Made the mistake of asking a date I recently met to my Econ house party. Shittums. It's not that the guy is not nice or is obnoxious or something. Just that I may now have to act all decent and entertain the bloke and I can't do shots or be loud and brash. Although I have to say I'm not really all that loud or brash altogether, but I can get that way with about 3 shots of tequila in my system. I was hoping I wouldn't get the "follow up" email on the house party and that he would have forgotten all about it, but I did. Oh crap. That also significantly reduces my chances of making out with boys in my class for that matter... not that I should since I'm supposed to be the graduating senior who's all smarty pants and has a decent life. Arrgghh... all in all, I just should not have asked date bloke to the party. Was not a wise decision.
On another note, I accidentally got myself electrocuted today... (well that was a dumb sentence... who would deliberately get themselves electrocuted?). Pulled out a plug and felt a zap run through my fingers through my arm... Am not incapacitated but feeling weird now. Like I'm all tingly, I can feel the wrong neurons being fired off in my brain and my tongue feels all fuzzy... yea... damn right fuzzy. I'll try telling that to the advice nurse on the phone. But maybe this is a good thing. Maybe I'll finally get myself shit together, or discover a new talent, like be able to see ghosts or something.
hmm...

wooh! made it to yoga this morning! Two thursdays in a row! Very happy with myself at this point. Am going to do this for the rest of Lent. I figure the guilt trip will kick my ass out of bed if I start getting lazy.

Simply cannot work today. Am very very very depressed and distracted today. All attributed to lack of boy problems. I hate feeling as if I need someone and I hate not having someone. Life should be less complicated you know?

I went to yoga this morning! Dragged my ass out of bed at 5:30am, brushed my teeth asleep and basically just zombied out my door. A good trick my ex-roommate Anita taught me was that if you want to work out early in the morning, wear your workout clothes to sleep. That way, you literally just roll out of bed and off you go. When I was living in NY, I lived in a building right on Wall Street, which was really cool. Anita was traing to run the NY marathon. I was just... um.. well, there to support her so to speak. We'd be up at 6 in the morning, slip on the running shoes and catching 40 winks in the 30 second ride down the building. The air in the morning was always cold and because we were right in the financial district with the big buildings and the Atlantic to our backs, we were always starting our runs in the middle of some wind tunnel, which almost always made you want to turn back into the elevator. But one of the best things about running in NY is that there is always something to see; there's always drama going on somewhere. One morning we ran past South Street Seaport and that smell of fish, is rather unforgettable. Anyone can make a 4 minute mile running past the fish market. On mornings when we wanted to do longer runs, we'd run up 5th avenue, so we could window shop while we ran and somehow, the run didn't seem long enough. There were always windows we wanted to see but didn't get to in the end. I don't know if I can go through with this yoga schedule I have now. Anita's obviously not here to drag my butt out of bed. The clothes thing was certainly helpful, but 5:30 was brutal. I do, however, like the feeling after yoga. Feels like someone gave you a really really good massage, which is quite unlike the heart pumping adrenalin rush after a run.

So much drama these days in my life. Am in need of new friends. Small social circle has split in half because of a breakup. It's pretty darned nasty and some have decided to be on the guy's side, while others are on the girl's. Some others have managed to skirt the issue altogether and remain neutral. I haven't been as lucky. It's a real pity. But am also realizing that in the last year or so, what with dissertation, moving to a different part of town and all, am not having as much fun with this small circle anymore.
Sad to say, I think I'm in need of a yuppie group. Am a wholesome yuppie. Never thought I'd admit it, but I think I'm no longer in that student crowd anymore. Am not into boozing and wild declarations of political affinities anymore. Not into monday night sake fests or saturday morning bloody mary's (after friday night's gallavant). Would like instead, friday night dinners, wine and sunday brunch with the possibility of a movie.
It's boring I know, but I actually enjoy it these days.

“When one door of happiness closes, another opens: but often we look so long at the closed door that we do not see the one which has been opened for us” – Helen Keller

That, I think has to be the quote of the day for Valentine's day.

I was invited to a quirkyalone party for V-day. Hmm... I don't know what my friend D. meant by inviting me to it, but that's ok. I didn't know what a quirkyalone was anyway.

I took a quirkyalone quiz today. Apparently, I belong to this group.

How quirkyalone are you?
Your score was 91. Very quirkyalone:
Relatives may give you quizzical looks, and so may friends, but you know in your heart of hearts that you are following your inner voice. Though you may not be romancing a single person, you are romancing the world. Celebrate your freedom on National Quirkyalone Day, February 14th!

um ok. That settles it.

So what is a quirkyalone? Here's the definition given on the QuirkyAlone website.

QuirkyAlones are romantics who resist the tyranny of coupledom. Whether by birth (womb quirkyalones)or through life experience (born-again quirkyalones), we are independent-thinking people who would prefer to be open to finding that magical click (and the myriad possibilities that life has to offer) rather than exist in a stifling or unsatisfying romantic relationship.

This must be a sign that I am forever doomed to spinsterhood.

I've been in a bad mood lately. Most of it is my fault, working myself into this anxiety frenzy that I can't seem to get out of and only see myself spiralling deeper and deeper into. It is the time of the month, but I've never had my hormones flare so badly that it's lasted 4 or 5 days. Usually I'm in a bad mood for a day and that's it. I laugh myself out of it the next day. This week, it's just been awful. I'm miserable and I'm making others around me miserable. Or it could be this earache I've been having since Sunday. It's not that painful but it's annoying. But I feel that's just more symptomatic of my bad mood than the cause of it.
I've been having the Bridget Jones' conversation in my head lately as well. Contemplating a life alone and simply not ever being with anyone. That could very well happen. This rant, about how boys always have it great and that they never have to buy the cow cos they get to drink the milk anyway is drowning my faith in ever meeting, dating or being with someone. It's simply not fair, and we girls have to suck it up anyway because we have that biological clock ticking. It would be nice if our sexual rituals resembled that of a praying mantis. You never have to worry about a long term relationship if you were a praying mantis. The female baits the male, has sex and then eats them after. No more of this Carrie Bradshaw- Bridget Jones syndrome, worrying that you'll never ever find someone long term.
I'm hoping and hoping that my Colin Firth is just waiting, waiting around the corner to be discovered, but of course I'm too logical and cynical for that. I mean, I'm even contemplating auditing my econometrics class, which I took two semesters ago anyway, because (a) I'm bored (b) I should keep up to speed with econometrics anyway (c) I had a crush on my professor two semesters ago, and he's cute. I can smell my desperation a mile away.
I'm hoping that out of all this, I might be able to come up with a Plath-like novel that will at least propel me onto the NY times bestseller list and then I will at least have some millions to spend on a sailboat and maybe put myself through a PhD. Yes, money and shopping never ceases to be therapeutic.

If I could vote someone into office:

AOL Presidential Match Guide.htm

You know what's lame? Fighting.
You know what's worse than lame? Fighting about something you already fought about
You know what really takes the cake? Fighting about something you already fought about on IM.

Then the fight hangover kicks in and says, "haha I told you so!" when already know you stepped on shit, now you're willingly rubbing your face in it and feeling worse than ever. And you want to say sorry but nobody's really listening but you and your face is stuck in shit anyway.

I know I get it and I'm really sorry already. White flag.

Girlfriend K and I were on the phone til late last night. We came to the conclusion that the San Francisco scene is quite unlike the New York scene, where dates are made over a margarita and cosmo in a chic downtown bar. On a Friday night, you dress up, heels and all, to greet the party goers all over town.
San Francisco is quite unlike that. To begin with, our bars are rather prohibitive to this mating ritual. Most people hang out in groups and conversations take place at a booth or in a tight circle of friends. Kinda difficult I think, for anyone, to penetrate. So to speak.
The Scene here however is the House Party, where young San Franciscans open their home to friends, friends of friends, friends of friends of friends. There is at most 2 degrees of separation here (ok maybe 3), unlike meeting Mr. Random in a bar. And you have something to talk about at least. Like who you know and who you came here with and how great the party is. Hopefully that's enough to start.
My problem with the house party, is that on a Friday night, after one week of work, my idea of fun is not repeating my life story to some stranger, 2 degrees of separation or not. Not interested in dressing up, donning make-up or pretending to be interested in someone else's spiel in life. The worst case scenario, I think, is to be stuck listening to a left wing activist talk about the trees in ecuador, or the poor workers in a Nike factory in what they call the Third World. I come from what used to be the Third World. Don't need anymore advocacy from arm chair activists.
"Well, you're never going to meet anyone in that case" says K.
But we did come up with a plan. We decided we should be selective about the House Parties. We struck off the Berkeley left wing House Parties- I'm not that progressive. We aslo struck off the Marina, I've- got- plenty- of- money- left- in- my- trust- fund house parties. Union Street house parties were acceptable. Self made yuppies are always refreshing. (Besides, if I wanted a date that would pick me up in a car, this is probably my best bet). Lower Haight and Duboce parties, we decided would fit both of us best. THe progressive yuppies. Cute, fashionably grungy, looks great in a suit, voted for Matt Gonzalez but understands that the concept of a "living wage" is economically not feasible.
Hopefully, neither of us will chicken out, or rather, get lazy and end up in our favorite Korean Bar again. We shall see.

I can see my desk finally! Finished thesis defense on Friday!
Was out partying late friday night and then realized on weekend that having taken one year off from partying, the body just cannot party as hard anymore. I'll have to get up to speed on that :)