So last night, I got into a car accident with rockstar baby in the car! We were literally two blocks away from our house when I decided to make a left turn at an intersection --from the right lane. You see, we were traveling northbound on a two-lane, one-way street. I was on the right lane, and the car I hit was on the left lane. For some insane reason, I forgot all about the fact that I was on a one-way street. What I did was look for oncoming traffic to make the left, totally forgetting about the other lane next to me! So I turned and smacked into another car. Lucky for her, she saw me in time and swerved. The only point of contact was the right side, tail end of her car against the left front of my car (towards the headlights). Both cars suffered just scratches and no dents. But of course, the whole thing was scary (and could've been much worse. I prefer not to dwell on the what-could-have-been-worse part). Rockstar baby was fine and didn't know anything happened. But I was freaking out on the inside to think of how irresponsible I was. I mean, I've traveled down this same road since 2001 and last night, I just blanked out and made a left turn!
The lady I hit totally yelled and screamed. Even after I said "I'm at fault, I'm sorry. Let's just call the police." I understand the whole yelling and screaming thing. I probably would've done the same thing. However, she started yelling again while we were waiting for the police! She actually approached my window just to yell at me, and while I was holding the baby. Puh-leaze! I had to tell her 5 times NOT to yell and that it wasn't necessary to yell. The whole time, I said about only 5 sentences to her (incorporating the request not to scream at me).
The good thing was the cop who helped us out could totally tell the lady was being such a beeyatch. He even said he talked to her about being more civil and not to worry that much about the accident. It happens, mistakes happen, he says. He was nice, and helped make the whole ordeal easier.
But I must say, it sucks being the one at fault at a car accident. This is my 4th car accident and the first one in which I was at fault (the other times, people hit me). I mean my mind was and is still filled with "I-should've-done-this" scenarios, "what-if" scenarios, and worrying about what a terrible mom I was for putting the kid in danger. I don't care if I get hurt. Now, it's all about the baby. I'm definitely still reeling over this even though I may sound flippant about the whole situation.
But that was that. Later that evening, I actually had to play at a gig. I really contemplated on not going and just mope at home. But I figured I have to move past the accident and that the show must go on. So while I was actually scared to drive, I went and made it to our 10 pm show at The Annex. It went well and we were quite happy with the sound levels in general; considering I was using a 30-watt amp, I thought it came out well.
Also, we actually recorded the show for the first time. You can hardly see our faces, but I'm the one on the left. I was crap and sang quite shittily (is that a word?) but the show must go on... Here are some clips from last night's show:
Labels: music, musings/personal stories
I haven’t written about my RSB in a while, but I keep meaning to. I know most people won’t find this especially interesting, but as a mom, I feel compelled to write about his growth and development. It really is amazing to watch this tiny little creature grow into an actual person right before your eyes. So here goes:
- I love watching him eat a cracker. He holds it with his cute little hands and takes 2 or 3 delicate little nibbles –then he just starts chomping at it. So it’s really “nibble, nibble, nibble, chomp, and then shove-the-remaining-piece in my mouth.” Or if he doesn’t cram the rest in his mouth, he’ll throw it on the floor and then stomp on it. And then he laughs about it. Hilarious! Of course, the cleaning up of the crumbs is not hilarious. We say no to the stomping but he just finds that hilarious.
- RSB knows his shoes. He can tell his outside shoes from his indoor shoes, and has preferences for which shoes to put on. He will yell and put up a fight until you put on the shoes he wants. I just bought him the cutest kicks a week ago and he loves them. They are Geox sneakers in a blue, orange, cream combo and they’re meant for early walkers. Whenever he sees them, he’ll pick them up, bring ‘em to you, and indicate that he wants them. Sometimes he's even say "this! this!" If you try to put on a different pair, he’s continue to yell at you and put up a fuss. Ye gods. Shoe connoisseur? I am worried.
- RSB loves dogs. He has a little toy puppy that barks when you press its tummy. He’ll pick it up and give it to you and go “oof, oof” (or some variation therof) which indicates that he wants you to make the dog bark (he can’t do it on his own yet). He also loves videos of dogs we find on YouTube and will sit there and watch for a good 15 minutes. He’ll be actively pointing and making observations.
- RSB discovered he could walk backwards a few days ago. It’s a cool parlor trick, but he only does it when he wants to. He also loves to climb up the stairs (which is certainly a very dangerous hobby).
- RSB loves golf! Which is great for the hubs. RSB can be his caddy in a couple of years! Hahah... RSB was given a trio of toy golf clubs to play with and he always walks around with one clutched tightly in his hand. If you try to pry it off, he will get pissed off. He even falls asleep with a club in his hands. He also likes to hit golf balls around. So he's definitely a golfer in training.
- RSB is also fascinated by my guitar. Whenever I play, he'll grab the guitar pick from me and try to use it. But he always has a quizzical look on his face when he uses the pick and doesn't make a sound. I think he thinks that the sound comes from the pick and wonders why I can still play without it. He also likes to dance when I'm playing!
- RSB is a skinny little dude. I have tried to no avail to fatten him up, but it just isn’t happening. I am very worried about this despite the fact that his pediatrician says he’s healthy and growing normally. The doc keeps saying that it’s a matter of genetics and that he's following his own growth curve. She keeps saying "well you're not exactly a giant yourself, so you shouldn't really expect him to be." But then I tell her that I see tons of moms with chubby, tubby babies! WTF?! It’s gotten to the point that I feel I have done something wrong to make RSB such a small baby. Like maybe I should've breastfed him every hour on the hour, or gave him more formula if he so much as cried when he was younger. He’s at the 50th-75th percentile for height, thank goodness, but he’s consistently at the 5-10th % percentile for weight. The thing I don't get is that he has a good appetite. He eats a good breakfast, lunch, and dinner and some snacks in between. His favorite food is this dish I created: broccoli and cauliflower, cheese sauce, and tofu all blended together. He can eat a whole bowl of this. He also has about 15-20 ounces of milk, plus a can on Pediasure daily. And I also put tons of butter or olive oil in a lot of his meals. So what gives? He’s still a skinny dude and I’m still a worried mom. Gah! I don’t know why he’s not any chubbier. Although he does have my dad’s body type I suppose –small and skinny despite always eating and snacking. And like my doc says, babies come in all shapes and sizes and not to worry as long as he is healthy.
Well of course I count my blessings and I’m glad RSB is nice and healthy! He’s outgoing, sociable, annoying, whiny, cute, active, smart, whimsical, and all that and a bag of chips!
Labels: motherhood, rockstar baby
On Friday the 13th, plastiq passion played at The Delancey. It was our first gig with our new bassist Susan (since our old one quit). The venue was great despite being deep into the Lower East Side right by the bridge! I found parking right by the overpass and swear I thought I'd be mugged along the way (but thankfully wasn't!).
The show was...eh. It didn't go well according to my standards. In fact, I was sorely disappointed since a few members (and I'm not going to name names!) messed up some parts. Overall though, we had fun as usual. We also debuted my new song which I like very much (and yes, I'm singing it) and a lot of folks actually liked that one. Maybe because it's a little pop-punkish. Someone even told me it's had commercial-potential (which I took as a compliment). We also had a great turn-out (special thanks to Annie, Phil, and Christina who came out!)
Plastiq Passion at The Delancey
The new line-up
(from l-r: drummer Cil, new bassist Susan, Jes - vox/guitars, and me on guitars/vox)
I think most people in this world either care about music (as in they are passionate and have an opinion about it) or don't (as in they listen to it and know what they like, but that's about it). I fall into the former category. I joined this band primarily because a) I love music and bands, and b) I love music and want to make music reminiscent of my favorite bands (i.e., The Cure, Interpol, The Smiths, etc.) So when we mess up our songs, it's like a terrible personal slight on my part. There are days when I just want to quit the band. I mean, I'm not getting paid for it obviously and I know our sound doesn't appeal to a lot of people. But there are days when I'm just energized and I have all these hopes and the drive and determination to make our band the best it can be.
So yesterday at practice, I told my bandmates we're all going to have to shape up. I said "I don't care if you fingers bleed or your arm falls off. We're playing all our songs to perfection and we're writing new songs that are GOOD. Not just OK." I hope it works. I myself do not have a lot time (like I did before) to work on songs so it takes me a long time just to create one. I love arranging music. When I think of a new song, I think of it from start to finish: bass line, rhythm, lead, etc. I can't just have one part. When I make up a song, I record each part separately and it's a tedious, laborious process since I'm only working with two ghetto tape recorders. So it's hard when I envision a song and the execution doesn't meet up to my standards. *Sigh* Isn't it funny how some of our hobbies take up so much time and money?
Our next show is on Wednesday, April 25th at The Annex. Holler if you're in the NYC area and would like more details.
*this is a line from a Cure song.
Labels: music, musings/personal stories
According to the hubs, I'm a big complainer. I can't fully disagree with him since I do tend to make comments. But I really can't help it sometimes. As much as I try not to be, I can be judgmental and snarky. I player-hate. I get jealous. I envy others. Should I? No, of course it's a sin to covet thy neighbor, but I think most people are guilty of it in some way, shape, or form. After all, we're only human, right?
Before I go and whine, let me say that I recognize that I have a great life. I have an amazing husband, a beautiful baby boy that I adore, a neat starter home, a good career with flexible hours, generous parents, wonderful friends, and I have my health and happiness. Yadda, yadda, yadda.
Now on with the whining. I can't help but make comments like:
"I want a bigger house. Can we move? Can we renovate? Now?"
"She's such a lucky bitch. People always buy shit for her and she doesn't have to pay for anything."
"I need a higher paying job. My friends make more money than me."
"I'm so jealous she went to Greece! I'd love to go to Greece!"
We all have our 'woe-is-me' days I suppose. Problems are relative and even people like Bill Gates can complain, right? So like I said, while I know I'm blessed (and I don't even think I need to justify this), I still express discontent. And while I'm genuinely happy when good things happen to my friends and family, a part of me also gets all jealous from time to time. You know what I'm saying?
Like when I heard about my friend Riss going to Australia and joining my friend Girlie there on holiday. My first thought was "Damn! I wish I could afford a trip to Australia!" Yes I should be happy for her and I am, but hey, I'm selfish as well. Although in reality I don't really have the liberty (or the desire) to leave rockstar baby behind even if I did have the means.
Or when my friend Alina told me she was moving to Los Angeles. For some insane reason, I felt jealous that she was starting this new adventure. I immediately told the hubs "we should move to L.A!" despite the fact that a) I did already live there and b) I have no reason to move there at this time.
So I've come to the realization that I'm a player-hater. Heck, I don't like this trait of mine. Everyday I try to be a better person and I try not to compare my life with others. But this weird streak appears on occasion and I become "Snarky Kat." Ugh. Is this normal?
Am I the only one who goes through this?
(Angelic people need not reply)
Labels: musings/personal stories
Last Thursday, I had a very nice meal at Peter Luger. Peter Luger is a well-known steakhouse famous for its huge porterhouse steaks. (Aside: I actually gave up red meat for Lent, but I swear I’m tacking on an extra day of atonement! Plus, I am planning not to eat it on a regular basis anymore.)
I went there with this attorney who had been practicing for many, many years. Now I knew that this guy was rich (from what I heard). What I didn’t know was that this guy was wealthy (because there is a difference). He’s a very unassuming gentleman and you’d never really consider him to be an intimidating sort of fellow. This guy has a combination of smarts and luck. Case in point: On his last trip to Las Vegas, he won $90,000. That’s on a hundred-dollar slot machine. In one try! Egads!
As soon as we get there, he’s discreetly peeling off bills left and right to the maitre’ d, to the waiters, and to the valet from a wad the size of a roll of toilet paper. I kid you not. I have no idea how that even fit his pocket, but it did. Anyway, we got our appetizers in 5 minutes, our lunch in 10. We’re talking service here. Good meal. Good conversation. He’s led a very full life and I was happy to get to know him. He was genuinely a good guy with no airs about him.
So that was Thursday. Thursday night, I get a stomachache. By Friday, I’ve developed a low-grade fever and couldn’t keep anything down. So from Friday to Saturday night, all I did was puke-poop-sleep. I know, TMI huh? But that was my weekend. Gah! I can’t believe I got the stomach virus again! Prior to this year, I have never really had it. What gives?! My only main concern was whether I’d get the baby sick. So far, so good.
So the moral of the story is: there is no such thing as a free lunch! But I must say, it was a good lunch indeed. Steak, red wine, a hot fudge sundae topped with massive amounts of whipped cream and a nice cappuccino. What more can you ask for?
P.S. It's tagging time! I've been tagged by Eileen Joy and Karen.
Four Jobs I have had in my life:
2. Law Clerk (judicial clerkship)
3. Sales Clerk (for Eddie Bauer, Gap Kids, and The Gap)
Four Movies I would watch over and over:
1. Lord of the Rings (especially 'the two towers')
2. Stand by Me
3. The Professional
4. Like Water for Chocolate
Four Places I have lived:
2. Los Angeles
3. New York
4. New Jersey
Four of my favorite foods:
1. Most Filipino dishes (especially pork sinigang and lechon kawali)
2. Sushi and other Japanese fare (especially shrimp tempura and donburi)
3. Thai, Chinese, Indian, Vietnamese, Spanish cuisine
4. hamburgers and beef pho
Four Places I’d rather be right now:
1. exploring Greece
2. playing in Central Park with rockstar baby
3. eating a delicious meal with the hubs at the Four Seasons or Per Se
4. exploring Brazil and Argentina
Labels: musings/personal stories