5 Search Results for: the boy next door

Connecting the dots (The Boy Next Door)

When you are a preteen living in a new country, I would say there are many more concerns at hand than puppy love.  Let me make it clear this moment, I am not someone you could consider boy crazy. I was never that girl who was always thinking about dating, never was interested in having a boyfriend and was not one of the students at my all girl high school who would swoon over the presence of boys visiting from our brother (all boy) school just because they were male.  Besides, even in my own awkward stage, I knew that the skinny necked, lightly mustached guys in oversized shirts with greasy adolescent complexions were not going to cut it.  So not worth the heart palpitations.  Moving ahead. As I hit my junior year, simply adjusting to my life in a new country and making friends was more important to me than anything else.  I was also having a horrid time in chemistry which led to its own adventure one summer having to relearn the concepts …

Connecting the Dots: The Paper Boy

There is hardly a way to complete a succession of blog posts like my Connecting the Dots series in one fell swoop as I had foolishly deemed possible last February.  I don’t sit with a playback reel of my love (and lost) life constantly going in the background.  Life has its way of switching that projector on and off when it comes to thoughts of the people who shaped our love lives. That’s my opinion, at least. Once in a while there will come a trigger that brings to mind memories of past relationships. I don’t believe anyone who denies he or she ever experiences this.  It doesn’t have to mean there is anything unresolved.  I firmly believe like any life experience, the old feelings and emotions we lived through back then shape who we are for better or for worse.    Being the sentimental fool and writer I am, I often think about what happened in my life to make me staunchly stubborn about certain views while compassionate and non judgmental in others.  What conversation prompted …

Gira Polli Kind of Date

Confiding in a comrade who can tap into your mind with honesty, acceptance and humor is one of life’s true gifts. The rain came down so hard that afternoon I nearly reconsidered the trek from the city across the bridge. Dramanut and I were long overdue for a face to face, so I reminded myself though life is long, opportunities may be fleeting. Lunch in Marin was a small price to pay for a day with this date. We settled in at the cozy restaurant smelling of herbs and sauteed vegetables after the hugs and cheerful, “How are you’s?” and “So good to see you’s”. She’s the kind of girl who sets an alarm on her phone so there is no need to do a time check between hello and goodbye. Talks with girlfriends who are everyday counterparts to your therapist require a restaurant that is quiet but not too quiet, because even when nobody knows you, one must be mindful of the secrets she spills, whether silly or scintillating.  A casual comment here, followed by a curious question there, a keen observation afterwards, a gasp, a giggle, then a …

Snippets of My Week #8

What sits behind me. In Hayes Valley Miette Bakery is consistently stunning with their fully stocked jars of old fashioned candy and towers of perfectly packaged baked goods.  I like that it is difficult to take a bad picture in here because of their beautiful merchandising and interior details.  Whether or not I eat anything in here is besides the point.  It’s just a complete dream. Miette Bakery A short walk around the area brought me to Papabubble.  Producing all of their tightly designed candy in house, it smelled like sweet berries and cotton candy, prompting me to sample their kiwi and watermelon flavors, though I was allowed to taste my way through the shop if I wanted to.  You must come yourself to see the detail in each piece of candy. In stark contrast to Miette’s feast for the eyes, Papabubble’s minimal interior aesthetic still made a strong impact.  My favorite display is their little case here. Papabubble +++ At home I was staring at this for a little longer than I would have liked. …

Chivarly: Is it dead, or just different?

A lady shouldn’t have to light her own cigarette. Photo c/o BingImages. On the plane earlier this year I was in tears.  I was having a very emotional moment while working on a post and the tears just kept streaming down my face.  Luckily, I wasn’t gasping, sniffling, nor gulping, but wiping my cheeks and eyes from the constant stream that was running down my face, as bad as a water faucet, just saltier. I was thankful that my neighboring seat was empty and that I was surrounded  by men otherwise.  Not one of them would dare ask me if I was okay, which I guess I preferred.  If this were forty years ago, I thought, would one of them have offered me a handkerchief?  Would a mid century gentleman have called a flight attendant to check on me? On the shuttle to work each morning there are more and more employees and less and less seats available.  This private shuttle, full of well educated and professionally creative types, is stuffed to the seams with …