What happened to my ideal man post? Crawford Kilian, who keeps a wonderful set of blogs as well as teach a mean English class up in Canada, inquired about a mystical blog entry that I supposedly left as "to be continued." I remember touching on the subject about my ideal man, but I can't remember where or when it was, and I've searched through my archives and couldn't find it. Mr. Kilian could not find it as well. Figment of my imagination? I think that it might have been in an e-mail to him, but either way that is not the point. The point is that I'd like to address that topic anew on my blog, whether it has been written ad nauseum or not, because if it has been, well, a significant time has passed and time setting changes everything. So there.

My Ideal Man -- by Haemi

I used to think that a wonderful knight in shining armour would come and I'd have a wonderful romance, like fragrant potpourri (a field of roses is so cliche and so thorny). He'd see through my uber-geek outfit and see the beautiful lady that reigned within, and he'd protect me from all the evils in the world and give me the best life I'd ever know. He'd be tall, dark, and exceedingly handsome, with deepset eyes in which I could easily drown, and he'd be so intelligent but never haughty about it. He'd be a compassionate being, eloquent speaker, a brilliant human being -- he'd write me love letters so gossamer, so sweet -- and of course he'd have all the money and resources in the world, but saying so would make me seem gaudy, so I'd refrain from saying so, but you'll have to incorporate that into your image of him but not deliberately.

He'd be so tender and so loving that I would need nothing else from the world. He'd be my shelter, my clothing, and my food, he'd be my sense of security, my sense of well-being and all -- he'd satisfy my Hierarchy of Needs outlined by Abraham Maslow in a pyramid. He'd be my life.

Well. That was a decade ago. There is a Korean saying, that in a decade, even the rivers and the mountains change. So we can positively assume that the same goes for my vision of the ideal man.

I have gained much independence and more brain power since I was a teenager. I realize, I don't want a chivalrous knight to take me away to lala land, no matter how romantic. After I turned 20, I became bitter. I became a cynic, and no romance goes untouched, unscathed, by my sarcastic remarks. Men are from Mars and Women are from Venus. There is some truth to that -- although I have encountered many men in my life, whether it be my brother, my father, my coworker, my ex-boyfriends, my guy friends, my oppas -- there is still so much of Mankind that I simply do not understand. To many women, I am like a man. I can burp the alphabet (not all the letters in one breath though), I chugged alcohol like the river flows into the sea, I care naught about the slight bulging belly, and I am independent -- I drive myself, I fix my own stuff, I buy the stuff I need, and so on and so forth. It is so strange when many of the female companions that I have (which isn't too many, actually) associate independence, my independence, with masculinity, or traits belonging to a man.

So, since I am my own "man," what can I want from a man? I see men as just human beings like myself. Social human beings who need companions. It may seem overtly confident or brash about myself, to put myself in a different category than average women. In my lifetime of little over two decades, I have seen/read about/heard about too many women whom I call "insecure." There's just so many of'em that sometimes they become the stereotype for womenkind. Just having an over-emphasis on the "L" word is ridiculous. If you decide to be bold and say "I love you" first, and your partner or significant other responds, "me too," that is not reason enough to have an outrageous drama-queen moment. Women who sit by the telephone, or even worse, reach out for their cell phone to make sure it is powered on, waiting for that phone call, be it from a man or a woman, friend, or whatever. The ridiculous need to be in constant touch and contact. The way they want to use a lasso and tie down a person. I'm not trying to offend anyone; I am guilty of all of these crimes (they are crimes against other people, and worse, crimes against your own self-esteem) myself.

I was the girl who sat, staring at the cell phone, because a guy might call. I was the girl who wanted to know the guy's every single detailed move. And, yes, I am the psycho-bitch who typed in the names of men in a search engine before Googling became more acceptable practice. (This would be waaaay before the time Google arrived.) I was the girl who called, then called again, then called and left a voicemail, and then get upset because I didn't get a call back. I screamed, bawled, wailed, "what is wrong with me? WHY WON'T HE CALL?" I don't know when it was, exactly. I think it was when one guy who shall remain nameless made me victim of those same crimes, by calling me and leaving me scary voicemails (beeep"What are you doing that makes you not able to take my call? Call me back, foo.") and telling me that he loved me. When I told him that I cannot be of acquaintances with people who remind me of Stephen King's Misery, he cried over and over, professing his undying love for me. Well, that love has been long dead, and I hear he's doing fantastic. Thank goodness.

But this obsessive behavior -- I believe it's learned. I think when I found myself in a relationship that I didn't intend to be in.

I don't know where this is going... but let me gather my thoughts and I'll be back. So here's the much expected: "To Be Continued..."

My blog is wonderful.

There is a side of me that loves art and other free-spirited things in life. That is why designing my own blog is such a great experience. I get to have fun with layout, graphics, font sizes... and colors, oh so many colors! And it's not permanent, like painting a purple cat. I mean, if I painted a purple cat, what are the odds that I'd be able to change it to orange? My blog can go from pink to blue in a second. I first fell in love with layouts and templates when I was on my HS yearbook staff. I actually went to a summer camp for that class. I was supposed to be co-editor-in-chief or something to that extent, so mainly I had to go to leadership training sessions, but I did get a good first dose in making layouts. If you think about it, pretty much everything is geographical and spatial. And all of that "pretty much everything" looks even better when it's placed on a blue print. Just cuz it can be on one.

I still have my trusty photo cropper. It looks like two giant rulers that are bent at 90 angles. I guess the actual plastic version of how photographers use their thumbs and index fingers to see what a potential photo might look like. I learned what a trapped/dead white space was and how dangerous that is. So on my blog, I have no dead space. I love margins. I'm not a revolutionary nor do I like living on the edge. Having photos and text securely locked away, an inch away from the actual borders of the page makes me feel snuggly inside. But these days many magazine layout people like to have photos and text just bleeding directly from the edge to the inside of the page. It's just tasteless. Like the photo spilled onto the edge of the page.

Yes, despite that it is very nerdy and uncool, when I read magazines, I also look at the layouting of the page. There's always something I could learn. When I was first rejected from major uni's, I thought of going into journalism (drifting away from my original goal to be an MD) and joining the staff of Cosomopolitan or Glamour, and perhaps becoming a section editor. I'd read and approve all articles, and manage the layouts of the page, hand pick photos, etc. etc. It sounded amazing at the time, and sometimes it still does. Of course it's not exactly humanitarian work that I want to/plan to do. I guess it would still make a fabulous plan B, in case laboring in Zimbabwe with no pay doesn't work out for me. Imagine -- I'd get first dibs on Jimmy Choo's shoes, Louis Vuitton bags, Vera Wang gowns, and work make-up magic with Bobbi Brown. Sounds like heaven is all too close by.

Marthatalks.com is Martha Stewarts' website regarding her current trial. Whether you like her or hate her, you have to admit two things:

1. She is the goddess of the home, and has given breathe to the liveliness of the home. She has brought such colors, and a quicker, simpler way to do things. Her K-mart line is oh-so-cheap but is high-quality. Having herself as the spokeswoman for her company has been a success, because she looked the part of a creative fun home-maker. I know women have made strides in society, but many people, women and men, prefer to be a home-keeper rather than join the bustling crowd of the career/job-ruled world. Home-maker is a perfectly respectable profession, and it takes courage (I remember -- "what does your mother do, hon?" and being ashamed...), it takes patience and dilligence, it takes hard work (no bon-bons involved) and an infinite supply of tender loving care.

You have to remember that many women were chided for deciding to remain in the home, because they weren't joining forces in the advancement of womenkind. I think being a homemaker (we're talking about just women for a sec here) isn't about the feminist movement. Well, actually, it should be included in the feminist movement. The feminist movement was all about women being able to do anything they want, whether it is a job that was held traditionally by men, or going to college, or joining the Army. Some women decide that they want to be a homemaker for a living. And that should be fine. That's more than fine. If you found what you want to do for life and if that's in the home, well more power to you! You have found a calling that some people never find! Martha Stewart upgraded the profession of the homemaker. It used to be plainly "housewife." Now it's a supreme being who is an artist and a free spirit, but who's genuinely organized and intensely well put-together. She made this profession a super duper version of itself from the 50's and 60's. It's totally different from the days of Mrs. Brady and Alice. For those who are not homemakers per se, but still live in a home without a full time keeper, Martha Stewart has made life easier with all her tools, organizational systems, ideas and tips. She's made us all more efficient but in a lovable homely sort of way. Well, that's that.

2. Martha Stewart is freakin' rich. The supposed $45,XXX.XX she saved is a measly amount for her. She is the media mogul of Martha Stewart Omnimedia. She is a rich lady who is also a shrewed business woman. She wouldn't try to pull wool over the government's eyes to save so little (compared to the "so much" that she's got!). Let's say I earn about 100 dollars a day (hypothetical, people!). Would I risk going to prison for possibly 30+ years (although it is said that if she is convicted it would probably be less) so that I would save $3.45? That's what it sounds like to me. Ms. Stewart must have millions. I'm not quite sure, but she's got so much going on -- I'm not sure she'd want to risk everything for an amount of money that seems so little. You can't even get the Neverland Ranch with that money. It's so little!

7 million shares (according to AP) were sold on the same day Martha Stewart sold her shares of ImClone stock. When's the rest of the shareholder's trials?

On my Internet Explorer, home is set to Yahoo.com. It's convenient, because I have yahoo e-mails to check, and a small box to the right shows daily headlines as they come in. Since keeping up with the news is important to me, it's beyond convenient; it's darn comfortable. It's not too big or cumbersome, it feeds me with the titles of new events, a few selection, so that during my busy work days I can still scan them and get the juiciest pieces of daily news. If I went to the LA Times, or TIME, or NY Times' websites, I would be bombarded with things big and small, and I would not be able to get just the right amount of news I need. So as Goldilock says, Yahoo! is just right.

What I've noticed in the last few months, actually, close to a year now, is the daily headline that goes something like this: "Eight killed in helicopter crash in Iraq." Or perhaps "Six U.S. troops killed in Iraq bombings." But whatever the casualties are, the feeds are coming in almost daily at a constant rate. If the lines said, "Bob Bigboy killed in Baghdad bombing," I would click to see who Bob BigBoy was. But the lines simply state just a number. Six. Four. Nine. The members of the U.S. Army has become just numbers, roman numerals. Statistics.

I'm not saying that we need to give out the names of the victims. That's privacy, and I respect that. I am saying, you can love Bush or hate Bush. You can call him Dubya, or demonstrate outside the White House. But when fellow Americans are abroad doing everything in their power to secure the homeland, to protect the home of the brave, you need to support them. You may be against the war. Heck, the entire world was against warring with Iraq. But it happened. Baghdad has already been obliterated, Saddam was captured, and we can't turn time back. The true cause that we need to be concerned about is the soldiers. True, it is their job. They knew what they were getting themselves into when they joined. But that doesn't mean that they don't deserve a news article or two about how they are carrying out orders with much courage and honor.

Similar happened decades ago during Vietnam War. The war wasn't supported by the general public. The soldiers did not come home to a fanfare as they did in the 40's. People were against the war, and that meant that they were also against the soldiers. The soldiers who return home, for however long before their return, is coming home to a downer. They are not welcomed back, because they were the tools of evil, the tools of destruction, that the American public is against. The lives they risked were all for naught, because no one is proud of what they did. Consequently, many soldiers who returned from Vietnam faced psychological distraught, and went into lifelong therapies(I am generalizing, of course).

Do what you want with Mr. Bush. But support the troops. They are flesh and bones like you and me, not some numbers.

This is a Color Vision Deficiency Test. I have to put a disclaimer, because I nearly had a heart attack. Please do not click if you are pregnant or have heart problems, or have an intense fear of scary things. Don't say I didn't warn you.

Well, I fixed the resolution problem (I think) but when I shrink the size of the window itself, the words get cluttered together. Although, of course, not many sane people would view a page that way. If anyone finds a glitch -- please let me know.

Whew. I originally planned to have this blog overhaul done over a course of three weeks, in time for my blog's first anniversary. I was falling behind, but well well... I am done, pretty much. I hope everyone likes the new face. This is still under construction, however, because I haven't tested every detail for glitches -- like how I just found out that the way I designed the page, it looks horrible in 800 x 600 resolution (I made it under a higher resolution -- I am still not too familiar with CSS and html... it takes time!). I'll be fixing a thing or two over the course of a week or so. My blogaversary is only a week away!

I just wanted to say that my blog is not a perfected art form. I often type at work -- during which I tend to customers, answer phones, do paperwork, run errands -- so sometimes my thoughts aren't quite as coherent as I would think them to be. Sometimes when there is a long gap between words (because a phone call became a conversation, or perhaps an altercation, or because an elderly man cannot understand the fact that a cell phone's voicemail is different from an answering machine, because he keeps thinking that the messages are recorded somewhere on the phone itself) I have to resort to writing "To be continued" in mid-sentence and post. I apologize.