OakMonster’s Den

Sunday. Justin graduated from medical school and Olaina finally became a doctor’s wife.

Monday. Brandon set off to Pennsylvania.  It was his dad’s birthday.

Today.  Brandon’s grandfather passed away.  It is also Brandon’s little niece Cheyenne’s birthday.

Tomorrow. Brandon’s niece Lauren graduates from high school.

The funeral is set for Saturday afternoon.

It’s a heart wrenching week all around for Brandon.  I am all this far away and my heart is heavy for him.  I want to be right over there and just hold the man for a little while, the way he was there to hold me when I came home the day mom died.  This is what it means that you want to be with someone so badly it physically hurts.

I did look into a flight out of here, but Brandon insisted that I stay put.  They can’t possibly add another body into grandma’s house at this point.  And another body is just going to be too many cooks in the kitchen.

Please continue to send more love and good mojo to Brandon and his family.  I really appreciate it.

Brandon’s grandfather passed away this morning.  More information coming.

Please send your good mojo and prayer to my beloved husband and his family out in Pennsylvania.

We’re once again on death watch as Brandon’s grandfather who has Alzheimer is hospitalized.  We don’t really know how many hours, days, weeks he has because, apparently, the doctor has been giving different information to different family members.

With Grandpa’s death watch, we didn’t get to be with Justin and Olaina on his graduation this morning.  Nor will we be at Brandon’s niece high school graduation on Thursday.

Brandon is going to be out to Pennsylvania tomorrow to be with his mom and grandmother.  If the funeral happens then, it happens then.  If it doesn’t, at least he was there to help around the house, and say his final goodbye.

His grandfather was diagnosed with Alzheimer several years ago.   Brandon said that he and Grandpa had already had their heart-to-heart back then.  He didn’t want Brandon to see him when he lost himself, and they said goodbye then.  However, Grandpa did come to our wedding and he was mostly lucid then.

That was the only time I ever met the man Brandon admires so much.  It was an honor.

With Brandon gone, I’m not going to get any sleep this week.  Heck, I can’t even go to sleep right now.

Neither could he.

A row of what I think are jasmine bushes underneath our bedroom window have bloomed for the past few weeks. I didn’t know the neighbor apartment has such plant. I mean, I haven’t smelled it since we moved in, I don’t think.

The first time I caught a whiff of this season’s bloom though, I thought to myself…

“Mom’s visiting.”

It didn’t help that the first time, I was the only one who caught the scent. Brandon was a bit too far away from the window to smell anything.

You see, one of mom’s favorite flowers are what Thai people call “Dok Kaew” ดอกแก้ว. That’s scientifically Murraya paniculata and in Hawaii it’s known as mock orange.  Mock orange is no jasmine, but it looks and smells pretty close.

We have a tree growing on the edge of our property in Bangkok, on the way out the gate. It seems to bloom at night through early morning a few times a year. I remember taking them to my teachers on my way to school and plucking them on Sunday mornings for my grandmother.

It was blooming when my mom passed away. We made sure to have the blossoms at the temple as well as in our house. We put them in mom’s favorite red crystal vases which her friends joked that mom would rise out of the coffin to beat me and Pueng the Maid silly for actually using her prized possession.

Since the day I caught the scent in my bedroom, I expect the blossoms every night. I would take in deep breaths before getting in bed and think of mom.

It hurts a little, but strangely comforting.

I may hide my extra 5 lbs. gain well.  But when none of my 3 pants-suits and 2 skirt-suits fits, it’s a sign.

My expanded hips, strangely, interferes with the length of my pants.

All of my pants on the suits are cut a little loose because I hate tight pants. So all of them sag a little to the floor and therefore give me room for the heels.

Now my Asian J-Lo butt fills in to the pants so they fit correctly. However, my length of the pants are affected. They are all too short for any non-sneakers/flipflop shoes I own.

The black standby skirt-suit skirt is also affected. It is now a little too tight…and wayyyy too short.

Needless to say, Brandon likes that skirt. 

The only suit left in the closet was from a bigger friend. Even after going through a tailor, my jacket still looks like a loaner from an older sister. That didn’t fly either.

I just have to improvise on the “Business Attire” wardrobe until I lose the 5lbs. Or go to Thailand to buy more suits.  Which I probably wouldn’t find because of my giant ass.

Yes. 5 lbs. extra and I’m fat for my clothes.

You know, in Thai standard, I am also a total heifer at the moment. In American standard, you can’t really tell.

I just have to work out more to keep eating the way I do.

Aging sucks.

Someone in the office asked me what I want to be when I grow up.

“Millionaire rock star philanthropist,” I said.

He paused.

“So you want to be Bono?”

“Not with that much talent or the coolness. But, yes.”

He nodded and walked away.

It’s pretty interesting to see how people react to that question and answer. I have heard people get totally stumped when asked the question, and then people who has the simplest answer. Like, “Rich” or “Famous”.

Most people look at me funny when I told them about my ultimate goal.

Does anybody actually have a goal to be a philanthropist? Perhaps I am the only one?

I wasn’t always my goal, of course. I wanted to be a doctor, journalist, tennis champion and astronaut. Yes, ALL at the same time. I wanted to be an interior designer. A graphic artist. An advertising account executive. A movie producer. A web designer. Hell, I even wanted to be a wedding planner at some point.

The philanthropist thing doesn’t really come to full bloom until a few years ago when I realize the most joy I get outside of music and cooking/eating is helping people.

I love helping people. I love raising money. I do enjoy a few luxury in life that comes with having money on hand, but never dream of not being able to give away any.

I mean, the $3000 purse? I could just buy one for $40 and give $2960 away somewhere and I still have a purse that will hold my possession. $200 jeans? Well, okay, my ass would probably look fantastic in a pair of those, and I would probably own one when I can. But then again, I can squeeze into a pair of Levi’s for $30 and still look cute in them.

Is it a disorder that I can’t see myself being rich and not giving any away?

I think that is why people look at me funny. I want to have a lot of money so I can give a lot of it away. That shouldn’t make sense to most people.

It makes perfect sense to me.

When I die, I can’t take any of that with me. Why should I horde it when my money can go on and save lives, make people happy, and change the world?

How am I going to get to be the millionaire rock star philanthropist? I don’t really know just yet.

Well, unlike Bono, I don’t really have the talent. I can hold a tune and play a couple of ditties on piano and guitar, and I think I have the right rock star moves. But seriously, I don’t think this “good enough” is going to get me anywhere near rock stardom in the U.S. I might, however, be able to take a crack at it in Thailand as some niche pop-rock star, a one-hit wonder that makes banks and banks and then disappear. That would give me a good start on my millionaire goal. But that’s unlikely too.

So, I will have to “grow up” in reverse.

The philanthropist part, I sort of have been practicing that with all that I can afford. The easier next step for me is not becoming a rock star, but to be the millionaire. THEN I can peddle my album to the brown nosers who want my money. Or organize a big ass concert featuring the real artists and pop in on stage to rock with them for a song or two. Or put out charity albums with folks like Band from TV.

Good plan? I think so.

In the meantime, I am just happy being a thousandaire (actually, I can’t even say that since I have negative net worth…) living room rock star, karaoke queen, fundraiser lady.

Baby steps.

P.S. Speaking of which, the Lesser Weevils are back for AIDS Walk Long Beach 2008!  I’m recruiting team members as well as raising funds.  Come on down to the blog and help me out!

I wish I could show you the picture, but it’s really hard to try to take a picture of the side of your own head where gray hair has began its invasion.  After a few close brushes of permanently twisting my body in a improbable angle; and falling off the vanity and breaking my neck, y’all would just have to use your own imagination on this one.

Besides, the gray army is a little camera shy.  It’s tricky to capture a few silver strands among a sea of shiny black, I tell ya.

I have about 3-5 strands of silver hair on each side of my temples.  If I pull my hair back, you can see them.

It used to be in the back and underneath. Then they started to come up on top. And now they’re on to the sides of my head.

Earlier, I would pull some out. Okay, sure, EVERYBODY told me to stop doing that because 5/7/9/[insert your number here] its friends will come to the funeral. But seriously, folks. Grays are in my genes. Pulling it or not is not going to matter.

After a while, I resorted to just pull the ones that sticking straight up or straight out because it’s just way out of control. Or if I happened to spot one in the en of my pigtails. Otherwise, I don’t pull any more.

What’s the point of fighting genetics, really.

My dad has gone gray very early. I actually don’t remember him with black hair. Both of my brothers started finding their grays in their teens. One of them started losing his very early too and the other one, only two years older than me, is going salt-and-pepper.

I actually am looking forward to have more white/gray hair so I can do crazy color highlights without actually having to bleach my hair first.

No, seriously. I do. I know that when men go gray, they look distinguished. Women go gray, we’re just old hags. But hey, this is a genetic traits in my family. Something I got from the good ol’ daddy-o. I’m going to be proud of it.

Like Greg M. said the other day, my hair may be going gray, but at least I still have it on my head.

Thursdays are now designated “Guys Night” by Brandon and his buddies. That doesn’t mean they would all go out and do anything crazy. Just dinner and a few beers. Perhaps they may just order pizza and watch a movie or something like that.

Something that seem to be too much for the girls. We only have once a month dinner date and we can barely keep it. Haha. I’m sure that would launch a thousand conversations on men v.s. women thing.

I *do* have a bunch of people who would want to go out and grab a beer or two with me much on a daily basis…at the office. Unfortunately for me, as much as I want to stay, I just can’t do an impromptu session. While my peeps can head out any day of the week without having to think about it too much, I have to catch my bus. Nobody lives my way any more so the “Hey, let’s go drinking RIGHT NOW!” is out for me.

But on the flip side, I get to have a me time. As in, I am not cooking or doing anything household related. Just what I want to accomplish or to do for fun.

It’s a good trade off.

I plan on making my Thursday night “work on Olaina’s website” night.  Once that’s done, I have plenty more projects to keep me happily busy.

But tonight, this arrangement works out beautifully for me as I can work on my stuff late into the night if I want to.

I have a day off tomorrow. Before you get all jealous, you should know that I take the day off for all sorts of health appointments. First is my physical. Then my optometrist. And since my 1996 Corolla decided to put on his little Check Engine light last week, I have to take Merlin to the “doctor” as well.

Conveniently, the Toyota dealership is in my old neighborhood and a few steps from the optometrist which is also a few more steps away from my nail place, In-N-Out, Marshall’s, and Coffee Bean & Tea Leaf.

All I need to have with me is my wallet and a book, that’s it.

Oh, and somewhere in there I have to get my boxes of books to the post office to get sent off to troops around the world, an Operation Paperback effort.

A quote from LA Yoga that Olaina clipped out for me says:

“The more we do things we love, we are creating more joy and peace into our lives.”

Oh yes. I am LOADED with projects, y’all. And I couldn’t be happier.

I’m sure Morpheus is waiting outside the door with the blue pill and red pill right now.

I can’t possibly living in a real world right now.

I finished the 2-day cram CSS (Cascading Style Sheets) course at 5:15 p.m. today. I walked away from Justin & Olaina’s kitchen table to join them in his office in a semi-daze. Lines of codes floating in my head. We were deciding where to go for dinner. Justin said we could look at the menus on his computer.

Olaina and I congregated in front of the lap top. The font was so small, both of us leaned in and squinted. We laughed. Both of us have been staring at the computer screens all day. She’s been working on the pictures of the Match day, and I on the class.

“All I see right now are just flashes of lights,” she said.

“All I see are lines and lines of codes,” I said. “You know how the numbers stream through the screen in The Matrix? That’s how I feel right now.”

Life has been quite surreal these past few days, actually. Neo might as well unplug me any second now.

Taking the train down to San Diego by myself after an early start of the Early Meeting was an experience on its own.

Justin & Olaina’s excitement and anticipation for Match Day was highly contagious all on its own but I felt additionally honored to get to be with them on their other special day.

Getting a chance to just hang out with Olaina on her home turf for a change was also cool as hell.

And finally, after a few years of trying to make sense of CSS on my own, I finally learned how to actually use the damn thing.

It is also surreal that I am here without Brandon.

I mean, I’ve gone home for over a week before, but it didn’t feel quite the same. Perhaps because I know I was really far away and that I can’t really quite call him up like I can from San Diego. Knowing he was so close by and yet I can’t be with him is very weird. It makes my stomach lurch a bit and my heart sink a little.

I just hope that he misses me as much as I do him.

Adding to it all, it’s Friday night and we’re sitting her watching March madness, sipping the champagne I brought down to celebrate Justin’s big day. All of this after a nice huge dinner of yummy food at Ritual. Oh my god, the Shrimp Scampi!!!!  (I’ll blog about that over at the food blog later.)

And just last night, we were sipping expensive cocktails at an ultra chic lounge called Jade with Justin’s classmates. Actually, Olaina and I and another lady were huddling together and people watched. Before that, we were enjoying dinner and booze over at the Whiskey Girl.

Yet, another two moments of this trip that poignantly reminded me of Brandon’s absence.

I am so confused.

I am having such a good time out here alone. Yet I wish Brandon was here with me too.

We just can’t have it all, can we?

But YOU can have it all, my dearest readers. Tomorrow, I’ll post all of the hilarious snippets of conversions we’ve been having these past few days. I’m sure Olaina is getting tired of me calling “dibs” a few times a day. LOL.

My brother Onk emailed me that one of dad’s employees is collecting used toys to take to an orphanage over the weekend.  Apparently, he’s been doing this for many years.  Onk asked if he could pick “the ugly ones” of my stuffed animals to give away.

Have I mentioned to you guys that I have a massive collection of stuffed animals back in Thailand?  As in, when we renovated my room when I was 13, dad had built-in wall-to-wall 3-level shelves for my “friends”.  And yes, the shelves were stacked, some double layers, with stuffed toys.

I mean, as far as I know, growing up, I had more stuffed animals than anybody in my class, and possibly, more than anyone I knew.

My mom and I had talked about donating the stuffed animals for years. When I left home 15 years ago, mom had all of them wrapped up in clear plastic bags and cellophane to keep out the dust. I would come home to stay in my room, surrounded by my old friends.  Even when “my” room became mom’s walk-in closet in recent years, I would still go in to my room to at least say hi to the toys.

I mean, how can I not say hi to my old friends?  They have witnessed me growing up.  They were my confidants, my co-stars and captive audience, my guests at tea parties, my rescues and hapless victims need rescuing.  Among them was where my imagination grew and where I learned to keep my inner adult in check.  But I digress.

I have asked my mom to donate the majority of the stuffed animals, keeping only the sentimental ones many times. Same goes with my clothes I left behind. But she always said, not yet, not yet. My dad said deep down the stuffed toys and my clothes in the closet reminded her of me, and that was why she kept them.

Those stuffed toys gave me so much happiness growing up. Now that mom is gone, it is as good a time to share my joy with the less fortunate children just as I have meant to do all these years.

I gave Onk a list of the ones with sentimental values that I can recall off the top of my head. I told him if he actually sends me the picture of the shelf, I can tell him exactly who to be given away.  But in our case, I will have to have faith that my brother knows who gets to go to a new home.

And yes, I realize I called them “who”, not “which”. Hey, they were my childhood imaginary buddies. They will always be somebody to me.  In my mind, all the toys are just like in Toy Story.  They are alive when you’re not looking.  But I digress again.

It’s just strange not getting to personally say goodbye to some of them though.  I hope they would forgive me and learn to love their new friends as much as they have loved me all these years.