'Cuz I'm leaving on a jet plane...

     I should be packing right now but I'm not. I can't seem to make myself do it. I've done the laundry, made my lists, picked out my outfits, decided which shoes to bring, got the scarfs, got the socks, got the mittens, even have the suitcases laying open on the floor, but still they remain empty. How hard can it be to just put the dang clothes in there and zip it up? Well...really hard I guess because its 11:30 and I'm still procrastinating. And I don't really know why.
      Maybe it's my dislike for the whole flying experience in general. I hate the lines, I hate the searching, I hate the mind numbing atmosphere, the disgusting smells, the small suitcases and even smaller seats, the stale air that makes me feel like I'm breathing in an endless stream of other people's germs, the exorbitantly over priced food and lack of entertainment when flying solo. Dear Little, flying without you sucks. I guess I really just hate it all. I can't say that I even feel like the quickness and 'convenience' of flying makes up for its price. So while I'm a little nervoushappyexcitedscared to fly out to Duke tomorrow, I can't say that a small part of me wouldn't prefer to just stayed curled up under my covers tomorrow morning and miss my flight.
       But alas, come dawn I'm sure I will wake up disgustingly early, drag my sorry butt to the airport, grumpily shuffle my way through security and then tune out the next 7 hours of my life. Maybe I'll even read King Lear or write that essay.

All I know is, there better be a hug waiting for me on the other side....
      

 
With Dawn comes Discomfort

R.I.P Fuzios

           Today was the last day of my grandmother's week long visit, and my family and I decided to go out to dinner to celebrate. As usual, we bickered over restaurants, each side loudly clamoring for something different. My sister wanted classic Italian, demanding we go to Cafe Italia while my Dad adamantly insisted on Thai food. My grandma, being the crowd pleaser she is, simply requested a restaurant where she could get a low-sodium salad or maybe some fish. I let them argue for a while, amused by their pathetic ploys to assert their restaurants superiority. And then I said it-
          "Lets go to Fuzios."
           Unanimous agreement. Because really, there is no better restaurant than Fuzios. My family has been going there for as long as I can remember and it was always our restaurant of choice for special occasions, good grades, or victory celebrations. And we have never ordered more than three things; the beloved Carmelized Onion Focaccia Bread, The awesome amazing Firecracker Pork Fusili, and on rare occasions the Fuji Apple Walnut Salad. That's it. Every single time for the last 10+ years. And.  It. Was. Perfect!  I loved our little tradition, the delightful predictability and guaranteed satisfaction, not to mention the half off on wednesday nights.
           So tonight we piled in the car, stomachs growling and mouths watering in anticipation of the delicious food. I could already taste it. But as we pulled up, all the lights were off and there were no cars in the parking lot.
         "Thats odd..." My sister said.
          My stomach sank. I didn't want to eat anywhere else. "They must be closed for Thanksgiving," I replied. "Go out and check the door."
          We sat in the car grumbling about the ridiculousness of being closed four days early for a mediocre holiday. After a while AJ got back in the car and looked me in the eyes.
         "Its closed. Forever." she simply said.

          Error, message does not compute.

         "WHAT!!?? How can it be closed forever!?" I yelled.
         "They just are. The note says 'Sorry, but we will be closed indefinitely'."
          While the rest of my family calmly picked a new restaurant, my world spiraled into darkness. No more Firecracker pork. No more dependable deliciousness. No more half of Wednesdays. No more cheap dates. No more family tradition. How could they do this to me without asking?! Don't they know I'm their biggest fan!? I wasn't prepared for the devastating news, and all I could do was moan quietly in the backseat. I wasn't hungry anymore.
          Even while I stared at the Dos Coyotes menu 15 minutes later, I kept thinking about my horrible betrayal. Please menu, please just have firecracker pork on here somewhere. All I'm asking for is one measly little dish, how hard can that be? But alas, it was to no avail. It never appeared and I had a stupid, albeit decently good quesidilla instead. So now, hours later, I and my tongue have finally come to terms with our loss. And while my heart still hurts, I would like to say, Farewell Firecracker Pork Fusili. You will be missed.

Let's be honest-

      Adult relationships are akward. As the child of divorced parents, I had grown used to thinking of my parents as nonsexual entities for the last 10 years. Mom was Mom and Dad was Dad and that was that. There never were and never would be any others. But recently, all that has changed. My dad has been seeing a new woman for sometime now (he sneakily has yet to specify the exact time), and much to my shame has gone on more dates with her than I've ever had with all of my boyfriends combined. It seems like every single weekend he's down there eating Indian food or visiting Chinese markets and coming back with bottles upon bottles of unreadable sauces and spices. And now, much to my alarm, he's started bringing her here. Into my small little world where its just him and me and my sister and nothing ever changes and parents don't date. To make it worse, he's even introduced her to both his parents! Are those wedding bells I hear....?
           I should probably mention here that I have nothing against the woman, don't get me wrong. She's a lovely Taiwanese computer programmer from Freemont whose the perfect age for my Dad. They seem to like the same things, and although her english can be dicey at times it never seems to be a problem. She's funny and smart and has good taste. Despite only meeting me a few times, she's even asked me for a christmas list with a rather large budget attached to it. She has a beautiful home, the silliest cat I've ever met and a son obsessed with legos. Last weekend, she introduced us to the wonders of home made hotpot. She really seems to be an excellent match.  
          And yet, I can't help but find faults with her. She's not pretty enough for my Dad, I tell myself as if it mattered. Or, she's too snobby, she's such a brand whore. Or she already has a kid, what would we do with him?? I don't want a dumpy, lego obsessed step brother!!  Clearly, it's what he finds attractive that's important and I know its not really up to me, but can't I want the best for my father? In some sort of Oedipal complex I'm sure, I happen to think my Dads rather good looking for an over-the-hiller. He's tall, and strong, and incredibly fit, not to mention the smartest guy I know. So when I look at her, I cant help but think she's just slightly above average. Clearly not good enough, I say! But then again, who would I think is good enough for my Dad? Deep down, do I even want my Dad to date?
       Nonsense, of course I do! Me and my sister have always secretly plotted behind his back that we would set him up by the time we moved out of the house. He's such a loveable guy he deserves to have someone to keep him company and fill his empty hours while we're gone. We just never figured it would happen so soon.
       So today as I sat through an uncomfortably long Ihop and movie date, I couldn't help but contemplate these things as I warily averted my eyes from the constant hand holding, ignored the snuggling, and acted like I didn't notice the stolen kisses in the rain. It seems like just yesterday it was my hand he was holding...

                                     

Do I hear a test test?

Check check! I must say, formatting this blog has proved to be quite addicting. Who knew there could be so many choices!? Looks like my programming class has finally payed off. All in all, a good first day. Lets see what tomorrow brings...