S vintage star
S filipina now living in california
S obsessive-compulsive... make that compulsive-obsessive... no, obsessive-compulsive
S cold all the time (literally)
current terror alert level
Why is Life Cold?
i actually have a very happy life. i just saw this graphic one day and got an inspiration for another blog.
why not write about the stuff that makes life cold? from the huge, catastrophic, life-altering events to the seemingly trivial, little incidents
that rub you the wrong way. it doesn't have to be a personal experience, it can be something observed.
on writing these down, my intent is to learn to appreciate life more and have a better handle on things when life throws you a curve ball. i want whoever
will read this to contemplate, not get depressed. hopefully, you'll share with me your experiences as well so we can learn from each other.
Have you ever seen so many lines on anybody's palm? No, it's not because I'm old, or getting older. I have had all these lines since I was a baby (or so I was told). This unusual amount of lines has caused me to be self-conscious to show my palm to anybody growing up. In school, I was horrified whenever it was my turn to lead the Panatang Makabayan (Pledge of Allegiance), because that meant standing in front of the class holding my line-ridden palm up for everyone to gawk at! I missed out on playing Sawsaw sa Suka, a childhood game where your friends continuously dip their fingers on your outstretched palm while chanting a song, and you try to catch someone's finger at the end of the song.
Later on, I would be so hesitant to hold hands with a boyfriend, even though the few I've had found my wrinkly palms cute (or so I was told). Friends and relatives are only too eager to offer theories on what all these lines mean - I have a complicated life (I don't think I do), I have a lot on my mind (I don't think I do), I have had so many lives and somehow St. Peter forgot to erase the lines through time (I think I've seen that in a movie before).
So far, I've only met one other person with a similar palm (although he had less lines), on a plane, but I've forgotten who he was. All I remember is how happy we both were at discovering this rare commonality. Surprisingly, I was also disappointed to find my claim to the one unique thing I had in this world has been invalidated.
In any case, I'm stuck with these lines, whatever they mean, and I've grown accustomed to them. I stretch my palm out when needed without giving it a thought. Hey, I'm so comfortable I've even taught my stepson Sawsaw sa Suka so he could play it with his friends and also play it with him and hubby once in a while.
Dip it in vinegar, whoever's caught is it!
Vangie Fuhrman got cold on 4.27.2005 8:12 PM.
A Premature Dear John to Z
I first laid eyes on you twelve years ago. Well, I've actually seen you around before that, but I've never really seen you, you know? As with any other new relationship, we were both tentative and cautious with each other. All I know is, after a few meaningful but failed ones, I was hoping that this was it, that you were "the one."
As time went on, I found myself spending more time with you than anyone else. My friends and family were getting jealous, questioning your intentions. I defended you to everyone, extolling your virtues and letting them know that you bring so much value to my life. It wasn't always harmonious though. You would unintentionally hurt me and make me doubt our future. There were times when I wanted to get away from you, and I sheepishly admit now that I have been tempted and considered others, but the more I got to know you the more I realized that no one else can take your place, that it will be foolish on my part to leave you just because you frustrate me sometimes.
You have to admit I have been good for you too. I have dedicated a big chunk of my time, talent and treasure for your success. I think that's why we clicked. We mutually learn from each other and sincerely care for the other's well-being.
So why do I feel this way now? There is no third party, no big argument. It is plain to see that we are drifting apart. You have changed so much I feel like I don't know you anymore. Much as I would like to deny it, you no longer need me as much as you used to. And, even though you still take me to joyous places and introduce me to interesting people, I have ceased to be happy and excited with our arrangement. I blame myself for having gotten so comfortable with you such that it now is so difficult to let go. But let go I must, or I'm afraid animosity will start to build up. I don't want to reach the point when we will detest each other so much we'll reach an ugly conclusion. We should part while we still are friends.
Before I say farewell, I must let you know how grateful I am to you. So, thank you, for the countless opportunities you have presented me over the years that not only benefited myself but also those around me. Thank you, for bringing me to my new home, paying for my advanced studies and giving me such a wealth of knowledge that will be helpful in the course of life. Thank you, for the plethora of good friends I've met through you whom I know I will keep for life. Most of all, thank you for introducing me to the love of my life. By the way, he thanks you too.
Goodbye Z. I will miss you. Miss me too, okay?
Vangie Fuhrman got cold on 4.20.2005 1:30 AM.
This morning I was involved in a fender bender. I hit a Nissan Altima from behind. We were both turning right on a busy street, and when we passed the pedestrian crosswalk, the Nissan proceeded and I looked to my left for oncoming cars, found none, gassed up to proceed myself, when the Nissan suddenly stopped and I rear-ended it.
From the way I'm recounting it you can tell that I'm putting some blame on the other car, even though on paper, I'm entirely at fault. This accident has become so frustrating for me, even more so than the hit and run last December, which was definitely more serious. The other party, which consisted of an older couple, made such a big deal out of it. I immediately apologized, offered my insurance information and contact numbers but they will have none of it. They insisted on waiting for the police, which was fine by me, until I realized how big a spectacle they wanted to pull. About 20 minutes later, a fire truck, an ambulance and five (count 'em - five) police cars were on the scene. People were rubber-necking, probably expecting some huge accident scene with blood and gore. I tried to keep my cool but it was really hard because I know they were faking it. When I bumped them, the lady in the passenger seat got out and animatedly waved her hands. When the cops came, she suddenly couldn't move and was complaining of whiplash, thus the paramedics. Meanwhile, all I had there was my husband, whom I called to just be with me. Good thing he had the presence of mind to bring a camera and take pictures - of the very minor damage (I was almost tempted to rub off the black mark on their bumper). At least the cops were all nice. When I asked one if the lady will be alright, he said, yes, he doesn't see any blood, so he's sure she will be, and then he winked at me. Another cop I talked to apologized for not hearing what I said because of the laughter of the other cops. They were joking at how many of them were there, and not a single one was useful (the couple didn't speak English well and were asking for a translator).
I am worried that they would try to milk this for everything they could. One of the cops mentioned to my husband that he thinks there's some role-playing going on, but he tries to allay our fears saying it's good that the cops were called, because they have documented everything, including the fact that I was going less than 5 mph because I came from a complete stop. In any case, that ruined my whole day. I couldn't eat or concentrate on work.
The one thing that bothers me the most is why I'm feeling like I'm the victim, when I should be feeling sorry for them and apologizing for ruining their day. I detest that in one second of stupidity, I have caused something beyond my control where I can only imagine what will come out of this... best case - I'll just pay my deductible and my premiums will go up, worst case - I'm slapped with a lawsuit, which is not surprising after seeing how they acted today. If it's the latter, I know I will fight it fiercely (hey, maybe it's my chance to be in front of my favorite Judge Judy). And now the painful waiting begins.
On a side note, the lady who hit me last December and ran was tried last Tuesday. I found out from the District Attorney that she hit and run five vehicles, driving DUI. Yikes. I wonder if she feels as crappy as I do now.
Vangie Fuhrman got cold on 4.19.2005 12:26 AM.
Our company is currently having a Pro-Am pingpong tournament. It's a doubles match, with each team having a professional and an amateur player. Of course, PRO and AM are loosely defined here. We don't really have professional players, usually the males are tagged as pros and the females are the ams.
I am paired off with Chen, a funny and sweet guy who actually reports to me. For the first round of play, we went against Gregg, the Vice President of Sales and Christina, an HR representative. When we showed up for the match, this is what we see:
Gregg and Christina
Gregg was dressed in a bumble bee costume. He's funny like that. Of course we crushed the bee, because I am actually good at pingpong (some have complained that our team has two PROs). We could've skunked them 7-0 for both matches, but I purposely took it easy, giving lobs to Christina so they will have fun too. Besides, I enjoyed watching a bumble bee play.
We ended up winning two games straight, so no need for the third game. On to the quarter finals!
My partner and I
Vangie Fuhrman got cold on 4.13.2005 9:03 PM.
Lost in Lost
I didn't realize how invested I was in the TV series Lost until I found myself bawling over Boone's death in the latest episode. This is huge for me, because I usually don't cry at sad movies, tearjerker novels and much less TV shows. I cry when real people die, like the pope, John Ritter, Chris Reeve, my dad. Sometimes, I don't even cry when I should, like when my grandma died or as an empathy cry when my girlfriend sobbed at The Notebook. But sometimes I would cry at the strangest times, like when I found out my stepson's pet rat had a tumor, but not when it died, or when I saw a man dining alone, but not when I saw a girl digging through the trash.
Going back to Lost, I wasn't particularly enamored with Boone, although he was the cutest male in the cast. In fact, I found his unrequited love for his stepsister annoying - I felt like slapping him silly for him to snap out of it. But, week after week, I bought the preposterous plots and tumultuous twists, in a way that I didn't for everyone else's favorite 24, no matter how hard I tried to like the latter. I tried hard not to run into spoilers on who was going to die, the news of which has been circulating for a few weeks now. I did read that it's the person whose story wasn't being developed as much as the others, and I had the feeling that it will be Boone. Nevertheless, I found myself bawling like a baby during his death scene, and by the last scene when his stepsister drops next to his already-cold body, my eyes were as puffy as marshmallows and my nose was as red as a clown's. Of course my husband teases me, to which I naively replied "But how can Boone die?!?!!"