24 XI 2002 - 16:40 - nihil imbris

So the concert went reasonably well for a first concert. I don't want to talk about it yet. What's sad is that I'm sitting here half in, half out of my concert dress, half-wishing floodtide were here so I could flirt with him. Or something.

The demon guests that left about a month ago? Here's another reason I don't like them: I found out last night that one of them had suggested to my father that I be sent back to Taiwan for a bit of eyelid surgery.

A bit of context: most white people have double-folded eyelids. This makes their eyes pretty wide. Also, there's a double fold in their upper eyelid. For some odd reason, there is this thing with Chinese people (many of whom lack this double fold) where the double fold is attractive. Fine. I, being Chinese and mostly Han at that, lack the double fold. Therefore, my eyes look relatively closed when I'm not opening them wide.

Which is fine. I can accept this. I see fine (well, 'fine' has an odd meaning in this context since I need glasses, but you know what I mean -- it's not as if I look out and see eyelid at both edges of my vision). It does, however, annoy me that this guest -- guest! -- is suggesting that I go and surgically modify myself.

I mean, [russki] telling me that I'd look better with an earring I can deal with, because she's my friend, and because I know I can ignore her anyway. The eyelid-surgery suggestion, however, comes from a lady I don't like to begin with. Yes, I can still ignore her (and will), but the bristle factor just increased about a hundredfold.

In other news from the bass section, [lead] likes to make everyone feel nice, including me, but I'll leave it at that, and [the confused one] has been looking at me strangely ever since [galatea] nodded in my direction after he said, 'Yeah, but I don't think I know any gay people.' Not that we really know each other beyond name.

I'm babbling again. What shall I say? There was a series of about a dozen earthquakes this morning, the largest of which (about 3.9 on the Richter scale and centered around San Ramon, about 35 mi to the east) woke me up. No damage -- just enough to shake me awake and get me vaguely thinking it was an earthquake. I of course rolled over and went back to sleep (thereby discounting the thought that this was a foretremor, which it wasn't. Phew.)

I called last night about giving an extra ticket to [iskandar] and he called back this morning, sounding terrible, turning it down. Vague excuses, but I'm not irritated by that as much as I'm worried that he's coming down with something. Either that, or he's really not a morning person and got up anyway to call me back before I went to rehearsal, which was nice of him. Yes...

Best wishes go at the end of this entry to floodtide, who wrote me a note, signed my guestbook, and sent me an email to give the poem's excerpt (and was surprised, I don't know why, when I told him I'd found it the same way he had -- through John Irving), and also to Meena, who currently has a metal attachment looking very much like a big claw at the end of her left arm as the result of a rather unfortunate car accident.

And, because I am shameless and gakking from [bj], the following:

Baruch Atah Adonai, Eloheynu Melech ha-Olam, sheh-kacha lo b'olamo.