The Big Aiyah: 09/01/2002

Sunday, September 29, 2002

i picked up a grape flavored condom and a studded condom at the Folsom street fairl.

Thursday, September 26, 2002

I love you.

sorry, just had to prove to myself that I was still capable of writing that.

Wednesday, September 25, 2002

Folsom Street Fair Party
This Sunday Sept 29th.
Your chance to get loaded on a sunday morning with eggs and mimosas... or greygoose straight up....
And then we go walk the fair... and stare at the leather people...

9am... or so...
Email, IM for venue :p

This is an annual thing, so there's a bunch already committed to coming. The host lives just off of Folsom Street where the fair is.

The longer I'm single the less civil I become.

so there is a new boy working in the coffee store by my place...
really really cute: japanese (and he speaks it), hair dyed blonde and just surfer dude cute altogether...
but he makes shitty coffee...

now what do i do?

hahaah... my mini dilema for the day... before i go get real coffee

Beautiful Possibilities

I find it fascinating that something as gut-wrenchingly bleak and painful as heartbreak, can start from a happy place. Mine started from a little crush. It began with an adrenaline rush that might have come from a glance that she gave me, it lingered a half-second too long, it might be from a smile that she gave me, it seemed to float around my memory too often. Wherever it came from, all knew was that I was suddenly thrust in a wonderful place where anything was possible. At that point I realized that beautiful possibilities started to dance around inside my head. And what is love and romance if not for possibilities? Darius Lovehall from Love Jones said "Romance is the possibility of love, just like words are the possibility of poetry." Yeah, I'll go with that. The hopes, dreams that I harbored had projected themselves onto her and I saw traces of what I thought could someday become love . The mere possibility of love is so intoxicating that we've all been known to pursue it without regard to consequence. Somewhere in my pursuit of that path, I found the one that leads to heartbreak. Suddenly, my hopes, plans and dreams stopped dancing in my head as I felt her exclude herself from my future. It hurt like hell and it was a reality that was at times too much to take. I remember feeling like I was dying inside. Looking back, I think that is exactly what happened..something did die inside of me. My heartbreak was the death of those beautiful possibilities that I had kept inside me and that I had projected onto her. It's a terrible thing to feel but I guess its part of the human experience. I mourned and I suffered but in the end I think I allowed myself to get better. After listening to Mooncake and Piaa, I find comfort in the fact that I may not be alone. I choose to believe that we can still open ourselves to love again even after experiencing great pain and loss. It's what keeps my faith alive -- I believe that someday my beautiful possibilities might yet be realized. =)

Tuesday, September 24, 2002

I'm not He-Man, so don't be Skeletor

My advice to skinny women:
If you can cut your steak with your elbow, keep eating.

Sex with a size zero would be like Rock vs. Scissors. I'd come out with some scratches but eventually she'd get broken in half.

Monday, September 23, 2002

"Actions Speak Louder Than Words..."

I had the opportunity to talk things out about my situation with the party involved, but I left everything hanging. I know, it's my bad. I should have dealt with it. Dealing with the pain now will just make me stronger in the end, right?? I guess I'm just chicken sh*t....But as I've been blogging, I really don't want to deal hurt feelings anymore since I'm almost recovered. Am I really though? May be I'm in still in denial cuz shiiiet, I'm obviously trying to avoid the obvious more than anything. I'm stuck between a rock and hard place, or rather - a double edged sword is definitely more appropriate....

I was actually considering writing a letter since I'm not very good at conveying myself eloquently. I have a way with words ::sarcasm:: especially if I'm put on the spot...I stutter..I use the wrong words, I mispronounce everything. Shiiet, half the time I can't find words to explain myself. I can see myself saying, "Here's my letter...Here's how I feel, how you made me feel and how I'm going about it, but please don't reply."

There's this part of me says, there's nothing more to say. What's done is done. Lessoned learned. No need to say anything cuz actions speak louder than words. Why repeat what I already heard the first time? Although I didn't hear it ..I saw it, I felt it...so words are useless...

Words will just stab me more than anything.."What I don't know won't hurt me..."

Leave me be..I'll be fine.....

Resilient as can be,
PIAA

Saturday, September 21, 2002

I think the older one gets, the less one knows. We've had a couple of blogs re: FTF relationships. And so the story goes, either the two of you, as friends, ventured into sexual pastures, but never quite get to talking about a romantic relationship, or the context and/ or situation does not allow you to be in a romantic relationship. The other possibility, as my roommate so succinctly puts it, the other just has only fuck appeal to you and nothing else.
I guess my question is this: just about when does a fucking relationship become a romantic one? Or vice versa? It baffles me that as we were younger, we seem to know the context under which we "fell in love" or "made love" was so much clearer and had so much less ambiguity. Perhaps one could say we were all deluded then.. or at least maybe I was. I mean, when you were 18.. or maybe even 20 and living in the dorms, when a boy asked you out, it took an immeasurable amount of courage, and when you decide to go out on that one first date, it sorta means something... And you could almost be certain that that boy liked you, to say the least, and that you were going in some romantic direction. If it didn't work out, hey, you'd know in a couple of weeks. In the last few years, so many of the ambiguous relationships that I've either been through first hand, or lived vicariously through my friends (guys and girls alike), people seem to dwell in the land of I don't knows
I suppose, as we grow older, we explore many more relationships and realize that it really takes all kinds to make the world go round. But I don't think this has made me any wiser... at least in the realm of men and relationships. I seriously feel like I have no clue anymore about this whole dating game... almost as I've suddenly lost touch with this dating etiquette that I used to know.

Friday, September 20, 2002

"I don't want to go on pretending that this doesn't bother me, but I don't want to dwell on it either." - wise friend

I have a bad habit of putting myself in situations where salt gets thrown onto wounds about to heal.
Happened to me last week. So close yet so far. I could see the finish line, it seemed arm's length away. But bam, it hit me again. May be I'm being petty and I don't feel like going into details. But the jist of it all is that I wish he would see things from my perspective, fill my shoes and see it from where I stand. Lord knows, that if the roles were reversed I just wouldn't do that to him.

Too much assumption, too many hands in the pot. I'm tired of my ears ringing....

Oh wells...some guys are just clueless. They don't mean to be inconsiderate or rude....They just won't know until you hit them with the infamous "babyhatch club special" sitting on the floormat behind the passenger seat. (Let me tell ya, that thing is more lethal than a baseball bat.)

I find myself giggling at what I'm writing. I guess that means I'm almost there - arm's reach, baby. So I won't let myself be exposed to anything that might ruin the flow to my recovery. I'll let the dust settle a bit. I won't let what people say get to me. I won't let people TRY to add fire to the my smoldering pile of ashes. (i.e I can't help but feel there are some peeps out there trying to get a 'rise' out of me.) I'm done. I'll be OK in no time.

On a different subject, I did have an FTF thingy thing and fortunately for me everything fell into place. After a little fall out of a few months, we reconnected and I can easily say, we're really close friends to this day and I truly value our friendship....If I can go through that, I'm sure this situation is a cinch. So things can work out in the end.... I'm sure they will....Time heals the deepest wounds and right now, my wounds are not as deep. However, time can't take all the credit. Let's just say I'm so thankful to have the friends that I have.....

This piece deserves a spot on THe Big Aiyah...

This is dedicated to all women everywhere who have ever had to deal with a public toilet. And it finally explains to all you men what takes us so long.
PSYCHIC TOILETSby Donna Gephart, Palm Beach Gardens, FL.

2nd place in 2001 THE MONA SCHREIBER PRIZE FOR HUMOROUS FICTION & NONFICTION

My mother was a fanatic about public toilets. As a little girl, she'd bring me in the stall, teach me to wad up toilet paper and wipe the seat. Then, she'd carefully lay strips of toilet paper to cover the seat. Finally, she'd instruct, "Never, never sit on a public toilet seat." And she'd demonstrate "The Stance," which consisted of balancing over the toilet in a sitting position without actually letting any of your flesh make contact with the toilet seat. But by this time, I'd have peed down my leg. And we'd go home.

That was a long time ago. I've had lots of experience with public toilets since then, but I'm still not particularly fond of public toilets, especially those with powerful, red-eye sensors. Those toilets know when you want them to flush. They are psychic toilets. But I always confuse their psychic ability by following my mother's advice and assuming The Stance. The Stance is excruciatingly difficult to maintain when one's bladder is especially full. This is most likely to occur after watching a full-length feature film.
During the movie pee, it is nearly impossible to hold The Stance. You know what I mean. You drink a two liter cup of Diet Coke, then sit still through a three-hour saga because, even if you didn't wipe or wash your hands in the bathroom, you'd still miss the pivotal part of the movie or the second scene, in which they flash the leading man's naked derriere. So, you cross your legs and you hold it. And you hold it until that first credit rolls and you sprint to the bathroom, about ready to explode all over your internal organs.

And at the bathroom you find a line of women that makes you think there's a half-price sale on Mel Gibson's underwear in there. So, you wait and smile politely at all the other ladies, also crossing their legs and smiling politely. And you finally get closer. You check for feet under the stall doors. Every one is occupied. You hope no one is doing frivolous things behind those stall doors, like blowing her nose or checking the contents of her wallet. Finally, a stall door opens and you dash, nearly knocking down the woman leaving the stall. You get in to find the door won't latch. It doesn't matter. You hang your handbag on the door hook, yank down your pants and assume The Stance.

Relief. More relief. Then your thighs begin to shake. You'd love to sit down but you certainly hadn't taken time to wipe the seat or lay toilet paper on it, so you hold The Stance as your thighs experience a quake that would register an eight on the Richter scale. To take your mind off it, you reach for the toilet paper. Might as well be ready when you are done. The toilet paper dispenser is empty. Your thighs shake more. You remember the tiny napkin you wiped your fingers on after eating buttered popcorn. It would have to do. You crumble it in the puffiest way possible. It is still smaller than your thumbnail. Someone pushes open your stall door because the latch doesn't work and your pocketbook whams you in the head. "Occupied!" you scream and you reach out for the door, dropping your buttered popcorn napkin in a puddle and falling backward, directly onto the toilet seat. You get up quickly, but it's too late. Your bare bottom has made contact with all the germs and life forms on the bare seat because YOU never laid down toilet paper, not that there was any, even if you had enough time to. And your mother would be utterly ashamed of you if she knew, because her bare bottom never touched a public toilet seat because, frankly, "You don't know what kind of diseases you could get."

And by this time, the automatic sensor on the back of the toilet is so confused that it flushes, sending up a stream of water akin to a fountain and then it suddenly sucks everything down with such force that you grab onto the toilet paper dispenser for fear of being dragged to China. At that point, you give up. You're finished peeing. You're soaked by the splashing water. You're exhausted. You try to wipe with a Chicklet wrapper you found in your pocket, then slink out inconspicuously to the sinks. You can't figure out how to operate the sinks with the automatic sensors, so you wipe your hands with spit and a dry paper towel and walk past a line of women, still waiting, cross-legged and unable to smile politely at this point. One kind soul at the very end of the line points out that you are trailing a piece of toilet paper on your shoe as long as the Mississippi River. You yank the paper from your shoe, plunk it in the woman's hand and say warmly, "Here. You might need this."

At this time, you see your spouse, who has entered, used and exited his bathroom and read a copy of War and Peace while waiting for you. "What took you so long?" he asks, annoyed. This is when you kick him sharply in the shin and go home.

Wednesday, September 18, 2002

ok.. so when are we going to do the singles night out thing again?
gotta start living life, before you get hooked up and not be able to do all these singlese thingeys anymore.
Oh and I found a super website for super cool things to do in the city... every night of the week.
No excuses...
www.flavorpill.net
go check it out.

Tuesday, September 17, 2002

Three Wishes

I'm home again. I spent almost the entire summer moving to my new place and at summer's end, I finally feel like I've filled my new place with all the things that make four walls a home. On a hot Central Valley afternoon, I accounted for all my personal possessions when suddenly -- I felt as if I stepped outside of myself. I became a stranger inside my own eyes and looked at my possessions in a different light. I came to the sudden realization that I had surrounded myself with all the pretty things that my parents had hoped to someday own and all the neat toys that I had only dreamed of as a child. Instead of feeling happy, I felt numb, a deep numbness that comes from unfullfilled longings. It was loneliness... It was then that a memory of an old wish that I used to always make came rushing back to me... and the words "Be Careful What You Wish For..." flashed like a neon sign inside my head.
As long as I can remember, I always made three wishes when I entered a church for the very first time. My parents had taught me that I get three wishes every time I stepped in a new church and I felt as though God would grant them unto me unconditionally because....HE had to, it was the rules. I always made the same three and in the same order. I thought I had it all figured out. Number one, Prosperity. Number two, Health. Then lastly, Number three -- Love. I thought to myself, money first, then the health to spend it, then , love because it seemed like the RIGHT thing to wish for. I like to think that I didn't know any better when I put my wishes in order, I had no idea what it even meant to love someone or to be loved back. I was only a boy.

At that moment, when my eyes were my own again -- my numbness was overcome by an aching feeling of regret as I said to myself "The last one should have been first." Im thankful for all my blessings -- but the last should have been first because despite my pride with all the things I had ammassed and all the knowledge I have gained, and all the wonderful things I have experienced these 28 years, it took me ALL this time to realize that its ALL for nothing without love. As I look at my friends, as they raise families and carry on lives together -- I realize that I might have to wait because of a subconscious decision or an maybe an unfullfilled wish that I made a long time ago . For me, love was last and the painful longing for it has made me realize there are many great blessings in this world, but love is by far the greatest and no one should ever wish for anything above it.

Monday, September 16, 2002

Fate has been preventing me to blog those recurring awful thoughts...Brutal ones at that.....
I find myself saying "I can't wait to blog" blah blah blah....with my fingers typing on an imaginative keyboard - like a table top or something...then I'm either too drunk to turn on the computer or I get distracted mid-post....Which is a good thing, I suppose....

Now with my claws and horns retracted, I can actually post..I'll even put aside my pride for a moment...

I put the world on hold yesterday and took a "day off" to put things into perspective. So I dissected my situation, analyzed all the pieces and came to a consensus. I don't think I was moping...I think I've just been coping with the effects of bad date #137 (well, a rendition of it). Better yet, I was lead on - unintentionally. What really hurts is that I miss how things used to be.....I miss our friendship when it was strong...not a hint of awkwardness......

I pondered the following:
Is it ADD (Attention Deficit Disorder) or just a dose of the "New Face- High Stock" theory?
Boys and Toys. You give them a new toy and they just throw the old one to the side. Even if the old one is just fine - few scrapes here and there, a little wear and tear...but of course, the new one has the winning edge - cuz it's intriguing. I'm just an "old face" - and my "stock price" is rather low. (I just needed to state the obvious.)

I'm just not a challenge. Nuff said.

My theory on the passive vs. aggressive women in terms of attention. Which brings me to my very first post on Big Aiyah and whether or not I should change my M.O. Sometimes I wonder if I'm not going to get anywhere with how passive I am, or rather, just being discreet doesn't cut it sometimes. I have to stop throwing subtle hints and just start hitting guys on the head...with a brick....or a bat...or sh*t with "the club" thingy thing sitting in my babyhatch for that matter.

But what it boils down to is

I'm just not the right one.

Tough pill to swallow. The chemistry is good, but better with someone else....but definitely not with me.

Time for me to pick up my pride from the floor, dust it off a bit and put it back on....

Wednesday, September 11, 2002

Taps
Thanks and praise
For our days,
Neath the sun, 'neath the starts, 'neath the skies
As we go, this we know
God is nigh.
Amen

Monday, September 09, 2002

After moping for almost 5 months over my "I love you but I also love my girlfriend" non-defined, but let's just sleep but we can't call ourselves fuck buddies, cos i love you even though i have a girlfriend, I'm happy to say I'm back on the market and dating healthily without feeling the need to always second guess myself.
Funny how FTF relationships always fuck you over more than you think they will. You always delude yourself somehow or other.

*mental note to self*= one night stands less problematic... no more undefined relationships...

ex-non-boyfriend: i love you, but I can't be with you now
*bullshit*
ex-non-boyfriend: she and i have a history... you and i are just starting...
*so let's just pick the chick who fucked you more*
ex-non-boyfriend: Why can't you not mope, but hope that we can be together in the future when i come back
*but we have no history*

new day, new men, and you can continue fucking her for all i care.

your loss

“I didn’t change my mind….I just said I’ll be home in 20…”

I found myself inebriated Friday night, which started off at Rohan Lounge. Trap Door was our second stop and I found myself sitting at the bar practically drooling at the bartendar…I think the alcohol pulled my hormones out of hibernation as I was feeling kinda “frisky”…I couldn’t help but disclose my frame of mind that night….

But that’s “T.M.I”

How convenient that my celly rung and it was a BC from last year. He was in Palo Alto, while I was in the city. He said he’ll call when he’s done with whatever he’s doing.

Fine.

As we were leaving Trap Door, he called again….I told him I’ll be home in 20 minutes..

I think that’s all I said….

What went through my intoxicated brain cells:
No strings attached – I’m single, he’s single…we’re both adults
No emotional attachments – He’s pretty hot, but lacking brain sex
“Repeat booty is OK”

But, my tummy got the better of me and I wanted to hit up Lucky Chances with my boys….

“They’re not taking me home…I’m prisoner…I’m not driving….”
I thought that was a pretty feasible excuse..

Long story short…He was pretty upset that even when I held out my cell phone arm’s length away and I still hear him yelling….In the midst of him screaming bloody murder, I caught a few sentences,

“Don’t ever message me or call me again…”
(Wait, I thought I was the female in this scenario…)

The next day, one of my homeboys says,

“PIAA…you don’t say ‘yay’ then ‘nay’”
“But I didn’t…I just said that I’ll be home in 20 minutes”

Now I need a replacement..shoot….Time to go shopping!

Saturday, September 07, 2002

Let's play 20 questions about last night (Friday night).

Voodoo or Mooncake start it off.

Thursday, September 05, 2002

fwah! (singaporean slang for woah....) feel honored to be reading voodoo's schtuff minutes after she submits her blog.
this place is looking good... not that it ever looked bad..

so gotta admit that I'm reading too much erotica these days. Feel like a damn old spinster cos i gotta get it from the books. But dang... some of them are really really really good. Talk about getting an orgasm from just looking at words... I wonder how many hours these people spend doing it actually.

So I bought the latest sensation in erotica literature a few weeks ago on a trip to NYC. "The Sexual Life of Catherine M". God, this woman equates having sex to breathing. "It is life" so she says. And in her tell all, you learn just how grotesque too much sex can actually be (too much of a good thing can be bad) BUT you also learn that women, can take it just as well as the men. She is Samantha in real life.

Read the book... and bring that vibrator to bed with you.

Voodoo Sticks Her Head In

Bad Date #132:
He likes you. You don't like him. He says he'll call and does.

Bad Date #133:
You like him. He doesn't like you. He says he'll call and doesn't.

Bad Date #134:
You like him. He likes Jim. He dresses better than you.

Bad Date #135:
He wears too much aftershave. He flirts more with the waitress than with you. But that's a good thing.

Bad Date #136:
He talks all night about his ex. Then he cries.

Bad Date #137:
You like him a lot. He likes you a lot. Then he changes his mind.

The Big Aiyah