Dinner with Peggy

Just had a lovely dinner with my friend Peggy who up until recently would always introduce me to her friends as "my old Bible School teacher." Painful but true. Pegs is a good 10+ years younger than me and when I was in high school I taught Bible lessons at church to the little ones. Hard to believe isn't it? This is how I met my lovely friend.

She's always been a dancer. I still remember when she was 7, when she donned my pointe shoes for the first time. Dainty slender fingers pressed again the wall in my family's foyer and another hand outstretched but not touching mine. I was ready to grab her in case she'd topple over, but she never did. In fact she balanced quite well executing some painful bourrees clobbering in time against the tile floor. She'd dance continuously through college, easily surpassing my skill level when she turned 10 or so, eventually becoming a company level dancer.

We kept in touch when I went off to college. I kept all of her letters, mesmerized by how her penmanship would become more refined each year. School pictures with glasses, then with braces, then with a handsome boy at her side during senior prom. I still remember her mother confronting me once: "She's been checking the mailbox every day for several weeks and finally she broke down and cried." I vowed to always respond within a week.

Email replaced the letters when I was in graduate school. Advice on college vs. ballet company. What major? Where to live?

And so soon before I could even realize it, she turned 21 and we shared drinks for the first time at my place. I had not seen her in person for nearly 10 years and she towered over me, long boned and elegant. She had to stoop over to hug me and we chuckled at the height difference. When I left home, she came up to my shoulder. Me, newly single. She, a supportive friend, not a child, but a full fledged opinionated woman whose sympathetic ear I could use. Aside from a slight valley twang, which I find endearing, she's quite eloquent and hilarious to boot. We cuss like sailors around each other.

She's a strong gal emotionally. Much stronger than I ever was. I suppose watching your parents get a divorce at a young age and toggling between two households toughens your skin a bit. She danced in the Houston ballet throughout high school. She taught English abroad at the age of 19. Finished college in 4 years. Worked as a bar tender and then as a hostess at a high end restaurant. Now is a teacher in elementary school. She's partied. She's loved and lost. Broken hearts. Had her heart broken. In a lot of ways she's experienced a whole lot more than I have. What will she be like in 10 years when she's my age?

Every time I speak to her new stories unfold and I'm constantly amused by what she has to share with me. I suppose I'm getting old, and yet at the same time I'm connecting with her in a different way. She came out well, I want to tell her parents...

there is no spoon

It's nearly midnight yet I've got some espresso percolating through the french press sitting on my counter while a glob of condensed milk and an entrapped spoon sits at the base of my mug waiting for its warm coffee bath to come, melt away the saccharine stickiness and turn the concoction into a fragrant cup of coffee... Except, I can't quite enjoy the coffee anymore because it reminds me too much of a tiff I had recently with my friend:

He was voicing his annoyance at how the condensed milk was dripping and smearing all over the counter. My flat response was "That's why I leave the spoon in the cup."

And with that he shoved the mugs at me and stormed off.

What I meant to say was "I usually grab a large scoop and then leave the spoon in the cup so that I don't end up trailing milk back and forth from the tub to the container..." but the truncated version was what came out of my mouth. I have a tendency to say things half way when I'm tired or lost in thought or whatever. It sounded condescending to him. It hurt his feelings and thus in return, he decided to act childish and disrespectful.

My tolerance level for this kind of shit is so incredibly low. Tis true, I did not semantically answer in a way that made any sense, but the claim that I didn't understand the situation or observe his complaint correctly (as he continually insists) is just plain wrong. Had he answered "Dude, you really didn't address my problem..." or something along those lines, I wouldn't be as pissed.

I think I'm angry because his reaction is so similar to how I would have behaved when I was in high school or maybe even the beginning of college. I still am to a degree, but when I was younger I was highly sensitive. A condescending look from a cashier or someone who would not give me the right of way on the sidewalk would upset me for hours maybe days. I'd brood over that. If someone hurt my feelings, I'd lash out, throw negativity into the atmosphere so the whole damn world would know how shitty I felt. I'd throw down a mini tantrum that did nothing but make the opposing party as miserable as I...exactly as how my friend responded.

Well, I grew out of that. Years ago. It is true that I initially came into this world more incendiary than serene. I've mellowed out so much with age and through being a wife that my ability to empathize with that sort of hurt has grown distant. At one point I would have merely felt sorry for the opposing party, let it be "their problem" and ride out the storm letting things go. However recently, I've discovered I'm actually annoyed by those spurts of irate expression.

The real conflict for me though in the above scenario is that I immediately reacted the way my x-husband used to. Chase after him, try to appease the situation, make peace, apologize...I used to hold that trait in high regard. Would emulate it often. I'd to swallow my hurt from being disrespected and appease the opposing party in order to dispel any pain. Stoic. Solid. Even keeled.

I'd normally sit back and make excuses, ascertain the cause through reflection, understand that his negative reciprocation was not unwarranted-- a culmination of past hurts, pent up frustration from me and world, his upbringing, a bad day, whatever...

Right now though, that's not me and yet that was exactly how I defaulted. And then I became immediately resentful. In fact, I am resentful which is why I'm writing this.

I don't like feeling like a door mat. I don't like being aloof and indifferent, one flavor that consists of nothing but "sweet" and "kind." There's a part of me that wishes that I didn't choose to stand on my higher ground. I wanted to smack him, hurl the french press his way and stoop to his level make him pay for the negativity he threw my way...just to be self righteous and prove some stupid little point: coddling a brat only creates more brattiness

How is that any better? Is the fact that I didn't act on how I wanted react make me any better of a person than him? Sadly, probably not.

Shrug. I give up.

Mary and Josh's Gothic Wedding

Can you tell these two have known each other since 10th grade? That's seventeen years.

So, as you can imagine we are all incredibly happy when the two of them finally tied the knot. Some of us flat out forgot that they weren't already married!

T and I took turns with the camera capturing the images of the splendid day. Every wedding is unique and each is beautiful in its own way. I feel like its been ages since I've gone to a gothic one (we are, after all, getting older) so what a splendid surprise it was to see Mary and Josh embrace their younger days with their ceremony at the Umlauf Sculpture Gardens in Austin, TX.

The groom in his glorious guy-liner:


Cassandra was the master of ceremony:


Guests waiting.


That's Kate and her man, Joel on the right:


My dapper hubby and dear friend Lisa:


Lisa bringing Juliet to Lee, her husband. I love how the child stands out as a red spot amongst a sea of black:


Mary walking in with her dad:


Exchange of vows (Josh said at one point "I also promise to buy you a lot of pretty things..."):


Ring Exchange:


The Kiss:


And a big hug...


From many people...


Mary and Josh picked an Indian restaurant to cater the food. That was just divine!


Cake cutting:


Cake eating:


Cake flinging:


More pics...





Milo:


Milo with his parents "Special Blue" Jennifer and Kevin:


Ross (Juliet's dad) giving me a celebratory kiss:


Troy and me:


Juliet:


Juliet with her mom, Cassandra as Lisa looks on in the background:


Juliet with her dad, Ross:




Lisa with Juliet:


Lee with Juliet:


A very festive Stacy:


Rothko and Matt:


Angie's hair:


Jason and Sarah:


Kitsune and Syd:


Kitsune and me:


Shannon and Xian with their son Devin:


Darlin Hubby:


Ross trying to entertain Juliet:


A bunch of us decorating the car:






Happily ever after...if they've been together for 17 years already, I think they're probably going to stay together for a bit more longer.

windows and clinginess

First off, a cute picture of Avani courtesy of Amy:


Like with Jay, I tend to get Avani withdrawal if I don't see the dear friend regularly. Jay's across campus. Avani is just downstairs but due to her massive workload and insane amount of meetings, I actually see her less. Maybe it's because these two are some of the most altruistic and introspective individuals I've ever known or perhaps it's simply because conversation threads are always interesting and fulfilling with either (not to mention frequently identical in content when you compare them...kinda scary) or maybe it's just because they both let me steal their food regularly and give great hugs...whatever the case, it occurred to me that I'm in a foul mood in part because I am sorely missing both of them a the moment which is so ridiculous because right now I'm located only a few blocks from either.

At the moment, in between writing a few lines of code, I am of course blogging. I'm situated at the Alumni center's coffee shop sitting in one of the window seats facing South. The surroundings are lush and green and from here with the canopy of trees it's difficult to tell that football stadium is only 50 feet away. There's Snow Patrol blaring on the radio. This to anyone familiar with the topics of this blog is also known as "Jay Repellent" as he hates this band yet ironically, all the lyrics read like his life.

I have no idea what Avani thinks of Snow Patrol, but a small part of me is unabashedly imagining her walking down the tree lined path that I see out this window. I can imagine her trotting along at a fast pace with her long legs sporting sensible shoes and tousling her thick and dark well-conditioned hair to get the bangs out of her face. She'll probably be mildly flustered after her long assessment meeting and needing some sort of refreshment, so she'll bound through the doors and order a small coffee with her strong and completely perfect diction shocking the baristas momentarily with the rich timbre of her voice. As she waits for the order to ring up, she'll quickly return the barrage of text messages her various friends have sent her. Perhaps a head scratch and then an adjustment of the glasses at this point. People will notice how smartly dressed she is in her pressed shirt and slacks and more than a few will admire her athletic 5'8'' frame. Then after getting her coffee cup, she will most likely notice me here as she adds her cream and sugar. She'll squeal "Cindy Bear" and would immediately come over. We'd catch up, have a great and wonderful conversation about spirituality or the complexities of human nature and I'd feel energized again able to concentrate because I know somewhere in this world there is someone who is truly interesting yet accessible to me...course I won't complain if Jay walks down this path too.

In contrast to Avani, he'd amble along in his ratty green shoes, quintessential green polo shirt and well worn blue jeans, most likely puffing a hand rolled cigarette and completely oblivious of the people who walk by. No one will notice his cerulean eyes because he's always looking down or far away. He won't care that he's incredibly late to his meeting that's going on at the moment. What difference would another 15 minutes make? If it's not tied back, he'll probably be messing with his hair as well, flipping the elbow length golden colored locks badly in need of a trim over his shoulder as he hastily checks his text messages that he never returns with his scuffed up phone. He'll probably open the door and let whoever was behind him in first. He'll say hi to all the baristas behind the counter in his friendly voice that bares the slight north Texas accent he's never quite lost despite living in Austin for the past 7 years. After ordering his espresso, he'll check his text messages again all while rolling his eyes at the music playing over the loud speaker (remember, he hates Snow Patrol...). In order to ignore Snow Patrol's crooning, he'll chat with the gal behind the counter who so obviously has a crush on him and then he'll scrutinize the foam in his cup assessing the size of the steamed milk bubbles (he used to be a barista too). In all likelihood his back will be facing me as he adds a slight amount of cream (no sugar) to his drink and then he'll carry the cup outside and bask in the Texas sun. As he rolls up yet another cigarette this would be the point where he'd look through the window and see the familiar buddy typing up the vacuous details. If our eyes meet he'll give a sheepish grin and a chuckle. He'll hold up his finger signaling "1 more minute" as he hastily inhales his tobacco smoke, then after putting out the embers and carefully disposing the end, gather his things and walk through the door face stone cold and voice without expression announcing "Hey dude" or "Cinders!" depending on his mood. After a quick squeeze of the shoulders the conversation would go on pretty much identically as what Avani and I would have done...

Course this is all speculation. And in reality, Avani's booked all day and Jay, seeing that it's only 12:30pm is probably still asleep. If I think about it hard enough, I bet I'd have to call out their names to notice me because they both tend to have their head in the clouds and walk around oblivious to their surroundings.

So, here I am alone at the coffee shop needing to do my contract work but wanting instead to sit down with a friend to have a long meaningful conversation. I miss that. A LOT. A good portion of college was spent in coffee shops just talking and sharing a discussion. My biggest pet peeve is when someone derails a conversation and points it to whatever they and they alone want to talk about. One to one or group situations, it doesn't seem to matter. Air time gets sucked up into their bubble and no one's opinion really counts because they like the sound of their voice so much. You'd be surprised how many people are this way. I tend to shut down in these situations. Fine. Let them have the soapbox. If I speak or don't speak, it makes no difference...

People around me are engrossed in their laptops or cell phones. All I hear are complaints about homework and exams, office gossip and other vapid stuff... and it's draining. I think I need to change locations and go to the library or something.

I can't help but wonder what would happen if the two of them crossed paths and struck up a conversation on their own at that coffee shop. Where would it take them? Where would they leave off at? Would they find each other fascinating or incredibly boring since their convictions are so similar? Would they irritate each other because their mannerisms are so different? Who knows?

icons and Shawn

Shawn looks like a cross between Kurt Cobain and Ville Valo here:


Hot goth or bar fight survivor? Not enough sleep or rocking guy-liner? Not sure, but it's a bad ass pic.

So is this one:


I've been wanting to switch out our user photos on the Adzuki Bean Stash Mp3 blog for some time and these were images he took with his iBook a while ago. Following his lead I then took a series of web cam stills with my own iBook:






I must say though, Shawn looks a heck of a lot better than me in headphones. Instead of looking like cool and legit recording artist, I look like a kid with a MacBook recording shit in the bathroom (which is precisely what I am). You'll have to traipse on over to the blog itself to see which pic I chose.


But enough of me. I'm devoting the rest of this post to one of my closest and oldest friends who happened to turn 31 a couple of days ago.

There he is to the left in his glorious graduate school pic. For whatever reason the Old Navy T cracks me up. It's just so not him. Unfortunately, you can't see his dark blue eyes in the photo, but look at the lovely nose of his... people pay money for a nose like that. Anyhow, I digress...

It's a misconception that I met Shawn back in grad school. We actually knew each other during undergraduate studies where both of us were math majors at the University of Texas at Austin and shared a Topology class together back 1998. What made the class special was that it was taught Moore-Method style where us hopefuls were given a handful of axioms and then with minimum guidance from the professor would be expected to solve theorems from scratch on the board each lecture. One of the best classes ever and to this day I probably retained the most from Topology I.

It functioned on the whole "learning through trauma" principle where one tends to remember things they've struggled through. Moore Methodology totally feeds on the stereotypical insecurities of die-hard mathematicians and their need to outsmart one another which in of itself creates maintainable trauma due to the competitive nature of the classroom. Hrm, I'm getting a bit philosophical here, so compare it to getting stripped naked in front of your classmates and made to do the chicken dance, but with the odd sense of euphoria injected at the end of your bought with humiliation...I suppose if you're kinky there's no difference between the two situations, but you get the point. Anyway, with the way class was structured, math talent and general intelligence levels were blatantly apparent and the very first thing that I noticed about Shawn was that he was definitely one of the sharpest students in the class. Nothing could phase him. He could prove these problems in his sleep.

From there, I can't quite remember how or why we stuck together for so long. I'm sure mix tapes had something to do with it as well as the common obsession for all things Nine Inch Nails and Trent related (Nine Inch Nails problem sets were a common theme in our math handouts when we were TAs. I also still have the Trent Reznor sack puppet Shawn made me). Maybe it was because I thought his "Bruce the Shark" videos were cool. We shared a love of music, visual arts, macabre, of course mathematics and let's not forget that both of us always seemed to be chronically depressed all the time.

I can tell you that the more I got to know him, the more I came to understand the term polymath.

Over the years we have given each other a gazillion reasons not to ever speak to each other again and managed long stretches of time where we both truly utterly hated one another, and yet our camaraderie has always managed to mend itself and become something that's much more profound and loyal than most of my other friendships with people. We're super blunt with one another. We've exchanged nights where we've cried for the other person. We divulge secrets and insecurities that no one else is privy to. However, we've never slept together, never "gone out" or dated because we both realize that we're too similar for any romantic path to ever work out. Crossing the carnal bound destroys the beauty of this unconditional devotion we share, but realistically the real reason is that we'd drive each other mad and probably murder each other or commit joint suicide.

With all that said, if you ask either one of us, "Do you love each other?" the answer is a completely effortless "yes."

So, happy birthday, Mr. Soon-to-be Dr. Shawn Westmoreland. Oh yeah, and please work on that "Fire Exit" demo because it's fucking long overdue, damnit!