Getting my move on!

Girls and cars

I am prone to car problems. I once ran my brand new car into the garage door after a week of camping – because I had mixed up the gas and brake pedals. Another time, I completely demolished my mom’s rose garden and ended up dragging two rose bushes with me to ASB meeting.

I was fine, but my car experienced serious damages.

But as a young girl, all I had to do was go to my dad with a sad look, bat my eyelashes a couple times, and say that I was sorry about the car. And just like that, the car is taken to the shop and it was as good as new by the next day.

A lot has changed since I moved away for college.

I was running late to class one day and discovered that my car would not start. I called my dad immediately. He told me to pop the hood.

Um… how do I do that?

He told me exactly how to do it, but honestly – receiving instructions over the phone was difficult.

I later learned that I had left the lights on and had to jumpstart the car. I had a car tool kit, but it is useless if you don’t know how to use it.

I was also surprised to find out that many of my guy friends did not know how to jumpstart a car either. I should have known better – some men don’t know much about auto mechanics just as much as some girls don’t know their way around the kitchen.

Now everything I know is from the world wide web.

It was my sophomore year in college that I skillfully learned to connect the metal clamps of the red cable to the positive posts of car batteries – with a printed step by step manual I found on howto.com.

I did this while three guy friends observed from afar, each with cell phone in hand ready to call 911 in case I get electrocuted.

Fast forward a couple years, a couple cars, and a couple degrees later, I find myself in the exact same predicament.

I was in San Diego after what felt like a great television host audition, and once again my car wouldn’t start.

I freaked out and again called my dad.

Same deal. Call a tow truck, there is nothing my father could do from over 300 miles away.

My car is taken to a shop where I am told everything is wrong with it.

“New battery is needed – how old is the car – yeah – it’s time for a new one – while we’re at it, you need new brakes – and new brake pads – and rotors -- and windshield wipers – want a tune up too – you never know when your car will break down on you – so better safe than sorry.”

I respectfully said no thank you, please just do whatever is needed to get me back to Orange County, and I will proceed from there.

A couple hundred dollars later, I got home and started researching online immediately. How much is it to replace the brakes? Can I do it myself? What are brake pads, and what in the world are rotors? Did he mean “motors”? Which shop do I take it to? How do you determine which shop is good, and which shop wouldn’t take advantage of my lack of auto knowledge?

It seems like I am more knowledgeable on this topic than many of my female friends – not a joke! And guy friends simply go to the dealership.

But once you start seeking out others outside of your inner circle, you discover a whole new world!

Case and point, another guy friend who happens to be a local – not a college migrant like myself or most of my friends offered to help. He took me to his mechanic.

The auto repair shop was located on “the Main St. of auto shops”, as he put it. It was seriously an entire street of Alex, Bob, Bill, and Tom’s Auto Repair. Choosing could be overwhelming, but it looks like many get businesses through referrals.

I paid significantly less than anticipated and my car was ready in an hour.

I wonder if I would have received different treatment had I shown up as an independent female. Who knows?

But showing up with a male, and one who has frequented their shop was definitely advantageous. They already had an existing relationship and trust was evident. I was simply joining in. Plus, the friend may just offer to give you a lift home since you’ll be car-less for an hour or so... and maybe more!

Princess style

I have found myself apologizing a lot lately.
I'm sorry that I own so many purses.
I'm sorry that my shoes take up most of my closet, the hallway, and blocking the front door of my apartment.
I'm sorry that I'm constantly counting calories.
I'm sorry that my parents love me and I can go home whenever I choose to without a second thought.

But I realize that it is now time to stomp my french-manicured foot, and stop apologizing for my life.
This is who I am, so take it or leave it.

Why is it so wrong to have all these things?
It's not like I obtained them illegally or anything. Besides, I practically scoured the whole town looking for these very specific items.
I am not one to pay full price for anything -- unless I absolutely whole-heartedly love it, and even then, I would probably figure out a way to bargain.

You see, I am not the typical Orange County girl -- or whatever MTV has been portraying for the past decade.
True that I may appear sheltered to some, but that's not my fault. My parents have done well providing for me in the past.
And I know I am truly my mother's daughter and I inherited her love for material things.

So I am not sorry that I say "aww" and "cute" a lot.
I am not sorry that I occassionally treat myself to shopping sprees in Palm Springs, Beverly Hills, or South Coast.
And I'm certainly not sorry that I snap my fingers when I approve, or clap my hands when I am happy.

I may be a self-proclaimed princess.
I may appear to be an uptown girl slumming it on the other side.
Call me high-maintenance, pampered, or just a royal pain in the ass.

But really, at least I'm just being me.
And nobody else.

Love online

Confession time. I have tried the whole online dating thing.

I know, right? Online dating is for losers. For those pathetic fools who cannot meet anyone in the real world. It’s for the desperate. Surely, not for anyone like me!

Yeah, I thought that too – but when one of my friends began having a much more active social life than I did, and having the time of her life getting to know herself and what she wanted in a partner, I had a change of heart.

And apparently, my other girlfriends felt the same – so we all signed up together. First-time online daters unite!

So one Tuesday night, I bravely and honestly answered what felt like hundreds of questions, all for the sake of the much publicized, “29 dimensions of compatibility” on e-Harmony.

As it turns out, I am very compatible. Well, of course, I am.

I had 148 good matches.

e-Harmony did a good job sticking to my preferences. All my matches were college graduates, making decent money, and church-goers.

There were quite a few I didn’t expect—those who say they are 27 (and look 40) and a handful guy friends of mine who would kill me if I ever told anyone that they had an online dating account.

And there were those who got my attention.

I’ll let you in on three. Names have been changed to protect the innocent, or not so innocent as the case may be.

Tom, Dick, and Harry were so similar that it was hard to keep the facts straight. They were all 25, only children, and loved their moms. Awww! They all went to a Cal-State and studied the same things. Their hobbies were also similar. I was beginning to wonder if the same guy had set up three different profiles.

Now let me introduce them.

Meet Tom

Blonde, blue eyes, 5’10”, Grad Student

Tom was a Caucasian dude who liked Filipina girls. He didn’t flat out say this – but he mentioned that both of his previous girlfriends were Filipinas. He also beamed when I told him I too am a part of the gorgeous clan.

He made many references to our “future together” and the thought of dating a future tv reporter (at least he was encouraging) made him giddy. After the salad, I was planning my exit strategy.

The lowdown.

I sat through a phone call from his mother reminding him to take his medication.

We walked around a bit and then he asked me for a second date. My head said no, but feeling bad for rejecting him up front, I said sure – knowing that I would have to break the news later. I quickly hugged him when we reached my car and hit the pedal to the medal.

He texted me an hour later saying he had a great time and wanted to know if I was free the following weekend. I told him that I’d be busy for the next couple weeks. Or years.

Meet Dick

Black hair, brown eyes, 5’11”, Media Producer

Dick was an intellectual. As a fellow writer, I admired his wit and vocabulary. He hosted and produced a couple Webisodes. We seemed to have so much in common.

I thought this was it – an online-dating success.

Then we met.

The lowdown.

He was cold.

Prior to our date, he had Googled me and found out we had mutual friends – whom he called for references. (Uhm, crazy, right?) I had high hopes for this guy, but he turned out to be a literal Dick. After about an hour of finding things to talk about, he finally had to go. He didn’t walk me to my car, he didn’t say he had fun, and there was no mention of future anything. It was unfortunate that though we seemed to get along so well online, the interactions in person was so completely and utterly horrific!

So much for my expected online-dating success, but onward I went.

Meet Harry.

Black hair, green eyes, 5’10”, Realtor

Harry didn’t impress me at all. His profile was brief, and filled with grammatical and spelling errors. Surely someone who did not care about his profile was not worth my time when there were so many other intelligent men vying for my attention.

The lowdown.

However, Harry’s honesty in his responses to my questions tugged at my heartstrings. He wasn’t pretentious like the others. He knew what he could and could not offer a girl. He has been through a lot, but he also has a lot going for him. He had big dreams. Our first meeting lasted four hours. We talked on the phone for hours, texted back and forth, and went out regularly. When it was finally time to determine the relationship, I was shocked to hear that Harry did not feel a connection. I was devastated.

This was the closest I got to an online-dating success story, but at the end it didn’t work out as expected.

What did I learn? Well, It has been almost two years since my online dating experience. I haven’t logged onto my account since, and I don’t think I ever will. I am still very apprehensive about finding love online – but I did learn something from each guy and a little something about myself. Tom made me realize that someone could like me, and I could not like them. Dick showed me people do background checks – so be very careful and nice to your friends. And Harry taught me I could connect to a guy who is an awful, and I mean awful, writer.

Maybe I’m just a girl looking to meet a guy the old-fashioned way. At church, at a friend’s party, or at the peanut butter section of a grocery store… Anywhere but online.

Mary Joy enjoys writing about her activities and experiences. She probably won't be logging on the internet to find her "soulmate", but is happy for her friends who are finding love online.

Sick and single

I get so busy sometimes that a spoonful of peanut butter served with skim milk in a tall wine glass often counts as a meal. Or, with some planning, I find myself across a table with friends or a potential boyfriend – though both require energy I lack by the end of the day.

Then there are days when I am feeling sick and my mother is over 300 miles away to tend to me – so I am forced to take action and take care of myself.

That happened this morning.
Unfortunately the six pack of chilled beer in the fridge or the half tub of low fat margarine would not do for a healthy breakfast – nor the bag of chocolate chips and soy sauce packets from my previous Chinese take out.

Donned in my favorite BCBG track suit and warm Ugg boots, I drag myself to the nearest grocery store. I find that I am not hungry – but I know chicken soup is good for the soul and the sick.

And knowing that a sick day means less money – I decided to compare prices. I could not believe how much cheaper things are when you purchase in larger quantities – or amounts. I thought about buying a larger can of soup, but I don’t think I can eat it all. And I don’t like eating leftovers – so it’ll just spoil and I would have wasted money.

When I am sick, I also start to crave Filipino food. I hardly eat Filipino food – but in those rare moments that I do – I can’t stop thinking about them until I have them. So I walk around the store looking for the “ethnic” section. I soon realized that attempting to cook is another challenging task. Not only do you need to know what you want, but you also need to know what ingredients are needed. I was hesitant about purchasing these ingredients because once again, I don’t want them to spoil. Why do soy sauce and vinegars come in such large bottles? Don’t they know that there are single people who don’t need all that?

I got back to my apartment after spending nearly fifty when all I wanted was a warm cup of chicken soup. But I wasn’t hungry anymore.

So I climbed back to bed -- thinking it is not good to be sick and single.

Missed Connection

One of my daily rituals has been logging on to “missed connections” on Craigslist. It is a section on the web where people try to find someone they, you know, missed.

The intrigue of this is the unrequited longing. The sense that the writer wished they had done something differently, but now has to settle to writing a couple lines and hope the person of their desire sees it.

Lady in the Do Lab on Friday (Coachella Festival) beautiful straight blonde hair, gorgeous skin, and if I remember correctly....blue toenail polish… right next to me between 7:25 and 7:35 . I so wanted to talk to you, but fate pulled the rug out from under me!!

Stunning woman and Irvine CVS yesterday. - m4w – 25 (Irvine) You were the short woman with the amazing body around 11am... we made eye contact a bunch of times as I couldn't peel myself away..

Sometimes I wonder how many of these postings actually get responses. Furthermore, actually get the person they are actually looking for. And of those, how many actually turn into real relationships?

I noticed that many of the “sightings” take place at the gym. In that case, I think it would be fairly easy to go up and introduce yourself since gym schedules are pretty consistent. There are also many cross streets sightings. I suppose this is the best place to check out the people next to you, and their vehicles. In addition, most of the vehicles are BMW. Hmmm…

Sometimes I read things in hope that someone had written about me. What would it say?

Attractive woman in yellow sweater and bright pink nail polish comparing cottage cheese brands from 5:45-5:58 at Trader Joe’s… -m4w- (Newport Beach).

Or this one.

Coordinated jogger (Fountain Valley). Your matching pink outfit caught my attention as you gracefully jogged all the way around Mile Square Park.

There was one time when I read a post and I was convinced it was for me.

Yogurtland (Irvine) Cute Asian girl in green shirt, seven jeans, brown coach purse, and rainbow sandals. You and your friend filled up cup with fresh fruit. You have the most beautiful smile I have ever seen.

I was convinced it was me.

Then I saw the pictures and noticed that though I was all that, I was also wearing a black sweater, which covered my green shirt. This proves the fallibility of the postings. Imagine had I responded to the poster. “Here I am!” hahaha.

I think I’ll post something within the week and see for myself if anyone actually reads them too. Who knows?

I didn't talk pretty

I had a hard time pronouncing certain words when I was a child. Initially, people thought it was cute, but kids at school started to mock me, and so I started to shy away from them. I decided that if I didn’t speak at all, no one would notice that I couldn’t say some things.

This kinda worked, but brought up other issues.

I became extremely shy and wouldn’t raise my hand even if I knew the answer. I became the mysterious little girl at the age of 4. The boys were amused and kept trying to talk to me. The girls talked about me. In my mind I made up responses for every scenario. I practiced it over and over so that it would be perfect once uttered.

That didn’t work. Instead, I stumbled over my “memorized” responses and cried instead.

So I became the girl who cried… a lot.

I cried when the teacher called on me and I didn’t have the answer.

I cried when another little person took my seat.

I cried when my nanny was late to pick me up and I had to sit all by myself with the teacher.

I cried when I spilled my juice and the teacher had me clean it up while my nanny watched from the window.

The situations and motivations varied, but I cried all the same.

Then a major life transformation took place. My family moved to a new town. Once again I became the mysterious girl, but this time I could reinvent myself. Keeping quiet the past years has enabled me to observe. I observed the smartest person, the prettiest person, the most confident person, the most talkative person, and the most talented person… and so began my own self transformation.

Today I overhead a little seven year-old girl lecture her mother on the history of the song “Ice Ice Baby.” Show-off, I thought. Yeah, she and I wouldn’t have been friends.

Mile Square

A couple of my friends and I attempted to jog around Mile Square Park this morning. This activity has recently become a favorite of mine. Mile Square in Fountain Valley is a huge regional park that extends one mile on each side. Within it is a beautiful park with a lake, riverbends, waterfalls, and plenty of shade. There’s also a driving range, golf course, banquet halls, tennis courts, baseball field, and so much more!

There are many pros to running this park. First and foremost, as one friend pointed out, once you start, you have to keep going. If you feel tired halfway through, you have no choice but to complete the round to get back to your vehicle. Amen to that!

The second reason is people watching. Sometimes when I feel alone (a lot during the day when everyone I know is at work), I go just to be near people. I used to do this at South Coast too, haha. But there is something more intimate about the park. I like watching fathers coach their sons in sports. I like hearing them patiently giving advice on how to better kick the ball, throw a frisbee, or ride a bike. I also see a lot of older couples stare lovingly at each other as though falling in love for the first time. Every once in awhile, I also see young couples, probably in the initial stage of the relationship, awkwardly walking around… the girl usually a bit overdressed for a day at the park, and the guy staring down and glancing up to her ever so shyly. I see good looking men running with their shirts off. I see girls running in their street clothes. I see tons of people running with a portable cd player, and myself thinking why? Sometimes I run into people twice, and wonder how they could have already ran 4 miles when I was still barely reaching side 2.

Earlier this week, I sat by the tennis courts watching the men’s lessons. I love tennis! I love the etiquette and the clothes. I was also curious about the atmosphere at this specific site. I grew up taking tennis lessons at a country club back home, where most people were of similar socio-economic background. Fountain Valley is a new site for me. I have heard various things about this area of town, but I wanted to see for myself. I found out that this particular tennis center is a hub for many groups. No particular group dominated, but I did notice that people stuck to “their own kind.” The men’s advanced level was starting, and as men introduced themselves, they started to form their cliques. Older white men in their polo shirts formed one group. Older Asian men in white shirts formed another. Then the younger men (mostly Asian and Latino) in wife beater shirts got into a group by default, after the older men got together. This was an exciting social dynamic to witness. Though we say we’ve advanced socially, and we love that our nation is a melting pot, sometimes it hardly shows.

I have been trying to run everyday and yesterday was no exception. The keyword here is “trying”. I was looking for a place to park when I noticed that it was getting extremely hot and I was worried about getting even darker. Note that in the Filipino culture, lighter skin is considered more attractive. So instead of parking, I kept driving up to my favorite Mexican place a couple blocks down. There I bought a half order of carne asada fries, then drove back to the park, spread my beach towel under a tree and watched the runners sweat it out as I listened to my ipod and enjoyed my carne asada fries. Good times!