Tuesday, June 30, 2009

mom is the word

SB and I talk about everything together, almost all the time, with seemingly nonstop banter. I can hardly think of anything that I was unwilling to chat about with him. Except one thing. Babies.

We have talked about how proud he is of his large bladder and apparently impressive bowel movements (I have declined invitations to verify this), personal hygiene beliefs, things we may try and things we will never try, feeeeelings, politics, religion, you name it.

Then last night before bed he very casually mentioned to me that he was surprised that we never discussed kids. Immediately the hairs on the back of my neck stood up. "Oh?" I asked, knowing quite well that this was true, "actually, we have briefly discussed it."

Sometime at the three month mark of our relationship it had become obvious to the two of us that the relationship was going somewhere. I had just let those three words fall out of my mouth to discover that he had felt those three words strongly within weeks of us getting together but had kept it inside because of the ludicrously short amount of time that we had been together. At this point we started talking more about our hopes and plans for the future- not our future together, but more like conversations to see if we were heading in the right direction. After discovering complimentary ideologies on life, death, and almost everything in between I treaded lightly into the shallow end of the baby pool.

I hesitantly told SB that I was undecided about children. He agreed that he was also and that was all I needed to hear. I moved on at lightning speed. As it turns out, both of us were only partially honest about our feelings, which is why this has been the one topic that neither of us has brought up. The fact is that I am more than undecided about children.

When I was 20 or so years old I was part of a group of over 200 students in a lecture hall who were asked to share how many children we thought we were going/wanting to have. There were a lot of hands raised for one child, more for two, some for three, a few for four, and still more hands raised for students who imagined having five or more children. There were only two hands raised for zero. I was one of the zeros. The surveyor told us that it was highly probable that how we felt at our young ages about children was going to remain throughout our lives. My classmates who have gotten around to reproducing have gone on to have the number of children that they said they would. I have continued to have none.

I tried to explain my feelings to SB in story form. When I was a teenager my older cousin was discussing with my aunt and uncle about her husband's desire for children and her reluctance at such a young age. Afterward, during the car ride home, I was deep in thought. Finally my uncle asked me what was on my mind. "What if I have children and they're stupid?" I asked. "I wouldn't mind if I had a disabled child but what if my child was just dumb? I would hate that."

Yes folks, that is what I thought about babies at the age where most young teenage women are starting to make their parents nervous. My family never had to worry about me getting knocked up young. I was well aware of the dire consequences: stupid children having stupider children.

My uncle assured me that this was highly unlikely because I would most likely choose a mate who was similarly intelligent and our chances of reproducing a similar child were good. SB would be a good choice for reproduction. But I did finally confess to him that unless he initiates the baby production process, there will be no small people. I adore him and adore my life with him and am completely happy to continue in this holding pattern. At the same time I have searched my soul and know that if he desires, then I will not feel burdened at all to have offspring with him. I do think that those little people are awfully cute, especially when they start developing personalities. I just also don't know that what the world needs are more people.

SB, on the other hand, claimed indifference, but what he really meant was not now. He always imagined a couple of rugrats somewhere in his future. I am nervous of why he wants to talk now but at least he's okay with my ambivalence and I am not being asked to consider a quintet.

He has been warned that this will not be a fast agreement. It will take negotiation before I agree to anything, six months advance notice at least. And we would probably have to make our relationship legal because my father would kill him otherwise. And that would take a few more months. As I am looking at it, I have at least a year to digest the idea of carrying a parasite, er I mean lovely little fetus, I mean baby before it becomes a reality.

in living color

After a few stumbles here and there I finally broke down and was admitted into the lala hall of fame. You don't know what a lala is? Well let me tell you.

A lala is a term used by several generations of men in my paternal family to describe several generations of women. My aunt and my grandmother and her mother have on various occasions been accused of being nuts. Loony. Bonkers. You see, in my father's side of the family, the women were all a bit off. They fell over for no reason and were prone to dizziness and goofiness. My family tried to get my grandmother checked out but no one could ever agree on what was wrong with her. Actually, she was a bit of a drama queen and had always been so most likely she tended to add on symptoms of her lala-ness so that everyone trying to help was thwarted. Then she could go one being a martyr of the lala gene that was cursing the women in the family.

My Aunt Jane always believed that her mother was making all her ailments up until one day when she was in her mid thirties she fell over while jogging for no apparent reason. A few weeks later it happened again. Months later she was at the office when all of a sudden she became very dizzy and proceeded to project her formerly consumed breakfast all over her desk and floor. A few days later she had a word that was synonymous for lala: vertigo.

Like my aunt and grandmother, I have inherited the lala gene. Every so often I fall over, usually when exercising. When SB and I first started dating, I remember that we walked across the (in)famous Cornell suspension bridge together, like I often did on my way home. SB, being a kid trapped in a man's body, immediately began bouncing up and down on the bridge. As it swayed dangerously, I decided that it was a good time to tell him that I suffered from vertigo. SB, having only experienced vertigo as a movie, took that to mean that I would transform into a hot, blonde woman. I'm sure he was disappointed when all I did was turn into a green, pale woman and spend the rest of the day in bed with the blinds closed.

Recently I have changed medication. My doctor suspects that I do not have vertigo but actually something called epileptic vertigo. This doctor honed in on the fact that I fall for no reason and suspects that I may be having partial seizures. I am on a new medication and I have had no falls or lala behavior...at least during the day.

I have been experiencing the most bizarre dreams. I recently dreamed that I was a psychotic murderer, or at least an attempted murderer. For the entirety of the dream I was trying to kill someone but all my attempts ended in incompetence or futility. I was possibly the worst would be killer ever.

I also had a dream where I had morphed into a shopaholic. I was running from store to store, frantically trying to buy clothing for no apparent reason. At some point in the dream I thought to myself that this was ludicrous because I hate shopping and always have. Even my love of shoes cannot overcome my hatred of stores and until moving to HK, I bought almost everything online. So at some point I said to myself, "I must be dreaming because this is unbelievable," and then I woke up.

My most recent dream was that I cheated on SB with the ex who I dislike. I have no logical explanation for why I was with this guy back when we were dating and a year after we broke up I had to finally ask my friends to stop making fun of me for dating him. But in the dream I was all about hooking up with this character. When I woke up, even though I knew it was just a dream, I was disgusted at myself for having dreamt about him and couldn't look SB in the eye. I felt horribly guilty and irritated at my lapse in judgement and sanity.

I feel goofy about going to my doctor and telling her that the meds may be causing nightmares but I don't think that I want this to continue. I have enough wild dreams without the meds.

Friday, June 26, 2009

local picture of the day


SB, while filling out a UK diversity survey, complained to me about the questions. "They are having me check off like, a hundred categories of discrimination and promise current and future discrimination training. Religious beliefs, sexuality, equality promises, monitoring and effective learning, monitoring of service profile, evidence of equality in recruitment, literature, outreach, etc....under-represented and hard to reach groups, institutional racism..."

And the kicker: "This survey question groups together pregnant and transgendered individuals."

My response: "Well, they both contain another person just waiting to come out."

Monday, June 22, 2009

"Neda is my Daughter"

Reposted from Jezebel:

On Saturday, "Neda", a young Iranian woman watching the protests in Tehran, was allegedly shot by a Basij, dying in her father's arms. It was captured on video.

There are more than a few of us out there who think of June 4th. Have we learned anything?

Wednesday, June 17, 2009


SB had a dream last night that he was somewhere in Arizona, but didn't know why. Hmmm... my parents live part of the year in Tucson.

Anyway, while arguing with a group of people that were creating salt from a very long process that used up a lot of spring water, he saw David Lee Roth. SB told Mr. Roth that his 1981 live in Oakland version of Unchained was the most "rocking song ever." I am not sure if he really feels this way, but it is at least worthy of praise.

Then SB stumbled upon a tray of cupcakes and ate them all.

What a nice dream, he thought.

Tuesday, June 16, 2009

foxy lady

I can relate to this.

A fox in Föhren, Germany has been caught stealing shoes, over 120 in fact. She was found out when a forestry worker came upon her lair and found out her shoe fetish. She has been dubbed Imelda. I understand.

Saturday, June 13, 2009

well said

"For the extremists who believe my father is a hero: it is imperative you understand what he did was an act of cowardice. To physically force your beliefs onto others with violence is not brave, but bullying. Doing so only serves to prove how weak those beliefs are. It is simply desperation, reminiscent of a temper tantrum when a child cannot get his way. Violence is a cop out; an easy answer for an ignorant problem."

These were the words spoken by Erik von Brunn in reaction to news that his father had killed a black museum guard at the Holocaust Museum. I take this to heart and hope that others consider that committing violent crimes against law abiding citizens in order to strike fear into the hearts of others is nothing less than domestic terrorism. James von Brunn used his "beliefs" as a justification for his horrendous crime, and so did Scott Roeder.

Thursday, June 11, 2009

a new pleasure

As a punk rock kid, I have no right to point and laugh, but I did. And I am passing on this new guilty pleasure brought to my attention by Jezebel:

Introducing Goths in Hot Weather

Wednesday, June 10, 2009

a helping hand

Over the time that I have been in HK I have been adamant that we are not getting a maid. Although my family did have maids when my sister and I were little, our mother stopped employing domestic helpers when we were old enough to look after ourselves. Since then I have been very proud of my self sufficiency. I could cook by the time I was 12. I began working part time when I was 16 because I got into a car accident and my parents believed that I should take care of the repair costs. Aside from learning about responsibility and stewardship of the family car, I discovered that I enjoyed the financial independence of having a job and I continued my job until I was 18 and went to university. I have also lived by myself since the end of my freshman year of uni. But this is what I arrived home to after only six days away:

Seriously, a jock strap hanging to dry on our dining room chairs?! Oh, and he was sent straight to the groomers, too. He went rather willingly after I made it clear that no nookie was going to happen with that helmet on his head and dead animal glued to his chin.

So now I am starting to come around to having a maid. With my 60+ hour work weeks I just don't have the energy to take on domestic work also.

SB saw the look of defeat on my face and quickly got around to looking for helper advice online. He also came across an interesting article about domestic worker abuse in Hong Kong. He read aloud one of the responses to the article to me, in which the author basically said that he didn't see why helper abuse was even being touched upon since there were far more compelling issues to report on. And besides, it was hardly happening in HK. This author shared that he gave his worker the FULL minimum amount of days off. Oh, gee. How awfully generous of you to give your helper the minimum amount of relief required by law and then pat yourself on the back for it. It made me wonder what the helper's days would have looked like if this generous individual did not have the law instructing him to let her take a few days off. Anyone slightly less indulgent than Mr. Generous and his minimum required relief would then be unlawful, now wouldn't he?

Wednesday, June 3, 2009

but really...

How much trouble can he really get into while I'm away?

flying away

I am going to Vietnam tomorrow to attend a conference on architecture, density, and sustainability. I am very excited with the speaker lineup.

I have told SB to stay away from the Metropark Hotel. Although I have heard that some of his mates prefer the Southorn Playground facilities.