Tuesday, 30 June 2009
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Measuring age
I was contemplating about the idea of marketing fake IDs to middle age women. There is a sizable enough market out there in the aging population to create a demand for an ID that “proves” a woman is younger than she really is.
Recently I have been wondering what age really measures that makes people (myself included) dread this number so much. Because in many ways, it really is just a number - a measurement of time.
Aside from that, its value has a pretty imprecise meaning. Does it measure our physical or mental state? In my opinion, the number does not guarantee an accurate assessment of either – I am 24 and can pass off as an 18 year old easily. And I think I’m slightly more mature than many people my age.
Age is also a relative number. I may see a 13 year old as kid, but from a 70 year old’s perspective, I’m pretty much a baby myself.
Someone once suggested that I should measure my life by the moments we truly live. So technically, the first ten or so years of our lives do not really count because were children incapable of making the best decisions on our own.
From a medical standpoint, humans are not meant to live as long as we do now – it’s unnatural to have a life span of 75+ years. That is why we have “discovered” so many diseases in the past century. For the past several millennia, we did not live long enough to suffer from cancer, Alzheimer, etc. People used to smoke 239480234 cigarettes a day and wouldn’t develop lung cancer. Why? Because they died before the cancer can materialize. Science has doubled our life expectancy in the past century.
So now that we have the ability to stay younger and live longer, shouldn’t we fear aging less? It’s silly to fret over something that is inevitable and beyond our control, but we still do it anyway. If only fake IDs were not illegal, then I can capitalize on this!
Saturday, 27 June 2009
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I chopped my hair off a la Paris Hilton
After weeks of debating, I finally chopped off six inches of my hair today. It's a big deal because I haven't had hair this short since I was eight. I walked in thinking classy...and I ended up pointing at a picture of Paris Hilton to the hair stylist.
I didn't end up looking like Paris, but I do love my new hair.
Thursday, 25 June 2009
Thursday, 28 May 2009
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My $.25 engagement ring
"I love you!" he declared.I looked at him stupidly. It was the first time a boy has told me he loved me. We were both nine years old at the time.
"I don't believe you." My mom told me that you can never trust boys at this age - they are always so fickle. Besides, we have only been going out for two weeks. Actually I didn't even realize it was our two weeks anniversary until he brought it to my attention.
"Why not?!" he demanded. Disappointment, anger, and hurt filled his voice.
"Because people who love each other get marry." I rolled my eyes. My knowledge of love at the time was entirely based on the Disney fairy tales I've seen.
He looked at me confused and then proposed to me without a second thought. The way he asked me to marry him reminded me of the time he asked our homeroom teacher if he could go to the bathroom. It was my first marriage proposal. (For the record, I haven't received one from anyone else since.)
I told him that he needed a ring. Boys are so stupid. Didn't they know this stuff?
He walked towards one of those vending machines where you put in a quarter, turn the knob, and crossed your fingers because you never really know what item you were going to get. He was at $1.50 before he got the ring he wanted.
He came back with a round plastic case and shoved it in my hand. Inside was a plastic diamond ring glued onto a silver band. I made him put it on my finger and redo his proposal.
"I love you," he mumbled grudgingly.
And at that moment, I thought I loved him too. Or whatever a nine year old girl thought was love. I kept that ring on my finger until it rusted and probably would have kept it on longer if we didn't break up a week later.
*********
I was cleaning out my room the other day when I found my first engagement ring in a forgotten shoe box under my bed. The band was completely brown with rust, but the plastic diamond was still shining brilliantly at the center. For shits and giggles, I decided to put in on my left ring finger. But no matter how hard I tried to shove it through, it would not get past my middle knuckle. I guess it was never meant to be.
I searched his name on Facebook that evening. His relationship status on his profile reads "engaged."
Monday, 11 May 2009
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welations.com
The website that Yosho and I have been working on is finally up and ready. Please check it out at welations.com. You may find a few familiar faces on there already.
Welations is a community where people can share the one thing we all have in common: our experiences with love and all the funny, warm, and heartbreaking moments that come along with it. We wanted to build a community where every single relationship question could be answered, where the intricacies and mysteries of relationships could be revealed - making life just a little less complicated. So please come share your stories with us or come read what others have to share.
Here is a sample of our work. If you like it, please Digg us!
Sunday, 10 May 2009
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My mom is a MILF
This Mother’s Day entry will not be cliché – I will not write about how great of a cook my mom is, or how positive of an influence she has been in my life, or how she was always there for me. Because in all honesty, she isn’t exactly all those things.
But one thing that sets my mom apart from all the other moms I know is that mine is a MILF. Or so my guy friends tell me. And since they have had a crush on her since high school, I’ll just take their word for it. To this day, it’s still an on-going joke among them that my mom has it going on.
Growing up, I used to dread going anywhere with her. Because my mom looks like she is still in her 20s, strangers would ask if she was my older sister – to which my mom would giggle and disown me on the spot as her daughter by saying that she is indeed my older sister.
Over the years I have just come to embrace this. Because I know that in 20 years, I’ll probably be a MILF too. So thanks mom for the genes!
Monday, 04 May 2009
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My luckiest coin toss
Macau circa 1984: My mom was pregnant with me when she was 21. As cliché as it sounds, I was an unwanted pregnancy, an accident, and a mistake.My father did not want the baby for obvious reasons: they were unmarried, too young, and not financially ready. And he was even more convinced that my mother should have an abortion after seeing the ultrasound - he did not want his first born to be a girl.
My parents had endless arguments over the situation. Exasperated by all the fighting, my father offered a simple solution: they should just flip a coin to decide my fate.
I guess I got lucky.
Monday, 06 April 2009
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Rock-paper-scissors
We just finished dinner and was heading out of the restaurant. It was too beautiful of a Saturday night in Boston to go home just yet.
“I’ll take you back,” he offered as he opened the restaurant door for me. “Just so I know you’d get home safely.”
“Back to Charlestown?” I asked because I wasn’t sure if he knew that I was going back to my mom’s place instead of my own apartment.
He nodded.
“A pretty boy like you doesn’t belong in that neighborhood,” I teased, “because I may just end up having to protect you. In which case, maybe I should accompany you back instead.”
“Maybe,” he agreed and walked ahead of me. “I need you to fend off the horde of women chasing after me.” Even though his back was towards me, he must have sensed my slight involuntary frown because he quickly added, “BUT they’re all fat and ugly and not nearly as pretty as you.”
“Fine, I'll rock-paper-scissors you for it,” I suggested. “It’s only fair. If you win, I’ll let you take me home. But if I win, I’ll walk you back instead. Ready?”
I tilted my head, smiled a little devious smile and thought I was so clever because I had a trick up my sleeve. We both stopped in the middle of the street and chanted “rock-papers-scissors…shoot!” Except I added in a fourth attack mode in mine: “wolverine.”
He shot out scissors while I shot out three fingers.
“What the hell is that?!” he exclaimed, pointing to my three fingers.
“It’s wolverine,” I said in a that’s-so-obvious tone and playfully clawed his arm. “Like X-Men. And he wins over everything.”
He burst out laughing. “Alright little lady. Let’s go.”
I have been so attentive to our conversation that I didn’t realize he has walked me straight to his car already. He opened the passenger door and gently guided me in.
“But I won,” I protested.
"It's all just a game." He patted my head a little too paternalistically for my liking and closed the door.
Wednesday, 25 March 2009
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They tried to take me for a sucker
I got a sales call from MainStreetHost, a company claiming to specialize in SEO. The salesperson was very aggressive and would not let me get off the phone. To illustrate how remarkable his company is, he asked me to type his company name into Google and tell him the result ranking.
I humored him.
When I confirmed that MainStreetHost was indeed the top result, he then triumphantly goes on and on about how MainStreetHost is an SEO expert and how my company too can achieve amazing SEO results. Perhaps MainStreetHost should really Google themselves before they ask prospects to Google them.
I apologize if you’re reading this entry again because you have seen it from my Blogspot, but this company annoyed me by trying to take me for a sucker. Don’t companies realize that satisfied customers tell about three of their friends while unsatisfied customers tell about ten? But that statistic probably came out before the advent of the internet.
Tuesday, 24 March 2009
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There is no such thing as a monthly anniversary
It irritates me whenever couples say that they’re celebrating their “X” month anniversary. Because there is no such thing! First, the terminology is all wrong. An anniversary is a yearly measurement (as an annual), not monthly. If it’s a monthly celebration, it should have been called a monthaversary…or something.
I understand if teenagers pull this “monthly anniversary” bullshit because they’re fickle and break up with each other weekly. But when I see adults doing it, that is just annoying. It’s like a subconscious confession that a relationship cannot last more than a year, and therefore, has to be broken down into smaller increments.
Or there might be the possibility that the couple is actually madly in love and want any excuse to celebrate whenever possible.
Or the girl is just saying that so her boyfriend will treat her royally ever month and give her material to brag about it to her girlfriends.
MuseErato
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- Name: MuseErato
- Country: United States
- State: Massachusetts
- Metro: Boston
- Member Since: 1/3/2003
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Pulse
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A mouse got caught in one of those spring traps in my kitchen. Its guts were splattered everywhere and it won’t come off. Ewwww.
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How can anyone eat venison while watching Bambi? Heartless bastards!
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I think there are ads for Chinese mail order brides on welations.com.
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I'm cutting my hair short and I need some hand-holding to get me through this.
