On Dating

"There are three possible parts to a date, of which at least two must be offered: entertainment, food, and affection. It is customary to begin a series of dates with a great deal of entertainment, a moderate amount of food, and the merest suggestion of affection. As the amount of affection increases, the entertainment can be reduced proportionately. When the affection IS the entertainment, we no longer call it dating. Under no circumstances can the food be omitted."

-Miss Manner's Guide to Excruciatingly Correct Behavior, via Bon Appétit, Sandra Byrd

Where I Live

The dreaded conversation happened again today.

One of my newer co-workers was just trying to be friendly to me by inquiring as to how classes were going. I responded with the usual "fine, but busy" and thought the conversation was over, until she continued with the question I will never have a real answer to:

"So where do you live?"

"On campus, just down the road," I replied, hoping this would be sufficient.

"No, like where do you live?" She asked again.

Where do I live? Oh please, let me tell you:

I was born in Los Angeles, spent several years in Lancaster, grew up in Ecuador, became a person in Dana Point, and attend university in Azusa. Although my family still lives in Ecuador, next year they're moving to South Orange County, but already they're inhabiting an apartment I've spent less than six months in.

"My parents live in Ecuador," I finally respond.

It takes her a moment to recognize the fact that I just named a foreign country. "Wait, Ecuador?"

"Mmhmm."

"Like you were raised there?"

"Yep."

"Wow," she says, "I never would have guessed."

I think that's a good thing.

"So like what's it like up there?"

Trying to ignore the fact that she just identified my South American country as being somehow "up" from where we are, I respond as nicely as possible that it's really different and fun "up" there.

And she chuckles to herself, makes one more comment about how she never would have guessed, and exits the room.

REJECT

"It's no good. When someone leaves you, apart from missing them, apart from the fact that the whole little world you've created together collapses, and that everything you see or do reminds you of them, the worst is the thought that they tried you out and, in the end, the whole sum of parts adds up to you got stamped REJECT by the one you love. How can you not be left with the personal confidence of a passed-over British Rail sandwich?"

-Bridget Jone's Diary, Helen Fielding