Father and Daughter April 27, 2009

The whole mothering thing is SO not instant-gratification oriented. It’s absolutely more “you’ll thank me later,” which is why I could never be satisfied by it. Yet another reason that being a mother would just not happen very well for me. Besides the preliminary pregnancy part, which I would be loathe to go through because of morning sickness, swollen ankles, crabbiness, and stretch marks, there’s the actual entire rest-of-your-life commitment. And since I could never think of myself as going through that with a man, I couldn’t ever go through it with child. 

Having to see time pass is bad enough when I’m witnessing it in myself, my friends, and (worst–or most painful–of all) my parents, and I can’t imagine going through the hell of watching a child grow up. I told my parents that once and they replied, with tears in their eyes, that that very thing can be the most rewarding part of all. I was incredulously silent. I’m glad they were happy to watch me grow up… but meanwhile, for my entire life I’ve been plagued with fear and worry about the moments when I have to see them go. I don’t really mind death (after all, it’s rather to be expected), and I’ve been able to accept its inevitability with all of my family members except my parents. It always seems that ANY time would be too soon. Plus, I feel like I’ve had to think about it more because my parents have always been older than most of my friends’ parents. As one friend pointed out today, she said, “I would have kids early, because if you wait too late… that’s so much less time that you get to spend together.” And I realized that could be true with my parents. They’re very healthy, but what mine are “first”?

I know that’s morbid; I’m leaving it there. Anyway, just more reasons for me not to have kids. All of my friends have these desires to be motherly, or to be pregnant, or something. I don’t really get it. One of my friends said it was weird that I didn’t want kids because I seemed so maternal. I can have a “motherly” role to my friends, or whoever needs me, but I don’t think I can have my own. And I can worship my friends’ from afar…

Which leads to my ultimate goal: to be the BEST godmother EVER. Well, second to mine. I think that’s because some of the most meaningful relationships in my life have been with aunt-like women or godmothers. I want to be that secondary figure in someone’s life, because everyone knows you don’t tell your parents everything anyway (well, I do… but most don’t). I want to be someone who can keep those secrets, instead of being the person the secrets are kept from. That’s such a lamentable role.

That’s my drone for the day. 

Oh, and here’s to my 100th post! my goodness. I feel like I should have something a little more uplifting for number 100… but, I’m not feeling very imaginative, so this is what you’re getting. Since… I don’t have (m)any readers anyway. :P

Title courtesy of Paul Simon, from his album Surprise. Listen to this song; it’s amazing, and something I hope my dad would say/sing to me, because it’s just like our relationship. mmm, I love my daddy!

Ok, I love BOTH my parents (because there’s always the chance they might read this…haha). Actually, that’s another reason I don’t want a kid: because I don’t think he/she would be as honest as I am, or communicative, or whatever, and (the worst part) that would fall on me, and it would be my fault somehow, because I don’t know anything about parenting, and I could never do as good a job as my parents did. (Insert “aww” :)

Thanks, M&D. I love you MORE!

California Dreamin’. July 16, 2008

I am back. And wishing I wasn’t.

California was simply amazing, except for the smoke, smog, and fog. But that’s to be expected, of course.

I flew down to Phoenix because my mom was in Sedona. We spent a few days there (it was SO hot… but very pretty and relaxing) and then headed over to California on Route 66, which I’ve always wanted to explore. There’s still more to see, but I loved the bits and pieces we saw. We even caught a gun fight (staged, with blanks) at a ghosttown along the way.

We arrived in SoCal to stay with my mom’s stepmother in Corona Del Mar for three days. I felt suffocated in about five minutes. My step-grandmother (or whatever she would be called) was nice and all, but no matter how much my mom and she talked about healing past wounds and staying in touch and recovering friendships, I could still feel the tension and the fake assurances that all was right. She kept talking about how she is so proud of how she can honestly say she didn’t break up a marriage (my grandmother and grandfather’s)… but saying that like it’s the truth doesn’t make it true. Not from the eyes of all parties involved, anyway. I didn’t even know my grandfather, and I still thought it was all just talk.

To top it off, her house was chalk-full of ornate, foreign, expensive things that I was constantly afraid to break. When she spoke, she had to mention the race of anyone she was talking about (like, “then this nice Mexican guy helped me with my groceries!”)

Anyway, we weren’t in her company for the full three days that we stayed there – we got to go on day trips to Los Angeles and Disneyland and such.

I wasn’t prepared for the awesomeness I was going to face in LA. And I’m not just elaborating on this part because my new godmother might read my blog; I really had the most amazing time.

First of all, my godmother wasn’t my godmother when I first met her. She was just my mom’s high school buddy; I knew little of her except that she and my mom closed a few bars (haha). She worked in radio and had since high school, but I didn’t really know what that meant. I can’t say that it felt like I’d known her forever when I met her. At the time, we were just there to pick up a couple tickets to Disneyland. We went to her radio station headquarters (95.5 KLOS in LA; it’s amazing) and ended up getting a tour, meeting the DJ we’d heard in our car just minutes ago, and drooling over all the Johnny Depp posters in my mom’s friend’s office.

I was still dazed as she canceled her afternoon plans, led us to her convertible, and started on a personal tour of LA. We cruised every famous boulevard and avenue in the downtown area and ate at The Ivy. Didn’t see any celebrities, but it was still totally fantastic. Later mom and I went to Venice Beach and wandered around… it wasn’t very crowded, which was really nice.

The day after that was our Disney Day. Actually, we just managed a half day. We fit in all the rides we needed or wanted, with the exception of the ‘It’s a Small World’ ride. That ride is closed right now… funny story. Apparently, they’re having to reconstruct all the boats because they no longer float. And that’s because people as a whole have gained weight since the ride was built, so the boats couldn’t accommodate the successive heavier generations. Ah, humanity.

The fireworks were canceled, due to winds at higher elevations. It ticked us both off, because that’s almost the whole reason we went. Well, not really. My mom grew up in Anaheim, so she says she practically grew up at Disneyland and had to revisit it. And also, the last time I was at Disneyland, my great-aunt was all paranoid, so she made me wear a harness, attached to a leash! I was mortified, even at 5. So I had to go back when I wasn’t all plagued with embarrassment.

Oh! And also, we went to hear the barbershop singers on Main Street… because I sing in a women’s barbershop chorus and I wa

The next day we left my step-grandmother’s house, ’nuff said. We were able to meet up with my mom’s friend again that night, which was when she became my godmother. And as anyone would say, she’s the best around. She’s been texting me ever since and I miss her like crazy! But she’s my excuse to go back down to LA, and soon!

So we headed up north, to San Fran. We stayed with relatives in the area and then went to the city to get haircuts from another of mom’s longtime friends, who worked in the Castro district of SF, which was very cool. Took a trolley to Pier 39 (very touristy, but there’s a GREAT fudge shop there!) and back up, stopping at some retail district with a cool name that I can’t remember. I went shopping, which I’d been waiting to do for the whole trip before that. I don’t normally like shopping, but for some reason it’s better at unfamiliar stores, when I don’t know where anything is and I don’t know my fellow shoppers, or the clerks, or what I’m going to get.

Then, we got sushi, which I had also been waiting and waiting and waiting to eat. On our way up from LA, we passed a “farm” (if one could call it that), where they raised cows for slaughtering, and I decided then that I could live without meat. I don’t mind killing animals (that sounds really harsh, but I just look at it as something humans have always done; there are certain animals of which there are plenty in the world, and in some ways they’ve always been meant to be food for us), but I am so opposed to those environments in which they raise the animals that I could stay away from the meat. But sushi is different.

I never ever ever thought I’d like sushi. But this year I started eating it. It’s like the perfect food – it’s as balanced as any food could possibly be (except for the overdose of sodium from the soy sauce…), what with the veggies and the protein and everything, it’s very filling, and it just tastes soooo good. I’ll admit that I’m a total tempura junkie, too (bbbaaaaaddddd….), but that’s ok. It’s still vegetables, right? haha.

Ok, so… sushi. My mom’s friend used to live in New Orleans, but got displaced because of hurricane Katrina. She’s going back to ‘nawlins’ soon, so hopefully I can visit her for Mardi Gras or something.

We then left San Francisco and headed way north. This whole way, we couldn’t go along the coast because of the forest fires, which was a major disappointment.