Thinking With Your Venus

Venus is the Goddess of Love. Venus rules our sentiments, what we value, and the pleasure we take in life. We look to Venus in the natal chart to see how we approach relationships of the heart, as well as what gives us pleasure. Do we enjoy the give and take of relationships (Venus in Libra), the security our relationships give us (Venus in Cancer), or the thrill of the conquest (Venus in Aries)?

My Venus is in Scorpio. It is definitely all or nothing with me:

It's all or nothing in matters of the heart. You are capable of loving deeply, and you crave intimacy. Scorpio isn't afraid of anything, and when Venus, the planet of love, is found in this sign, love relationships are intense. Scorpio is also a sign that thrives on crisis in order for its natives to feel alive and vital, so when it comes to matters of the heart, you are not only unafraid of getting your hands dirty, you may easily find an overly predictable relationship uninteresting.

Scorpios don't enjoy being referred to as jealous, but from time to time, jealousy and possessiveness become issues in your relationships. You have a strong desire to control your often turbulent passions, and you don't always let your partner exactly what is going on inside of you as a result. Others will be either strongly attracted to, or intimidated by, your obvious ability to give all to love, and your extraordinary passion. Your strong interest in love and romance can sometimes border on obsessive, and you need a partner who is willing to go the distance with you. Sexually, you are intense as well, but you definitely do not only want your partner's body--you want his or her soul as well. Sex without intimacy is ultimately uninteresting to you.

Be careful that your fear of betrayal doesn't become a self-fulfilling prophecy. When insecure about your partner's feelings about you, resorting to games of power and control might seem like a natural route for you, and may even get temporary desired "results", but can have disastrous consequences in the long run. Learning to let go a little and have faith in your partner can do wonders in any relationship. When you are at your best, you are unafraid of intimacy and can offer extraordinary passion to your relationships that is pretty much unmatched.

Where's your Venus and those of your loved ones? Find out here, and read the descriptions here.

Once you know your Venus sign, find out how you relate to others and your compatibility by comparing your Venus zodiac signs.

When the relationship in question is a love relationship, one factor that should be considered is the comparison of Venus signs. Although similar to Sun Sign compatibility, Venus Sign compatibility hones in on the individuals' love nature, and can therefore be very illuminating.

The position of Venus in a man's chart does tend to offer some clues as to what he will find attractive. What turns your man on? Find out here.

And So It Begins...

I got an email from Sam A. this morning. He wants to know when I'm free for coffee or a drink. It would help if I could remember something about him. I have no idea what I'm going to do or how I am going to respond...

3 Out Of 5 Bachelors Agree...

Phil, the host of the Speed Dating event, called me this evening to inform me of the results from last evening. Apparently (only?!) 12 out of the 20 men showed an interest in me, including the three that I'd selected. As previously indicated I hadn't actually said YES to anyone but I'd felt guilty for not choosing anyone so before leaving I'd scribbled down the names of my three MAYBE's, not really thinking that they'd also choose me (why not? I'm fabulous!). Well, guess what? They did.

Oh, the Horror...To be honest, I don't even remember who these gentlemen are: Michel B., Christian D., and Sam A. (shoulda taken better notes), but I'm sure they were the best of the bunch as I was quite merciless with my NO's and stingy with my MAYBE's. But Maybe is far from being a Yes so I probably shouldn't have put their names down unless I was really interested in seeing them again because they might just call me. And if they do, I might just have to go out with them. I mean, I can't well explain that I'd bumped their status from Maybe to Yes out of sport and obligation, can I? I'd be making a mockery of the entire sacred speed dating process.

Kay said the guys were losers and was insulted that we didn't make it onto everyone's list. She cracks me up sometimes. She was smart enough to tell Phil today that she didn't want him giving her contact information to her mutual matches so she's off the hook. Unfortunately, I'm not, but perhaps no one will take the next step and actually contact me...

Assembly Line Dating

At least I can say I tried it. I'm all about trying new things this year and this was no exception. Kay and I went to a Speed Dating event last night, held at the Buddha Bar on St-Laurent. In my first post I mentioned that we were thinking about attending October's event but we lost our nerve and backed out at the last minute. This time, we decided to give it a shot. I thought at the very least I'd have material for my blog!

A quick intro for those of you who aren't familiar: Speed Dating is just that. You have quick five-minute one-on-one conversations with singles of the opposite sex. Ladies stay seated and the men change "stations" when the host signals that it's time to move on to the next date. At the end of each date you check YES, NO, or MAYBE beside your date's name. Once you've met all the suitors you write the names of the people you'd like to see again at the bottom of the page. Post-event the organizers send you the contact details of your mutual matches - those you selected who also selected you.

The turnout was incredible, but only in terms on quantity not quality. We had about 20 "dates" last night. It was exhausting. Most of the guys were friendly enough and the five minutes went by fairly painlessly, except for a couple that were simply excruciating. There was the close-talker, who was so close I gave him an eskimo kiss every time I moved my head. I had to lean so far back I was practically reclining on the person behind me. One dude talked only about money (refer back to Rule #4.) Yet another gave one or two word answers to every question, and I finally had to tell him, "Now you ask me something."

Overall and on paper the crowd wasn't bad: young (25-35), stylish, professional. The women were way more attractive than the men. (Male readers please note: the rumours are true. Montreal is indeed chock full of good-looking single women, though I can't vouch for their intelligence or lack thereof.) For the most part there was nothing glaringly wrong about the men I talked to, they just weren't right for me (though judging from what I overheard in the bathroom the other girls seemed perfectly satisfied with the "selection"). I'm not even going to refer to "my type" because I'm fairly open-minded in that sense. I just didn't feel a resounding Yes with any of them, which was OK since I truly hadn't expected to meet anyone, least of all by these contrived means.

People say that dating is a numbers game, the more dates you go on, the better your chances of meeting someone. I suppose statistically speaking this makes sense but I won't subscribe to this belief. Everyone already says how few good people there are left, why prove it by going on 25 haphazard dates and coming up empty handed? I don't see the point. The experience was fun and I'm glad that I tried it but I don't think I'll be going again. The host pulled Kay and me aside at the end of the night and offered to let us attend the next event for free because we were good for business. I suppose we should have been flattered.

I'm definitely of the opinion that it'll happen when it's meant to happen, in whatever way it comes about. I'm not too concerned with looking for something before it's meant to be found.

Oh Canada

I thought I was going to break my neck walking the dogs this morning. Montreal is notorious for its suidically icy sidewalks come Wintertime - one glance outside is all one needs to confirm that it is Winter. Indeed there is no Fall in Montreal, besides the ones I'll inevitably take trying to navigate the ice rink that is this city. Thankfully the sun is shining, taking away some of the bite in the air. It is -7 degrees centigrade out there, which is equivalent to a toasty 19 fahrenheit for my neighbors down south.

This will be my first official Winter in Montreal in five years. Granted, the last four were spent a mere 6 hours west in Toronto but it really is milder in T.O - because of its proximity to the Great Lakes? Winter 2000 was spent basking in the sun and sand of the French Riviera where I had gone to "study". When we stepped out of the airport into what can only be described as a balmy day in January we giddily threw off our coats and pranced around the parking lot. The locals looked at us like we were crazy as they pulled their jackets tighter around them. Wimps!

My friend Andrew called to let me know he and his girlfriend, Nat, were going to be here for three weeks in December. They moved out to Vancouver, BC, about two years ago where he's doing his doctorate. I've never been to BC but it's a well known fact that it's gorgeous out west. And no, it does not rain all the time. Our snowy season (November to...practically May) is their rainy season, and to be honest I'd rather deal with a bit of rain. My only fear in visiting the province is that I'll love it so much that I'll want to move there. Unfortunately, my family and friends are all staunch Montreal loyalists so I'd have to leave them all behind again, which I don't want to do. Here's a link to blogger's brief description of her trip to Vancouver accompanied by a great slideshow.

Don't get me wrong, I love my city as do millions of other adoring fans. We are Mad About Montreal. Most Montrealers are proud supporters of the city. Many have never left and don't plan on ever leaving. In fact, people from around the world flock to take up permanent residence here every year. Apparently we boast a community of something like 100,000 French (from France) emigrants, which now includes my friend Matt. I grew up (and still live) in (what is currently considered) a trendy area of the city, with Greek, Portugese, Spanish and Indian people. (I had the cutest Greek accent as a kid.) It's totally normal for residents to speak four languages interchangeably. It's a Canadian city unlike any other.

It's great being Canadian. I know I can make a lot more money if I moved to the States but at a very hefty price, especially given the current political situation. From East coast to West, there's no country quite like Canada and the people who occupy it. I came across a fantastic article called: It's great up north - The US should look to Canada to find out how to balance both its budget and its life.

Canada is democratic to its marrow, relatively enlightened on environment, health and welfare issues and its political discourse, unlike America's, is recognisably connected to the rest of the free world. That is almost certainly because the centre ground of politics, the place where you find a nation's core values and its character, is some distance to the left of the centre ground in the US.

Watch Molson's Canadian beer commercial, also known as The Canadian Rant and other fun spoofs such as: I Ham Not Ha Canadian, I Is A Newfoundlander, I am Torontonian, here (Quicktime required). Sing it loud and sing it proud. I am Canadian, eh!

Love And Marriage

Single people, rejoice! Revel in the absence of unfulfilled expectations! Celebrate your freedom of speech, thought, and mobility! Delight in your detachment!

When I first moved back here my friends suggested that I stay single for at least a year, especially given the long term relationship from which I'd just emerged. I'd initially balked at the idea of choosing to be alone, until I looked around and saw an increasing number of attached people who were more lonely than ever.

I spent the weekend at friend's chalet up north with some girl friends. We had a great time cooking, eating, drinking and talking in front of the fire. I was sorry to learn that several of the girls were quite unhappy in their relationships, and one girl in particular, Laura, was having marital difficulties. What I found surprising was that the issues she described were the same concerns she had while she and her husband were dating. This is so common - I don't understand why people think their problems will magically resolve themselves or disappear once they tie the knot? Why do people faithfully jump into marriage despite recurring arguments, persistent problems, and/or nagging doubts?

I totally agree that relationships are partnerships, and that a lot of give and take, sacrifice and concession is required to make them work. The problem though is that many people tend to underestimate the importance of some of their personal values/desires, while overestimating their ability to compromise them. In other words, it's better to see eye to eye on a few critical matters than it is to agree on many less significant ones, but completely diverge on what matters most. And ideally, any issues upon which you disagree should be considered relatively minor by at least one of you so that even the problems aren't crippling.

I don't believe that Successful Couples have no problems. On the contrary, I think they earn this title by how well they work through the difficulties they encounter. It's their similar perspectives and/or compatible approaches to the obstacles that enable them to effectively maneuver them. I watched one such couple, Uchenna and Joyce, on CBS's The Amazing Race. I was in awe as they calmly and respectfully worked through each obstacle while the other pairs screamed and cursed at one another. Apparently they had been married and trying unsuccessfully to have a child for over 10 years. I remember thinking how strong they must be to have survived this ordeal and still be so obviously in love. I just checked the official site and saw that they had in fact won the race that season!! Can I call it, or what?!

I have a pretty good head on my shoulders, I think. I'm still a romantic and passionate person, but am discriminating and realistic at the same time. I am frustrated at my girl friends who constantly complain about the troubles they're having with their boyfriends, and yet somehow still talk about marrying them. How foolish and naive. Love does not conquer all, I just need to look at my own family to know this. I will not feel pressured into getting married and having children because it's "time". There are too many miserable marriages, bitter divorces, and traumatized children for this to be a legitimate reason.

I think everyone should think about how they would define a great relationship, along with a weighted list of what characteristics or values are most important to them, and then re-evaluate their current relationships against this list. Where does it fall short? By how much? It's true that love and marriage take a lot of work but at the same time it shouldn't have to be so complicated. It was predicted that I would marry a bit later in life, but that when it happened it would be forever. I hope that this will be the case. I have faith that it will.

Putting The Ex in Sex

My ex-boyfriend's roommate had sex last night. I know this because my ex, Jay, and I were downstairs in the living room when the fun started. He and I hadn't seen one another in years so the sound effects made for an uncomfortable reunion to say the least. The whole situation was pretty comical, really, under the circumstances.

You have to forgive the couple's vocal indiscretion. Apparently Jay's roommate, Matt, and this girl, heretofore referred to as The Lungs, had been broken up for several weeks and (lucky me!) last night was their reunion too. Add to this the fact that Jay and Matt had only just moved into the loft a mere week ago, and perhaps had no idea that their new home was actually an echo chamber.

I'd only been there 20 minutes before the bedroom antics began. Jay and I both jokingly acknowledged the action taking place over our heads and conspicuously turned up the volume on the TV. Unfortunately, The Lungs also cranked it up a few notches. At first we tried to talk over the noise of the blaring TV and the Screaming Banshee but then we felt pretty ridiculous. We could barely hear each other, and frankly, I kept losing my train of thought. The conversation went something like this:

Jay: So, uh, would you like something to drink?
The Lungs: YES!!! YES!!!
Me: No (YES!!!) NO, I'm OK, thanks.
TV: WAH WAH WAH
Me: Um, nice place you got here.
The Lungs: UHHHHH!!! UHHHHH!!!
TV: WAH WAH WAH
Jay: Sorry, what?
The Lungs: OH GAWWWWWD!!!
Me: Oh God.

To add a another twist to an already awkward situation, Jay didn't yet have a couch so there we were sitting on stiff wooden chairs in the relatively empty living room - which was doubling as a concert hall - while The Lungs' growing enthusiasm for Matt's sexual prowess reverberated all around us. When it became clear that it was only Act 1 of the evening's performance, Jay and I decided to head over to my place. (I'll take a rain check on the upstairs tour, thank you very much.)

...

So it was after midnight when we arrived at my place where we sank, relieved, onto the sofa. We decided to celebrate our celibacy by toasting over a couple of strong drinks. It was great seeing Jay again. We were each other's first high school boyfriend/girlfriend. He's definitely special because of this and I never knew he felt the same way until we started talking about "the old days". I reminded him of how he used to sing to me over the phone, which is funny cause he's now the lead singer in a rock band. We laughed about the time he ran out of my house, in his socks, into waist-deep snow when my parents came home unexpectedly. It was really warm, and familiar, and comfortable.

I don't know if it was because of the earlier events of the evening, the nostalgia, the bud, or the booze but I suddenly felt overwhelmed and dizzy. Jay put his arms around me and held me, stroking my hair as I hyperventilated for about 10 minutes. The nausea passed and I was OK again. Our closeness hadn't felt wierd at all, even after all these years. In fact, it happened very naturally and I think we both felt better.

To make a long story short Jay ended up staying over. He'd forgotten his keys to his building/loft, and Matt must have been totally spent after a night of boudoir gymnastics cause he didn't answer the phone when Jay called. It was already 3am so we decided he'd just go home in the morning.

It was obvious that Jay, who's about 6'2, was going to have trouble sleeping on my couch. I knew it'd be fine for him to sleep beside me so he did, and it was - fine, that is. Granted, it's not something I do everyday, literally sleeping with my exes, but I think it was a combination of many things: we have a history together, we bonded last night, we felt comfortable with one another, we were both a little lonely (and tipsy), and just wanted to be close. OK, I admit I was a wee bit curious as to whether the flame was still alive - I mean, we were just kids back then - and I think I know the answer.

I'm sure something could have occured last night but I kept things innocent. We'd had such a good time, roommate issues notwithstanding, and I didn't want to needlessly complicate matters. Besides, dating again is not an option either of us is considering, so just hooking up was out of the question. I did the right thing. The right thing sucks. I hate doing the right thing. But I like being right. You see my dilemma.

I do realize though that this can't happen again. We were faced with the opportunity and did not pursue it. We passed the test, but I don't plan on taking that test again, so I'll be certain to keep things platonic going forward. Kay says that because we used to go out it is possible to just, like, kiss once just to satisfy our curiosity, and go back to normal. Pandora's Box is tempting but I'm not going to open it. As much as women say they can do it like a man, researchers have proven that physiologically women do in fact become attached to lovers in a way that men don't. Turns out we're not as good at compartmentalizing as we thought.

The Ex Factor. It's an interesting phenomenon. Does one ever really get over one's exes? I think oftentimes it's a case of Wanting What You Haven't Got or The Grass Being Greener on The Other Side. If you're truly content in your current relationship it's easier to see an ex with someone new and be genuinely happy for them. But if you're unhappily single or in a less-than-ideal relationship then it's normal to feel hurt or jealous or envious or angry or whatever. I think it has more to do with one's ego than the other person. When you really love someone you should want them to be happy, even if it's with someone else.

I find there's always a vibe between exes, even a weak one. Once you're intimate with someone it becomes something between you that you'll share forever. (This is assuming you're not some Casanova who has had countless lovers or a bad breaker upper that your exes hate.) There is certainly something exciting about the Ex Factor. It's almost romantic, like, "Darling, no matter how much time has passed there'll always be something between us!" This is the stuff moves are made of, but this ain't the movies, and in the end it's best to just be satisfied with an emotional "something", and leave the Ex out of Sex. (Someone send Matt a memo.)

The One

It was predicted that I would meet Mac. I was even told how I would meet him, and it happened in exactly that way. I knew, felt it in my stomach, that the man I was supposed to meet was in the elevator and on his way up. When I first opened the door I was shocked, as he looked nothing like anyone I had ever known or liked. I remember looking heavenward thinking, "Him?! Are you sure it's him?" Despite my confusion and initial resistance we did indeed end up together and would spend close to the next eight years together. But I never thought he was The One.

Mac was literally destined to be a significant figure in my life. Our relationship was a major milestone. As much as I loved him, and wished at times that it could have been so, I knew that he was not The One with whom I was to spend the rest of my days. It didn't change how I felt about him or keep me from being with him for as long as we could but I knew things had to and eventually did come to an end. That's something I'm adamant about: either you feel it, know it, or you don't. If you're sure about nothing else in your life, be sure about who you're with. Life is too short. Why be with someone you have doubts about? Because you're afraid of being alone? Afraid of never finding The One you want so settling for the one you've got?

I'm not a romantic school girl with stars in the her eyes and fairy tales in her head. I don't expect thunder to roll and lightening to flash when I meet The One, not to be confused with the concept of a Soul Mate, which I don't think I believe in. In my mind, it's more about compatibility than blind love. Antoine de Saint-Exupery said it best:

Life has taught us that love does not consist in gazing at each other but in looking outward in the same direction.

I think you should want to gaze at each other too. Some couples are so preoccupied staring into each others eyes that they don't pay attention to the bumps that keep tripping them up. Others drive relatively smoothly along the road of life together but looking straight ahead without touching. Everyone knows a tired couple who seem more like friends or roommates than lovers. I could never be half of that couple. While I think that your lover should be your best friend he should also be the kindling and flame to your physical and intellectual fires, cause Baby, it's cold outside.

I sometimes wonder about couples my age who've been together for several years, but who aren't married or even engaged. It's like, what are you waiting for? We're not teenagers anymore, it doesn't take three years to get to know someone, at least I don't. Common answers (AKA excuses): not being in a hurry despite having already been together for 5 years, not "believing" in marriage, not having enough money, etc. I mean, it's different if both people are genuinely happy together but most of the time, when you dig deep enough, you find out that it's usually one person or the other who isn't sure about committing to the one they're with. Which is worse, being with someone you don't want to marry or being with someone who doesn't want to marry you? Doesn't everyone deserve to be with someone who truly loves them? Isn't it better to let go so that you can both find what you're looking for?

The Good, The Bad, And The Ugly

I was talking to my friend Anne about this topic a few nights ago and thought that it was worth posting about...

People usually refer to someone's Looks as being superficial, and distinct from his Personality, which is often considered a truer reflection of himself. We're all familiar with the old adage: You shouldn't judge a book by its cover. I think this is sage advice. But while I agree that a book's content is not influenced by its cover, I think that a person's personality is indeed shaped by his looks (among other things, of course). I don't see looks as being so much separate from personality but a determinant of it, and a key factor in its development.

Think for a moment about your own personality. Think about the experiences you've had, your approach to life, the way you deal with people and they deal with you, your fears and anxieties, your self-image. Would your personality be any different if you looked like Brad Pitt or Julia Roberts (or whoever you think is gorgeous)? Similarly would you be exactly as you are today if you were very unattractive? Maybe not. And people's personalities can evolve as their looks do, such as increased confidence after dramatic weight loss.

They say that you shouldn't discount a physically unattractive person because he might have a great personality. He might be really nice with a great sense of humour. Would this person still continue to be as sweet and funny if he woke up tomorrow and was suddenly gorgeous or would he start to change? It's not a coincidence that there are a lot of goodlooking jerks out there, that's why we're so excited when we meet someone uber-attractive who is also sweet and intelligent and funny. (Something must be wrong with him/her, we start to worry. Maybe he wears women's panties or She is really a He?!)

I surfed an internet dating site recently and noticed that women were much more likely to post pictures of themselves with their profiles. Of the first 30 profiles I looked at, 100% of the women had pictures posted, compared to only 67% of the men. The number for men decreased further when you clicked onto the French profiles. I'm not sure why this might be, besides the fact that people don't want to be recognized online. Intellectual attraction is important but so is physical attraction. By concealing one's face one is only giving others a partial portrait of oneself.

Scientists say that as far as looks go people tend to surround themselves with others who they think fall within 2 points of themselves either way on a 10-point attractiveness scale. I can't say any of my exes were physically repulsive, nor have I had "ugly" friends of either gender. They all definitely fall within 2 points of one another, and I guess, of myself. Proof that Birds of a Feather Flock Together?

So while I agree that looks in and of themselves aren't important I think they are a big part of who we are, and therefore a part of our personality, not independent of it. Maybe beauty is more than skin deep after all.

Home

When Vietnamese people talk about taking a trip to Vietnam they always refer to it as "going home to Vietnam". Going home. Back to The Homeland whence we came. Back to our Roots.


My last post really got me thinking more about my cultural identity, a matter of increasing importance as I've gotten older. There's no doubt that I am Canadian. I was born here, raised here, live here, and will likely die here. I speak both of the country's official languages. I don't have an accent. I am Canadian. But that's only half the story. There's a whole other side to me about which I know little. An entirely separate community with our own distinct look, language, food, costumes, customs, and traditions.


I don't know much about Vietnam. My parents don't like to talk about it. It has been almost 30 years since they left everything behind. Left a war-torn country in search of freedom. Left family and friends and history and homes. Traded their dongs for dollars, their white collars for blue. I can imagine how difficult it must have been for them and so many others like them. I admire their courage and resilience.


I've only recently begun to feel a desire to visit the country where my parents were born, and where they spent the first half of their lives. I feel a pang, a pull, when I look at pictures of the people, the landscape. I wonder what it would feel like to set foot on Vietnamese soil. Will it feel more familiar to me than to another tourist? I am proud that I am at once Canadian and Vietnamese. Even if I don't know much about being the latter, it is an inherent part of me. I respect it and hope to be able to preserve it and pass it on.


I have relatives even more "westernized" than me who, when they finally went to Vietnam, loved it so much they went back several more times. "It's like you never left, even though you've never been there before," someone once tried to explain. Another cousin told me a story about two little boys he met, aged 5 and 7, whose job it was to drive the buffalo. The older boy showed off the new uniform he got to wear as part of the job. What was I doing at 7 years old? How would my life have been different if I'd been born in Ha Noi instead of Montreal?


My aunt and uncle are going to Vietnam for the first time in almost three decades. My parents don't want to go. They are happy here. I think they left behind a lot of suffering and sadness as well, which they aren't eager to revisit. But they are glad that I want to go home someday. I'm not sure when that someday will be, but I take comfort in the knowledge that when I'm ready it will be there waiting for me. You can always go home again.

Matchmaker, Matchmaker, Make Me A Match

My cousin broke the mold last year by being the first person in both our immediate and extended families to marry outside our culture. She didn't stray too far as the Husband is still asian, but I'm sure my aunt and uncle took little comfort in this fact. Though they came to love and accept him as a member of the family, in an ideal world they would have chosen differently for their daughter: preferably a Vietnamese doctor, dentist, pharmacist or computer engineer with a melodic singing voice, which he would use to serenade her during the Karaoke portion of their wedding reception.

My cousins and I are first generation Canadians & Americans. Few of us speak our native tongue and those of us who do do so with heavy North American accents. (I've often served as Interpreter between older and younger relatives.) Nevertheless, prior to the above-mentioned scandal, those who had married, including my own siblings, married within our culture. I was surprised to see a recent wedding photo of my Texan Cheerleader Cousin - who had previously had a penchant for African-American men - with her new Vietnamese husband. See? My parents crowed triumphantly. See?

How can I marry a Vietnamese guy if I don't even know any Vietnamese people? I once explained to my parents. As soon as the words were out of my mouth I wanted to eat them. Too late. That was my mother's cue to don her brocaded robes and gleefully assume the role of Village Matchmaker, much to my chagrin. I allowed her to trick me into two (completely disastrous) meetings (Why don't you come over for dinner? OH! But who could THAT be at the door?) with greasy-haired middle-aged virgins before permanently revoking her matchmaking privileges.

It's hard to enough to find a decent man of any race, much less one who speaks the same language that I (barely) speak. I am more open-minded now about the (remote) possibility of ending up with a Vietnamese Husband than I used to be, though I have yet to date an asian guy. If it happens someday then great, but what I won't do is go out looking specifically for it. This includes going to "Asian Night" at local clubs or to those that cater to primarily asian clientele. It just seems unnatural and uncomfortable and I don't see the point. My parents are doing their best to be supportive of my choices but I know they haven't given up the dream and are hoping that I'll eventually come to my senses. Until then my mom will be waiting in the wings with a string of Vietnamese dentists ready to wow me with their stainless steel implements and moving renditions of the Vietnamese national anthem.

Big Brother Is Watching

A couple in a parked car called out to me as I was walking my dogs the other night. "Look threatening," I mumbled to my boys as I warily approached the vehicle. They wagged their behinds happily in response. Attack dogs they are not. Anyway, I came up to the open window and saw a small hispanic or perhaps middle eastern woman behind the wheel beside her huge black male passenger. They looked "normal" enough, whatever that means. The woman said something that I didn't catch.

"Sorry, what?" I asked (in french).

"Do you know a Big Brother?" Big Brother? I looked at her monstrous companion. Was this a trick question? Were they recruiters for Big Brothers Big Sisters of America? Somehow I doubted that.

"Uh..." I was confused.

"Where can we find a Big Brother?"

"We're not from around here..." the woman explained.

All of a sudden it clicks. I understand what they're looking for but don't know who they can call.

"Sorry, can't help you," I said, and started to walk away. Several other pedestrians passed but none were stopped. I looked down at myself, amusedly wondering why they thought I was "in the know."

Oh yeah. Who's baaaad.

Nine And A Half Weeks

They sit, side by side on a bench, alone in a park, in the deepening evening light, on a warm August night, talking. Even months later she remembers everything about that moment. She wishes she could forget. They talk about his accident, examine the jagged cut on his shin. She is glad he is alright, and smiling shyly, tells him so. She shows him the scar on her knee, barely visible now more than 20 years after racing down a hill on the back of her tricycle, away from her grandfather, then tumbling onto the concrete, in the same park in which they now sat. Her grandfather is gone and the scar faded but in that instant she is six years old again. He looks at her, then reaches out and gently, tenderly traces the scar with a fingertip. She feels his touch like a burn. Feels it still. The memory makes her throat ache. How much time, she wonders, for this wound to heal?

November Rain

I've been in the doldrums lately. Not sure if it was brought on by the changing seasons, fading daylight, or something else altogether. I had been riding high on a wave of positive energy for a while and have finally lost some of the wind in my sails. I'm not "depressed", cause it's not my style, but I do feel somewhat...deflated.

I tried to drown my sorrows in a good bout of shoe shopping today. I'll admit that it did give me a momentary high but at the end of the afternoon even hot new boots couldn't kick my blues to the curb. I had fun trying though.

I guess I've become a little disheartened by how fickle people are. Yes, that's the word, fickle. I don't think I'll ever get used to it.

And no, it's not PMS. Not unless PMS stands for Pensive Mental State.