Anyway, nobody reads a blog to read about term papers (or so I would hope- if you do, God save you. I can't judge though, I'm subscribed to LSAT blog). I've resurrected my blog, Lazarus-style, to keep connected to a dear friend of mine who's gone soul-replenishing (I won't say soul-searching, because she's got a lot of soul!) in Seoul (oh how hilarious, I've made a pun). Those of us familiar with her soul will miss it terribly. It's only been a week but it feels longer.. Negative thoughts may or may not be enhanced by paper-writing.
So, yesterday, I was lucky enough to attend another friend's ugly Christmas sweater party. Because poo-brown Lacoste sweaters from Korea aren't ugly enough, I had to go dig through Salvation Army sweaters to find the perfect tinsel-embellished, wool-knitted, misshapen...sweater. I'm sad I didn't take any pictures from the sexy sweater party.
Highlights include:
- Michael and Connie getting into strange argument/discussion about Michael holding off on the drinks (last time he passed out on Connie's lawn and harrassed people).
- White guy doing the robot (seriously thinking he's a great dancer) in the middle of Connie's living room (while everyone is ... NOT dancing) while I laugh my ass off because he looks ridiculous. I tried to get Michael to out-robot him but he refused.
- Kama sutra gingerbread cookies. My favourites- tiny penis cookie and high class hooker cookie.
- Spilled red wine on Connie's carpet.
- Michael getting drunk off a couple glasses of wine. Michael adds rum to his wine to make it stronger. I hide Michael's rum and he makes a scene and I have to give it back. Connie accidentally boiling Michael's wine away while making mulled wine. Michael panics because he has no more alcohol. Michael asks strangers, friends, acquaintances for alcohol. (Michael:........ Are you going to finish your Malibu? Me: ...Uh.. I don't know. Michael: ..... Are you going to SHARE your Malibu? Me: ......*scared of you* Later that evening- Michael: WHY DID YOU GIVE ESTHER SOURPUSS AND NOT ME?? Susan: ...She gave me some Alize.. Michael:YOU HATE ME)
- In the end, Michael accused everyone of talking about him, thought everyone hated him, and probably50% of the people left because he was becoming scary.
That was unnecessarily elaborate. It was fun though, I really liked catching up with first year roomies.. We've become a diaspora, and this was the one time we'd all gather together and relive old times and good times. Hopefully, if/when I go away (I question this more everyday, as I begin to realize how good my sister can be to me- she made me Superman shots before the party [she's kind in her own MaryJane way]), rekindling gatherings with Vancouverites will be just as warm and just as special as they were last night.
Because I like to set goals for myself, I'll leave off with something I plan to work on this week.
This week, I will try to speak up more. I am a wallflower. I am a doormat. I am basically an inanimate object. I will assert myself, whether that is in class (how terrifying and intimidating can liberal arts students be? That in itself seems a ridiculous question because it's almost paradoxical) or wandering the streets, getting picked on by first-year undergraduate immigrant students or fat white men in search of beer. Long stories.
Also, in order to salvage my sense of self, I will sign up for women's self-defense class. Not to be too anal about this, but more and more women seem to seek empowerment through pole-dancing and strip-tease lessons. How is this empowerment? Let's be frank- you feel sexy from men-imposed standards, and you like that feeling, and I'm happy it makes some women (my sister) feel good in their own way. But it is not exactly empowerment. Or it's just a fad, the in-thing to do, yet it stems from a long tradition of the commercialization and saleability of women's bodies. I really think that these self-defense classes will make me feel EMPOWERED, and that is sexy, not just through the male gaze, but from within. They're a great price too, about $4/class.
We'll see how this all goes. Fingers crossed. Srsly some people don't think the idea of speaking in class is sweat-inducingly terrifying, but to me, IT IS. I always think- "OKAY. I'll say it now. .... NOW..... NOW!" And the moment passes, or someone else says what I was going to say. Toastmasters would have come in handy. And I can't help but feel like.. if you can't do even THIS little thing which seems so daunting to you.. You're never going to get anywhere in life. Tough luck bitch!
This was longer than I intended.
I will mention, the waiters at Hamilton Street Grill.... still bald, two years later.
