faith, hope and love

Tuesday, April 26, 2005

Les Miserables

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Last Saturday, I had the chance to see one of my favorite musicals Les Mis for the third time. The first time I saw Les Mis was about ten years ago. I had the soundtrack to the musical long before this, and listened to it thousands of times. Although I haven't memorized all the words, I can sing my favorite parts by heart. Even Jean Valjean's part. I may not sing beautifully, and I am often off-key, but once I start Eponine's On My Own, I'm transformed into this waif, singing her tale of unrequited love in the streets of Paris.

Les Mis, as Vince has mentioned in his blog, is popular among the the old and the young audience alike. As with the book from which it was adapted, the musical has been translated into different languages and has been shown in different countries. Alain Boublil and Claude-Michel Schonberg successfully adapted Victor Hugo's words into beautiful music. But I think a great part of the musical's universal appeal lies on Hugo's characters and their plights. Unfortunately poverty, prostitution, the battle between good and evil, exist today as they did during Hugo's time.

Friday, April 22, 2005

Freebies

I ordered these from Nordstrom.com:
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And they sent me these:



Image hosted by Photobucket.com    I just love freebies.

Thursday, April 21, 2005

My BF's affair with his hairdresser and my search for the "one"

Last Saturday, while I was in bed nursing a nasty cold, my boyfriend went out for his monthly rendezvous with his hairstylist, D. I am so jealous of Vince's and D's relationship. No, I don't think there's more to it than haircutting involved. D is about fifty years old and Vince doesn't go for older women. :) The truth is, I envy Vince because he has found the perfect person to cut his hair.

Vince and D seem to have the kind of relationship I wish to have with my hairstylist, if I ever found the one. The kind in which I'd be confident enough to tell her, "do whatever" because I trust her haircutting skills and know that she will cut my hair just the way I like it.

He is so loyal to D that his friends and I could not convince him to try another hairstylist. Vince never misses an appointment with D. One time, we had to cut a trip short just so he could be at D's shop early enough before the closing. Last winter when D slipped on ice and broke her leg, Vince had no choice but to go to another stylist, but he didn't like the way his hair was cut. He was so happy when D finally recovered and went back to work.

And the conversations between them go beyond the superficial, "how are you? how do you want your hair cut this time?" Vince once told me how D's bestfriend was battling cancer. The past few months that Vince got his haircut, I'd hear news about D and her bestfriend. Last month, Vince sadly told me how D's bestfriend lost the battle. And I am sure that D is privy about Vince's trials and tribulations at work.

I on the other hand, hop from one salon to another in search of the "one". Other than my mom who used to cut my hair until I was 17, I have never gone to a hairstylist more than twice. I have tried expensive salons, midpriced shops , and even low-budget ones to find that perfect person to cut my hair. My search has led me to a lot of disappointments and frustrations, not to mention bad hair days.

One time, I went to a posh salon in downtown Chicago. I was certain I would find the "one" here. Why not? The salon's ambience was ultra-chic. I could see myself going out of the salon with hair so bouncy and style so modern, like in those shampoo commercials. Sure enough the stylist was able to cut my hair how I wanted it. But I was turned off because the entire time he was cutting my hair, he was chatting with another stylist from the next stall. "Hellooooo... what about me????" It may sound self-centered, but I want my hairstylist to focus on me. I don't want to be just another head he's working on. He doesn't have to tell me his life story, he just has to show interest in knowing me, because by doing so, he'll be able to offer better service.

Then there was a time I went to a shop in Chinatown through a suggestion of one of my co-workers who said that Chinese hairstylists may be able to cut my straight hair to my liking because they have more experience with cutting my type of hair. The shop seemed nice and clean; however, after the hairwashing lady shampooed my hair, she used this towel that smelled like a wet rag to wrap my hair. I wanted to tell her to change the towel, but she could only speak in Mandarin. Luckily for me, the stylist could speak English.

Then I've been to a no-frills salon where you get a haircut for a very low price. You pay extra for washing, drying and styling. I am wary about going back to these types of salon because usually these shops employ stylists who have none to limited experience. One time, I ended up with uneven hair. I dared not go back to the same salon to have it corrected.

As you can see, I haven't been as lucky as Vince in finding my own D. Maybe Vince will share?

Sunday, April 17, 2005

No blogging under the influence

I was reading the entry that I just posted, and it occurred to me how retarded I sound. Is it the effect of medications? Or is my writing style that .... hmm bad?

Sick

I've been feeling under the weather this week. It started last Wednesday when I came down with symptoms of allergy: runny nose, sneezing, and congestion. Since I moved here to Chicago, I've been sufferring from bouts of allergy. Thinking it was plain allergy attack, I asked Vince to call a script of Allegra for me at our local Walgreens pharmacy. However when I came home from work last Friday with chills and a fever of 101.5F, I realized that this may not be a simple allergy. I developed dry hacking cough, and my runny nose, sneezing and congestion have become worse. My eyes and face are all red. I really felt bad for my patients. Imagine this:

Me: (With a hoarse voice) Good morning, Mr. Patient. I am Shelly; and I will be your nurse today. Excuse me for a minute.
(Go outside the room. Cross my legs, and cough, cough, cough. Wash hands. Go back to pt's room)
Mr. P: Are you ok?
Me: Uhm, yes. May I listen to your heart and lungs? (Fumble with my stethoscope)

Hah! Very professional. How would you feel if you were the patient? Hehehe, scared? Can't blame you. I am glad that my other patients were too disoriented to care.

Anyway, I went home, took a cool shower, popped Tylenol and went to bed. Vince came over with my Allegra. It helped with the stuffiness, but the nagging cough is still there. To help my cough and soothe my sore throat, Vince made this weird concoction of coke and ginger, a formula he learned from his mom . Surprisingly, it didn't taste as disgusting as it sound. In fact, I liked the taste of it. But it didn't really help that much. Aiyah, chinese medicines! Vince took a swig of it, and said, "Awful! This tastes like mom's herbal teas. And you like it?" Heehee, I thought it was better than the stuff my mom made me drink when I was sick as a kid. Have you ever had oregano elixir? Yuck! No wonder I hate taking medications.