Lighten UP!

I have some very goofy friends who send me the darndest things. When I saw the first one, I cracked up.

I remember when the myth was that masturbation could make you go blind! I guess the threat didn't work any better with other people than it did with me.

Can you imagine the kitty graveyard out there if THAT statement were true?

Isn't that the REAL American past time? I think there are more Americans that masturbate than watch the world series.

As for the second pic? Well, that one's self explanatory.

And ANYONE who is or has worked in any form of a service industry understands this one all too well.

It kinda reminds me of the picture we used to have posted in our back office...it was a big circle with an X in the center...and at the bottom it said....

"Bang head here!"

There are always days...

It's our humor that helps us survive them. That and Alcohol.

I love my friends! They're great for making my laugh JUST when I need it.

The ME in the Mirror

I was in a chat with a bunch of friends last night, when someone mentioned seeing an article about Kirstie Alley and having her stomach stapled.

"Isn't she the Jenny Craig spokesperson?" someone asked.

We were all pretty sure she was...but apparently Jenny Craig only KINDA worked for her. So she had her stomach stapled. I couldn't help but roll my eyes.

Women of today already have self esteem and image issues, all these unrealistic expectations they're trying to live up to. Not everyone can be Kate Moss....THANK GOD!

But on the other hand, it doesn't help to watch people represent things like "healthy" weight loss and then find out that she's had her stomach stapled. So going on Jenny Craig won't yield the average person the same results as Kirstie, will it? So how fair is it to hold HER up as the example of what Jenny Craig can do for you? It's hypocritical, not to mention even more damaging to the already fragile female self esteem.

Of course this is just one more in a long line of unrealistic expectations. I mean, in the '80's and early '90's people were gobbling up Jane Fonda work outs. How funny is it that despite all her exercise videos, she'd had liposuction to help her figure and image out?

And what does this say to the everyday person? That if you've got money, you don't HAVE to take care of yourself...with enough money, you can BUY the body you want....and laziness is acceptable.

Gotta love the double standards. I still say the old fashioned way of hard work, exercise, diet and self control are more effective, not to mention easier on your system.

But hey, I could be wrong.

I've heard it's happened once or twice.

Mayday, Mayday!

There's this boy. He flirts. With me. A lot.

He's definitely a temptation. He's got blond hair, chocolate brown eyes, prominent cheeck bones, chiseled jaw....and the cutest, tightest butt.

Butt's are very important. There's something about a bouncy, perky bubble butt that just catches my attention and draws the eye.

This young man is 18 years old.

I should run the other way.

I met him while I was working at one of my former locations. He's a technology geek. He knows how to use big words correctly...and he's still cute. It's tough to find guys in my age bracket that meet these requirements. And when I met him, he was jailbait. Sexy and Seventeen. And there he was...flirting with me...full of innuendo. I told him that as cute as he was, he was jailbait.

His response?

"It's only illegal if I tell."

The boy screamed trouble in neon! And yet...

I behaved. Then he turned 18. And he made sure I knew it. Whispered in my ear..."You know I'm legal now"....

And my libido went into overdrive. That was in March. I maintained control.

Then he called me last night. Not that this would be the first time he's called. But this time he asked me out. To a movie. A horror movie. We flirted...with eachother...and the idea...of a darkened theater...and me playing scared. And that we'd have the cover of darkness to hide any hanky panky. Is it wrong that when he said that he'd be quiet...(after intimating that he'd like my hands somewhere around his pants)...that I egged it on by saying that he doesn't know how good my hands are?

Like a good girl, I rainchecked... My friends are telling me to go teach the boy a thing or two...and have fun.

I think I'm gonna wind up pulling a Mrs Robinson.

Am I just delaying the inevitable?

At least I'm single...

Love And Marriage

I've been on vacation for the first time in years and I just got back. Ironically enough, the vacation called for me to fly out at the same time the hurricane was heading in....and we missed it. Yeah!

Having said that...today I spent catching up on my shows recorded on TiVo and I saw something that left me pretty appalled.

There was a nightly news teaser...it kinda disgusted me, not to mention turned my stomach.

I guess the new big thing is "divorce parties". They were filming them...you got to see themes, invitation cards, party hats, alcohol, high fives, etc. All I could think of was...how wrong...and how sad.

Here's a dissolution of marriage, and it's being lauded as the new "in" thing to do. Does marriage mean so little anymore? The destruction it causes families is now "no big deal"? And what about the carnage left behind? The broken dreams, the broken lives, the leftover kids? Do they not matter anymore?

Now, more and more, it seems that celebrating anniversaries are a thing of the past. Divorce is too easy. Marriage is entered too casually...with the thought "hey, if it doesn't work out, I can always get divorced." Color me old fashioned, but that's a HUGE part of why I haven't gotten married yet.

A few years ago I was at a wedding and in the first sentence the priest mentioned divorce. Granted it was in a different context, but all I could think of was that to even utter a word at that time is inappropriate...and it puts the thought into the excited bride and groom's minds. And I still believe in forever...in happily-ever-after. Maybe that makes me a sucker or a fool, but I do. And I believe that marriage takes work...and constant communication. Marriage is for the stubborn, for those who refuse to quit.

Now my parent's marriage didn't work out. And I do believe that there are certain exceptions to the rule...but overall, I think marriages stop working out because people stop trying and stop talking.

This weekend I was lucky enough to be a part of a surprise anniversary party for my best friend's parents. Their golden anniversary. I got to see their tears of appreciation and surprise that people loved them enough to plan this party out. Their life hasn't been easy. They've seen eachother through cancer, alcoholism, the death of children and grandchildren, but at the base was always a love of eachother and their kids. It was wonderful to get the opportunity to bask in their love...to celebrate THAT!

Thriving in love and marriage...THAT's worth celebrating...

Giving up has never been something worth a party to me.

Different Levels of Torture

Why do women put themselves through it? Is it vanity? Some misguided idea that it makes us more attractive to the opposite sex? That it makes our asses somehow look smaller and our legs look longer? Because we can't possibly be doing it just for ourselves. I swear, it's a great way to torture a person... If this is what they do at P.O.W. camps I'd have been talking inside 15 minutes.

What am I talking about? NEW high heeled shoes, of course! Breaking them in is wicked and cruel...and yet we inflict this on ourselves.

Bought a new pair a couple days ago. They always seem fairly comfortable when you leave the store....after they get the money out of you. Once you own them? They're instruments of pain. I'm sooo not wearing black to work tonight.

The real irony? "My Feet Hurt" is code between me and a couple of my gay friends for "Hot guy, check him out!" As I'm breaking in these new shoes there's much confusion. That's okay, it's revenge for what Jared did to me the day I bought them. I was helping him out at work...walked across the way to the store where I bought the shoes...but not till after I told him where I'd be going.

I came back...he was nowhere to be found. I asked Sarah where he'd went...praying that he was at the back storage unit. She said he'd left to return to the mall across the street. I told her to call him...the call went something like this.

Sarah: "Hey!"
Jared: "What's Up?"
Sarah: "Are you at the mall?"
Jared: "Yeah, lots of stuff to do, boss is whining about making sure everything looks good here."
Sarah: "Did you forget anything?"
Jared: "What are you talking about?"
Sarah: "Do you remember who you drove over here?"
Jared: "Huh?"
Sarah: "Do you remember who you walked in here with?"
Jared: "Oh, Shit! I forgot Kat!"
Sarah: "Uh huh!"
Jared: "Doh! Tell her I'll be there in a few minutes. Crap!"

Me...sitting there...feeling very forgotten and unloved for the moment. But only a moment. Then, I did what any self respecting best friend would do. I called his boyfriend and pimped him out for forgetting me. Oh, yeah. Between Mike and me, he'll never hear the end of it.

Now I don't feel so bad for taking pictures of large women in spandex bent over, cottage cheese and T-back hanging out...and sending it to his camera phone. Revenge is sweet!

Understanding Love

I was talking to this guy on my way into work the other day. It was one of those mundane days until he said something that I've heard him say a couple times now....but this time it made me see red. And I responded.

He said..."You'll never understand the love of God until you have a child of your own."

This bothered me on a few levels. So I outright told him that I didn't agree. I just don't find the love of God and the love of children to be mutually exclusive. Now I know, some people will look at me and assume I'm being defensive because I'm single and haven't had children yet. If that's how they choose to read this, so be it, but that statement was too patronizing and simplistic, not to mention insulting to pass up.

I don't feel that having children is a prerequisite to understanding the power of the love between God and man. For some, maybe having a child is the first time that they experience an unselfish relationship where they'd give up anything for the well being of someone else. I think that for those people, it's true...it's the first time they've felt a pure bond with someone...so it's the first time they've felt a kinship with their maker...or seen that the world must be bigger than what we see...because they see their child as a miracle. Wonderful for them.

But what about the childless? The ones with hearts so full of love that they adopt...the child isn't flesh of their flesh...but the love is no less strong. Or what about the flipside? What about parents like Susan Smith and others that litter the news? They were given the gift of children...and they chose to snuff it out. Did having children touch their hearts and souls? Obviously not...or at least not in a good way.

And what about people who give up the right to have children who dedicate their lives to God and ministry...because they choose to sacrifice the right to have children...does that mean that even in direct service of God they can't feel that grace? I don't think so.

Me? I love children. I don't have any right now. It wouldn't be fair to bring any into my world at this time when I'm so career driven. Children deserve to be the number one priority. I firmly believe that. And at this point in my life I can't offer it. Does that mean I don't understand what it's like to love and be loved by God?

I don't know....I've always felt his love surround me. It's what's given me strength in the hardest times in my life. I'm not a preachy person by nature. I don't force my beliefs on others...but I've never questioned my own values. I know that when I've hurt the most, or been the loneliest...God's always been there...sometimes in a beautiful summer day to put a smile on my face and remind me that there's beauty, even with pain. Other times it's with a friend to give me that hug I need to get through the day. Sometimes it's been with someone who needs me...allowing me to take my mind off myself and my own problems and help them out, reminding me that things can get better.

I've lost two brothers. And you know what helped me get through that? Having a God to believe in. Feeling touched and comforted in my darkest times. And knowing that I have the chance to see them again.

I also pointed out to this guy...if your whole belief in God stems only from the love of your children...what happens to that belief and faith if something bad were to happen? If, and I pray it never does, you lose a child? Do you then also lose your faith? If so, was it ever truly faith?

I believe that it's through the simplest, purest things in life that you start to see the beauty of a greater power. For me, that's God. Does my not having a husband or children make my relationship with him any less real?

I think not.

Beer Goggles

If ever I forget...Here's another reminder why moderation in all things is to be admired...LOL!

One of my closest friends, Jared, introduced me to Bloodhound Gang. Their song "You're Pretty When I'm Drunk" is classic.

Truthfully, I'm not much of a big drinker...due to prior experience I'm cautious. Too much of a control freak. That and I'm not big on drinking and driving. I've only been mildly drunk twice in my life...and never to the point of puking. Both times were wild fun. And I was with people I trust.

Now back to Jared, he's a riot. He called me up tonight a tad drunk. The thing about him...he's gay. And he's the coolest, funniest guy I know. He's also the only person who's ever managed to get me a tad bit tipsy.

He called me tonight because he'd been drinking, he was horny...and he said he was in the mood for phone sex. With me, apparently. I found this to be hysterical. He's like that. His boyfriend was at work. He told me to talk dirty to him. He never ceases to make me laugh.

So Perceptive

I was talking to my best friend this morning. She's been struggling within herself. She's not fully comfortable in her own skin quite yet. She doesn't realize all the beauty she has to offer the world. She's going to nursing school right now...and I think, finally she's starting to come to terms with the fact that she's a lot stronger and tougher than she gives herself credit for.

It's funny how perceptive she can be sometimes. She'd told me she'd read my last post...a tribute to my mom, and that she'd liked it. Funny, when I wrote it, I didn't think of it as a tribute to my mom. I was just talking.

I laughed...said something along the lines that it may be kinda hypocritical considering how my mom and I are like oil and water. You put the two of us in the same room for too long and it can be a dangerous thing. My mom has very strong opinions, so do I. And we're both quite formidable and used to getting our own ways. We don't always see the world the same way. We know better than most how to hit eachother below the belt to cause optimal pain. She's got a very Latin...flash-in-the-pan...type of temper. Mine's very Chinese...slow to boil...but God help you if I lose it. She says things in anger, she doesn't think...I'm very deliberate. It's scary how deliberate I can sometimes be.

But Natty pointed something out to me. She said..."Kat, bottom line is that you know that the most important parts of who you are come from the way she raised you. You know that at your most basic, you learned a lot from her and you're smart enough to love and appreciate her for that. It's part of what lets you be so different from her and still love her."

Ya know, that Natty Jo is awful smart sometimes.

My Mother Taught Me

For all that I have a reputation for being a wild child, I spent one of the most relaxing days I've had in a while...chillin' out online with a good friend who's currently living in Germany...trading tunes back and forth. The afternoon was spent catching up on some of the programs I'd TiVo'd. There's a part of me that's a homebody at heart...and there are some that would be SHOCKED to hear that.

It's strange how reputations come about. I've heard myself called anything from Dominatrix Kitty to little goodie-two-shoes. The truth is usually somewhere in the middle. One of my guy friends once told me that when he met me he thought I was going to be a bitch because I was Asian. Apparently the Asian women of his acquaintance have all been heartless and cruel...tearing his heart out and then stomping on it. It's funny how people stereotype the second they hear I'm half Asian. One of my former employees looked at me when he realized I was Asian and said that I must be a "freak". I laughed. He was talking sexually.

I'm thinking that whole thing stems from the whole Lucy Liu scene in Charlie's Angels...And yeah, there's truth to the myth...I could totally see myself in leather. I own a biker jacket. I like to get my own way in the bedroom and out...and usually do...;-) But hey, that applies to lots of confident women.

Of course there's the dark side of the Asian myth...and I can tell you right now...I'm nobody's geisha girl.

I take pride in my Filipina background. My mom made sure I knew that side of my heritage. When we were stationed there when I was a child, I could have been enrolled in the Base schools like all the other military brats. Mom chose a different way. She enrolled me in a private Filipino school. And I loved every minute. I learned to speak Tagalog fluently within three months, and Kapangpangan in six...and taught it to my mom.

But my mom raised me to be more than just a mestisa with knowledge of both sides of her heritage. She raised me to think for myself, to be independent, to have a wild heart...and a big and loving one. My mom is huge on self reliance. Probably mostly because it had been a genuine concern for her.

She met my dad when she was 15. Married him when she was 17. Had me at 19...along with three younger siblings...all two years apart. Dad made a lot of promises. My mom is intelligent, but was looking for a better way for herself. Dad promised to take her away from everything and supply her with a college education. That was only the first of many promises he welched on. So when it ended after my youngest brother died...She had three children to support and no means to do so. And yet she did it. Amazingly, against all odds, she did it. She's an amazing and strong woman. I'm proud of her...and I know I don't say it nearly often enough.

Of course that's because I'm her biggest disappointment. I was the smart one, the brainiac who everything came easily to...and I chose not to continue my education...thus, effectively squashing her dreams for both of us. She wanted me to be somebody...like a doctor or a journalist or something along those lines. I wasn't as interested. And because she pushed so hard, I'm ashamed to admit...I rebelled...I went to college, but never finished. These days I'm thinking I'll go back.

But she did teach me a few things. She taught me that hard work and dedication matters. She taught me to believe...family--above all else, always. She taught me loyalty to friends. She taught me to be self sufficient, that I can be anything I want to be. She helped me explore my passion for writing and music.

Most importantly...She taught me some very important things about love. She taught me that the importance in self sufficience was so that you'd always know that you could take care of yourself. This way, if someone came along, you'd be with that person because you want to, not because you need to or you're afraid not to. She taught me that it's hugely important to be happy with the person I see in the mirror because it's hard for anyone to love you if you can't love yourself. And she taught me to never give up.

She told me when I was younger to date as many guys as I wanted to so that when the "right" guy came along, I'd know it. And she told me to never settle, and that being generous doesn't make you weak. And that beauty is skin deep, and in the eye of the beholder...always, always look deeper. Value things like loyalty, honesty, trust, intelligence...because ultimately, they're much more important than a pretty face.

That mom of mine is a pretty smart lady....(who says you need a college degree to be smart?)

Friends

I Will Not Be Broken

This song has become my mantra. I've always been a huge Bonnie Raitt fan...but this one spoke to me. Maybe it's because I've been examining my life a little more closely lately. Maybe it's because I've been probing deeper and found that although I can bend, I will not break. I'm not nearly as fragile as I appear.

I have a friend who's going through certain similarities in her life right now. So I sent the song along to her. Living with a sexual assault is always tough...and it doesn't matter how old you are or what the circumstances were...it's just never something easily gotten over.

I was ten when I was abused. Some might say it wasn't as "serious" as others because I didn't lose my virginity. They'd be wrong. To be violated, to be penetrated, to have kisses forced upon you...none of that is easy to deal with...or to block out. And the fact that I was an innocent 10 years old...it makes it tougher.

The guy who did this was my mom's best friend's husband. I didn't want to tell my mom about it. I was ashamed. But I had a very good friend who I'd confided in. She convinced me we needed to tell our moms. Together. And she held my hand as I told. The thing about it was that I had some warped logic that if I could keep his attention on me, he'd never touch my little sister or his own daughter...so in some way, I was protecting them. My 10 year old mind didn't understand that if he wanted to take something, he'd find a way. And that the bags of chocolates he gave me were deliberate attempts to silence me and make me feel guilty...as much as my arm jackhammered behind my back had been when he'd insisted I touch him.

Recently my friend asked me if I was angry with my mom or her best friend for what happened to me. It was a good question...one I'd never considered. I know I hate the man who did this to me. I know I was hurt and felt betrayed by my dad's lack of response and anger...but my mom? Never crossed my mind. So I thought about it. I wasn't angry with my mom. I was relieved. Grateful to have her there. She was always a constant support to me. Her righteous anger and indignation was somehow a salve on my fearful and wounded soul...helping me to realize that none of this was my fault. I heard her prayers at night...and her tears of regret. I know she prayed the most evil of plagues down on his head...and she probably still does...twenty plus years later.

As for his wife, my mom's best friend? I feel sorry for her. I still love her like an aunt. My mom and I talked, trying to decide if it was the right thing to do...telling her...if we should press charges. The whole thought made me a bit sick to my stomach at first. Then I started thinking. They have two children who's lives would be destroyed. My mom's best friend has a serious heart condition and a weak heart...and this could kill her. I'd have to be dragged through it again. And this may sound cheesy, but...we prayed about it...and slept on it. And then made the decision not to do anything about it except to remove me from the situation. We figured that any punishment that our legal system could think up...God was going to come up with something far worse for hurting one of his little ones. And if anything happened to my mom's best friend, I'd never forgive myself.

So I prayed for the strength to forgive...and to find a useful outlet for all the hurt I'd been through. I also prayed that I'd be normal. That the things this monster did to me wouldn't turn me into a person I couldn't face every day in the mirror. And I worked very hard...because I know that people who've been abused can become abusers themselves...and that was my biggest nightmare. And then there was the fear that I'd never be able to have a normal relationship...because women who've been abused as children usually go one of two ways...they become entirely too promiscuous or they become so puritanical that they may as well be nuns. I didn't want to be either. I just wanted to be normal and happy.

Because of my abuse, I've always taken a firm stance with guys in my life. I'm very upfront about my "no's". I didn't want any misunderstandings as to my meanings. I didn't want someone to misconstrue my no to really be a tease. And it worked. Guys respected what I said. And I took things slowly. I waited till I was 20 to lose my virginity. And somewhere along the way, I learned to not be afraid of myself and my sexuality. And I also learned that for all the hardships, I'm a survivor. And that I could help people with what they'd been through.

My experiences helped me give my best friend the support she needed when her suppressed memories of childhood trauma came up. It was having gone through what I did that helped me listen to what people weren't saying...and not jump to conclussions when a close friend in highschool said she lost her virginity to a stranger...(something she'd always joked about doing so that she wouldn't have to face awkwardness of the morning after)...and had me asking what happened. I still remember her breaking down in my arms and telling me that she'd been at a party, gotten drunk...and hadn't been strong enough to fight him off. I became the person people came to when they needed someone to listen and not judge....someone to be on their side and help see them through.

And the strangest thing is...that I think God started taking care of this guy who dared hurt one of his children. Apparently, his son saw what he'd done to me...although he'd tried to pretend he hadn't...and tried to block it out. And he told his mom...while they were on vacation. She cried. To this day, I still think she feels she owes me. She doesn't.

And then, that son, so like a brother to me, began to date a friend of mine who I'd talked to about the abuse...because she'd been there too. She decided to tell him about it....something I never wanted. He called and asked, and God, I wished I could lie. But I never could. Not about that. So I told him the truth. And he confronted his dad. I can still hear his voice ringing in my head..."How could you, dad? She was my age....MY AGE! She's like a SISTER to me!" And that evil man fell from grace in the eyes of his son...with no way to defend himself. That year, my friend wound up trying to OD on some meds....because he couldn't face what his dad had done. I think that's when the horror of what he'd done began to catch up to him. He almost lost his only son.

The best part, though, is seeing the fear in his eyes...as he tries to look at the adult I've become. He can't...there's too much guilt for him to be able to face me head on. But he knows. I see him for who he is, the coward, the fool, the perpetuator of evil.... I know what he did. I'm not angry anymore, nor am I stupid. But he knows. I'm a survivor. He didn't break me. He never will. And for now, that's all I need.