Dreamworld September 10, 2006
Posted by Carolyn Tang Kmet in General Musings.add a comment
Is it normal to be happier when I’m asleep than when I’m awake? In the last month, my life has been como si, como sa. The usual. The norm. I’m challenged by my job, the minor irritation here or there, but nothing that would throw me off. But my dreams, they’ve become more emotional, more physical, more moving. They never involve anyone I know, but rather a combobulation of positive thoughts. And when I have those dreams, I sleep deeper. Last night, I slept nine and a half hours. The only reason I woke up was because my cellphone was beeping. I didn’t want to wake up. Turns out, my cellphone was beeping for nine hours.
It’s a new feeling for me. I’m used to waking up and hitting the ground running. I was always more present in reality than I was in dreamscape. But I’m being drawn now. My emotional and physical lives are not fulfilled in reality, so my mind resorts to subconsciousness to draw on the desires. Rationality plays a role in real life, smart business decisions, logical analysis, but it is the scapegoat of my dreams.
I have work colleagues looking to me for emotional help. A part of me loves them and wants to give my heart to help them; the other part of me is wary. I can’t mix work and personal. They are two different spheres for me. He’s in the midst of a difficult departing, and I play the role of the rebound girl, minus the sexual perks. And I told him so. But there is still the part of my heart that wishes I could comfort and care for him. But I can’t. I don’t love him. I want to hold him and soothe away the bitterness, but I can’t. Because all “that”, gets in the way.
I have girlfriends who are wondering where I have disappeared to. They are looking for advice on all fronts. The fact is, when life gets me down, I hunker down. I can’t help anyone with their issues, I just want to hide from the world. It’s who I am.
A large part of me feels, if you’re looking for me, wondering about me, it’s because you want something from me. What ends up happening is that I close my doors even tighter. The love shuts down, the trust shuts down. I think it’s a defensive reaction to the way I was raised. My mom used to always seek being wanted. As a result, I shun it. Good job, me. On this path, I’ll never connect with anyone.
I feel like I’m grasping. But I know, I’m just learning more about myself. Whether or not I find someone to share the rest of my life with, the fact of the matter is, I can take care of myself, and I have a pretty good existence on my own. I can always take a nap.
Simply Shocking September 3, 2006
Posted by Carolyn Tang Kmet in General Musings, Home Improvement.add a comment
Well, that was fun. This past week, I’ve carried around a minor irritation. The light switch in my master bathroom got stiff all of a sudden. I’d flip it on, the light would flicker, then go off. The worst part is, it impacted my daily routine. In the morning, I get up, stumble into the bathroom and flip the switch. It is the first conscious effort of my day, and thus, a critical determinant of my mood. If the light does not go on as expected, I start grumbling. Grumbling is not a good way to start a day.
So this fine, gloomy Saturday morning, I decide I’m going to take matters into my own hands. I pull out the Home Depot book and take a looksee. It doesn’t seem to hard to replace the switch box. I pull together the list of tools, a flathead, a phillips, needlenose pliers, electrical tape, and my camping lantern. We all head into the bathroom.
Next step, cut the electricity. Okay, I know where the breaker box is, but how do I know which switch goes to which room? I try the one marked “bedrooms and bathrooms” in faded ink. The kitchen light goes off. Nope. I get the bright idea to go turn the light on in the bathroom and hit breakers until it goes off. Boom. Off. Now I know which one it is. And here is where I make the first mistake. I forget to flip the switch to “Off” before removing the face plate. When I remove the faceplate, I’m confronted by the switch and a jumble of wires. I get nervous. I call my dad. No answer. I text another non-metrosexual friend of mine. Nothing. Then, smart me, I log onto my work-related online discussion forum and post for a virtual handy dad. I get enough responses to boost my self-confidence. I take a deep breath, head back into the bathroom, touch my screwdriver to the innards of the wall, and….
Nothing. Huzzah. The electricity is off, and I am still alive. This is good, good news. I unscrew the wall mount screws, then the screws on the box. I jimmy off the copper wires using the pliers. I don’t feel like I’m looking at something foreign. It looks like the picture in the Home Depot book. Switch box detached, I march back to my computer and check the responses to my post while I fiddle with the stiff switch. Voices of support say, go get another switchbox. Other voices of support say, hire an electrician. The women say hire an electrician, the men say swapping out the box is easy. I opt to give it a go. If I get zapped, at least my work colleagues will know.
Head out to the hardware store, find the right switch easy. Come home, double-check to ensure circuit breaker is still off, and install new switch. Even go the extra mile and wrap electrical tape around the conduits just like Home Depot guide says. Screw faceplate back on, turn breaker on, flip switch. YES. Moment of glory fades quickly as I look at my handywork and realize that I picked up the WRONG COLOR switch. The electrical outlet centimeters below my switch is ivory. My newly purchased switch is white. Argh. Stomp back to circuit breaker. Turn off circuit. Stomp back to bathroom. Unscrew everything. Dig packaging out of wastebasket. Curse. Dig receipt out of wastebasket, curse some more and drive back to hardware store. Grab ivory switch (whose bright idea was it to offer both white and ivory? Aren’t they both neutral colors? What’s the damn point?). Make exchange. Apparently, ivory colored switches are $.50 more expensive than white switches, but the cashier lets me go without paying the difference. She must’ve sympathized with my aggravation. Back home, reinstallation now takes mere minutes because the whole process is now so familiar.
But now, everything is smooth sailing. I can’t wait to wake up tomorrow and flip on my new lightswitch.
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