Alone. Toute seule. Marc is away at “boot camp” but really it’s commissioned officer training. No matter what you call it, the reality is: I’m alone for the first time since we were married and he’s off having someone toughening him up. What this really makes me feel is respect. So much more empathy, respect, and admiration for those men, women, and children who go through this, who went through it in the past, and who go through it often. As I was beginning to express my feelings about this on the 
phone, I have one friend who said that I was likely feeling pity, sadness, and thinking that the people who do this are sick and crazy for wanting to split their families up and subject themselves to this horror. Oh no. I completely disagree. Whether you disagree with the war or not, I think that the families who do this have their reasons and they aren’t dumb or irrational or less educated or have messed up judgment. No, I don’t think they deserve such harsh judgment. I do indeed respect them. For whatever reasons they are participating in the military, I honor them because it’s a sacrifice that many of us will never want to and may never have to undertake… we just don’t know what it’s like.
On a lighter note, I bawled myself to sleep for only 6 days after Marc left. Since then I have been coping quite well. The return to life in the “single” rhythm is quite fun! More dinners, random outings, less routine—at least for awhile. It was kind of refreshing to “do the girl thing.” Not that I want him gone again, but when he does have to go, I know that I can make do and find some positive things about it.
12 juin 2006, lundi
Elite fashion faux pas. There is just some
thing that I don’t understand. When you become a star, a model, a Hollywood belle, what happens? Is there just some wire in your head that snaps and all of the sudden some completely grotesque piece of ‘clothing’ becomes beautiful in your eyes? I mean, I think it’s possible that these people had or have good taste. But then, they come out in these ‘fashions’ that I KNOW are ugly. Everyone knows they are ugly! All the online commentary and trashy magazine opinion columns and ratings say so. Fellow stars and the most humble commoner can all recognize that some of these outfits are just hideous! So, do you think these people ALWAYS had bad taste? What about the classics? Avoiding trends? I don’t understand why when you have all these beautiful designers and you KNOW your body type and you’ve been cast into movies where you basically only wear beautiful clothes, that they can then strut out on the red carpet in something that… is… is just beyond belief. C’est incroyable! I really, truly believe that if I were to become a star someday that I would maintain a good sense of fashion. I do! I don’t think that just because you can buy more expensive clothes you have to buy ugly clothes! Why is one a prerequisite for the other? I mean, is there any actress… go ahead, scan the pictures online from MSN pictures or something… who has worn ONLY fashionable items? Every star has these flaws, these fashion faux pas. And usually not just one, but several! And these are clear mistakes, not just a pair of bad shoes or some gaudy fabric. No, these are total design disasters. I don’t understand it. Go ahead, check it out. Find me an actress who has worn FASHIONABLE clothes on the red carpet. I think Gwenyth Paltrow does decently… but even in her pics I’ve seen some very random, befuddling, beleaguered outfits.
15 juin 2006, jeudi
Study Rat! That’s right. Due to embarrassing unemployment I have subjected myself to becoming a human lab specimen, applying to be a volunteer in various clinical research studies. Despite the demoralizing fact that I am doing this because I’m not yet employed, there is a sense of adventure and risk. And money, which of course, is the motivational factor. Nothing like a summer after graduation to make you feel like a materialistic, money-mongrel—which I’m not! But, it’s just for these few months. One month only, actually. So, I’ve undergone a couple MRIs and am slated for 4 hours of diabetes screening blood-draws on Monday and a screening to participate in a pediatric anesthetic (I looked it up online, basically it’s a ‘date rape’ drug!) study on Tuesday. I’ve not and will not go to the extreme of selling my eggs, but I feel like this is certainly something that I can tell my children years from now: “Kids, when your mom finished grad school she was so poor that she had to get money by having her blood drawn for hours and hours, while fasting! Etc. etc.”
20 juin 2006, mardi
Schmooze. I just met a schmoozer. I don’t want to go into details, but sometimes I AM judgmental and these were the signs that I took to believe that this one individual was a schmoozer: big, body builder type fitting into a business suit, with sweeping hand gestures that always originated from the chest, namely the pecs; loud, booming voice; a sort of salesperson to the elderly; pronounced the word “idea” as “ideer” and “you” as “youse” during a public presentation; corny jokes.
22 juin 2006, jeudi
O
ne potato, two potato… three potato, four.
Potatoes… ate 5, or almost… because I’m the only one eating… because I’m the only one here!!! I made some roasted, seasoned potatoes tonight for dinner. To eat with a cucumber. The dinner of a bachelorette. Ho sic! (“good eats” in Chinese!)
23 juin 2006, vendredi
The War… the war…. It’s all over TIME magazine and also in The Economist. And on internet news. However, I’m ashamed to say that I know so little about the war in
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