I'll Tell You When You're Older

I am going to invest in a shotgun...for my [yet to be born] baby boy(s) because apparently little girls growing up these days are getting predatory too.
[EDIT: In retrospect, I realize I'm going to become one of those dreaded mom-in-laws. Before they get married anyways. I'm ok with that.]

Yesterday I found out that my ten year old cousin got asked out by a little girl.
On the phone.

My brain exploded.
[Apparently another parent of tween sons banned phone calls from girls because the little girls were pursuing like no tomorrow.]

WHAT?! EXCUSE ME?! My precious 'lil cousin!
There are so many things wrong with this picture that I don't even know where to start.

Like the fact that ten year old girls are asking boys out? Dude, I couldn't even make eye contact with my crushes until university much less utter something more coherent than "hi". I'm still working on coherency, but I digress.

I attempted an intervention.

Keyword: attempted.

How do you explain to a boy of ten that...
he doesn't want a girl who is forward like that?
[She had chutzpah in asking, I'll give her that, but it also means other things as well...]
he shouldn't settle for her just because she asked him out?
he should pursue and persevere for the girl he likes...eventually?
[Because TEN is way too young.]
he wants a girl with character and that personality doesn't equal character?
he wants a girl who loves Jesus too?

I tried, and he asked "why?"
And I said, ask me again in six years, and I'll tell you.

But time is of the essence. I have influence now. How to wield it?

[And poor little girl. What influence does she have in her life that's made her so forward? I can only imagine the boy drama to come. Groan.]

The Plant Killer Strikes Again

So Paris, my orchid, named after Paris Hilton, yes that's right I named my plant after Paris Hilton, because she is finicky, is turning brown after one week of no water. One week! She's only suppose to be watered on a weekly basis. I've been so good all these other weeks, but after one week she goes brown on me. Not just any brown...she has to shrivel too. It's starting at the top, and it's slowly spreading down like gangrene. There goes my hopes for ending my spree as a serial plant killer. Sigh.

On the bright side, if she dies before Christmas I won't need a plant sitter......

AND I'm glad I tested my mettle before I went out and splurged on this other really exotic and expensive orchid that I saw.

Back to the Vomit

If I, myself were standing outside of my life and looking in, I would first, slap myself a few times, and then sit me down for a good talking to.

Oh silly girl, I thought we learned this lesson already?
VERY well, in fact.
But no, it seems we have forgotten and as a dog returns to its vomit, so a fool repeats her folly. (Proverbs 26:11)

What a glutton for punishment, I am. Why do I maltreat myself?

I am so frustrated and so tired of this.

Whiners Are Wieners

Well I'm going to be a wiener and whine about this pain around my left ear which has now spread to my jaw.

It started two weeks ago and has gotten progressively worse. Saw the doc last week, who diagnosed it as an ear infection and gave me antibiotics and ear drops.

It didn't work. It's worse now.

Now in all my paranoid compulsive hypochondriac brilliance here's what I think may be possibly wrong:
1. Persistent earache
2. TMJ (Temporomandibular joint disorder) Go google it.
3. Wisdom tooth.

It's not so much painful as annoying because it inhibits my eating. I mean c'mon. Of all things, how dare you mess around with my FOOD?! If this persists I will have to raid the fridge of friends with toddlers and steal their baby food.

Frustrated

Weariness burns the inside of my eyes like peroxide. And I should know because I accidentally placed contacts lenses soaked with solution containing peroxide in my eyes multiple times this summer. It hurt.

But that's what it has felt like for the past few days, and it's not for a lack of sleep. I've gotten my fair share of 8+ hours of sleep a night plus some major nap time in the afternoons, but lucidity still eludes me. I walk around in a haze of fatigue.

I had thought that my energy was returning to me this summer, but I guess I was wrong. With the increased pace of my life, my energy has dissipated even faster.

And I am very frustrated to the point of tears.

Because there are so many things that I want to do, that I would be able to do, if I was just healthy.

Recovery is taking too long...or so I think.

All the while I wonder, where is the gospel in this? How should I be preaching it to myself?

An Irrational "Love"

Ok, so here I am typing away at three in the morning because I woke up to go to the bathroom, and then started thinking about my CAR- about how much I'm going to miss it, about how you know, if I didn't sell it; I could spontaneously decide to go to the beach, and be able to do it, or if I REALLY wanted to, I could go to Guelph and Hamilton or anywhere else at anytime I want, about how much closer the Kenyons and swing dancing are.........and on and on to the point where my heart felt really wrenched.

Wrenched just exactly like the way it pained and writhed in your chest when you found out that the current crush of your life likes someone else/doesn't like someone with characteristics like you/doesn't like your race/just started dating someone... not you, DUH!/hates YOUR guts/has been promised to the prince/princess of Somewhereville at birth to end 200 centuries of war between...oops wrong story/insert another reason in which said crush will never go out with you.

YES! It really feels like this. I can understand guys' attachments to their cars now. WHY?!?!

"STELLAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA"*



*In case you're wondering, this is not the name of my car...although it could work, but what's the point of naming her when I have to give her up in a few days. It's adding fuel to the fire. That said, it's a reference to A Streetcar Named Desire. You know, just to show off my intelligence in my irrational state.

Ok, back to bed, and dreams of......crushes who were promised to the princess of Somewhereville at birth to end 200 centuries of war between- I mean, grapes. Dreams of grape.

Enough Already

The very act of posting this may negate what I have to say.

I'm really tired of discussing romantic relationships, engagements, marriage, anything that falls into that sphere. Not because I'm cynical, bitter, jealous, but because I'm just...BORED. Yet it never seems to stop. It always comes up. I ALWAYS bring it up. It's always on the back burner. It's like the default topic.

What is it about this topic? You can never get away from it.

Resigned.

Not "Either, Or", but "AND"

Single and content, yet desirous for marriage.

Seems like an oxymoron doesn't it? It used to seem to me like you have to hate one status in order to like the other. I use to villainize 'marriage' in my mind to hang on to what shred of contentment I had with being single, which is, in all honesty; no contentment at all. Or I'd swing the pendulum the other way and scorn singleness. Oh the folly of youth.

But it wasn't just me. It seems like a lot of people think like that too. It's not blatant. No one goes around with a bullhorn announcing: "You gotta hate being single if you want to get married or you have to hate marriage in order to enjoy being single." It's very subtle.

Like the question, "You have the gift of celibacy?" after I stated with conviction that I very much enjoy my single status. Seriously?

For the record, I don't think I have the gift of celibacy. I very much agree with my friend, M who says "You know you have 'the gift' when you're on your death bed and you've never been married."

But I digress. It's gotten to the point that I'm a bit hesitant to voice my desires for marriage or my desire for companionship for fear that I'm going to be misconstrued as being desperate and hating singleness, which in case you haven't figured out yet, I'm NOT. Recently at the hint of some of my desire for companionship, the outpouring of pity begins for the supposed plight that is 'singleness'. I might be oversensitive, but...

It is so very much possible to thoroughly enjoy and savour the season of singleness while desiring marriage at the same time. So this is my public service announcement stating thus:

I. ENJOY. BEING. SINGLE.
I like being able to do things at the drop of a time like going off to a swing dancing weekend with two days' notice.
I like staying out late without having to worry about someone needing me to come back home.
I like all the time that I have to devote to my hobbies.
I like being able to spend all that time with friends and family.
I like setting my own budget, my own timeline, my own goals.
I like eating whatever, whenever.
I like that I can work stupid, crazy, hours in ministry without anyone minding because campus ministry is definitely not a 9 to 5 job.
I like sprawling all over queen size beds when I get to hotels.
I like being in the driver seat every time I get into my car.
I like that I can buy stuff without consulting someone.
I like that I don't really need to think about anybody else except for me. I'm selfish.
I like ALL that FREEDOM.

At the same time...

I. WANT. TO. GET. MARRIED. SOMEDAY.
I want to be able to serve my husband, and cook yummy, delicious meals for him, do his laundry, help him find the right clothes, among other things.
I want to be able to come home at night to someone, to belong to someone.
I want to be able to bounce ideas off someone and have someone to go through life with.
I want someone to share my dreams and goals with.
I want someone to pick me up at the airport.
I want someone to freak out with like when I had chest pains and had to go to the ER.
I want someone to hold my hand at the ER.
I want to be that support for that someone, encouraging him to be all that God has created him to be and praying for him.
I want to keep a nice house so that he can return to a nice, homey, relaxed environment.
I want to start a family with someone and start a legacy with him, like Johnny Edwards.

And so much more...

So it's not either be happy with being single or desire to get married, but be happy being single and desire to get married.

Let's All Say It Together Now

Sometimes we Christians and by "we", I mean, "I" tend to over-spiritualize things especially when it comes to the not so gentle knocks of life. I tend to skip over the "grieving" process and try to move straight on to the better outlook on life. I don't know why. Probably a subconscious attempt to act/behave/think more "spiritual".
[Oh, the performance trap. Will it never end?]

But it's like, "Really? Is it honestly that healthy to not acknowledge the suckiness of the situation?" Not to say that I should wallow in self-wity like a pig in mud holes, but what I'm saying is to actually recognize that said sucky situation is not cool."

So let's say it together now: "This sucks. PERIOD."

Monotonous Droning

“Shelly forgot how utterly boring lectures were. How did she ever survive four years of monotonous droning?”

For the three hours that I sat in my Basic Photography class I was thinking about various Facebook statuses bemoaning the tedium that I sat through in my head. That’ll tell you how much fun it was and how much I learned.

Honestly, I don’t think the man planned for a lecture. I would’ve have learned more if I surfed the net for three hours than the three hours that I sat in that fluorescent room.

Funnily enough I didn’t feel as much guilt dinking around my mac as I would have if I was in undergrad. If you’re so boring as to not capture my attention then you don’t deserve my attention. It’s not MY fault that you like to listen to yourself talk.

Oh yeah, and this blog post? Written IN class.

Do I sound annoyed and slightly angry? That’s because I am. Because I spent good money and time for this class. I’m already anticipating the course evaluation......

And THEN the Car Stopped Working...

and stopped dead on, in the middle of the exit ramp of the underground parking garage. Go figure. The rear wheel had been squealing the whole time in the garage, but hey it worked...until we hit the incline.

LUCKILY! I, in my profound wisdom and foresight bought a premium CAA membership back in December in preparation for such damsel in distress moments as these, so patting myself on the back I quickly called CAA- only to find out that they could not and would not tow a car whose license plates have expired, which presented quite the conundrum because guess where I was going?

To Canadian Tire.
To have my car checked and re-certified so that my plates would be a-ok again.

At this point, panic was starting to rise a little bit, but BEHOLD! there is another company who would be very willing to tow me for a small fee, which just happened to be slightly over my debit card's limit. DOH! And seeing how I was just mugged oh...16 hours ago, that was not enough time for my brand new spanking credit card to arrive in the mail.

Cue emotional and nervous breakdown. Joking. Sort of.

Me + Car Trouble = Agony

I needed help. Badly.

I mentally scrolled through my list of trusty Torontonian friends only to realize that those who can actually help in a practical manner are all out of town...except for a saint named J who called around to look for other towing companies with no success who then called upon another saint, Ethan.

While all this was happening an angel in the form of a helpful man drove through the garage and actually stopped to help. GASP. Whereas four or five cars before just drove on past. A modern day Samaritan that man was.

He not only got my car out of the precarious position it was in, but got the rear wheel to start working again. The axle apparently was stuck.

Providentially a parking spot opened up nearby and I was able to park permanently and most importantly SAFELY, laying to rest my imminent plans to stake out my car tonight.

Ethan helped me figure out a plan of action for tomorrow, and I returned to my apartment relieved.

April Shmapril

I will never again underestimate April.
It's pwning me like no tomorrow.
Who knew? Who knew?

O-R-G-A-N-I-Z-A-T-I-O-N

Shelly will learn to organize her time better. Shelly MUST learn to organize her time better.

Illusions of Grandeur

This year's theme for the New Year's party at Campus for Christ's Winter Conference really excited me. So much so that I spent about 3-4 hours researching a costume idea that I had online. Then as sleep lifted from my eyes this morning so did my illusions of grandeur. The headpiece itself takes at the very least a week of diligent work to make for an experienced costumer. With all the Christmas presents already vying for my attention and spare time, I doubt I'd have time to put it together to my satisfaction, but oh my soul yearns to tackle that project!

Bed Snob Travelled Out

Usually I'm a low maintenance sleeper. I pretty much can fall asleep anywhere on anything even a hardwood floor. I'm not that picky about where I sleep, but recently when I've been traveling for support appointments I've found it sad to leave my bed and my room. I would say I miss my bed. It's so comfy and custom tailored for...me with all the pretty pillows and canopy. After thinking about it more I think it's just a symptom of over-traveling. I never thought I'd say this, but man I think I'm traveled out. I haven't slept at home consecutively for more than three weeks since May. I'm getting sick of moving around so much. I would just like some stability and structure in my schedule. Although being in this line of work...

It's ALWAYS Thanksgiving!

Please Note: This one is PURELY self-centered.

You know how the saying goes "Always a bridesmaid, NEVER a bride"?
No, this is not a rant about never getting married, it's about my birthday.
It's about how it's NEVER my birthday. It's ALWAYS Thanksgiving. October 7 is always inevitably THANKSGIVING weekend. No ifs, no ands, and no buts. ALWAYS Thanksgiving. I'm always second fiddle to Thanksgiving.

I never had an issue with this until university. You see in high school the majority was the minority. We were all Asian. Thanksgiving to us was a foreign holiday. It'd just be one meal with the parents and that's it. The rest of the weekend was ours. It also helped that none of us were living AWAY from home. So at that time all of us were trying to get OUT of the house, which meant I got my fete.

At university my friendships "diversified". Most of my friends were Caucasian and Thanksgiving was a BIG thing. Even the Asians left because once you leave home, you miss home. EVERYONE went home at Thanksgiving to celebrate....you know it, Thanksgiving. Which left me pretty much alone with no real celebration on the day of. {insert "All By Myself" by Celine Dion here}

I know we'd celebrate a week later. Or some friends would do things with me to make up for the day either before or after October 7th or some friends would call or would call AND serenade on the day of, and I appreciated all of that, but I longed for a party with all my closest friends on the day OF. Which at this point is pretty much impossible anyways since two members of my SWAT team are now out of the beautiful country of Ontario. It just doesn't feel like my birthday anymore a week later or a week before.

This is all to say I wish Thanksgiving was in November like the USA so the poor souls who are born the weekend of November 24-26 would have to deal with this, not me. Because I actually do enjoy Thanksgiving. I love stuffing, but it's ALWAYS on my birthday! But since this won't change unless I move out of the country (i.e. STINT...kidding) I will suck it up...now.

Another Disclaimer: I know I'm not the only one whose birthday lands on another major event. I feel the pain of my friends whose birthdays are ALWAYS Summit, Day of Evangelism, Christmas, project, and etc...

What prompted this? Trying to figure out when to host a shindig for said birthday and realizing that good dates are few and far between. 22 may have to pass quietly.

And puh-lease don't pity me. This is not me wanting attention or extra special stuff or sympathy or whatever. This is me wanting to get it out of my system once and for all.

Cooking Conundrum

This entire summer I cooked an astounding TWO times excluding the times I boiled water for cup noodles, dumplings, and wontons. What a feat. Once was scrambled eggs. The other was your typical tomatoes and egg, red-roasted chicken, and stir fry. Thus far it doesn't look like my goal to become a great cook is off to a good start. Sadly enough I think my cooking skills have actually regressed.

To break out of the poor eating habits of a bachelorette I hit up T and T again today. (INSERT HALLELUJAH CHORUS FROM HANDEL'S MESSIAH) I needed inspiration to start cooking. The items on on the shelves were just screaming, "Cook me!" I bought some much needed ingredients that were hard to find in Guelph, but there are others that are still missing. I was so tempted to buy those prepackaged jars of sauces to cook with, but I am resolved not to cop out. Seriously how much authentic Szechuanese food can you get in Toronto? All those signs and labels claiming to be from Szechuan? LIES!

Aye, there's the rub. I long for the delicious food from my childhood, and long to make them, but I lack ingredients and an authentic teacher. Even the best cook in our family can't make REAL food from our province because of the lack of ingredients. No matter how much those labels claim to be from Szechuan, they're not. There are some ingredients that just can't be imported. Like Panda liver. Just kidding. So until the day China really takes over the world I'll have to make due with pseudo Chinese food whilst outside the Motherland.

Read: If my cooking sucks it's because I lack ingredients.

AMEN SISTAH!

"Allow a man to win your heart, she would say. And if he doesn’t want to, then why would you want him?"

Wow. How refreshing. That quotation was from a recent post from girltalk.blogs.com. (In case you're wondering it's the Week 6 Book Club Discussion) It wasn't anything new, but it was so good to read it and be reaffirmed in my convictions. It's tempting to want to flirt, to want attention, to feel validated, and to feel in control of one's marital status instead of waiting on the Lord. But I firmly believe in that men are called to initiate.

Call me prudish. Call me uber conservative. Old-fashioned. I'd actually delight in that.

A woman's heart is precious, valuable, and worth being sought after. I'm not going to throw mine at someone who barely cares, or even someone who cares, but not enough. Been there done that. Not doing it again. It's such a lie when guys say they need a sign that the girl is interested before they ask. In Aban's words, "MAN UP." Who wants a coward for a husband?

End Rant.

Footnote: I know John Ensor suggested "crackling leaves" so to speak. Fine, but I'm not talking about that. There are times when girls take crackling leaves to mean chopping down the tree and watching it whack the guy on top of the head.

Freeze or Frump

Oh, the tyranny of fashion.

This year's dilemma: "Do I want to freeze or do I want to look frumpy?" Mini-skirt/capris' or thick sweaters/cardigans? At least that's the way it seems to me. Not that all sweaters and cardigans equal frump for everyone. But woe is me! because I can't pull them off without looking middle aged. 'Tis sad. 'Tis sad. I won't even venture into the other "option"...The storefronts look like they're in the middle of summer when it's December outside. Bah humbug!

you know how...

you never really appreciate something or someone until it's gone or at least threatened?

well i never really truly realized how much i prized my singleness and the freedom to choose until sunday.

mum calls me up for our weekly phone date, and i'm really distracted because i have a hard assignment due in about 5 hours. so i'm uh-huhing and mhmmming and straight out telling her that i needed to go. meanwhile on the other end she's telling me about vacation plans. how it'd be nice to fly out to washington state the same day that i get into new york from toronto to visit her old friend. it'd be a nice vacation she says. in my distracted state, vague visions of oceans, mountains, and trees popped so i agreed. never really been on a family summer vacation. then came the clincher.

auntie so and so wants you to meet this boy.

WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAT?!?!

he's just like you. came from China when he was 5 or 6. can't read chinese. he's very tall.

i mean i know we've joked about setting me up and everything, but this time she's actually half serious. apparently she really does mean it when she says that she's been telling my aunties to keep an eye out. i find this half-amusing and half-disturbing. I DON'T WANT TO BE SET UP. by anyone other than God that is. it's just....ugh. and i'm only 20 for pete's sake! it'd be normal for an asian mom if my biological clock was running out, but that's not for another 15 years! and even then i don't think i would submit to it. ugh. somewhat funny and somewhat disturbing.