Rebecca A. Foster

...because I can't sleep now thanks to his show, so it's only fair, right? My new celebrity crush, Josh Gates, who hosts the very entertaining cable show Destination Truth  (available for streaming on Netflix) and who also introduced me to the macabre Doll Island of Mexico and ghosts of Chernobyl's dead city, amongst other creepy things, and is now the reason I'm awake in bed at midnight wishing I had a thermal imaging camera to confirm or deny the shadows in my apartment are ghosts. I mean, come on Josh, you started it...finish it! (His show is creepy, but he is charming and hilarious, two of my favorite things in the opposite sex. AND he travels the world investigating legends? I have no defenses. My passport loves his passport.)

I liked Mindy Kaling's book, so I checked out her new show. This scene: so much yes. The girl on the far end? I've had that look on my face too, watching a man dance. It might be evolutionary, but I just assume a man who can dance well can do lots of things well. Even if I never do anything other than watch him dance (this is almost 100% the case), I still know. I've developed a near-instant crush on a guy who impresses me with his heretofore unknown moves, and lost all romantic feeling upon the discovery that we don't move well together at all . Dancing is a fun date activity because of what it tells you about the two of you together: Shy? Rhythmic? Adventurous?  In tune with each other? Is he embarrassed I would get up on the bar or Hell yes, she's leaving with me!  enthusiastic? I recognize it is not a clear-cut indicator, because I am often waaay more shy outside of dancing than I am while doing it, but it does give you some indication of your combined chem...

Spanish culture places a high value on fun, which is why I believe boring is worse than bad. So when a man is repeatedly selfish/kinda jerky, I should immediately walk away, right? But if he's fun, I don't always right away. I'm not proud of this. Just keepin' it real, son. I showed the Nike ' Write the Future ' commercial in my employee training class this week and when Ronaldo came on screen, the guys immediately started with the "He's a douchebag" Ronaldo screed. I counterargued, "But he's so hot!" Which is true. You see, it's not that Ronaldo is NOT a jerk/douchebag, it's that I don't care. Don't need to. To a varying degree, this is also true of men I know: if I don't want to date them, it doesn't matter too much how selfish they are, or how often they contact or want to see me, as long as I have fun when they do. (Many guys I like I don't want to date seriously, for various reasons. And that goes bo...

(Note: oh gosh! This post is why I should only post in the daytime. I'm not a night person, I say silly things after 10:00 PM, even on this blog. But I'm leaving it up. The real me, or something.) Sometimes a guy whose opinion matters to you thinks you're desirable and it's awesome! Evolution in action. Sometimes they stop (or stop showing it) and you might think, "What did I do to stop being desirable?"  But someone else's actions (or lack of them) shouldn't change the inherent desirability you believe about yourself*. Of course, if he stops showing or saying it, move on and find someone who does . It's nice to believe you're desirable. It's nice to not have to rely solely on that, either. 1. As I like to say, "I have enough male friends now. If you don't want to put your tongue in my mouth, you're useless to me." 2. I have also said, to a guy I liked but who would come over at night and just talk talk talk, ...

This is awkward for me to write because I don't have much experience with men. This scene was too familiar for comfort, though. Have you ever liked/been attracted to someone who doesn't like themselves a lot so they can't understand why *you'd* like them and they self-sabotage because they just don't think they deserve it? I have, and it sucks. It hurts to see someone walk away because they don't believe they are worth having. Who actually says, "People don't like me once they get to know me" and you realize later they really believe that. Heart-breaking, in fact. I cried a lot over this dude. But there isn't any way to make someone believe how wonderful they are if they can't believe it for themselves. And because my life isn't a tv show or movie, things don't work out and you lose them in your life. (The other difference is that I never had sex with him.) I've also experienced men who treat you like a victor's match, w...

This weekend I was making pebre  and my serrano peppers were not getting the job done, so I pulled out a couple of habaneros. I asked my mom,"Do you think these will be hot enough in the pebre?" "Well, how hot are they?" Hmmm. I sliced one open and licked the pulp. Just in case you didn't know, licking the inside of a habanero is a really dumb way to determine how hot it is. THE BURNING IT GOES ON AND ON HOLY HELL WHAT WAS I THINKING. I couldn't feel my lips or tongue for the next several hours, but on the bright side, 'licking the habanero' is now my new favorite euphemism for doing something stupid you probably knew better not to do. Example: "Yeah. I went out with that guy even though I knew he was bad news. I totally licked the habanero on that one." Live and learn (the hard way).

All of the Anthony Weiner press coverage makes me feel somewhat validated for having done this . I stand by it. I don't as a general rule comment on current event news stories here, because I can't imagine anyone gives a rat's ass what I think about the news. However, the subsequent debate about whether or not sexting is cheating reminded me of the short, personal checklist I've amassed of potential red flags that the guy asking you out/hitting on you isn't as uninvolved as he claims to be*: 1. Only wants to see you during non-prime time hours, i.e. lunch but never dinner. 2. Gives you an email address and/or phone number just for you (you usually find this out when he calls/emails you from the other by accident). 3. Only wants to talk to you from work. 4. He has a cat and lives alone (so he says). (I have a bias that young, single men who want a four-legged pet get dogs, not cats. Also he turned out to be married so I was right.) 5. Only wants to see you f...

1. The Guggenheim building is far more interesting than the Guggenheim collection. 2. I thought St. Pat's Day in Boston would be cra-zay. Maybe for New England, it is. I would like to invite all Bostonians to San Antonio for Fiesta . Cra-zay! I really liked Boston, but I am far too spirited and not nearly preppy enough to ever live there. 3. We went back to a friend-of-a-friend's apartment, where I accidentally left behind my McSorley's mug when leaving to go home for the night. The friend-of-a-friend had to walk me back to his pad to get it. Pretty sure he (and his doorman) thought this was as ploy for me to stay the night. Nope, I just really am that absent-minded. On the way to the subway (again), he asked me "You're not going to tweet about this, are you?" (Meaning everything that went down that night. He's an actor.) I was caught off guard by his question; is that really a thing people say now??? No. No I'm not. 4. NYC, please get a mag-lev ...

I read this blog post about a memorable mix tape, and it reminded me of the box of mix tapes (and mix CDs) boxed up in my storage space. I got my first mix tapes from A., in high school. He was the rebel, I was the studious good girl, and twain we met over debate class and mix tapes. His tapes leaned heavily on b-sides of The Posies and Fugazi, with Nitzer Ebb  and obscure Japanese-release-only Depeche Mode songs thrown in for good measure. My friend C. made me mix tapes in college, mostly songs by alternative bands he found rummaging through second-hand record stores; I'd never heard of most of them, but he did introduce me to Henry Rollins, something I'll never forget. He sent them to me through the mail and I loved getting that recognizable padded envelope. We never dated, but I'd like to think a man who will go to the post office for you thinks you're pretty great. The creme of my mix tape cookie was S., who made me mix CDs by the dozens, full of alterna-rock...

After the roller-coaster that was life in China, life back in America can sometimes seem a little...plain. Not bad. Plain. So this is life now: work hard, go to bed early, get up early, meditate, read, study, make time for friends, talk over the internet with far-flung well-loved friends, make vacation plans, work on art projects, watch Community , shop for food, do laundry, clean, Netflix in bed, cook, do all of these things many times all over again. It's a good life. I'm adapting to life here in the American Western desert, but it sure does take some getting used to. I've met some fun people here and I'm reminded again that 99% of people in this world are good-hearted and kind and worth knowing. I'm now able to accept I liked those not-so-good guys in my past because I didn't believe I was worth more than how they treated me. It's hard to admit that, but overcoming it has made a big difference in my life. Kind and steady beats jerky and exciting a...

I mentioned recently that if you're a guy, and you wind up, you should follow through so the girl doesn't wonder why you dropped the ball. Well, I have dropped a few balls in my life, friends. I don't know if I remember all of them, but I remember these: J.: Sorry about the symphony, and that night at my house, and the next morning at breakfast. I don't know what got into me. You were so cute! You just out-cuted me. S.: Sorry about the fishing trip. But like I said, I'm not really the outdoorsy type. T.: Sorry about how we said goodbye. I know it's my fault for misremembering when my plane left, which meant we arrived at the airport 15 minutes before my flight took off. Things were a little rushed. Sorry. And yes, I always double check now. B.: Sorry for that night on my doorstep when you were hugging me, put your hand on the back of my head and sighed. I thought we were Just Friends. I didn't know what to do about the sighing without thinking about...

Picture it: Arizona, 1997-ish. I've gone to visit my friend T. in Mesa, but we are Just Friends, capital J, capital F. The kind of Just Friends who, because we attend universities in different states, travel to visit each other a couple of times a year. Around 11 PM we go for a late night swim (yay Arizona winter weather!), then head downtown in his brand new car. I'm poking through the CDs in the center console when I find one clearly labeled 'Make-Out Mix.' Now, let's ignore for a moment the fact someone actually labels their CD 'Make-Out Mix' instead of something more innocuous like 'Slow Jams.' (Those two things are always the same, right?) I hold up the CD so I can see by passing streetlight if my eyes are really seeing what they're seeing. Being the kind of girl I am, the following exchange goes down: Me: "Make-Out Mix? Realllly?" T: "Oh... yeah. Um, I've had that CD forever, it's old, I forgot it was in there....

A guy I barely knew in my city asked me to dinner, in 2009. We went, no chemistry (even as friends) from my point of view, so I was shocked when he asked me if I wanted to have dinner and watch a movie with him that weekend. Sometimes first dates just aren't great, so I said yes. But then, on the bus ride home, I realized he meant eat dinner and watch a movie at his apartment. I didn't feel comfortable doing this because I barely knew him and there was a certain BCI to this request (Booty Call Implication-- thanks Community !), so when I got home, I asked him if he'd mind if we did something else instead, like go to a local historical site. I didn't explain why, I just asked. He said no. Cancelled the date altogether by saying "Nevermind. I'm not into [historical site]." And no offer of doing anything else instead. Hmmm. Okay, so he's not here for my sparkling and charming personality! I learned from my Brutal Honesty II experience that it i...

I can only think of two times in my life when I was clearly a vixen, and I have to admit, both times were really fun! I should do it more often, I'm just lazy or something. In San Antonio, for a time I was casually seeing J., who played in a band and had the best house ever. After it was clear we had the chemistry of friendship, not romance, we still hung out and I would have totally moved into his house, because J. was so cool and had a house tricked out like a 60's Rat Pack bar. This is a picture of me on his bed: Yes, he had mirrors on the ceiling. But this story is before that time. I went to see J.'s band play and as sometimes happens when you see a band play, I wore slightly more vixen-ish clothing than I did in my everyday life, namely black leather pants and a sassy shirt. (Sassy = cleavage.) After he played and came down to me in the audience, he ran into a girl that turned out to be the sister of a girl he had recently been seriously involved with, and who...

My favorite kind of light bulb is the GE Soft Pink bulb; I had them in every lamp in my apartment in San Antonio, and it was lovely being bathed in a soft, flattering pale blush glow. I tried to make sure all my dates saw me near a lamp as often as possible. Side note: you know how in old movies when things get romantic, the light gets all soft and fuzzy? There should be a way for that to happen in real life too; it would be so helpful! I'd know exactly what was on his mind and I could gear up for it. (I hate surprises. Also, I am a dork and usually thinking about, oh, light bulbs and stuff. I miss the cues sometimes.)  Target in San Antonio carried pink bulbs and it was never a big deal to buy them, but they're non-existent everywhere I've checked here. Where did all the pink bulbs go? I found them online-- $60 for 12, plus shipping. Um, maybe not!  I kept checking and did find a cheaper price, phew! So, I have to have pink bulbs shipped in? Really, light bulbs? I have...

Note: I moved into a new apartment this weekend, I'm way behind in my correspondence. I love my new apartment though; the walk-in closet is bigger than the kitchen, and includes a lighted vanity mirror and sink area for getting ready in the closet . Perfect apartment for me. ______ Story #2: This guy, I knew him before I went to China. I thought he was charming, funny, smart, interesting, handsome, and I put him on a bit of a pedestal. We were not equals when it came to life experience. I liked that about him! At that time, I was grieving for my dad and not feeling very strong. It felt good to have someone who was more knowledgeable and strong to look up to. I spent my final weekend with him before I went to China. Peace Corps discourages you from having friends or family join you for that final weekend before you depart, but I thought it would be okay because he was so great. But that weekend was much more stressful than I thought it would be; I was moving to completely un...

One of my weaknesses is being able to forgive, move on and/or let go of the past; that is, not allow my present to be colored by the past. I read an analogy that clicked with me: falling leaves from a tree. If trees didn't let their leaves fall and die each winter, they'd have no room for new growth in the spring. It's a part of nature that plants and trees let go of the old to prepare for the new. I never would have compared myself to this process without reading that, but it brought me some measure of comfort. I'm a visual person, so I needed that symbolism to help me understand why it's necessary to forgive and let go. I vacillate between knowing there are people who should not be a part of my life and making that clear to them, and the sadness of wishing circumstances were different and they could be a healthy part of my life. In some cases (luckily very few and far between) that's just not possible. I both fear and miss them. It's been a hard thing...

(If you are related to me, maybe you don't want to read this.) I think some people come from kissy families, some do not. I come from a kissy family; I'm sure this was largely due to my mom's Chilean-ness. (Some of my clearest memories of visiting Chile are of being kissed by every old woman I saw.) I love that in Chilean culture, you kiss strangers upon being introduced. So friendly! (Maybe also other Spanish cultures, not sure.) In San Antonio, it is quite common for friends to greet each other with a kiss. I got used to this. In China, I had kissing friends and non-kissing friends. When the kissing friends met up in public, I wonder if we shocked the Chinese around us, who don't hug or touch upon greeting, let alone kiss. I noticed my kissing friends in China were mostly Italian or of Italian heritage, or from the East Coast. Are you a kisser? My non-kissing friends are REALLY non-kissing. Funny how that happens. When I was younger, I thought kissing was either...

I used to try to override my intuition with non-logic, mostly because I didn't want to believe the things my intuition was telling me were true. In China, I learned to embrace intuition. It's a very large part of Chinese culture, to accept things that cannot be explained and reasoned and logically construed. Often this was frustrating for me; "This makes no sense!" came out of my mouth on maybe an hourly basis my first year there. Once I let go of everything having to make sense or be logical, I was much happier living there. Then it became another of our catchphrases, "TIC." This is China. That explains it. And that's enough. -That person approaching you across the parking lot in an unsafe manner? Yeah, it's good to be suspicious of that person and tell them to back off. You're not rude. Nice people don't approach girls alone in a parking lot. -That guy who tells you he is single, but so many clues point to him not being completely hones...

This is me, my Chinese host mom (I lived with a host family my first two months in China) and the 15 year-old daughter of a family friend. It was quite common for us to be introduced to family friends so the kids could practice their English. I just met her that evening, but it's tradition in China for girls to hold hands, so she held my hand. I thought it was very sweet. You'll notice I'm not holding Mama's hand (the Chinese word for mom is 'Mama' so that's what I called her), but instead linking my arm. I always felt there was a social protocol for holding hands vs. linking arms; hands meant you were more friendly, while holding arms was a sign of respect. Friends can also link arms, but I would never have held Mama's hand. I have no idea if this is actually true in Chinese culture, it's just what I picked up and felt comfortable with. This was a very hot and humid August night; looking at that photo, I can feel all over again the sweat dripping...