What’s worse than getting bitten is not knowing what bit you.
“How did you get that plate?” I asked a girl in a white business suit—whose attire almost didn’t fit in the casual dress code of the tech event.
She smiled and said that she was always looking for caterers for dinner parties. “The caterer got me a special plate.”
My friend and I paused, nodding. Then she stuck her hand out, “I am Alyssa.” We both shook her hand, introducing ourselves.
She told us what she did. She was a partner and had the ability to work anywhere in the world. “I was just in Morocco two weeks ago. All I need is an Internet connection. I basically can take 6 weeks anywhere I want.”
I suddenly had stars in my eyes—fantasized with the job. She continued with all the exotic locations. We had more small talk. Then during a lull in the conversation, she suddenly said, “I am going to get a drink. It was good meeting with you.”
My friend turned to me quietly, “She was so full of it.”
“You are stupid. You are an idiot. You’re the dumbest person I know.” he relayed what his mom said after he accidentally got another parking ticket over a trivial less than 30 seconds late to the meter.
Tears wanted to run down my face.
Secretly, I am glad my parents aren’t like that, but tears want to come for the one whose are like that.
I am almost appalled at myself.
A homework assignment. Math. Due in an hour.
It was ominous. They knew didn’t they. I could swallow my embarrassment, bite the bullet. In the class, I’ll have an innocent look on my face as students around me pass up their perfectly printed paper blue and white.
It’s not my fault.
I’ll pretend it didn’t happen and it’ll go away right?
I wake up
“You were quiet and sweet,” she said in response to why we were talking now. I could see she wasn’t lying, but they were words I always heard so often describing me. As if they were descriptive words for everyone by default.
I became slightly flustered. Having lunch with a high school classmate, I had intended to prove for once that one can’t expect a friendship just because two people went to the same high school. In high school, she was part of the outgoing crowd, the water polo team, the in crowd. I was a loner, quiet, antisocial…and almost an outcast, but not quite.
But I had insisted that we meet in person after she added me on facebook and then emailed me asking whether we could exchange birthdays because she loved sending handmade cards (and her birthday was in 2 weeks and we both know that our birthdays are posted on the facebook profile). I needed to figure out this friendship then pretend that we were always friends.
And after lunch, I found myself warming up to her. Sometimes they say with time, you forgive. For me, I think I have forgiven, but it’s impossible to forgive when I haven’t forgotten.
Lately, I have been receiving a lot of spam comments, obviously generated by robots. The comments vary from links to various sexual enhancement sites to just simply annoying random text.
As a dutiful blogger, I wanted to rid such comments and headed to my cpanel to block those ip addresses. I put in cpanel after my domain in the address bar and typed in my username and password.
Okay, maybe I mistyped something.
I carefully looked at my keystrokes.
Ok, calm breaths. I started wondering if someone hacked into my site. It had been a horrible laborious process last time and my blog site is full of information I would rather not lose.
I headed over to my password list that I kept. Perhaps my memory has forgotten the password? But no, since it was a very important password to me, I didn’t keep it there. Plus I had this account since 2003 and started my password list in 2004.
Perhaps the password was in my email? But wait, that was on my desktop PC from college. The one that I haven’t used for almost 2 years. The account information was sent to my berkeley address.
PANIC. I didn’t want to go through filing a ticket through the helpdesk. I am sure my password was right, RIGHT?
I decided to check my other website to make sure my password hadn’t changed there. Then as I was starting to type in the address bar, I realized that I had typed jennsim.com rather than jennism.com. She’s a cool photographer and blogger at least.
Then I corrected my spelling and got to my cpanel happily.
He can stand alone too.
Always so cute.
And it was 2 years after the last time I took a picture of the very same bench