Rebecca A. Foster

Yesterday while texting with a buddy from China I made a tiny obscure joke I wasn't sure he'd remember and pick up on, but he got the joke and I was *tickled pink* he still remembered, appreciated and understood with no explanation needed. Our shorthand is so very short. I adore this guy in a way different from guys I've met in America and I think it has everything to do with the crap and inconvenience and hardships we battled and two years later I wonder: how long will it be until I don't feel this attachment? I feel similar special attachments to other friends I knew there and sometimes it's like I'm trapped in this tension that will never be assuaged because we'll never live that life again. And if I always feel it, is that okay? To just live with that? I get attached to people, but as a human being I don't think that's anything to apologize for. Aren't we supposed to? (However, when someone dogs me or is constantly "too busy"...

...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.)

A sentence in the book Mindfulness In Plain English : "...from a pragmatic perspective, it is much better to cultivate the noble thought, 'May all beings be happy-minded' than the thought, 'I hate him.'" And have you ever read something so clear that you feel stupid you never chose those words before to express a thought? Because how clear is that sentence? It is better to wish people well than to hate them. Better not for them, better for YOU. I posted a few days ago about writing a humor-based type of guide to what can happen when you choose to be honest about your feelings. It was to make fun of myself, not someone else, but it was still choosing to focus on something that was hurtful to me, even if to make light of it. (A coping mechanism?) But now I think, 'How is focusing on something hurtful helping me help other people? Can I be a person who treats others with loving friendliness if I'm always thinking about how one person caused some hur...

First: New York: A Documentary Film , by Ric Burns (brother of Ken Burns), an interesting, engaging and entertaining 8-part documentary series on the history of the city of New York. Originally aired on PBS but I'm watching it on Amazon Prime on my iPad. It's long, over 14 hours, but I've learned a lot, and learned a lot more respect for, how NYC became what it is and why it is so wonderful. The documentary How the Universe Works from Discovery Channel: awesome. Makes me feel like life is a miracle and a blessing and I'm lucky to be a part of the human race. And then I go jeans shopping and I get all bummed out because of the size of jeans that fit me really well and look good. Really, Rebecca? This is what you feel bad about? Get a grip. But...gosh, don't we want to feel attractive? And I flashback to this time I was with this guy and I had made the effort to look attractive and he said, "You look really comfortable" and part of me thinks, ...

Pretty sure this scene is hotter than an entire "romance" book. Call me unromantic, but a lot of what passes for romance in popular culture is bullsh*t. Just give me a sweet, clothed shower with Daniel Craig. It's enough.

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, ...

Read this article today about a new line of candles geared toward men, with smells like 'Lawnmower' and '2x4.' What they really need to make are a line of candles that smell like men's accoutrement, such as 'Men's Locker Room When All The Soap And Cologne Mingle Together And They Are Only Wearing Little White Towels.' A guy in a little white towel should be on the label. I would buy the sh*t out of that candle. Other ideas: Men's Neck Smell Blue Eyes and a Cute Smile Green Eyes and Dimples Playing With Your Hair Nice Hands Holding Hands Walking Down A Busy City Street Then Stopping For Street Food Yum Cuddling On A Bench Waiting For The Subway To Start Running After A Night Out Sweating After Doing A Hard Task Men's Soft Hair  Fire (Oh wait I think they have this one already.) This is just off the top of my head. I could go on. 

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...

You know those dainty little thrower-uppers, who just sort of tilt their head down, put their hand to their mouth and spit up? It's like they had throw-up classes at finishing school, or were the most well-behaved babies ever and never grew out of it. Yeah, that is so not me . I am a throw-up drama queen, all moans and groans and heavy breathing. It's like the end of the world, or my liver, when I puke. I was reminded of that this week when I woke up Thursday morning at 4:30 AM and rushed to the bathroom before emptying my stomach several times over, to be repeated with water, Sprite and dry heaves for the next few days. Stomach flu is the worst! But, as always, it reminded me of something funny. (I consider my ability to find the humor and funny aspects of life to be one of my more humane qualities. You're welcome, humanity.) Picture it: China, spring time, T.'s apartment, 1 AM. I'm slowly turning green and it's apparent I'm going to start tossing my cook...

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...

The chopsticks I brought home from China are all stainless steel or melamine (melamine: okay for chopsticks! Not okay for milk!), but I have a few sets of wooden ones I brought home from Thailand several years ago. I put all the chopsticks in my dishwasher to sterilize them but most ended up in the bottom near the drain, and one of the wooden ones was snapped in half. Oops. Preface: I have this big, passion-from-across-the-room crush on our apt.'s head maintenance guy, V.  He's Chilean, looks like a Spanish soccer player and has gorgeous hazel/green eyes. I met him the day I moved in and I've only run into him twice since them but both times he remembered me and we chatted and he's charming and did I mention, super hot? This guy + light eyes = V.  Thus far, I have avoided purposefully breaking things in my apartment so he has to come fix them. I know, right? I'm so adult and stuff. But ever since the chopstick incident, my dishwasher doesn't drain properly...

It wasn't my intention to post frivolous things here anymore, but I forgot how I am, in fact, often frivolous. And I unabashedly love looking at hot men in cool clothes. Two looks I love: Love these colors: A man who shows up on my doorstep in that scruff and these glasses is getting sooooo lucky: He's Zoolandering here: just ridiculously good looking. All that's missing is chest hair: Thus ends my shallow, frivolous streak...for today

It is said that of all our senses, our sense of smell is most closely connected to our emotional center. A man's shirt  is an excellent conduit for the essence of the person who wore it: not only the smell, but the shape, the worn and faded spots, the memories I have of seeing them in it. For these reasons, I love it when men give me their shirts. As I regularly recycle my wardrobe in the spring and fall, these shirts have a permanent spot in my bottom dresser drawer. I'd never consider getting rid of them. My favorite shirts were given to me straight off the wearer's back, still warm and musky. I deliberately leave them unwashed for as long as possible. Not a single of these shirts fits me properly, so I wear them to bed or the gym or while lounging about in my apartment. I don't know that any shirt I've received was significant to the wearer before they gifted it to me, but I can't wear them without feeling the happy memories I have associated with the gifte...

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...

Today is my birthday and I have been overwhelmed with the good wishes and kindness shown to me. I plan on answering everyone individually, but until then, THANK YOU! You have made me feel very loved and remembered. A new guy I work with offered to take me technology shopping last week because he knows a lot more about these things than I do. I don't know him well, so I was really touched at his generosity. I am now the new owner of a flat screen lcd tv (the first tv I've ever purchased) and a Blu-Ray wifi dvd player, purchased at his advice, and through which I can stream Netflix and Pandora over my television. The technology available to me in America still blows me away. And as a birthday gift he bought me the HDMI cord I needed to hook my new dvd player to the TV. I was surprised, because as I said, we barely know each other, but he is a generous and thoughtful person. Good people are everywhere. The first movie I watched? This is not a good movie. But, um, I enjoy hi...

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...

Confession: I love having someone else to help zip up my dresses. And zip down. It feels very decadent, no? And did you know this dress exists? I had no idea, until I was googling 'zipper.' All I can think is, it must be very uncomfortable in hot weather. Ouch! I also love my black & beige zebra print napkins I bought at Pier 1 Imports years ago. Tried to find them online to show you a photo, but looks like they don't carry them right now. I'm too lazy to go take a picture so: picture zebra print napkins. I love them. Just for M: Zoolander's best scene .