I'm a lump

I'm one of the biggest wasters of money. In fact, I think I've perfected it into an art. I joined the gym and barely go. I buy books, read a chapter, and then drop them like dirty socks. I want to stop doing this. I'm getting better. I used to have this stupid thing with Starbucks. I'd buy a Grande coffee of the day, suck it back, and feel good about my contribution to the world of Seattle gourmet coffee. Now I have a hard jar of Nescafe in my drawer at work it it will suffice. Now I just have to figure out how to get over my clothes thing.
Oh, I've decided to start wearing a corset. I tried one on the other day and it was just so cool. It lifted, tucked, sucked in, taped down, or whatever it does to all the right spots. I felt so glamorous and sexy. No one will see it, but I think that is part of the appeal of matching underwear and things of this nature. It's the knowledge that you're wearing something a bit risque and no one else in the world knows about it. I'm just debating what color to buy now. Do I go with the basic black or one of those funky flesh tone grandmotheresque ones?
I'm looking forward to Halloween. Actually, I'm looking forward to it being over. In one of my Brady Bunch mother moments I decided to make my daughter's costume. She wants to be a rainbow fairy. Having never seen a rainbow fairy or a snow fairy, we're just using our imagination. Seeing that I totally suck at sewing, this project is proving to be harder than I thought. I made a stretchy skirt that I'll attach strips of sewn fabric to. There needs to be about fifty of them, but so far, I have about five of them done. It's going to be a long night and I've got to get started on it as soon as I get home. Actually, I'm going home a little bit early today. I just want a few minutes to veg out somewhere before I pick up Catherine from art class.
Back to work. Can't wait to get outta here for the weekend.

Feeling Powerless

My daughter is sick again. Yesterday, I had plans of going to the International food festival at TAS, but at five o'clock in the morning we had vomit. It's a weird when she gets sick. I love her more than anyone in the world, but in the moments when she's throwing up on my sheets and pillowcases, I am truly torn. So, we went to the see the doctor. On the way there, she decorated the interior of my car a few times, but we made it there all right. Hopefully she'll be all right by tomorrow. I could take the day off, but then it throws the week and we're all in for it.
Right now she's fine. She's playing the the doll house she got two years ago and never plays with. She's been fed and bathed and I feel like she's my baby again instead of this little kid that never listens to me. She says these things that still blow me away though. The other day when she came home and had to use the toilet, she profoundly said, "Sometimes when I go pee, it feels so good that I have to shake my head." It was at that moment, I realized that I have this person in my life who can form these thoughts that can express something like this.
My husband is watching a TV show that is way too loud. It's another exciting Sunday here in my household. Nothing much going on. I'm insulting my husband. He went to the barber down the street and got the worst haircut that I've ever seen in my life. The sideburns are different lengths, it's shaved in the back and long on top. It's A Flock of Seagulls meets Adolph Hitler. I know one thing for sure is that I'm married to a man in his forties. This afternoon I even plucked the hair out of his ears. Now if that isn't romantic then I don't know what is.
Gotta get down to the housework.

Feeling my age

It is Sunday afternoon and all is quiet in the household. My daughter is taking a late nap, my husband is sprawled out on the couch, and the fish are doing their fish thing in the tank. Tonight we'll have a nice Sunday night dinner. It's one of the few days of the week when the three of us can sit down together and eat at the same time. Is this what it will always be like? Whatever happened to that Brady Bunch type of family where everyone sits down at the same time and eats together. As it is, my husband's out until 10 or 11 at night and Catherine's in bed by the time he gets home. I'm having a moan.
I went to the night market last night with one of my friends. It's sort of surreal going around there because it's such an assault on the senses. I need one of those deprivation chambers or something afterwards. It's so noisy, stinky, and crowded. I loved it!!! It is the total opposite of what I would have gotten into years ago, but now I almost crave it. Taipei does this really bizarre thing to what you will and won't accept anymore. I remember when I first got here how I'd freak out at some of the things I saw. Chickens clucking at the side of the road moments before they met their chicken maker (wow, in more ways than one) were one of them. The other day I bought a whole chicken at Wellcome. This was one of those major, major deals for me. All of my life, chicken only came in breast form, no skin, no feathers, and perfectly wrapped on its bed of Styrofoam. Picking out this chicken was a step toward something, but it was a big one. I came home and let me tell you, I'm never buying a whole chicken as long as I live. Catherine was standing in the doorway as I was trying to cut off the chicken's claw with this cheap IKEA knife. As I was sawing into the joints and tendons and stuff, the claws moved and retracted!!!! Yuck!! Double yuck! I'm going back to the breasts perfectly presented on Styrofoam. I tried. I did. I just can't look at heads and claws anymore. So, I can't accept this part of life in Taiwan, but that's why they cut them up and sell them the way I need them.
But, I have come to accept that it's OK to buy a fake LV bag or a tacky T-shirt with the words spelled wrong on it. How did this happen? I have no idea, but it's all right.
I have work to do. I'm taking a class online and I'm getting overwhelmed a wee bit. My balls are all up in the air, but I'm learning a lot that I didn't know before. And I thought I knew everything.

Counting down the minutes

Bitan Bridge from My Little White Ford
It has been a long, long, week and I'm so happy it is Friday. I wish I could say that I got everything done that I wanted to do, but once again this doesn't happen. A few weeks ago I got on this kick that I have ADD. I'm sure that I do because I have all of the symptoms, but I'm afraid of doing anything about it. I've sort of , kind of functioned this long as a total wreck, what can another fifty years in this condition do? I hope that it will get easier and I'll become one of those super organized women that I read about. Until then, I'll be the queen of half-assed.
I told a big lie the other day. I was having this woman come and clean my house once a week. I'm not really lazy, but I just don't have time to clean my house the way I'd like for it to be cleaned. I'm not looking for spotless, just presentable. Working full time sort of makes this a total dream, but I do think it will happen one day. Well, this very nice woman was coming once a week to clean my house and SHE WAS AWFUL!!!! I hate being picky seeing that I'm superslob at times, but I could have done a better job and I don't charge myself NT$250 an hour. She was even saying that she needed to have six or seven hours to do the job. Get outta here! I sound like a total cow writing this, yet it is true. So, I told her that we couldn't afford it. On top of it, I blamed my husband for it. That's the best part. It's so nice being married and being able to blame someone else for these sorts of things. That's one of the great things about having a daughter as well. All social engagements can be cancelled due to "Catherine has a runny nose."
Tomorrow she's supposed to go on a field trip with her school, but we've opted out of it. First, it's to a farm in Taoyuan. Second, it's on SATURDAY!! Running around a farm in Taoyuan on a Saturday being herded on and off one of Taiwan's notorious-killer-weaving-in-and-out-of-traffic-because-the-driver-is-drunk coach buses is not my idea of a relaxing day. I think I'm going to just take her to the fabric market tomorrow. She wants to be a fairy for Halloween. God help me. My sewing skills are so horrible but she's at the age where she's still not too picky.
Well, I'd better get going to the Hsintien. If I leave now, I can still get a strap on the MRT and a spot on a dirty yellow pole on the bus for a half an hour. Mama needs some tea. She's starting to feel a bit edgy.

End of a long weekend

I'm in mourning for the end of the long weekend. For three days I did nothing but hang out with Gordon and Catherine. It wasn't exciting by anyone's standards, but it was nice. It was nice not having to answer my phone. It was nice just wearing what I wanted to wear. It was nice just being together and not having to worry about anyone or anything else. Maybe we just had a good weekend together. Usually it is awful and I'm on the point of murdering my husband, but I did some tongue biting and despite the blood I'm feeling great. I just killed this big ass mosquito. I mean it was huge and full of someone's blood. It got stuck in my wedding band. Disgusting creatures. I hope it was my own blood and not my nasty neighbor guy who lives next door. He's a rude old bugger and he doesn't have much to say to anyone outside of a few head raises and the occasional grunts. His apartment smells like cigarettes and booze. Once he almost caught the place on fire and Gordon had to burst down the door. It was pretty funny and Gordon loved being the hero. He didn't shut up about it for a week.
I have a ton of things I should be doing right now. I should be in bed. I should be working on a book for work, but I then feel like I should be doing my own writing. That's the thing with making my living piecing together words. I write all day long and use words to put together thoughts, but when I try to do it for myself, I feel as if I fall short. Maybe it's like a prostitute having to put out all day long and then having to come home to her husband. She so badly wants to make love to the man she loves, but she's used up all of her "love" on other men. Sex and words are very different, but I'm trying to make an analogy here, not get into a debate. Who am I debating anyhow? I haven't exactly told anyone about this blog. It's for me. It's that little piece of myself that I'm throwing to the wolves. Maybe I'm waiting for someone to hurt my feelings, but honestly I'm not. I'm just writing because I love the feeling of pounding on the keyboard and watching the thoughts that are swirling around come out on paper. Tomorrow I'm going to get up and do some mental purging here. Off I go to give myself a little dermabrasion wash and to sleep for at least six hours.

Sick Day

Pictures from the MRT. Sleeping Woman and Bad Spelling.

I took the day off because I thought for sure I was dying. I wasn't and I haven't. Just a bit of a sinus infection. Drugs are fantastic and I'm always amazed at the beauty of modern medicine. I went to the doctor, sat for five minutes while he asked me questions, and then three minutes later I walked out with my salvation. I feel a hundred times better than I did when I woke up. Catherine is sitting at the table eating her dinner and I'm feeling like a bad mother, but I don't have any other time to write than the hours when she's at home. I sneak a few minutes in here and there. My sister sent me a picture of my other sister's daughter. She's only three but she is huge. It makes me so sad because it seems like my sister didn't learn the lesson of what it was like to be fat growing up. I remember is all so clearly and I don't want my daughter to go through this. I'm not going to starve her, but I do make sure that she eats in moderation and her diet is healthy.
I hated being fat. I hated the way I looked in the mirror. Every part of my life was controlled by the fat that covered my body. At my heighest weight I was 310. This was back in college. I'm now in a normal body, but still I sometimes see myself as the fat girl I was for so long. She comes out and tells me that I'm nothing. She looks me in the eye and tells me that none of my dreams will come to anything. She's such a bitch. I know that I can easily go back to where I was. It is just a matter of picking up that first bite of things I can't eat. It would just take one bite and I'm gone. My food story is so long and troubling, but it is who I am.
I'd better sit with Catherine while she eats. She's such a little muffin.

The Power of a Sandwich

It has been a long time since I've written anything on here. It isn't for lack of something to say, just time to sit and write. I saw something today that needed to be addressed. No one may read a word of what I have to say, but I have to say it.

I get on the subway at the second station from the beginning of the line. There are usually plenty of seats. This morning I got a seat as usual. A few yards away from me there was this old man pretending to be asleep or at least very quickly knocked out. Next to him sat a plastic-wrapped sandwich. There were plenty of seats, so no one sat on or asked him to move his sandwich. At the next stop, all of the empty seats filled up except for the one with the sandwich on it. People looked at it and walked on. Some stared at it as they held onto the strap, but no one said anything to the man. It took all of my strength to not go up and knock that damn sandwich off the seat. It's so funny because so many people around here will drive your ass off the road just to get an inch ahead of you, but won't open up their mouth to make you move a sandwich. I've seen it before. People will have a newspaper on the seat next to them and no one will say a word to ask them to move it. I think I'll give it a try tomorrow as a social experiment.
My child is asking to be fed. I guess I'd better give her something soon.