The Knowing-Doing Gap

I am not stupid. But sometimes even when I know what is good for me, and I choose it, I instinctively do the complete opposite. I scream at myself on the inside, but you'll see me smiling my way through a bad decision. With charm. And teeth.

For some people, it's reaching out for that ice cream even when they're doing really well on their diet. For others, it's procrastination on an important assignment even though the TV show is pretty boring.

And for me, it's going down the path of least resistence when relationships are on the line. Then I waver. Seesaw. Teeter. Toter. Eventually, I choose what I feel is right and stick to it. By that time, I'm dizzy and nothing makes sense anymore. And I'm stuck.


I hate choosing sides.

Gosh. Sorry. It's hard to love me.

That was my excuse

Jody, recently joined Model United Nations (MUN) at school, a club where kids apply their knowledge of current issues in simulated UN settings. MUN was my big college obsession, so I cannot help but hover a little bit. To help her get started, I send her links for foreign policy articles and set up weekly calls to discuss them.

Yesterday, after a spirited discussion on China and Russia's vetoes of the draft resolutions regarding the Syrian crisis -

Jody: Thanks, Sisi. I really like these calls.

Me: So, is there a particular topic that you want to cover next time? Balance of power in Asia? The differences of peacekeeping, peacemaking, and peacebuilding? A little Security Council background?

Jody: Or you can just tell me how work is going.

Me: . . .

Jody: Sis, you do know that you don't need an excuse to call me right?

Me: What do you mean?

Jody: It's simple. We're sisters.

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Wow. She's eleven and she takes charge of her relationships. I need a little more of that.

Similar height. But not for long. 

Don't Embargo My Love

Never thought I would spend Valentine's Day with the guy whom I just wrote an aggressive blog post about (whom? who? ugh).

But that's how karma works I guess.

A good friend of mine in the HR department wanted to do dinner with me since her boyfriend lived in another city. She also invited sales guy along. I didn't know. So we ended up sitting in an awkward triangle, with flickering romantic tea lights in the middle. He grilled me about my dad's job, my passports, and the guy who walked me to work one day. My friend and I kept smirking at each other over our spicy Thai noodles. Towards the end, I wasn't even sure who was the third wheel - sales guy, HR girl, or me. Probably me.

I enjoyed myself, oddly. Sales guy left me alone, channeling his predator instincts towards the gaggle of shy, single girls at the speed dating event at our mall.

So, sales guy upstairs, I guess this is my way of saying that you're ok.

And hopefully nothing else noteworthy will happen that will make me blog about you again.

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This made me smile yesterday. It reminded me of kindergarten. Or of college.

An overly aggressive open letter to the guy in the sales dept.

You work upstairs. I work downstairs.

You drive me absolutely nuts. To the point where I don't even want to go to the upstairs office.

The worst part of it is I don't know why I let you affect me so much. You have never done anything to me except sneak photos of me with your shiny new phone once in a while (did you delete those 4 photos of me that I found on your computer??). And there was that time when I fell off my chair because I reacted impulsively when I sensed that you were reaching out to touch my cheek. It's ok. I was just clumsy. But please, next time, no need to help me up, and then speculate on my bra color just because I had buttons on the back of my shirt.

Others simply rolled their eyes whenever you started your whole sucking up routine. But most of the time, I was just in awe. How did you say everything with a straight face? But then I scrutinized you yesterday and I thought, shoot, this guy really seemed to believe every exaggerated thing that came out of his mouth. An essential salesperson characteristic?

Yes, I did not like how you dropped your entire sales proposal on my lap just because I offered to help out. It was extra tough swallowing your passive aggressive insinuation that I wasn't working hard enough because I refused to continue to work on your proposal over my holiday break in the Maldives, especially when you handed me the project the day before my flight. But I was mainly resentful because I actually did spend a whole night tossing, wondering if you were right and that I was just complaining like a girl and not getting the thing done. 

And yet -

There was the time when I curled up in the corner of the stone platform in front of the office building, aching, while talking to my sister on the phone, and you came and gave me some paper napkins left over from your lunch. Even though they looked suspiciously used, I still appreciated that you saw me like that and didn't bring it up again.

Now that I've somewhat articulated this pent up -- ugh -- something, I just want to let you know that I've finished the proposal. You'll find it in your inbox tomorrow morning.