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[08 Aug 2009|12:04pm] |
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Right now I miss someone who was never mine to miss.
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[07 Aug 2009|11:28am] |
My mom died about half-way through the first semester of my junior year of college.
Right after she died, I dropped out of college. Then I was convinced that dropping out was a bad idea and I un-dropped out. But, I had already missed a lot of classes, and on top of that, I couldn't concentrate at all or do any homework what-so-ever. My professors were as accommodating as they could be, but the only thing that really could have helped was not doing anything and getting As anyway. But, that wasn't really an option.
So I tried to take a Spanish test one morning. It's worth noting that Spanish came easy to me. And on top of that, the tests were always so ridiculously easy. But I got the test, looked at it, and couldn't recognize a single word on there. I stared at it for a minute, not knowing what to do. Then I wrote, "I'm sorry, I can't," handed it in, and stormed out. I ran into the bathroom, locked myself in a stall, and just cried hysterically. It wasn't the test. It was everything. My mom. College. Life. Someone came in, heard me, and asked if I was ok. I choked out, "I'm fine," over tears. She waited a minute and then told me, "This too shall pass."
I'd heard that phrase a million times before. Stupid. Cliche. Ad infinitum. Some people had probably even said it to me recently, but for some reason, this time, it resonated with me. Because it was from a stranger. Because it was spoken through a door into a bathroom stall. Because I was sitting on a toilet crying hysterically. I don't know, really. But, it helped. I got myself together, marched over to the dean's office, and dropped out of college. Again.
Anytime I'm upset, or angry, or anything bad, really, I think back to that day. And that stall. And that woman. And I sort of feel OK. And I wonder if she has any idea how much her words have helped me.
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[13 Jul 2009|12:43pm] |
I've hated my job for a while, but only recently got around to hating it enough to actually start looking for a new one. I figured I'd be in for a pretty long search, you know, the economy and all...and the fact that I have no real marketable skill(s). Anyway, after a week of looking, I got an interview. The interview was possibly the easiest interview I've ever been on (and after college I probably went on around 20). They called me back for a second interview, and that one went even better than the first, the interviewer even closed with, "I like you." Needless to say they offered me the job. And I accepted, because it's less work than I do now and considerably more pay.
And that's where things get complicated.
I know you're never supposed to accept a counter-offer from your current job. But I am in the process of receiving a counter-offer from a different, yet closely associated company. At the countering company, it would also be less work and presumably more pay. The advantage here is that I already know all of my future colleagues and I'm also familiar with the exact workload. And I really like the woman who would be my boss. So if they come through with a good offer, I'll probably renege on my job acceptance at the new place, and that terrifies me. If they don't come up with a good enough offer, then I'm going to have to let down some people I really like and respect, and that terrifies me, too.
I know this is, in theory, a good position to be in. I'm just stressed and scared about, well, everything.
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[29 Jun 2009|12:46pm] |
So the more I think about it, the more I'm coming to realize that my default survival strategy in life has been to "take myself out of the game."
And it's worked, brilliantly. It got me through highschool. It got me over dieting and hating my body. And most recently, it's been helping me get over all the bullshit that comes along with dating.
But I've been reading a lot of social theory, social criticism, and feminist literature lately. And it has come to my attention that everything in life is so fucked up, all I can do is take myself out of that game. And I don't mean by killing myself, but more along the lines of living alone in the woods. At this point, I really don't see any other options.
My tenth grade English teacher did tell me she thought I'd like Walden more than other kids...
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[12 Jun 2009|12:57pm] |
I've dated a lot of guys. And, genuinely, most of them have been assholes. And not only from my (obviously biased) viewpoint; these guys were truly, objectively bad people who treated me badly. I'm currently, intentionally NOT dating, but I suppose that will most likely come to an end one day. In the meantime, I'm going to make a list of things that the next person I date should be, should this dating hiatus ever come to an end.
1. This might not seem like a big deal, but I want the person to have no objection to picking up dog poop. This is not to say that I expect him to pick up my dog's poop for me. I don't expect, or even want, anyone to do it for me. But the inability to recognize this act as small and inconsequential is kind of absurd and, quite frankly, juvenile. And I think almost every guy I've ever dated, or even known, has expressed this sentiment of omgwtf poop is gross. A few months ago I really hurt my back. I'm talking constant pain all the time. And, obviously, the pain was exacerbated by things like bending over to pick up poo. I did it because I had to, but it seriously hurt so badly I'd wince in pain. So, once during this time, when I was walking with the guy I was dating, my dog pooped. I asked him if he would help me out. He refused, because, you know, poop is gross. So I did it. I should have sent the loser home right then. I didn't. But this is sort of a promise to myself that next time, I will.
Number 2 to follow.
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[04 Jun 2009|10:10am] |
I was a fat baby, a fat kid, a fat teenager, and now I'm a relatively fat adult. My parents were relatively thin, my older sister was much fatter than me, and my younger brother was much thinner than me. My mom cooked home-made meals every night, and we always had a salad first. I played team sports, swam in our pool, walked to school when it was nice out, biked and roller bladed all the time, and was constantly running around with the neighborhood kids. I stopped eating meat when I was 15 and eggs when I was 17. Now I eat mostly vegan, with a heavy concentration on fruits and vegetables. I live in NYC and walk everywhere. If I go to the supermarket, I walk there. And I carry my groceries home. I also have highly active dog, who needs to be walked constantly. I'd say on any given day, I walk a solid 2-3 hours, though I sometimes walk much more. I also play fetch with the dog, which may not seem like exercise, but I assure you, the 100th time you bend over to pick up a ball and then throw it -- you'll feel it. I do Vinyasa yoga fairly regularly (Vinyasa is a fucking workout, for those of you who don't know). I go to the gym when I have the opportunity. I still play a team sport. Sometimes, like last weekend, I go rock climbing for 6 hours. On a daily basis, eating whatever I want, I probably take in about 1,500 calories a day. And little to no cholesterol (remember, mostly vegan). And guess what? I'm still fat.
And I'm OK with that. I do not intend to try to lose weight or diet ever again. I did diet, pretty regulary for almost a decade of my life, though. Not just a fad diet, either, but you know, a "healthy diet." And that healthy diet had me eating 1,000 calories a day. Feeding people 1,000 calories a day is a USA-approved torture technique. Did I lose weight? Some, sure. But that bottomed out, and I was tired, exhausted, irritable, and fucking hungry. The whole time. A decade. I was also eating verifiable, processed shit in an effort to save some calories. I'm done doing that.
I just thought y'all should know that.
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[15 May 2009|10:58am] |
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Sometimes, when I think about how fucked up the world is, it's hard to breath. On the one hand I feel this overwhelming urge to fix it. On the other, I know it's going to be like trying to empy the Pacific fucking Ocean with a teaspoon.
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[20 Apr 2009|03:16pm] |
Let me preface this by saying that I walk. A lot. I live in NYC, which, by default, has me walking more in a day than most people do in...a month. On top of that, I hate transferring trains and will walk an extra 30 minutes just to avoid a transfer. And I have a dog. And my dog has a lot of energy. So I'm walking several hours a day, every day. Granted walking is not the most strenuous form of exercise known to man, I'm still not a lazy sack of crap.
Also, from time to time I also engage in more intense exercise, such as vinyasa yoga, snowboarding, and the occasional trip to the gym.
For those of you who do not know, last summer I joined an adult kickball league. And i made it through the six month long season (!) with no injuries.
2009 kickball started last night, and I played two games. And my body is KILLING me. I think I ran around the bases exactly three times. WHY AM I IN SO MUCH PAIN? I feel like I must have blacked out and performed some sort of ridiculously strenuous exercise, because this does not add up. Surely I'm not THAT old?
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[16 Apr 2009|04:29pm] |
I'm going to try to post a lot in the coming weeks and days.
There are a few reasons for this:
1. I'm getting old enough to start forgetting some of the stories and anecdotes that I love and want to start documenting them, before they are completely forgotten. Some are awful, some are amusing, and most are probably of no interest to anyone but myself.
2. I feel the need to publicly document every relationship I've ever had. Both for the humor value and analytical value.
3. In the last few months I've been doing some research and reading that has basically changed my entire life and everything I once believed in and hoped for. And I want to let the whole world in on what feels the best kept secret in the entire world.
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| New Year's Resolutions |
[01 Jan 2009|10:59pm] |
1. Be healthier
2. Pay off my newly acquired credit card debt ($6000)
3. Put at least $2000 more in my savings account
4. Bring my own lunch to work at least four days a week
5. Be happy!
In other news, I am pretty sure I just had a conversation with a semi-famous person outside Foodswings.
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[12 Dec 2008|10:43am] |
I'm trying here, I really am.
But, seriously, it seems impossible. My dog is back in the hospital. So far I've spent $3700 and I'll probably have to spend another couple thousand before this is over. And my dog may not even make it.
And, to add more insult to fucking injury, I applied for Care Credit, which is essentially interest free credit for certain medical bills, including veterinary bills. And I got rejected. Because I have too much outstanding credit. Why do I have so much outstanding credit? Because my heathen of a sister charged up $6000 under my name, my heinous father blackmailed me out of reporting it, and neither one of them are in any rush whatsoever to pay it off.
I just can't win.
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[04 Dec 2008|12:31am] |
I just read through old journals and private entries, back to 2001. HOLY SHIT. So little has changed, it terrifies me.
So my New Year's resolution? Get Happy. Whatever that entails, that's what I am going to do.
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[03 Dec 2008|02:31pm] |
I just can't fucking win. Seriously, everything in my life that can go wrong always does. ALWAYS.
My dog was mysteriously sick earlier this year, and it cost about $750. Two vets never figured out what was wrong with her. She got better on her own. OK. Fine.
About three weeks ago she started puking incessantly. I took her to the vet and he gave me some pills. $150. OK.
She didn't get better. Over the next ten days she alternated between puking and not eating at all. She's lost about 15 pounds. And when you only weigh 55, that is A LOT.
So I took her back to the vet. They run a few tests and do an x-ray. They think she has something wrong with her pancreas so they send me to the hospital. But, not before they charge me $500.
So I take the cab to the hospital. $21.
They admit her and give me a high and low estimate. The low estimate, which I had to pay on the spot was $1100. The high estimate was an additional $1300. And the vet just called me to tell me that the high estimate probably wasn't high enough. They're talking about maybe needing to do some endoscopic investigation and surgery. To the tune of, what, maybe, thousands more.
And it's really funny. My one goal of 2008 was to pay off my credit card debt. And I would have done it, easily. Were it not for the $3000 and counting that my dog has cost me in the last 12 days alone.
This has possibly been the worst year of my life. And it just keeps getting worse.
Did I mention I fucking work at AIG? So there went the raise and bonus I was counting on this year. And that I now desperately fucking need.
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[22 Nov 2008|11:58am] |
Hi. I'm back. Or at least I'm going to try to be
So let's start with a little story. My roommate lived in Italy for a year. At some point during the year, she met a guy named Chris from Austria. They fell madly in love. And then she came back to the US. They talk every day. He's visited her once, but neither of them have the money to carry on a trans-continental affair. So yesterday was her birthday. I left the apartment and who was standing on my front steps with flowers? Chris. My roommate had no idea.
My birthday was September 7th. I was dating a guy who was on a vacation across the country. Plans he made after we were dating, after he knew when my birthday was. I forgave him for that. We had been dating for six months. And then he didn't even fucking call me on my birthday. I dumped him for it. And now knowing that her boyfriend would fly across the world for her, while mine couldn't even pick up the phone, there's no doubt in my mind that I made the right decision.
But the question remains: how do I find a boyfriend like hers?
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[11 Mar 2008|09:49pm] |
I'm a published author...sort of.
You will soon be able to read my words on coffee cups at a national chain.
I will gladly autograph cups for everyone.
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| Eric Ng |
[08 Dec 2006|07:59am] |
I bet most, or all, of you are pretty surprised to see my name come up on your friends lists. Especially since this is going to be a real entry, and not something to the effect of give me money.
Last week, an old friend of mine died. We must have had the weirdest relationship on earth. I met him on September 11th, 2002. It was the beginning of my freshman year of college and I wanted some chocolate. One of my friends from the dorm told me she knew a guy with tons. She took me to his room, and sure enough, he had granola bars, boxes of chocolate, and other cocoa goodness, courtesy of his mom and Sam's Club.
My friend left that night and he and I hung out. All night. He was a short little Asian kid with green hair. I don't think I ever admitted this to anyone really, but that night I developed the hugest crush on him. We started hanging out, late at night, all the time. He was so sweet. We'd be talking online and I'd mention that I was sad and he'd say BRB and then our doorbell would ring and he'd be there with chocolate. Or I'd randomly mention wanting a cheese sandwich, and he'd bring me one. I also believe he was the first boy to ever buy me a flower. He left it outside my door, with only my name written on the white wrapping paper.
Everyone thought he was enamored with me, but no one knew I was enamored with him, too. Nothing ever came of it. A year or so later, as I was abroad in Italy, we were talking online and he admitted to having had a crush on me and I admitted to having had one on him, but it was too late by then.
We continued our friendship, though. But it wasn't perfect, and I couldn't handle it. So I'd start these ridiculous fights. And then I'd come around and he'd always forgive me and it would be like nothing had ever happened to us. The most recent fight was the summer before senior year. I kind of always assumed we'd drift back together, but this time it was taking much longer than before. In recent times I had thought about him a lot: someone had saved a conversation I had with her, during which I briefly pasted an excerpt from a conversation with him, and she recently showed it to me. I also recently saw his bestfriend at Foodswings. I shouldn't have started that fight. And I shouldn't have waited so long to get back in touch with him. But I did. And now he's dead. And I feel I should learn a life lesson from this.
And I really can't wrap my head around the fact that last Friday at 10:00PM EST I was sitting on a Greyhound to Seattle and he was dying.
He was hit by a drunk driver while riding his bike along the bike path on the West Side Highway.
I was on a bus annoyed by the screaming child behind me, and he was dying.
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[04 Sep 2006|03:16pm] |
So it's been a while. I graduated college. I'm in a lot of debt. I feel like I no longer own my life. Help me pay it off, because, hey, college shouldn't just be for rich kids. Anything helps. If 12,000,000 people donate just a penny, I will once again own my life.
:) thanks
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[29 Jul 2004|01:27am] |
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