OakMonster’s Den

Yeah, baby!

My first 2 DVDs of Young Riders Season 1 arrived. I wrapped presents and signed Christmas cards while watching them over Saturday and Sunday.

Hey, this show is not as obscured as I thought! I mean, at least they got the first season out on DVD, right? And there were 3 seasons of this stuff.

I watched this series back in Thailand what seems like a million years ago. Of course, the whole thing was dubbed so things were a lot different then. I remembered having a major crush on the Kid played by Ty Miller (That smile gets me every time and his eyes are amazing. Oh, and him and Lou thing?  My god, that’s good sappy stuff!) and Marshal Sam Cain played by Brett Cullen (The height! The hair!  That smile! OMG!).

And of course, the conversation I had with my mom regarding riding lessons.

After watching this show a few times, I told my mom that I would like to learn to ride a horse. Being in an upper middle class Bangkokian family, we of course belong to the Royal Bangkok Sports Club, Polo Club. At the time, that was the only place we knew that had riding lessons.

My mom didn’t want me to take an equestrian class because she was afraid I would fall and break my neck, being a LOT smaller than any horse I would ride. But she said that I should check out the classes beforehand. So one weekend at the Club, we walked over to see the English riding–the only “proper way” of riding there was–session.

I said no.

“Well I thought you want to learn to ride a horse?”

“Yes. But, that’s not how Young Riders’ cowboys ride their horses!!”

Didn’t I say once that I was probably a Texan rancher’s daughter in my past life?

The problem with being the baby girl of the family, let alone a baby girl of an Asian family, is that undeniable instinct to please.

It’s the Golden Child Complex, I hereby dub it so. You start with your parents. By keeping them happy, you get the attention you need. And of course, with the attention you need, you can get away with or get just about anything you want. A baby girl already has +10 advantage to the ability to get what she wants from her dad, but still, there is always that need to be good, to do well, to make people happy. Eventually, that need to please bleeds into your daily life. You keep your friends happy. You keep your teachers happy. You keep your coworkers happy. You keep your bosses happy.

Sure, this complex probably doesn’t apply to every baby boy/girl. But everyone seems to have one in the family, that Golden Child.

I have the Golden Child Complex. At the office, I’m a hard worker, a team player, an entertainer. I work fast and I do good work. I take on projects sometimes not even really mine just to get things done right. (Well, it also doesn’t help my complex that I am a control freak.)

What happens when the Golden Child makes a major mistake that displease her Uber Boss?

I made an error at work. A pretty big one. The final result is still passable; it’s just not ideal. It’s not the perfect picture I had in my head, and definitely not the perfect picture the Uber Boss had. He didn’t come to me outright to talk about my error, but he talked to my Lady Boss behind closed door. One doesn’t need a spy listening device to figure out what was going on in there.

I was crushed, highly disappointed at myself for making such a rookie mistake. I mean, it was a simple one. If I wasn’t in such a rush to get this done, to have the project arrived on time, I probably wouldn’t have made the mistake. But I did. And here we are at the point of no return with dissatisfied customers on my boat. They don’t say anything, but the guilt of knowing they’re not happy is eating me alive.

The Golden Child couldn’t possibly make a mistake like that. Hell, the Golden Child NEVER makes a mistake. Everything has to be perfect. I couldn’t have just fucked up, could I?

Oh yes, you could. And you just did. And here you are.

I spent the last two days quietly brooding over this mistake. I mean, I have never made a mistake this big in my career anywhere. Usually, if there’s a fuck-up, it wasn’t my fault. I can’t help the printers making the mistakes because their plate didn’t match our proof. I can’t help the late delivery from a greeting card vendor when they were slow to correct their mistakes.

But this one? It’s all me. I made the boo-boo. I did it. Me.

I suck.

In the middle of this self pity party, the Universe sent me a few signs, I believe.

We watched “Rescue Dawn” last night and I watched the featurettes afterward. They discussed the optimism of the lead character Dieter in real life (played by Christian Bale). His plane shot down in Laos during Vietnam war, Dieter was tortured and kept at a prison camp. Not once did he give up. He takes no for an answer and is always positive about the outcome. Always smiling. I’m getting out of here. We’re going to make it. This is not an obstacle, just a slight delay. And the dude survived the camp, escaped it and got out of the jungle with that positive attitude.

Then I flipped to CNN salute to heroes or something like that, just in time to catch Glenn Close introduced Christopher Reeves as the Heroes’ Hero. They showed snippets of the documentary about his recovery, which I watched when it originally aired years ago. The part of him taking his steps in the water on his own, THAT was just what I needed in my pit of self pity (and mild hatred).

Superman fell off a horse and is paralyzed from it, but that doesn’t even stop the guy. Dieter walked out of the jungle alive despite the odds against him.

And here I am, hating myself and dreading going back to work because I made one mistake.

That’s just unacceptable.

After all, I am the Golden Child, right? I can’t just let this little speck of tarnish stop my shine. Just buff if off and get on with it. Shine brighter. Do better. Make up for the delay.

As the great Tim Gunn says, make it work.

I’ll make it work.

It’s amazing how LA traffic works.

I had to be in Burbank at 8:30 a.m. this morning for a proofreading training.  (Good class, by the way.  Learned a LOT.)   According to Google Maps, that would be 33.1 miles,  and 38 minutes or up to 1 hour 30 minutes in traffic.

Just to be on the safe side, I decided to give myself 2 hours to get there, leaving the area around 6:30ish.

605 to the 5 North and onward.  Traffic was flowing.  It was no autobahn but it wasn’t bumper to bumper.

It was about 7:15 a..m. when I got to the 101 junction.  A few more slow downs here and there and suddenly the road opened up.  As in, I was going 80 mph kind of open.  Another  5 minutes and I was in Burbank.  I drove around to find gas and parked my butt at a Starbucks to kill time.

Holy shit.  I got from the O.C. to the Valley in less than an hour!  Since I misplaced my car stereo face plate, it FELT like it was a long drive without any music to get you through.  But damn!  I am sure if I left at 7 a.m., this journey would have a much different turn out.

On the way home, the same thing.  I ran out of the conference room as fast as I could.  Conveniently I parked by the stairs on the first floor, just the opposite end of the building from the ONLY exit in the place.  I got out in 5 minutes and I was flying down the 5.

A roadside sign blinked, “To 605 - 20 minutes.”

At 4:15 p.m. on a pre-storm evening?  Yeah, right!

And guess what?  20 minutes later, I WAS on the 605.  By 5 p.m. I exit my on ramp heading home.

Mind you, around 4:30, Nhien called me.  She was STILL in the parking lot at the hotel, trying to get out while I was already half way home.

Again, I’m sure if I left at 5 p.m. I would’ve still be on the freeway at 7 p.m.

LA traffic.  You just never know!

The one thing I do know is that tomorrow night’s traffic can be as bad as it wants to be.  Why?  Because we are having a bus party on our bus, that’s why!

After hearing stories of people reminiscing their other commuter buses or train where they’d have pizza or birthday cake on the bus, I took the initiative to rally my buddies on the last bus out of town for a holiday party.  Someone’s bringing apple cider.  I’m bringing cheese and crackers.  Someone else’s bringing cookies.  And lord knows who else are bringing what.  (No booze on the bus though.  This ain’t the bar car!)  It should be fun.

So, Enrique Iglesias, bring on the LA Live traffic, bro.  Bring. It. On.

For a long ass day and even a longer bus ride–damn the Spice Girls causing all the jam in Downtown LA during rush hour–all I need are some Bs.

Brandon.

Beer.

Bacon (Applewood Smoked) and Brown Butter tortellinis.

Much more going on in my head.  But I’m not going to get into that today.  Like I said, Long. Ass. Day.

The obvious joy of the Trojans spanking the fucla bruins and that we are heading to the Rose Bowl was only the beginning.

What did I do immediately after the game? Well, aside from posting the last item. I hopped in the car and headed out to Nhien’s at G-dale for girls night in, celebrating our friendship and my birthday. For once, I got to show up and do nothing. Haha! Amy brought the booze. Nhien provided noshables. Eva made pasta. The main event, the Italian rolled meatloaf by Celeste.

Did I mention that Amy brought the booze?

We started watching Knocked Up but when we paused for dessert, we got into a conversation and we never went back.

And of course, whatever happens at girls night stays at girls night. Except for that very tame picture Amy took of us.

Sunday morning was lazy as well as the afternoon. Brandon and I visited our friends Paul and Lupe for a spell. (Well, actually we were borrowing their carpet steam cleaner.) And we got to play with “the kids”, Molly and Cassie. Now that Molly has grown up a bit, she mellowed out and isn’t so obnoxious any more. Cassie, on the other hand, seems to be getting a bit slow. But then again, what’s a small dog to do against a playful Rodweiler, eh?

Monday came the big news. As I made myself download my bank statements and go over the finance, I suddenly realize that we will be able to actually start saving for the house by this time next year. I mean, like, HOORAY!!!!!!

The vicious cycle we look forward to, being out of debt long enough just to get back into the biggest one of our lives…and owning a house.

Life is pretty good right now, I must say.

Hell yes.

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Originally uploaded by theoakmonster.

Alas! My breakfast.

Homemade cinnamon roll French toasts topped/filled with whipped cream, strawberries, blueberries, raspberries and banana slices, drizzled with Kahlua and sprinkled with almond slices.

I soooo heart Gaffey Street Diner.