Currently listening to: Psycho Killer – Talking Heads
Saturday morning.
The morning started off intense. I was heading out and caught the aftermath of a pretty bad accident at the freeway exit. From the look of the road markings, it seemed like a motorcyclist had been dragged. He was lying on his back in the middle of the road, surrounded by a small crowd. I slowed down and asked one of the bystanders if they needed help, but she said they were good—there were a bunch of doctors and nurses already there, just waiting for the ambulance. I cringed as I drove past the accident site. I hope the guy makes it.
Later, I met up with Krystiana. She wanted to take me out to brunch, give me my birthday presents, and introduce me to her boyfriend. First impression? He seemed nice—kind, attentive, very into her. It looks like the relationship she’s been dreaming of. He dotes on her, seems emotionally present, and caters to her needs. I can tell that she’s elated. She also made a side comment about how he was now unemployed due to a work injury and required surgery and that he doesn’t drive… yet. That’s the operative word.
She complimented me on my gray contacts, which made me smile. Most East Asians rarely notice them. It’s usually the non-Asians who point it out right away. I’ve always thought that it might be cultural. In Korean, Japanese, and Chinese cultures, direct eye contact—especially with someone older or in a position of authority—can be seen as disrespectful or confrontational. So people learn early on to avoid staring too long at someone’s face.
I’m an introverted by nature and I don’t spend a lot of time studying people’s faces. It’s not that I’m uninterested—it just doesn’t come naturally. I wish I could say I’m working on it, but it’s one of those things I’ve accepted about myself. I can pick up on vibes and energy easily though.
Meanwhile, I’m just sitting there thinking: I’d probably be a terrible person to date. I’m busy, I’m independent, and I like doing my own thing. If I want to go somewhere or try something new, I’m not waiting around for someone to join me. If a guy doesn’t want to come, cool—he can stay home. I’ve got plans cause I’ve got shit to do. I can’t be waiting around all day.
She brought up how I haven’t been on socials lately and asked if I was upset with her. I told her it’s not that deep—I’ve just been too busy to post much these days. It’s on the bottom of my priority list.
We went to Chili Cali, a spot I’ve heard a lot about. My coworkers are always raving about it. The chef, Mural Manjnath, has earned a Michelin star for a Singaporean restaurant that does Indian fine dining, so I figured it was worth checking out. It’s a fusion of California and Indian cuisine and did not disappoint.
Garlic and cheese kulcha – This was divine. Garlic + cheese = magic. Honestly, you can’t go wrong with that combo. My friend was disappointed at the presentation but when she tried it, she was in heaven.
Pani puri poppers – Puffed puri shells filled with chicken and potatoes, paired with mini shot glasses of mango, mint, and buttermilk. The mint one was hands down my favorite. Refreshing.
Eggplant Bharta Lasagna – Tandoori-roasted mashed eggplant layered with paneer and mozzarella. Heavy on the cheese, just how I like it. I was getting full by this point, so I boxed up the leftovers for Krystiana to take home. She said it looked like shit but when she grabbed a forkful and tasted it, she was asking for another bite. I thought to myself, “Yeah, exactly, it’s fucking good.”
Cali Chili Pot Pie (hers) – Butter chicken tucked inside a flaky crust. I didn’t try it, but based on her dramatic eye-rolls and involuntary sighs, I think it was a hit.
To top it off, the restaurant surprised me with a birthday dessert: kulfi with pistachio and saffron ice cream, plus dessert noodles. It wasn’t overly sweet, just perfectly balanced. I legit wanted to lick the plate clean.
After brunch, we hit up Five Below but didn’t find anything worth grabbing. Then we swung by Trader Joe’s, where I grabbed three bags of patio chips. They’re seasonal so I have to buy them when they’re available.
These things are dangerous. Every time I let a friend try one or two chips, they end up asking for more till the bag is gone.
We made a quick stop at Daiso, where I picked up some Sanrio goodies to stash away for Christmas stocking stuffers. Even Daiso raised their prices—nothing’s safe from inflation.
Back at her place, we had coffee and caught up. She asked me about all the concerts I’ve been going to lately and what I’ve been listening to. So, I introduced her to The Rose, Enhypen, and Stray Kids. I could tell she was into it. She was married to a Taiwanese guy (but they divorced), so she already had a thing for Asian men—and even though her current boyfriend is basically a human mayonnaise, I’m betting she’s got some biases stored in the playlist now.
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