i'm baaaack :D

so, what'd i miss??? :)

i'm so tired... i think my weekend will have to be broken up into different posts.... 3 FULL days of... well, crap. no, it wasn't that bad. well, parts definitely were.

i'm actually kind of glad i went. what the fuck happened to me????

friday morning, we left at the butt crack of dawn. got down to san diego. registered. it was a little chaotic... and at 9AM, the fun began.

the facilitator. what can i say about him... he talks way too much. WAY too much. i can't understand how one person could possibly stand up there and talk... for 15 hours. well, it was about there. including breaks and breakout sessions, it was probably closer to 12-13. just whispering translations in my dad's ear was enough to make my throat hoarse. and he would always say, "get it????" in that loud booming voice of his.

my legs were S-O-R-E from sitting in one spot. i could barely walk up stairs by the end of the night. it brought to mind something my mom had told me about one of the tortures the japanese would inflict on the koreans... they'd put them standing in a box. kinda like a closet. or a coffin. and would leave them there for hours. so when they'd get out, their bodies would be sore... and then i think they beat the shit out of them. something like that... there's another torture my mom told me about ... the korean person would be in a small box squatting or whatever. i'm not sure. not a whole lot of room in that box. there would be big knives stuck into the box, not touching the person in the box. and the japanese would walk by and kick the box... so the guy would probably end up dying a very slow death by stabbing. eep. that would suck.

but i digress. i think it was about 8PM when i felt like i might jump up out of my seat and run around the room screaming and yelling. i felt so cooped up. every part of my body hurt. especially my ass and my back. they were NUMB.

the facilitator is a control freak. oh, and pompous. i still haven't changed my opinion of him. even after 3 days. just reinforced my first day snap judgement of him.

the first day, this filipino lady latched onto me. it was... annoying, to say the very least. i can see why her daughter would hate her. she was STUPID. and slow. and NEEDY. the neediest person i've met in a long time. she had met 2 other filipino ladies who from the same family. one woman was okay. but the other lady? holy mother of god.

i'm surprised i'm here and not in jail for killing her.

she was just bragging about her stupid daughter. i can see why her daughter would hate her. she would ask us a question about chris and then say how her daughter was better.

she sent her daughter to the program because she skipped a few classes and she assumed that it would lead to drug usage and sex. wtf? that's just not right. unless she just didn't want to tell us what was really going on so she could maintain her air of superiority. whore.

some snippets:
"oh, he's only on level one? my daughter's been there only a few months and she's already up to level 3!"
"she never did drugs. she just missed a few classes so i put her in there. i wanted to take care of the problem before she got into trouble." (WTF?)
"$4000/month means nothing to me." (btw, she was the stingiest person i've ever seen. didn't leave a tip for the waiter. ordered herself and her cousin soup ONLY. didn't even let her cousin order for herself.)
"we made so much money off the sale of our house, so we're in the process of buying a brand new house in C____."

and it goes on. after being in this program, i really should be saying, she must have a lot of hurt and she is trying to hide it behind her image (whatever that image might be...)... but fuck it. i say, fuck her. i was so happy when the facilitator said, "don't take too much stock in levels and points. the kids will fluctuate until they get to level 4. once they've been level 4 for a while, they're pretty stable." i hope her daughter gets knocked back down to level 1. bitch.

i've never seen anyone cry to Mike and the Mechanics before... you know that song... "The Living Years"... or "In the Living Years?" whatever. anyway, they were bawling like babies. it was pretty unbelievable.

what else? what else... had to do this exercise. walk around the room, look at someone in the eye and make a snap judgement about them. and tell them one of 4 things.
"i trust you."
"i don't trust you."
"i'm not sure i trust you."
"i don't care to say."

which is bullshit because i'm not sure i trust you and i don't care to say are all really i don't trust you. just cop outs... they both sound less harsh than i don't trust you.

old military grandpa walked through a bunch of people to tell me, "i don't trust you." i was just floored. he walked by a bunch of people to tell me that. and for some reason, i actually let that get to me. i have no idea why.... turns out, he fought in some wars. pretty much hates asians. great. his wife told me that. i love these people! heh. still didn't make me feel better knowing why he did that. i felt like he did it just to try to hurt my feelings. it was bizarre. it seriously took me all 3 days to be able to look at him and not hate him. that's what tiredness will do to me, i guess... give me feelings or something.

i just told everyone that i trusted them. people were getting really hurt when i told them i didn't trust them. and i didn't stop because i was hurting their feelings. i stopped telling them i didn't trust them because i was tired of them asking me, "why???" so i either told them i trusted them, or i didn't make eye contact.

by the end of the first day, i was just about ready to call steve and beg him to pick me up. we were done with the first day at midnight. oh, AND we had homework. and it sucked ass. and we had to write a journal of our first day. that was filled with lots of cursing. and i called the facilitator a schmuck, a prick, a blowhard, self-righteous, pompous asshole, inconsiderate, dick, fucktard, fucker, fucking asshole... and the list goes on and on...

all the days ran together... i can't believe it was only 3 days... *YAWN*