t working, my sister wanted my dad to receive hospice care and my mom wanted to keep fighting and give him alternative medicine treatments.  While I can see my sister’s reasoning and my mom’s fear that “hospice = death” I didn’t give any kind of opinion about it; I was really neutral about it.  So in this dream, when my dad knew/said I “didn’t do anything” that’s what he was referring to.  In the dream I felt kind of guilty for it.

Later that night in the dream, I remember looking up at the stars through the tree tops and fireworks were starting in the distance.  My dad knew it was time.  He strapped himself down in a chair and started to prepare the syringe.

He injected his arm.

I don’t remember if I stayed asleep long enough to see him pass again.  By the end of the dream, the alarm was going off.

Class Swimming

August 6th, 2010 § 0

As I mentioned before, I had only recently learned how to swim.

It was almost a shameful thing to tell people.  I only had to admit it to Alex’s friends who loved water and went sailing and surfing a couple of years ago which made it even more awkward to me to tell strangers this “deep dark secret” that I never really had to confront before.

It’s not that I had never been in the water before.  Sure, we frolicked in the water and even “boogey boarded” when we were kids at the beach.  But, my parents never formally taught us.  I’m not sure if it’s a cultural thing or not. We even used to beg one of our family friends to take us to the community pool with us.  My mom never went with us–just Anna and Billy and their mom.

In high school, we were required to take a swim class for PE.  It was there that I also felt a little ashamed and embarrassed.  I went to a predominately rich white high school where Water Polo was the sport to play.  I actually felt the issue of race and class on me back then.  I actually felt the “poorness” of my childhood through the issue of not knowing how to swim.  Many of these kids I went to school with had swimming pools in their backyard and grew up in this sort of environment where their parents brought them to (and paid for) swim lesson classes.  Even the swim class we were required to take for some reason didn’t offer swim lessons.  I don’t know what the reasoning behind the requirement was.  If you didn’t know how to swim, you were stuck in the shallow end and basically walked across the pool for laps.  The coach never really encouraged or paid attention to us (those on the shallow end like me) as long as we weren’t drowning.

Anyway, for quite some time, I felt I was the only one who felt this class/race burden.  When I told Alex about it, he kinda dismissed it (granted, he grew up half “white” and in a different culture where they encourage their kids to do all this active stuff) and so I thought that maybe it was all in my head.

But, this morning, I felt a little validated and not so alone by reading this article on race and swimming.

Phew.

Lost

August 6th, 2010 § 0

*

I woke up this morning completely lost as to what to do.  I tend to usually plan to have a couple of things to accomplish everyday and even before I moved up here, an hourly breakdown of how my day should go.  However, this morning, I felt like this last month as been completely wasted and didn’t know what to do with myself today.

I suppose it’s prompted by a phone call I received yesterday.  My mom called me.  Conveniently and inconveniently while I was at the bank so I couldn’t talk long.  She asked me how I was doing and if I found a job yet.  I told her not yet, but I’d tell her about it next weekend when I come down to visit.  Again, I have nothing to show for this last month.  Despite the fact that I’ve been learning a lot, photography-wise, I haven’t anything really to show for it and haven’t really applied any of this.  I’m constantly worrying that Alex will become resentful of me and feel like I’m wasting my and his time doing what I’m doing now.

I applied for a temp agency last week and 5 different admin positions they had as well as three Craigslist ads.  I haven’t heard from the temp agency.  I was quite surprised.  I mean, I didn’t expect to not hear from them given my work history.  Maybe my resume just completely sucks.  I thought that this would be easier, but I guess I was being delusional.

There was an admin position for a photographer on Craigslist and I jumped on the chance.  I even went as far as sending my resume to him.  Unfortunately, it turned out to be a scam.  It really disappointed me.  And, I’m super paranoid about my giving my information and now this guy has my address (from my resume).  I hate finding out how gullible I am.

The other position was for a school photographer.  I remember the company from when I was a kid.  Yearbook pictures.  It was for an area way up north of me and I didn’t want to commute that far.  The manager called me back and told me to apply for the branch south of me but a little more in my area.  The pay really sucks.  I haven’t contacted the other branch yet.  He said that they won’t be hiring for a couple of weeks, though.  Maybe I’ll call him next week.

I enrolled in an online business class with the community college I’ve attended in San Diego this semester just so I could have an excuse to have a break in my unemployment.  I’m currently on the waitlist for two nursing repreq classes at the local community college here.

*

Alex got called up for an interview in San Francisco for a major well-known corporation.  He had applied a few months ago for a different position and got as close as a phone interview, but he didn’t hear back from them and even saw the job post again online (so he could only assume that he didn’t get it).  He got called up earlier this week from a person in different department of the same company.

The position is for a different type of job than what he currently does.  What he currently does is a bit more comprehensive while this position he was asked to apply for is a super narrow part of what he does now. He’s not quite sure if he would want to only do this specify thing all day.  I could understand his concern because it really takes him on a path that deviates from what he’s currently doing and should he want to get back into doing what he does now, it might be hard without recent experience.

He hates his currently employer and would love to make his way up to the bay area.  This is the third interview he’s had in the last year and it seems promising, only because they approached him without provocation (so we could only assume they liked his work and believe he could do it) and because they seemed to be in a hurry to get back more information from him.  But, I won’t get too excited about it.  I don’t want to push him any more than I’d want him pushing me into applying for a job, but I think it’d be a good idea for him to take the position.

But now, I feel again sort of in limbo.  What do I do now?  I suppose I still go through the motions of applying for jobs here in Santa Barbara and then just up and quit if he gets the job up there.

We’ll see what happens.  His interview is supposedly scheduled for sometime next week.  Let’s have our thumbs pressed.

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