I’m not sure if I’m a workaholic. Of course, I have a major caffeine addiction, so I guess me being addicted to work isn’t that far fetched.

Since I’ve stopped working at the restaurant and started completely embracing my inner designer, I’ve been working nonstop. I know it’s probably not very healthy, but I love it. I love designing and making clothes. It truly is my passion. The only problem is that, on average, I’ve been spending about 12 hours a day working (9 hours on days I have school). I get a lot done when I work that hard. Yes, I don’t get as much sleep as I probably should be getting because I still have other things to do, but I can’t help it.

The harder I work, the more I get done. The more I get done, the more money I make. I really don’t need to be working this hard since I’m making more than enough money to pay for rent, bills, and other necessities, so I‘m not exactly sure why I‘m working so hard. Does it really seem like I’m turning (or already am) a workaholic because I’m having trouble believing it.

I wonder if they have rehab for this or workaholics anonymous because I probably should join. Since I highly doubt there is, I’m going to have to find a way to not work because I don’t want to work myself to death. That is why, on my honor, I am finally (I know I’ve been saying this) going to set up the Wii after I’m finished writing this. I have to do it because all work and no play might make Tina a bit loony.

I hit the jackpot!

Everyone’s playing on our slot machines, and no one has really won anything over $25. I haven’t really used it much, but I decided to put a quarter in it as I passed by. What happened? 843 quarters popped out. That’s $210.75. I know it’s really not that much money, but this is the most it’s given since we got them.

Indy just stood there with his mouth open as he watched in amazement. He’s been putting a few dozen quarters in each of those things every day since we set them up. The sound of the quarters falling was like music to my ears (mostly because I found it funny that I‘m the one that put the least amount of money in it). I’ve decided to put the quarter in a giant jar and display them for gloating purposes.

So, back to what I was originally going to write about before I hit the oh so wonderful jackpot that’s going to give me bragging rights for a while.

I’ve been getting better with my kenjutsu training, and I’m happy to announce that not once was I hit by the wooden sword yesterday. Of course, there were many close calls, and I didn’t really land any of my swings were they were supposed to, but at least I’m not getting completely bruised up like before. I’m glad because getting beat up by a little kid was embarrassing.

Besides my kenjutsu training, I’ve been really busy with work. At the Lord of the Rings wedding people’s engagement party, I got to meet all my potential clients. Honestly, I expected just a few people to request my services. I was wrong. I’m making everyone’s clothes for the wedding. The bride to be took me up on the stage where the band was playing and announced where I was going to be at so that everyone could come see me. I actually had a little station where everyone could come, get my business card, and set up an appointment. I was completely blown away.

So, here’s the grand total for the Lord of the Rings wedding:
3 outfits for the bride
3 outfits for the groom
41 elves (yes, they’re all planning on wearing prosthetic pointy ears)
29 humans
11 dwarfs (these people are somewhat short)
19 hobbits (five are little people and the rest are children)

Add them together and what do you get?
106 outfits.

Not everyone showed up to the party, but they called me and made an appointment. According to the bride, that’s everyone (at least I hope it is, because this is already a lot of work). I’ve met with three people already, and I’m meeting a fourth one today. I’m basically meeting one person a day for the next three months. So far, I almost have two of them done, and by the end of today, I know I’ll be done with the third. I’m feeling a little overwhelmed because it’s a lot of work, and I’m still going to be making clothes for my other clients. The good thing is that this is starting to get really easy for me and I’m working at a quicker pace so I’m getting things do pretty quick. The bad thing is that I’m turning into a bit of a workaholic. I can’t help it. I love what I’m doing, and I love that I get paid for it. To me, it’s the perfect job. I am definitely not regretting my decision to completely embrace this.

I guess you can say I’ve been pretty busy. So busy that I still haven’t set up the Wii.  Shame on me.   I think I’m going to that when I’m done writing this because I think it’ll do me good. I need it to distract me from working all the time.

I’ve been keeping myself super busy this week because I’ve been upset about my dad’s letter. I’ve been trying really hard not to admit it, but I’m hurt. In the past few days I’ve finished three dresses, a man’s business suit, two aprons to match my neon sign in the kitchen, a sweater, and a cute dress for me to wear at the Lord of the Rings wedding people’s engagement party tonight. I’ve also been giving a friend’s sister cooking lessons because she is a newlywed and has absolutely no idea how to cook. I’ve also been trying to get in as much time at Sensei’s place because I’m loving the Kenjutsu training (I’m finally blocking most of the swings so I’m not as bruised up as I was the first time I tried it) and because it‘s very peaceful there (except for when a crazy half Chinese half Japanese protégé of Sensei is coming at me with a wooden sword).  Besides all this, I've been working on the tons of school work my insane teachers have asigned (for some all my teachers this quarter don't have a nice gene in them).

I’ve been keeping really busy to avoid what I’m going to do right now, write my dad back. So far, this is what I have:

Dear Dad,
I got your letter. I’ve moved up one level so this is my new address.
Love,
Tina.

I’m not sure what else to write. I have a lot to say, but I’d rather not write it because I don’t want to ruin the progress they’ve made. So, that might be the only thing I write.

Besides the letter, something else I’m nervous about is the engagement party tonight. I have a hunch that I’m going to feel really out of place. Luckily, Indy is going with me so I won’t feel as uncomfortable. I’m also nervous because this is the first time I’m meeting so many potentially new clients at once. I know it’s going to be a lot of work, but I guess I’m excited about it.

Before we go tonight, I am determined to set up the Wii. We’ve had it for two weeks now and I still haven’t had a chance to set it up. I think it’ll be a nice distraction because I have a tendency to overwork. Now that I’m working from home, I haven’t really had a chance to stop in a while.

I was walking to Starbucks to get my oh so delicious giant cup of Mocha Frapuccino with extra mocha and I encountered a very unusual smell. I looked around and found a giant pile of dog poop. It was on a little patch of grass right in front of Starbucks. The smell was so strong that it made me feel queasy and I wondered if I could handle my giant Mocha Frapuccino with extra mocha. I wasn’t the only one that felt this way. Indy no longer wanted a drink either, and I noticed a lady almost get to the door then turn around and leave with a disgusted look on her face.

This made me think about a few things.

Were all the dogs that contributed to this giant pile of poop really organized? If not, had someone scooped them into a pile? Had the Starbucks people even noticed this giant pile of poop? If they had, why hadn’t they cleaned it up because it was obviously grossing out customers? Had one of the Starbucks people scooped up the poop into the unusually organized pile of poop? How on earth did this pile get so big?

Indy and I agreed that maybe Starbucks wasn’t a good idea at the moment. Now I am coffee deprived and my body is asking for caffeine. We ran out of coffee, but Indy is getting some at the store right now. Damn you caffeine addiction! Damn you giant pile of dog poop!

Never have I had a hangover as bad as the one I had this weekend.

On Saturday, we had the Vegas night celebration at our place in celebration of me officially starting my own home business (hope I haven‘t confused you too much). Earlier that day, I had opened the angry letter from my dad. When I’m upset, I keep myself busy. I know it’s kind of weird, but that’s what I do. I kept myself busy by cooking (for a few hours) ridiculous amounts of food for the buffet. Depending on what I cook, I sometimes use wine to give it a bit of flavor. I wasn’t really paying attention, and when I grabbed a bottle of wine I just saw the number 8 on it. I assumed it said 2008, so I figured why not serve myself a glass or two of wine while I cooked.

When I was done cooking and it was time to get ready, I felt the vino. I didn’t pay much attention because I didn’t think the two glasses did much. To let it pass a bit, a decided to stick to virgin drinks for a while once the Vegas celebration started. I ate, played a few rounds of poker, tried my luck on our noisy slot machine, mingled, etc. During this time I had two sour apple martinis, a two strawberry margarita, a cosmopolitan and a piñ a colada (all virgin). I figured having so many and mixing them was no harm because they contained no alcohol.

Then came my friend’s speech/toast/rant. They opened up a bottle of the bubbly and I got a glass because I thought the vino’s effects were long over. It was a good speech/toast/rant, and the ending made me laugh because she turned to me and said it with a serious. “With great, power comes great responsibility.” If you don’t know where that’s from, shame on you for not watching Spiderman. After that, they made me reintroduce myself as Tina Marie, fashion designer.

About five minutes (and one and a half glasses of champagne) later, everyone started to notice that I was getting really… giggly. They thought it was unusual because, except for the champagne, I had only stuck to nonalcoholic drinks. They turned to one of my friends who was the bartender for the night. Apparently, he thought virgin drinks meant drinks containing slightly less alcohol than they normally do. I might has well have drank a giant long island iced tea or two. It was off to bed for me shortly after that.

When I woke up on Sunday, I had a really, Really, REALLY bad hangover. I felt seasick on land and my head felt like a balloon blown up to it‘s max about to be popped. Indy came to me and showed me the bottle of wine that I had been cooking with (and drinking from). It didn’t say 2008 on it. It said 1988. Big mistake.

I stayed in bed (except for when I was about to be sick) under my covers with the blinds closed and my pillow over my ears all day on Sunday. Surprisingly, I woke up yesterday and I still felt pretty much the same.

So what did I learn?

• Always double check the year on wine bottles, and have others double check.
• If you’re asking for a virgin drink, make sure the bartender know what that means.
• Mixing drinks isn’t the best idea in the world.
• With great power, comes great responsibility.
• Despite what scientists think, it is possible to feel seasick on land.

I was right, the envelope from my father contained an angry letter.

I got up early this morning and headed straight for my sewing machine. I wanted to finish up with a custom suit for one of my clients before I got carried away with cooking and preparing for tonight. When I finished, I walked past the table and saw the still unopened letter. I wasn’t planning on opening it. It just kind of happened. I thought I was being irrational by assuming it was an angry letter. To my not so pleasant surprise, my assumptions were right.

The moment I read the first line of the letter I wanted to burn it then throw the ashes into a box and FedEx it to the Bermuda Triangle so an extraterrestrial of some sort could pick it up and take it to a galaxy far far away. I know it’s a weird image, but I wanted that letter to be as far away from me as possible and no place on planet Earth or on the Milky Way was far enough.

“Tina, your inconsideration towards us is unforgivable and we are appalled by your outrageous behavior.” That is the exact first line of his letter. Who writes to their daughter like that? What outrageous behavior? What inconsideration? The only thing I’ve done is not call when I got back from New York. Scratch that. When I got back from New York, I called twice and when they didn’t answer that’s when I decided not to call anymore because they never answer. I called, but I didn’t leave a message. So, I guess me not leaving a message after they once again didn’t answer pissed them off. Why would I leave a message? Between the time they moved to New York and my visit to New York, I left dozens of messages and not once did they call me back. I believe that’s inconsideration.

Something else that I also found very inconsiderate was me coming home after taking my last final and finding them packing because they were moving to New York in four days. I found out they knew about their move for two whole months and not once did they bother telling me what was going on. I’m pretty sure if I had gone away for the weekend, I would’ve come home to find an empty house and a for sale sign on the lawn. Oh wait, there wouldn’t be a for sale sign on the lawn because they had already sold the house to a family friend a week before I even found out they were even moving.

I don’t understand why they’re so angry with me. I have every reason to be upset. I’m hurt damn it. I’ve been trying very hard to pretend I’m ok from my trip to New York, but I not. They all blame me for making my mom sick. Yes, at 5 lbs and 12 oz I used my magical voodoo powers and cursed my mom with postpartum depression. Even when we were finally having that conversation in New York, my dad still thought it was my fault. He didn’t say he had a hard time warming up to me because my mom was sick, instead he said he had a hard time warming up to me because I made her sick. I can deal with the fact that she was sick, but I’m having a really hard time dealing with the fact that they all blame me for her getting sick. And I’m no even going to bother thinking about the other issue with me being born that they revealed because that will probably make me incredibly depressed.

This whole thing is making my head spin. By the time I finished reading my dad’s letter I felt like I had just survived a nuclear bomb inside of a refrigerator (kind of like Indiana Jones). I was relieved the letter was over, and I was surprised I hadn’t been disintegrated.

It took me a few moments to recover from the explosion (figuratively speaking of course), but I realized this letter is progress. Yes, it was an angry letter, but he had actually taken the time to write it and send it to me. Call me crazy, but I believe that’s progress. An angry letter is better than no contact at all (like my mom’s angry phone call last week).

I think I’m going to write back in a few days. It’s not going to be an angry letter. I’m going to inform them that I have moved up one floor and they have the wrong address and home phone number. I’m not sure what else to write yet (or if I’m going to write anything else), but I’m not going to write anything that could ruin the progress they have made.

Now I’m in a gloomy mood and I’m probably going to have a hard time enjoying the Vegas night celebration tonight, but I’ll do my best. The only thing left to do is cook because everything else is ready to go.

I can’t believe it. After tonight, I will no longer be waiting tables. I’m going to be going into business on my own. I feel like I should be feeling terrified, but I’m not for some reason (if that makes any sense). This feels like this is what I’m supposed to be doing. Hopefully, I won’t fall on my ass and do horribly (fingers crossed).

We were going to celebrate tonight, but we switched it to tomorrow instead because I get out of work kind of late and we don’t have everything set up. Everyone is going to get all dressed up and we’re going to have a good old fashioned Vegas night here at our place. We still haven’t set up the slot machines (but I think Indy is working on that right now), and the poker table is going to get pulled out tomorrow morning. I decided there’s going to be a buffet because I love the buffets in Vegas (and because I was very indecisive about what to cook so I figured I might as well cook a bunch of everything).

There’s no going to be too many people (just a few close friends) because I don’t want to feel crammed in here like last week for our house warming party.  Fuckety shit what was that noise? … I’m assuming the slot machine is operational because that’s what it sounded like… and apparently Indy won a quarter… and he’s ecstatic… which reminds me I have to go to the bank and get a whole bunch of roles of quarters… why is he so excited? It’s a quarter. He put in a quarter and the quarter he won was probably the quarter he had just put in… unless there were already other quarters in there… now I want to open it up and see.

Yes, I am finally getting business cards.

Last night, the Lord of the Ring wedding couple pointed something out to me. Their engagement party is next weekend, and I need to get business cards so the Middle Earthlings attending their wedding can contact me. I’m going and meeting a lot of the people next week at their party, but writing my name down on a piece of paper does seem tiring.

Up until this point, I’ve avoided getting business because I didn’t want to overload myself with work. Now that I’m almost done with working at the restaurant and I’m completely embracing this business, I think It’s time to get them.

I have a problem. When I came back from New York, I decided I was going to change my last name for various reasons. I still haven’t found the perfect last name, so I’ve decided (for now) to just drop the last name on the cards. I haven’t made up my mind about whether to put Tina (just my first name) or Tina Marie (my first and middle name) on the cards. I don’t know what sounds better. The guy that’s doing them for me told me that if I come to him by Monday with what I want, he can the spiffy cards done by Wednesday.

Now that I’ve contemplated my name for a while and still got nowhere, I think I should contemplate about whether or not to open the letter from my dad (aka: the other plunge I was alluding to). It is still sitting on my table and I’m scared to touch it because the image of an exploding envelope keeps popping into my head every time I get near it. I know my dad wouldn’t send me an exploding envelope, but you never can be too careful.

I know I’m postponing the inevitable opening of the letter, but I just don’t think I’m ready. The new delightful summer quarter started today and I wasn’t prepared for it. The break was way too short, and having an old grumpy lady breathe down my back for three hours wasn’t exactly fun. Tomorrow is my last day of work at the restaurant (technically my last day is Saturday but I have the day off so I don’t think it counts) and opening the ominous envelope might ruin it for me. Maybe I’ll be ready to open it on Saturday.

I finished putting all the new things in my kitchen (pots, pans, neon sign, incredibly annoying coo coo clock, etc.) and realized our fridge was almost empty. I made a list and went to the store. When I got back, the guy at the front desk in the lobby told me that an envelope had come for me yesterday in the mail but that it had been delivered to my old apartment so the lady now living there gave it to him. I was carrying a lot of bags, so I told him to just stick it in my purse.

I didn’t remember about the envelope until after I finished putting away all the food. When I took it out of my purse I was shocked by what I saw. It was from White & Case in New York, the law firm my father works for. I didn’t open it and it’s still on the table. I’m not sure I want to do with it. Part of me wants to put it through a shredder or throw it into an open flame because I am absolutely terrified of what might be in there. I’m pretty sure it’s going to be an angry letter scolding me for not calling them since I got back to LA (even though they didn’t contact me at all after they moved to New York). I don’t want this to be a repeat of my mom’s angry 4:30 in the morning phone call a few days ago.

I’m trying my best to view this letter the way I viewed my mother’s angry phone call: progress. Yes, this probably is an angry letter, but an angry letter is progress from no contact at all.  I really want my very delicate relationship with my parents to improve, so I have to be careful about how I view these things.

I don’t think I’m ready to open it, but I’m going to do my best not to put this off to long.

I came home from work last night and decided to finish as much of the Lord of the Ring wedding people’s engagement party outfits. I told myself I was only going to work on them for an hour or two, but I ended up working all night. I lost track of how many cups of coffee I’ve had after about the fifth one.

Around 5 in the morning I finished them. I tried going to sleep, but since I’ve had about a gazillion cups of coffee I’m wide awake. I have the night off so I don’t have to worry about going to work later (just in case I crash really bad). The Lord of the Ring wedding people aren’t coming to by see the finished garments until they get off of work. This means I finally get a few hours to enjoy (and finish setting up) what we got for our house warming shindig.

So far, we only have the pool table/foosball table/air hockey table thing set up. Oh ya, and we put up the ridiculously huge disco ball yesterday (so that‘s two things set up). My plan is to try to put up my neon sign for my kitchen, set up the Wii, and try to figure out where the hell we’re going to put the slot machines.

After that, I plan to enjoy some of our stuff because school starts again tomorrow and I need to make sure my last day of vacation is spent correctly. I’m only taking three classes this quarter because it’s the summer and the quarter system is insane enough as it is (and because I’m going to be working a lot).

I keep finding myself constantly going for another cup of coffee and I’m wondering if it’s possible to overdose on it… that would be tragic.

My friends are officially crazy. Indy’s friends are crazy too. They’re all crazy and I love them all to death. Of course, we now have no more room in our place because it’s crammed with stuff we go for our insane house warming party. Honestly, I expected to get a few pots and pans (everyone knows I love to cook) and maybe a few pairs of sheets or towels. That’s what I thought people gave other people for house warming parties. Sounds reasonable right? Wrong!

I went “shopping” with Indy for a while on Saturday to let my friend set everything up for the (not so surprise) surprise house warming party. I expected maybe about ten people to be there. I opened the door and there were about 45 people crammed into our loft (probably a really big fire hazard). It scared me. The “SURPRISE!!!” was a lot bigger and louder than I thought it was going to be. I almost got knocked off my feet because I was startled.

The first thing I noticed was the massive amounts of pizza that had just been delivered (I think if they had all gotten stacked up, they probably would’ve been as tall as me). The second thing I noticed was the mountain of presents piled up in a corner. I couldn’t help but notice some of them where really big (for a second I thought they were empty boxes piled up to make the stack look bigger).

After eating tons of pizza, ice cream and jello, it was time to open presents. When people went to get their presents, I quickly realized why some of them were so big. People had teamed up with others in order to get bigger presents.

So what did we get? A little bit of everything. I got a whole new set of kitchenware, which I absolutely loved because I love cooking. I also got a few things for the kitchen that were from someone else but I love them just as much.

Yes, Hello Kitty makes kitchen appliances. I got the Hello Kitty toaster (her face gets toasted onto the bread), the waffle maker (the waffle comes out in the shape of her face), the water dispenser (which immediately got used with something else that wasn’t water), and the popcorn maker (it has a built in butter well thingy so I can easily welt butter for the popcorn).

Another favorite gift of mine is this baby:

Finally! We’ve been looking for weeks and they’re always sold out. Ever since Indy brought home the giant plasma I’ve been more determined to get one because playing something on a big screen seems like a lot of fun. My friend told me she got up really early with her sister on the day they were shipping them and waited two hours in line with other people who wanted a Wii (I can't believe people still have to do that in order to get one).  We also got four remotes with wireless nunchucks and the Wii Fit.

My next gift made me laugh because it’s something I’ve always secretly wanted. A stripper pole (I couldn't help but notice Indy's eyes light up when he saw waht it was). I think it’s awesome. It’s portable so I can set it up anywhere and put it away when we have people over.

I opened up all the gifts from my friend before we got to the one’s from Indy’s friends. Among the rest of the gifts from my friends were nice sheets and towels, cute decorations, a neon sign that says Tina’s kitchen, a coo coo clock, Grey’s Anatomy of the Human Body (the book not the TV series), and never ending piles of DVD collections.

When it was time for the presents from Indy’s friends, they spilt up into five groups. They explained they wanted to get cool things but since they were kind of pricey they split the cost.

The first group gave us a disco ball. I’m not talking about a little disco ball that you hang up by a string and spin it whenever you feel like watching lights reflect off the mirrors. This thing was a 20 inch disco ball complete with the spinning motor thingy for it to hang of off and two spotlights. What the hell do we need a giant disco ball for? I don’t know but I think it’s awesome.

The second group (a few of the guys I had wiped out in a game of poker a few days ago at our place) gave us a poker table. This was a nice poker table that sat eight. The good part about it is that the legs fold in so it doesn’t have to be out all of the time. It’s pretty big so it would be a bit of an inconvenience to always have out even though I love poker.

The third and fourth group of guys came up together. They each gave us a present to open because they said they were pretty much the same thing at it would be better if we opened them at the same time. What did we get? Two slot machines. One was one of those skill stop slot machines and the other was a video poker slot machine. For a second I thought they had stolen them from a casino, but they couldn’t have or else they’d probably be in jail by now. They told us they got them from an auction they went to last week and gave us the papers showing that’s where they got them from. By this time I was thinking why we would every have to go to Vegas when we had everything here.

We got our last present from the fifth group. It was a big one. It was a 3-in-1 Foosball, Pool, and Air Hockey thingy. If anyone has a chance to get one, I highly recommend it. The thing kind of looks like a regular table (four legs and all), but the table top can rotate. It comes in the shape of a triangle so when you get bored of one of them, you just flip it a little and you can play something else. It’s easy change tabletops, and it’s a lot of fun. I think it’s a space saver because we would have absolutely no room if all of them were separate.

I’m still amazed over what we got, but surprisingly, I’m not that surprised. Yes, I was surprised as in wow surprised, but not surprised as in I can’t believe they did that (if any of this makes sense to you, I comment you and give you an A in Tinaism). They’re a special bunch and pitching in together to get better presents makes sense to me (I think it's also because they had about a month to figure out what they were getting so that leaves a lot of time for plotting). I don’t understand why people don’t do that more often. Yes, we got less presents, but I like the ones we got.

On Sunday, Indy and I got up early. He had to go to work, and I had to work on two dress orders (from the ladies who came to find me at the restaurant) before I had to go to the restaurant. We were busy all day, so we couldn’t set anything up until yesterday. We’re still not done, but we have to finish soon because people keep calling since they want to come over to see everything. 

I wonder if there’s a way to rig the slot machines so they don’t give visitors any money because that's a good way to make money off them always being over and eating my food.

My Forth of July was filled with a lot of hot dogs, water slides, drunken blabber, and fireworks, and even more blabber from Randy Newman.

I tried sleeping in, but it didn’t happen. I was up and working on the engagement party outfits for the Lord of the Ring wedding people by 8:30. I couldn’t help myself. I knew I would be out all day, and I had to at least get something done. I worked on them for about two hours then I got ready for my friend’s Fourth of July Barbeque that seemed to get more insane every year. I put on my cute stars and stripes bikini (doesn’t hurt to be patriotic) and put on some short shorts and a tank top (I didn’t want to boil to death). We called a cab (no sense in even trying to drive later).

We go to my friend’s house and immediately went for three hotdogs and a hamburger because I was starving. While I ate, I took a seat in front of the stage and watched the little kid’s talent show. It lasted an hour (and what an entertaining hour it was). During that hour there were two kids that ran off stage crying, one that announced on the microphone that she just peed herself, three that forgot the words to the song they were singing, and one that started crying on stage because he didn’t want to be up there. They were all adorable and put on a good show.

When it was done, I ran to help set up the hotdog eating contest on stage. Was I going to enter the contest? I wanted to, but I was needed for hosting purposes. I introduced the ten contestants and got the contest started. A guy threw up after five hotdogs and I wanted to laugh (actually, I think I did). Two more threw up after him. After three minutes of rapidly downing hotdogs, a winner immerged. My friend’s uncle had eaten 25 hotdogs in the three minutes.

A water balloon tossing contest (and a crazy unexpected water balloon fight) followed. By the time everyone finished bobbing for apples, the unsafe yet incredibly fun water slide down the side of a hill was ready to be used. I was the first to strip down to my bikini and slide. I went down the water slide a few times then sat on the sideline on a lounge chair drinking something that definitely wasn’t fruit punch. The sound of incoherent drunk people trying to sing on stage caught my attention, so I went to see the drunk karaoke singing. It was hilarious. People sang their hearts out and made absolutely no sense at all. Everyone decided it was my turn to get on stage and I was a little worried because the fruit punch was starting to get to me. The words to Girls Just Want to Have Fun popped up on the screen and I couldn’t help but laugh because I felt the words were moving by too quickly and I was having trouble remembering the words.

Shortly after embarrassing myself on stage, we took a cab home so we could get ready to go to the Hollywood Bowl. I napped for about half an hour then jumped in the shower and got ready. We once again called a cab and picked up my friend and her boyfriend on the way to the Hollywood Bowl. Because we had Garden Box seats, food was waiting for us the moment we arrived. We had a lot of fun (and I think the bubbly we were drinking made everything more entertaining). The Dodgers were celebrating their 50th anniversary or something and there were a few players there, Randy Newman’s singing was funnier than ever (to me it sounded like some of the drunken babble I had heard earlier), and the fireworks were amazing. By the end of the night, I was exhausted and had no problem falling asleep.

I thought I was going to wake up hung over this morning, but I didn’t (and neither did Indy). I have to get ready to “go shopping” for a bit because we have to be out of here so they can get everything ready for our surprise house warming party that I’m not supposed to know about (I always end up finding out about these things so it‘s never really a surprise). I found out they’re doing it now (even though we moved in here over a month ago) because this is the first chance they’ve had to do it. When we first moved, my brother came and then he made me sad, then I stayed sad for a while, and then I went to New York and got even sadder, but now I’m ok. So, I guess it kind of makes sense that they’re doing this now (although technically we just moved a floor up into a better apartment/loft so there really wasn’t a lot of moving).

It was 4:30 in the am and my damn phone started ringing. At first I thought I was dreaming, but then I felt poor Indy almost fly out of bed because of the abrupt wakeup call. I reached over, half asleep, and answered my water bottle. By the time I realized that there was nobody on the other end of the water bottle, the phone stopped ringing. I just threw the water bottle off to the side and cuddled up next to Indy again. I immediately started falling asleep. Two seconds after I started drifting off into to dreamland, the phone rang again. I reached over and answered the phone but quickly realized it wasn’t the landline that someone was calling. It took me a few tries, but I finally found my cell phone on the nightstand. When I answered it, I heard my mother’s voice on the other end of the line.

“Tina! Why haven’t you called?! We haven’t heard from you in over two weeks! What’s wrong with you?! The last time we heard from you was when you left our place and that was over two weeks ago! Something could’ve happened to your plane we wouldn’t have known about it! You could be dead and we wouldn’t even know about it! Tina, what’s wrong with you?! You haven’t even called any of your brothers and sisters in the past two weeks either! Tina?! Tina?!?! Tina?!?!?! Are you listening to me?!”

My instincts told me to hang up the moment I heard her voice, but I didn’t. I just listened to her while a million things went through my head. I wondered why my mother would be upset about not hearing from me in two weeks. When my parents unexpectedly moved to New York, I didn’t hear from them at all. I didn’t hear from them for months. If I hadn’t gone to New York to find them, I would still have no idea if they were even alive. So, her being mad at me for not contacting them after getting back home made absolutely no sense at all. I didn’t call because I gave up with calling. Whenever I called my parents or siblings, they never answered. I left a message every time, and they never called me back. So, why was she so upset? I really didn’t make any sense to me. I’m the one that should’ve been upset. First of all, it was 4:30 in the morning. Second of all, this was the first time she was calling me since they moved to New York. Third of all, the last time I talk to her was in their spiffy apartment/condo thing in New York where she revealed that she had wanted to end my life before I had even started it. I was thankful she didn’t, and I really wasn’t angry at her for it, but I was angry about her calling me at 4:30 in the morning to yell at me.

All this exploded through my head at once in one very painful headache. Did I say any of what was going through my head? No. I just said, “I’m fine mom.” That was it. I figured why mess up the progress she was making. What progress was this? Well, despite everything, this was the first time she had actually picked up the phone and called me since she left. Yes, she was calling to yell at me because she was mad, but that didn’t change the fact that she was calling. I know a lot of people would’ve probably hung up or started yelling back, but I didn’t see the point. My relationship with her was delicate enough as it was (especially since it was pretty much shattered when I talked to her in New York), so why mess it up more.

Once she finished her senseless yelling, she said she was late for work and hung up. This lovely phone “conversation” got me thinking. I lost my desire to sleep and went to the living room to think so Indy could sleep without further interruption. Before I started my contemplating, I made a giant pot of coffee. Delicious, over caffeinated, addictive coffee. On my way to the living room with my mouthwatering coffee, I grabbed a blanket. I wrapped myself up and started sipping… and thinking.

I didn’t want to focus on the fact that my parents wanted to… get rid of me. It was clear that they hadn’t wanted anymore children and they would’ve done it if they had come to each other sooner with it. It hurts me to think about it, but the important thing is that they let me live. I snapped myself out of it because I didn’t want to think about it. Next thought. I started thinking about my mother’s Postpartum Depression. Did my family really blame me for making my mom sick? Yes. My brother had blurted it out, and my parents had confirmed it. I felt sorry that they felt that way, but I didn’t understand why they held it against me. Did this always happen with the children of Postpartum depression? Everyone always talks about the mother who is suffering through it. I can understand why, but no ever seems to talk about the children. What happens? Does the child become more loved because of it or cast aside like I was (and still am). I know my family is uniquely and insanely dysfunctional, but I’m sure there’s at least someone else out there like me (or at least going through a similar case like me). Do they despise their family because of the way they’re being treated? I know I don’t. I love my family (despite the way they treat me), and nothing can change that. Does that make me a freak of some kind?

I was so wrapped up in my thoughts that I didn’t notice Indy when he came out of the room. He sat down next to me and nearly scared me half to death when he reached over to get a sip of my coffee. I wondered why on earth he was up at 5:30 since he didn’t have to work for another six hours or so. He explained that he couldn’t sleep because he knew something was bothering me and he didn’t want to go through it alone. We talked for a while and then he went out to get breakfast so I wouldn’t have to cook. He brought back breakfast from McDonald’s. Days like today make me really glad I have Indy.

I came home last night from work and found Indy and a few of his friends sitting around our table and playing poker. I said hello and made some snacks for them because I was hungry and I could tell they were too. When I put them on their table Indy asked me if I wanted to play. I didn’t want to intrude in Indy’s fun, but when I heard his friend say that I was a girl so I probably didn’t know how to play, I had to prove him wrong.

Indy knew I was good at poker and laughed as he gave me a few of his chips. I won right off the bat with a high straight. Indy’s friend was surprised and everyone laughed. We played for about half an hour until I wiped everyone out (apparently men find it hard to fold even when they have a crappy hand). I had proven his friend wrong. Before they left, Indy’s friend’s officially invited me to their next poker session. I was proud and happy.

Last night I was going over some numbers and I realized something. I have the $50,000 to pay off my student loan once I graduate next year! I’m excited. I honestly thought I was going to be farther away that I hoped to be because of my Trip to New York (and because of the Jag and other things I‘ve been buying). I guess working my ass off really does pay off. I’m putting the money away in a CD so I won’t have to worry about me touching it until next year.

I think this is cause for celebration. I’ve done a lot this past month that I’m proud of and I feel like celebrating. I went to New York and found my parents (even thought they broke my heart), took on a really big job with lots of clients, put in my two weeks notice at restaurant so I could dedicate myself fully to my passion, and finally saved up enough money to pay off my student loan when I graduate (which means I put myself through college all by myself).

I have Friday and Saturday off (and so does Indy) so I have a lot planned. Friday morning I’m sleeping in then going to a Forth of July barbeque at a friend’s house (hot dog eating contests, drunk karaoke singing, and unsafe waterslides down the side of a hill included). Then we’re going to the Hollywood Bowl at night where we will be in really good Garden Box seats and see fireworks, a few Dodger players, and Randy Newman (the main reason we decided to go was because I find Randy Newman’s voice funny). On Saturday, I guess there’s a surprise belayed house warming party (even though we got the new apartment/loft over a month ago) for me and Indy that I’m not supposed to know about.

Something revolutionary (at least for me) happened last night. I was waiting tables at the restaurant and two ladies dressed in business suits were at one of my tables. When I went up to them to introduce myself, and get their drink orders, they completely took me by surprise. They asked me if I was Tina. I was confused but just smiled and said yes. They explained that a colleague of there’s had me make a dress and they were wondering if I could make one for each of them to for an upcoming event they had to attend. First of all, I was shocked they even knew who I was and what I did (besides waiting tables to lovely Beverly Hillians who sometimes had an attitude). Second of all, I was in complete disbelief when my coworker told me they had waited an extra hour just so they could sit at one of my tables because they wanted to ask me something.

I served them their food and gave them my information so they could contact me. They told me they already had it but came to talk to me at the restaurant because they felt it would be rude to come straight to my place. At that moment, I thought of something. I felt like I should give them a business card, but I didn’t have any. Until this point, my “business” was pretty much advertised by word of mouth. I never felt the need for business cards because I didn’t want a lot of people to know what I did or else it could get out of hand. I was working at a restaurant and going to school so that didn’t leave a lot of time for making clothes. Then, it hit me. Why was I still working at a restaurant? Yes, I got a decent amount of money for working 30 hours a week. Yes, the tips were really good. Despite this, I didn’t want to wait tables. My passion was making clothes. I was misusing 30 hours of my week. Instead of waiting tables I could using the time to make clothes. But was I making enough money making clothes to leave my job at the restaurant? Yes. With all the clients I was getting lately, I was making the money I made in a month at the restaurant (tips included) in just one short week.

When I got home, I started talking to Indy about what had happened. He asked me the same thing I had asked myself, “Why are you still working at the restaurant?” Why was I still working at the restaurant? I didn’t need the job there anymore. It was actually an inconvenience working at the restaurant. I was getting more and more clients, and having to stop everything so I could go wait tables at a Beverly Hills steak house wasn‘t helping. It was only slowing me down. I was going to need more time anyways because I had to clothe practically all of Middle Earth for the Lord of the Rings themed wedding. That’s going to be a lot of work, and I have no intention of refusing my other clients service because of it.

I stayed up thinking most of the night, and I decided I’m going to put in my two weeks notice today. I’m going to embrace my inner designer. (But I still have no idea what the Lord of the Rings lady meant when she said I should embrace my inner elf.)

I got beat up by a little kid with a wooden stick. Yes, I know that’s pretty pathetic.

I went to Sensei’s place today to pick up his great-grandson and a few of his friends who were also being trained by Sensei because I promised to take them to see Kung Fu Panda. I had already seen the movie twice and enjoyed every minute of it. I figured I’d ask Sensei if he wanted to go too because he’d like it (and because I knew it would be hard to keep track of so many half Chinese half Japanese little kids). I knew he’d enjoy the movie as much as I did because Po (the panda) would probably remind him of me. I know, how could a short and tiny blonde haired girl possibly remind anyone of a panda with Jack Black’s voice. Well, I’m clumsy (just like Po), and my training just so happened to be a bizarre accident gone right. Another funny resemblance is that Po is the dragon warrior and Sensei always refers to me as the little dragon because I am little and because I was born in the year of the dragon.

I got there a little early and watched them finish their Kenjutsu training. I have to admit, I was a little jealous that these little kids got to be trained in the Japanese art of swordsmanship. I always thought it looked cool and thought it would be something nice to learn. I watched for about half and hour before Sensei called for me. He had noticed my interest. At first I was confused when he handed me one of the bokken, but I quickly realized what was happening when he pushed me towards one of the kids. I didn’t know exactly what to do, but I was scared because I didn’t want to accidentally hurt the kid. Little did I know that I was the one that was going to be getting hurt.

The kid caught me by surprise and instantly hit me on the shoulder. The second time, I managed to block a few of his swings, but I still got hit on the side. The kid swung the wooden sword pretty hard and it hurt. I got hit a few more times, but each time I managed to block a few more swings than before. I didn’t want to swing at him, so I kept getting hit over and over.

Sensei noticed I was scared to take a swing at the kid, so he called over his nephew Yasashiku - my arch nemesis. Personally, I believe he was misnamed because if I’m not mistaken, his name means polite and gentle in Japanese. He is neither. We have a mutual dislike for each other. He hates me for being the only non half Chinese half Japanese person his uncle decided to train, and I loathe him for being an arrogant jerk. Yasashiku came straight at me and got me right on the side of my neck. For a second I thought he had knocked me out. When I snapped out of it, I took a few swings at him. I didn’t manage to get him, but at least I tried. Once I got hit again, Sensei told him to stop. I was glad because I was completely bruised up and sore. He helped me up, and in his Yoda like speech said, “On this skill, we will have to work”. Did this mean I was going to get some kind of Kenjutsu training? I don’t know, but I wanted to laugh because it was funny when he talked like that (which was pretty much always because his English isn‘t exactly his forte).

We all went to see Kung Fu Panda (including Yasashiku) and laughed our socks off. The only thing I’m still curious about is what kind of animal Master Shifu is.

Yesterday I called the Lord of the Ring wedding people and told them I was going to take the job. I know this might get a little out of control and there might be a lot of work, but I think it’ll be a good experience (not to mentioned it‘s guarantied $$$$$ and that‘s always welcomed).

They asked me to go over yesterday afternoon to show them my sketches because a few things were going to be slightly changed from the original costumes in the movies. Their whole house had a Lord of the Rings vibe. It wasn’t tacky either. I could tell that they spent a lot of time and money in order to achieve such a unique look. I got a tour of their house and learned a lot about Middle Earth. When it was done, I showed them my sketches and they approved. Before I left, the lady had one request. She said when I worked on her outfits that I should embrace my inner elf and the garment will come looking beautiful. I have absolutely no idea what that meant, and I hope that she didn’t say that because I was short. But unlike Santa’s elves, the elves in Lord of the Rings are tall. So I guess that wouldn’t make much sense.