My Dating Culture

Everyone has standards and those standards are often defined by culture. We multi-cultural Californians are exposed to different cultures all the time, and we take pride in knowing the difference between Vietnamese and Chinese last names, hearing the difference between the Spanish of Spain and Mexican Spanish and having a broad range of multi-cultural friends. People forget that we Caucasians also have a culture. Furthermore, being from the Midwest, I have a Midwestern culture that even many Caucasian Californians forget about.

It seems when I set dating standards, that I find to be a reflection of my culture, people say, "Oh well, you might be missing out on a great guy!" But, don't you see? It's probably not a great guy for ME.

EXHIBIT A: The guy who lives with his parents.

I'm from the Midwest. When you're from the Midwest, you move out of the house when you are 18 - no matter what - you either go to college, get married, or get a full-time job in which you can afford to live at least a couple of blocks from your parents. I don't want my kids living in my house for more than 18 years under normal circumstances. I realize there may be a summer or a year here or there when every young person needs a break. But, in general they need to pack up, move out, go away -- I'll even help to pay for it, or assist in finding a nice student loan.

This is my culture. In other cultures it is perfectly acceptable to live at home until you are 35, and I understand that. I won't pick on your culture, if you don't pick on mine.

EXHIBIT B: The guy with a Ferrari/Porsche.

Cars don't impress me to begin with. But, if you are going to have a sports car, then I need a muscle car - that's right, something with a loud muffler or at least something built before 1970. What's even better is when you get a little grease under your fingernails, put a little work into it. Sure, anyone can drive fast -- BIG DEAL.

My high school boyfriends drove Mustangs and Cameros and could change their own oil. It's just what I'm used to.

EXHIBIT C: The guy who almost made it through college.

This one makes me feel insensitive, but I'm putting it out there anyway. I realize that not everyone has the tools to go to college, not everyone wants to go to college and I also don't think that college is for everyone. But, I expect that most of my life will be spent at a college or university - it's my career - I will spend 40+ hours a week there everyday for the rest of my life. I feel the same about college as most people do about their high school experiences.

My father had a PhD in Education, I'm working on an M.A. in Education. It's a big part of my life.

EXHIBIT D: The guy with no music.

Believe it or not. These people exist. They only have CDs that people have bought for them, they don't own an I Pod, and they refer to the radio as "background music." To have no music in your life is to have no soul. I met one of these people in Community College. He was a baseball player - go figure.

I grew up dancing to Olivia Newton-John and Barry Manilow in my basement, and on roller skates. I grew up singing in choirs, and singing hymns at church. At LEAST like Kelly Clarkson, or something.

EXHIBIT E: The late guy.

I've always been intrigued by the guy who is perpetually late, but it just never seems to work out. A college boyfriend could never be on time. There I was - ready to go, possibly nervous, wanting to get out the door. He didn't even call to say that he would be late.

I can't be late, even if I try. It's inherent in my nature. If you are late, it automatically tells me that you don't care.

EXHIBIT F: The vegetarian guy.

I agree with vegetarians. Animals are good. It may even be healthier NOT to eat animals, but as long as BBQ and cold cuts exist, I'll keep eating them. I'm sorry. In Iowa there is a T-shirt that reads: P.E.T.A. - People for the Eating of Tasty Animals.

I don't know how to eat, if I don't eat meat. You don't want me to starve, do you?

What I got for $30,000

I've been thinking a lot lately about the college experience, since I've attended just about every type of institution of higher education that exists today: a community college, a state university, a German music conservatory, and finally, now a Master's Degree at a private university.

I've realized lately that "education" is not taking classes, books, grades and professors, it's the entire thing - the campus experience, making connections, understanding the world around you, hence, understanding yourself better AND having enough life skills to be able to make it out there in the crazy world.

In lieu of recent undergraduate activities at Privileged Private University, I realized my undergraduate dollar went pretty far, although some would consider my education at the CC, State U and year abroad to be "below par" by PPU standards. The activities that take place frequently at PPU were never issues I thought about as an undergraduate student. Unlike PPU a campus culture of diversity and acceptance simply exists at my alma mater State University and my "education" there carried over into the person I am today. I couldn't have had the multi-cultural experience as an undergrad at PPU because, let's face it, many of those who make up campus diversity do not have $40,000 per year to shell out for education.

So, I honor my undergraduate $30,000 (TOTAL - 6 YEARS) education - my community college, my state university and my year abroad. It was the best $30,000 my parents and I ever spent.

Is there a dream doctor in the house?

Does anyone else have dreams about being pregnant on a regular basis? This dream seems to come along every couple of months or so, and I'm still trying to figure out what it all means.

THE DREAM
I'm pregnant. How did I get pregnant? Who's baby is it? I don't have a boyfriend. It worries me at first and I'm scared to tell friends and family, but when I tell them, they are fine with it. They even congratulate me! So, I'm going to be a single mom - I can hack it, I have a decent job. Baby and me will be just fine.

I feel pregnant. My belly is growing and I can feel baby swimming around in there. I start to worry, "OMG! I have to give birth! CRAP! How much running will it take to get this belly to go away!"

*A bunch of weird happenings totally unrelated to my being pregnant. A subplot, if you will*

Suddenly I'm not pregnant anymore and I have a dog. I don't remember giving birth to the dog, so I assume I was never pregnant to begin with. He is a cute dog, so I work my schedule around him, feed him, take him for walks in the park... I'm worried about potty training him, but I love him. I'm a little confused to why I don't have a baby, but am very happy with my dog.

WHAT DOES IT MEAN?
The strangest part of this dream is that I NEVER give birth. Also, it is not always a dog that I end up with. It has been a cat, and a couple of times it was a plant! Yes, I realized halfway through the dream (after all of the weird subplot stuff) that my "baby" is coming out of the ground! Then, a fern is born. I am also happy with the fern.

I looked up the meanings of dreams. Dreaming of pregnancy is supposed to signify psychological or spiritual growth, and dreaming about animals is supposed to signify some kind of wrong-doing, or feeling guilt.

I'm feeling guilty about my spiritual growth? Great. Thanks, dream, for letting me know. I thought I was just wanting a puppy, or perhaps a plant. I didn't know I was having deep and intense guilt while sleeping.

Arg. Helga, I need you here.

Thought for the day

"I'm always happy being alone, until someone comes along and screws it up."

A Valentine's Day Tribute

As a 14-year-old high school student in Mrs. Ohm's English class, I wrote the following poem in my journal:

I've never had a Valentine,

Or a box of chocolate hearts.

I've only had a photograph

At which to throw darts.

Charming, isn't it? I was quite the young poet - so many pent up artistic emotions...

Anyhoo. I've always despised Valentine's Day. As a kid, it was probably because I was odd and none of the boys liked me. As an adult, it is the same. Just kidding. Seriously, though, I just don't think that love is something to be celebrated on just one day. Furthermore, I don't like buying meaningless gifts, or receiving balloons. (Balloons are bad for the environment, don't you know?)
Last year was a bittersweet Valentine's Day for me. My cousin, Mike, who'd spent his life with cystic fibrosis, had been in the hospital for two weeks and was not doing well. He'd had a lung transplant in 2004, going from 14% lung capacity before the operation, to almost full capacity. Unfortunately, cystic fibrosis would inevitably take over the new lungs. We didn't know it would be this quickly. I talked to my mom every day -- one day Mike's lungs were failing, the next day they were filling with fluid, then his heart started to fail, his liver, his kidneys...



Waiting to fly to Tulsa for a funeral was unexpected, especially since I'd seen Mike in good health just a few months before. He came to visit me in California around my birthday, and I tried to show him the sights - we went to an Oakland A's Game, he came to my 26th birthday BBQ, and we went to San Francisco to take in the sites. Our walk up to Coit Tower from North Beach was memorable. Even though he was out of breath and had to stop a number of times on the way, he made it all the way up. Triumphant, he took a picture of the view from Coit with his camera phone and sent it to his then-girlfriend.

At the end of the day, I'd realized that Valentine's Day had almost completely passed me by and I hadn't thought about myself or my personal love misfortunes much at all. As I drove, I saw the parking lot packed at a local jewelry store, and saw a guy with a back seat FULL of Mylar balloons declaring, "I Love You" or "Bee My Valentine." I thought about the time I got to spend with Mike, and how no balloons, chocolates or diamonds could compare to spending time with someone truly special.

Mike passed away on February 16. I flew to Tulsa to say goodbye and spend time with family. After his funeral, his friends hosted a house party in honor of him. I met his summer-then-girlfriend who showed me the picture he'd sent her from Coit Tower, and I realized how lucky I was to have spent that time with him before we all lost him.

I wish I had more pictures from the time we spent that summer, but I didn't have a camera. The pictures below are courtesy of my cousin, Mike's sister, Jolene.

Mike and Jolene.

Cousin Chris (who also has CF), Jolene and cousin-in-law Trevor at a local Run for CF event. (Wearing pins with Mike's picture.)

Finding Balance in Life and Art

This is one of those "I love my life" days, or at least moments. (The day isn't over yet. Right?) ;)

While interviewing a group of students and Professor for a research paper, I realized the small impact one person could make on a group of people. It wasn't myself making an impact on students, or the Professor making an impact on me, but the whole circle of relationships and networking. A group of people, talking, discussing and contributing in their own little ways. "What does it all mean?" or "I know what this means to ME, but what does it mean to YOU." It's fascinating to see issues from all sides, and also to feel in sync with what is going on around you, and your overall purpose. It's enlightening.

Anyway, enlightened me has narrowed her M.A. thesis from 1,00,000,001.1 ideas down to 2 or 3 ideas. Yay!

I met the new Dean of my graduate program at a social, and after spewing my thesis at him, and basically having diarrhea of the mouth, I'm pretty sure he thinks I'm strange. But, no matter - at least I'm passionate.

So, I just returned from Motucky.

For those of you who've never heard it called "Motucky" before (God knows I hadn't), it's Modesto.

It had been quite a while since I've left the Bay Area on anything but a plane, so the 1 1/2 hour drive did me some good. I turned the music up, opened the moon roof, and put my foot on the gas. I just had my car washed, so I was big pimpin' it.

There were some pretty ok towns along the way, and, on a partially sunny Sunday afternoon, it was an enjoyable drive through Fremont, Pleasanton, Dublin, Livermore, Tracy... Before leaving, I Googled directions, and was truly frightened about the number of highways there were between 880 and 99. (I mean, OMG! more than ONE road to get to the next city! What kind of a place is this?) Then, I realized that 580, 5, and 120 are basically the same road. I thought fondly of SaBa and Helga as I passed through "Lard" and "Exit." It brought a smile to my face.

I really have nothing bad to say about Modesto except - It's far. The joyride of Sunday afternoon was completely abolished this morning as I arrived at work 2 1/2 hours after leaving Modesto; but spending Super Bowl Sunday with Special K (even though our team lost) and waking up to zero freeway noise was lovely. I'll admit it.

Back to (Square) Club One

I hate having to start over. It's really frustrating...

Unfortunately I am back to square one with my gym search. I have received the inside scoop that the Ballys I've been patronizing will be closing it's doors in a few months.

I went to CG last night, which, if you haven't figured it out yet, is Club One. I mean, I'm still paying $80 a month, so I might as well get my money's worth.