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quietlikehorses.com



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Titlequiet like horses

Length: 17, Words: 3
Description quietlikehorses.com is a lifestyle blog about office life, food, photography, design, travel, crafts, and fashion.

Length: 114, Words: 16
Keywords pusty
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Charset UTF-8
Og Meta - Title exist
Og Meta - Description exist
Og Meta - Site name pusty
Tytuł powinien zawierać pomiędzy 10 a 70 znaków (ze spacjami), a mniej niż 12 słów w długości.
Meta opis powinien zawierać pomiędzy 50 a 160 znaków (łącznie ze spacjami), a mniej niż 24 słów w długości.
Kodowanie znaków powinny być określone , UTF-8 jest chyba najlepszy zestaw znaków, aby przejść z powodu UTF-8 jest bardziej międzynarodowy kodowaniem.
Otwarte obiekty wykresu powinny być obecne w stronie internetowej (więcej informacji na temat protokołu OpenGraph: http://ogp.me/)

SEO Content

Words/Characters 5629
Text/HTML 25.98 %
Headings H1 0
H2 9
H3 5
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friday, november 18, 2016
thursday, october 6, 2016
friday, september 9, 2016
tuesday, june 7, 2016
thursday, september 3, 2015
sobrina tung pies
all the pretty people
blog archive
pinterest-hover
H3
forwards and sideways, but never backwards
a photo supplement to "the motel mansion" on full grown people
the zombies at the bar
new writing on full grown people
dear alan: 3-month update
H4
H5
H6
strong
b
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em
Bolds strong 0
b 0
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Zawartość strony internetowej powinno zawierać więcej niż 250 słów, z stopa tekst / kod jest wyższy niż 20%.
Pozycji używać znaczników (h1, h2, h3, ...), aby określić temat sekcji lub ustępów na stronie, ale zwykle, użyj mniej niż 6 dla każdego tagu pozycje zachować swoją stronę zwięzły.
Styl używać silnych i kursywy znaczniki podkreślić swoje słowa kluczowe swojej stronie, ale nie nadużywać (mniej niż 16 silnych tagi i 16 znaczników kursywy)

Statystyki strony

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google+ itemprop=name pusty
Pliki zewnętrzne 22
Pliki CSS 2
Pliki javascript 20
Plik należy zmniejszyć całkowite odwołanie plików (CSS + JavaScript) do 7-8 maksymalnie.

Linki wewnętrzne i zewnętrzne

Linki 335
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Linki bez atrybutu Title 285
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Linki zewnętrzne

- http://www.quietlikehorses.com/

favorite products
http://bit.ly/1vuv83b
to eat http://www.quietlikehorses.com/search/label/to%20eat
to see http://www.quietlikehorses.com/search/label/to%20see
to wear http://www.quietlikehorses.com/search/label/to%20wear
about http://www.quietlikehorses.com/p/about-sobrina-and-this-blog.html
forwards and sideways, but never backwards http://www.quietlikehorses.com/2016/11/forwards-and-sideways-but-never.html
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- https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-8pylxm1eyow/wc9ptt54odi/aaaaaaaah1w/ay-jg2v69u4im03qwoz88qdxbj5mwtzcacew/s1600/img_3438.jpg
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sobrina tung https://www.blogger.com/profile/06629562195146939698
1:06 pm http://www.quietlikehorses.com/2016/11/forwards-and-sideways-but-never.html
5 comments https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogid=2360593805083673688&postid=2703041710214303392
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writing http://www.quietlikehorses.com/search/label/writing
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a photo supplement to "the motel mansion" on full grown people http://www.quietlikehorses.com/2016/10/a-supplement-to-motel-mansion-on-full.html
- https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-c4s_ebto8ki/v_xicypj3li/aaaaaaaahww/lhsqeeztmh41evprny0-kunkuoqqgw0cqclcb/s1600/mama%2b3.jpg
full grown people http://bit.ly/2dtqn3h
hawaiian palace http://bit.ly/2d4oyhd
- https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-qw_m5qwtbm8/v_xicsgt5li/aaaaaaaahwo/0qljciboqtkwswuew4ceujh2ndc9spftwcew/s1600/mama%2b1.jpg
- https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-v5znq6x9c3s/v_xicrrnb8i/aaaaaaaahws/sts1azzsjauzlhkxy_lmneo96d7qi1e-acew/s1600/mama%2b2.jpg
sobrina tung https://www.blogger.com/profile/06629562195146939698
5:00 am http://www.quietlikehorses.com/2016/10/a-supplement-to-motel-mansion-on-full.html
7 comments https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogid=2360593805083673688&postid=4481465099696492081
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full grown people http://www.quietlikehorses.com/search/label/full%20grown%20people
writing http://www.quietlikehorses.com/search/label/writing
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the zombies at the bar http://www.quietlikehorses.com/2016/09/going-out.html
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sobrina tung https://www.blogger.com/profile/06629562195146939698
5:17 pm http://www.quietlikehorses.com/2016/09/going-out.html
9 comments https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogid=2360593805083673688&postid=293063396186411342
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new writing on full grown people http://www.quietlikehorses.com/2016/06/new-writing-on-full-grown-people.html
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personal essay http://bit.ly/1uwtmk0
sobrina tung https://www.blogger.com/profile/06629562195146939698
8:38 am http://www.quietlikehorses.com/2016/06/new-writing-on-full-grown-people.html
11 comments https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogid=2360593805083673688&postid=3167531405015373453
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dear alan: 3-month update http://www.quietlikehorses.com/2015/09/dear-alan-3-month-update.html
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sobrina tung https://www.blogger.com/profile/06629562195146939698
8:30 am http://www.quietlikehorses.com/2015/09/dear-alan-3-month-update.html
12 comments https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogid=2360593805083673688&postid=8205244266872215698
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alan http://www.quietlikehorses.com/search/label/alan
grief http://www.quietlikehorses.com/search/label/grief
personal http://www.quietlikehorses.com/search/label/personal
relationships http://www.quietlikehorses.com/search/label/relationships
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older posts http://www.quietlikehorses.com/search?updated-max=2015-09-03t08:30:00-07:00&max-results=5
home http://www.quietlikehorses.com/
posts (atom) http://www.quietlikehorses.com/feeds/posts/default
- http://www.linkwithin.com/
- http://www.quietlikehorses.com/p/about-sobrina-and-this-blog.html
office life http://bit.ly/1nxmizt
weddings http://bit.ly/1rsc5pf
crafts http://bit.ly/17sm7uu
fashion http://bit.ly/1kjv9qj
food http://bit.ly/1rbxeyf
design http://bit.ly/inwq8s
travel http://bit.ly/1oz8opw
my favorite products http://bit.ly/1vuv83b
facebook http://on.fb.me/d19vxg
instagram http://bit.ly/tdmfsy
- http://www.quietlikehorses.com/feeds/posts/default
2016 http://www.quietlikehorses.com/search?updated-min=2016-01-01t00:00:00-08:00&updated-max=2017-01-01t00:00:00-08:00&max-results=4
nov 2016 http://www.quietlikehorses.com/2016_11_01_archive.html
forwards and sideways, but never backwards http://www.quietlikehorses.com/2016/11/forwards-and-sideways-but-never.html
oct 2016 http://www.quietlikehorses.com/2016_10_01_archive.html
sep 2016 http://www.quietlikehorses.com/2016_09_01_archive.html
jun 2016 http://www.quietlikehorses.com/2016_06_01_archive.html
2015 http://www.quietlikehorses.com/search?updated-min=2015-01-01t00:00:00-08:00&updated-max=2016-01-01t00:00:00-08:00&max-results=28
sep 2015 http://www.quietlikehorses.com/2015_09_01_archive.html
may 2015 http://www.quietlikehorses.com/2015_05_01_archive.html
apr 2015 http://www.quietlikehorses.com/2015_04_01_archive.html
mar 2015 http://www.quietlikehorses.com/2015_03_01_archive.html
feb 2015 http://www.quietlikehorses.com/2015_02_01_archive.html
jan 2015 http://www.quietlikehorses.com/2015_01_01_archive.html
2014 http://www.quietlikehorses.com/search?updated-min=2014-01-01t00:00:00-08:00&updated-max=2015-01-01t00:00:00-08:00&max-results=50
dec 2014 http://www.quietlikehorses.com/2014_12_01_archive.html
nov 2014 http://www.quietlikehorses.com/2014_11_01_archive.html
oct 2014 http://www.quietlikehorses.com/2014_10_01_archive.html
sep 2014 http://www.quietlikehorses.com/2014_09_01_archive.html
aug 2014 http://www.quietlikehorses.com/2014_08_01_archive.html
jul 2014 http://www.quietlikehorses.com/2014_07_01_archive.html
jun 2014 http://www.quietlikehorses.com/2014_06_01_archive.html
may 2014 http://www.quietlikehorses.com/2014_05_01_archive.html
apr 2014 http://www.quietlikehorses.com/2014_04_01_archive.html
mar 2014 http://www.quietlikehorses.com/2014_03_01_archive.html
feb 2014 http://www.quietlikehorses.com/2014_02_01_archive.html
jan 2014 http://www.quietlikehorses.com/2014_01_01_archive.html
2013 http://www.quietlikehorses.com/search?updated-min=2013-01-01t00:00:00-08:00&updated-max=2014-01-01t00:00:00-08:00&max-results=50
dec 2013 http://www.quietlikehorses.com/2013_12_01_archive.html
nov 2013 http://www.quietlikehorses.com/2013_11_01_archive.html
oct 2013 http://www.quietlikehorses.com/2013_10_01_archive.html
sep 2013 http://www.quietlikehorses.com/2013_09_01_archive.html
aug 2013 http://www.quietlikehorses.com/2013_08_01_archive.html
jul 2013 http://www.quietlikehorses.com/2013_07_01_archive.html
jun 2013 http://www.quietlikehorses.com/2013_06_01_archive.html
may 2013 http://www.quietlikehorses.com/2013_05_01_archive.html
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favorite productsto eatto seeto wearabout friday, november 18, 2016 forwards and sideways, but never backwards 9:10 a.m. i pull up to the house five minutes early. i don’t know what i was thinking when i volunteered to come. one kid? i can handle that. two kids? two makes me sweat. for a brief moment, i think about turning back around, but i know it’s too late. they might have already seen me. 9:18 a.m. stacy walks around the house, explaining everything i’ll need to know. the boys and i follow behind her in descending order by age. thirty-three-year-old me, three-year-old charlie, and one-year-old laz. the whole time, i feel the same way i did last summer when my parents left their dog with me for three months: afraid. afraid i might forget something really important. afraid i might accidentally kill a living being. the stakes are even higher now. i decide it’s best not to mention these things to her right before she has to leave for work. 9:36 a.m. after we wave goodbye to stacy, charlie asks me to sing for him. this requires some deliberation on my part because the list of people i will sing for is very small—it includes alan and select members of an acapella group i auditioned for in college (i had to turn my back towards them and face the wall to finish; i was not invited back). in the end, i decide it’s safe to add small children to the list: they don’t have the vocabulary yet to be mean. 9:42 a.m. charlie and i get into a disagreement about the plastic cars we’re rolling across the coffee table. according to him, they can only race forwards and sideways. he screams at me when i roll them backwards. in a fine demonstration of maturity, i resist telling him that driving in reverse actually makes more sense. it’s important, i think, to set a good example. instead, i silently judge the impossibility of each sideways roll. 10:00 a.m. i catch sight of something purplish on laz’s face. is that a bruise above his left eye? was that there before? i lean in closer for a better look. he smiles at me. huh. must have been a shadow. he crawls away and sits up dangerously close to a sharp table corner. i remember the soft spot on his head that stacy showed me months ago. i wonder if it’s still there. i decide better not to risk anything and hover over him, cupping my hand over table corners while he crawls beneath. he laughs. i pick him up and move him across the room, standing him up next to his baby-walker. 10:23 a.m. i go back and forth between racing cars with charlie on the coffee table and re-directing laz who is tottering precariously across the room. his walker keeps getting caught on the leg of a chair or on the corner of a rug. when he can’t make it more than a few feet before getting stuck again, i pick him up for nap time. 10:29 a.m. following stacy’s nap-time directions, i dim the lights in the boys’ room, put laz on my lap, and read him three cardboard books. after the third one, i get up slowly to turn the lights off. charlie, who’d been playing quietly on his bed, beats me to the light switch and turns them all the way up. laz shrieks. we need to turn the lights off now, i tell him. he turns the lights halfway down, then all the way back up again, and then finally all the way off. i try to think of a more diplomatic way to say not cool, bro, but before i can say anything, he opens the door and slips outside. 10:37 a.m. laz shows no signs of sleepiness. his cries remind me of an adult coming to terms with the fact that the weekend’s over and he has work the next day. i put him tummy-down in his crib while making soft shhh, shhh noises meant to mimic the ocean setting on a white-noise machine. he doesn’t buy it, sitting up and looking at me, crying even louder than before with his mouth in a perfect “o.” it takes singing “twinkle, twinkle little stars” a maniacal number of times and drumming a consistent beat on his back before laz finally falls asleep. 11:04 a.m. outside, i find charlie digging happily in his sandbox. i seize the opportunity to go to the bathroom. as i sit on the toilet, i let out a deep breath. finally, a moment of peace an— the doorknob jiggles wildly. in here? comes a voice from outside. i freeze. the jiggling is getting more erratic, more desperate. i’m reminded of a scene from a horror movie. the one where the girl chooses poorly, picking a room without two exits to hide in. just a second! i call out, pawing at the toilet paper. just as soon as i’ve pulled my pants up, the jiggling stops. i wait to hear the sound of small receding steps, but there is nothing but dead air. i flush the toilet, wash my hands and open the door to find nothing and nobody on the other side. 11:09 a.m. want to play blocks with me? charlie asks when i come back to the living room. i keep my eyes on him and nod slowly. i can’t decide what’s creepier: him pretending to be a ghost at the bathroom door or him pretending like it never happened. 11:22 a.m. i catch charlie walking around the kitchen, one hand holding a granola bar, the other pulling zoey's tail. it’s not nice to pull zoey’s tail, i tell him. he looks at me in complete seriousness. she turns around and is silly. that's the truth, he says. before i can tell him it’s still not nice, he looks back over his shoulder and repeats solemnly, that's the truth. (this is charlie's serious face.) 11:33 a.m. charlie jumps on the mini trampoline in the backyard. i blow bubbles so he can pop them mid-air. he laughs the most when they pop right in front of him so i just start blowing them in his face. he frowns suddenly, stopping mid-jump and pointing a finger at the brown bits on the edge. what's that on the trampoline? he asks. his voice is so filled with disgust, he might as well have been pointing at human feces smeared across the surface. it leads me to feel equivocally disgusted. i use a stick to wipe the debris off. 11:45 a.m. to make playing cars more interesting, i give grave digger (that’s the actual name printed across the door; pretty macabre for a kid’s toy, if you ask me) more of a backstory and pump up his personality. before crashing into charlie’s ice cream truck (for the fifth time), i have to finish doing donuts in the desert. (i stop here to explain to charlie what donuts are, and then i demonstrate by spinning grave digger around in fast, tight loops. i’m a wild car! i shout.) eventually, grave digger leaves the sun-bleached desert and heads to disneyland because he wants a churro. 11:53 a.m. charlie and i walk around the house. grave digger and ice cream truck are in search of fires to put out. (that we’ve moved on from simply crashing into each other brings me indescribable joy). i open a cabinet and gasp. there’s a fire! charlie says. i’ll use my hose! i tell him. no, use the powder, he suggests. okay, i’ll use the— wait, what does the powder do? i ask. it puts out the fire! he says, emphatically. i change the sound effect i’m making from a spraying hose to a dusting of powder. note to self: look up fire extinguishing powder later. 12:05 p.m. i collapse on the couch. go back to disneyland, charlie says. he wants to do the whole spiel all over again. instead, i tell him, on grave digger’s behalf, that i’m tired and need to eat some dinner. we talk about the color of ice cream we want. i want a pink and red ice cream, charlie says for ice cream truck. i decide on a blue one for grave digger. the cars feast before a heavy sleepiness overcomes them. it’s nap time now, grave digger says, laying on his side. charlie nods and lays his car next to mine. for a few glorious moments, we both rest. i’ve successfully turned charlie’s cars into the dolls from my childhood. 12:12 p.m. i hear what sounds like a small dinosaur coming from the other room. laz is awake. 12:19 p.m. i fix lunch: reheated leftovers for charlie and me; mashed black beans and quinoa for laz. the house is quiet. too quiet. the dread from earlier punches me in the stomach. charlie, do you see laz? i shout out. he’s right here, charlie says. they both look up at me as i burst into the room. i let out a relieved sigh. why? he asks. i tell him that i just need laz to play in the kitchen so i can see him. as soon as i say it, though, i change my mind after both boys return quietly to their toys. i go back to making lunch and am wondering if i’ve mashed the black beans well enough, when laz starts screaming. did he eat that chalk he was holding earlier? i knew i should have moved it up higher. but it’s not the chalk or anything else i’d feared. charlie has an arm wrapped around laz’s angry red face, another one around his chest. i’m bringing him to the kitchen so you can see him, charlie says mid-drag. my heart swells: he really does listen! 12:27 p.m. charlie runs in a tight circle next to the kitchen table. i'm doing donuts in the desert! he yells. 1:00 p.m. i leave for a dentist appointment. rob, the boys’ dad who works from home, takes over for me. 2:30 p.m. when i get back, the house is quiet. charlie is asleep, and i put laz down a short while later. i think about reading or doing something else productive, but i don’t have the energy to move off the couch. 3:34 p.m. charlie yells from the bedroom when he wakes up. he is calmly sitting among rumpled blankets with his jeans neatly folded at the foot of the bed. putting them back on him requires a surprising level of effort. i think these are lazzy’s, charlie says when the pants get stuck. could be, i think. they do seem really small. i look down and see both of his legs stuffed into one pant leg. 3:39 p.m. we watch “fire monster truck and police monster truck.” i think there is no way anything exists with that actual name, but rob easily finds it among their recently watched youtube videos and puts it on the tv for us. charlie does not blink the entire eleven minutes. 4:05 p.m. mama, will you make a road with me? charlie asks me in the sandbox. for a second, i think about correcting him. but then, selfishly, i think about the number of times i raced cars with him that day and let myself bask in his compliment. 4:16 p.m. charlie refuses to be it after i tag him. i calmly explain to him that that’s how tag works: i was it, i tagged him, and now he’s it. i know he’s stubborn, but i can be stubb— charlie throws his head back so that it hangs at an unnatural angle, like it’s broken and separated from his body, his entire face twists, and his mouth opens into an angry black hole. i sense a major tantrum coming on. okay, i’m it, i quickly concede. charlie’s head snaps back into place, and the storm clouds immediately pass from his face. you’re it! charlie gloats. our heart-warming moment from earlier is over. 5:07 p.m. i rest quietly on the couch. laz chews on the corner of a lego block. my unsanctioned break lasts for two minutes before charlie wraps his arms around my neck and swings off my back until i play with him again. 6:28 p.m. just when i start thinking about how i’m going to be the parent who sticks her kids in front of the tv all day, the front door opens and stacy walks in. mama! we all scream. three beaming faces welcome her home. charlie and laz run to her, forgetting about me, their toys, or anything else. i flop onto the couch and watch the boys crawl all over her. she is greater than even charlie’s favorite cars. posted by sobrina tung at 1:06 pm 5 comments tags: writing email this blogthis!share to twittershare to facebook thursday, october 6, 2016 a photo supplement to "the motel mansion" on full grown people i have a new essay up on full grown people today about my mom and the crazy adventure she took us on in hawaii. as a supplement to the story, i thought it'd be fun to share some pictures from our family vacation. first is the picture up top from when we did a self-guided tour through this old hawaiian palace. my mom couldn't figure out how to work the ipod, and i doubted she could understand the english being spoken so quickly, so from time to time, i'd provide a quick summary of what i'd learned. "this is the room where they locked up the princess for months. she made this quilt." "this painting is from a frenchman." "her bed looks really small, but it's actually the size of a standard twin." her very good questions of why the princess was removed from power or why she was locked in a room in her own palace for months went unanswered. i can only guess what my mom must think of my auditory-learning skills. when we got back home, and we were all missing that beautiful island, my mom told my dad that he should spread her ashes in waikiki if she should die before him. he said, “now look here, no one’s dying before or after anyone. there's only dying together." my mom called right after to tell me, whereupon we both had a good laugh. neither of us mentioned how it melted our hearts. we have that in common, my mom and i: we acknowledge sweet things, sad things and scary things alike by making jokes of them. my mom is the boldest person i know. she can soak in the ocean for hours and hours. when we arrive at a new place, she says "look at all the people" in a voice so convincing you can't help but feel a similar state of wonder. she tells me sometimes that i look like a movie star. when i have children, i shall tell them the same. posted by sobrina tung at 5:00 am 7 comments tags: full grown people, writing email this blogthis!share to twittershare to facebook friday, september 9, 2016 the zombies at the bar marnie has a new boyfriend. she’s meeting him after dinner. we pick at our beef chow fun and braised eggplant the way you do when you’re full but don’t want to stop eating. want to come with? she asks. i have no plans aside from watching netflix and ordering random things on amazon. it could be fun. but so could my original plans. i pick up a rice noodle. i have been wanting to meet him. okay, i decide. she smiles broadly. the first place we go is a restaurant where we walk in and sit at the bar. dan, the new boyfriend, is the exact build that marnie described. i’m impressed by her descriptive accuracy, but before i can tell her she would do well describing someone for a police sketch, dan’s friend makes a comment about marnie’s weight. 

 “what happened?” he asks. “what do you mean?” she says. he holds his hands wide out in front of him, then slowly brings them a few inches apart. “you lost weight,” he says. “yeah, i lost 27 pounds!” she exclaims proudly. “my condolences.” marnie gives me a look. “she’s happy. there’s nothing to feel bad about,” i say. he says something about there being more to love before. i pretend not to hear and busy myself with reading the menu. the bartender arrives. “what would you recommend for something light and fruity?,” i ask. “the union sour or the mai tai?” “definitely the mai tai,” the bartender says. the menu describes it as having a passion-fruit-cream finish which does sound delightful. the bartender disappears for a few minutes before walking a murky glass towards me. one sip in, and it is neither light nor fruity. the cream-top sits like old sea foam in a mess at the edge of the glass. i decide not to incite any attention over my terrible drink and take the tiniest of sips. “sorry we’re late. we couldn’t stop watching this stand-up show that sobrina showed me,” marnie says. “you like stand-up?” the friend asks. “i like certain ones,” i say. “have you seen baby cobra on netflix?” “no,” he says. “it’s really funny,” i say. “i went to school with her!” “you did?” “yeah, nothing like seeing someone you went to school with on tv to know how far you haven’t come,” i joke. he stares at me blankly. “can you please get a new drink? it’s paining me watching you drink that,” he says. apparently, my invisible sips aren’t fooling anyone. the bartender comes by to check on the two girls sitting next to us. they also have the sea-foam drinks. “she hates her drink,” the friend calls out after the bartender. “it’s fine,” i say and pretend to vigorously drink it. “we should just take shots. what do you drink?” dan asks me. “she’s driving,” marnie says. “don’t worry, sobrina.” just in case, i text my sister where i’m at and ask if i can crash at her place if i need to. she texts back: you’re brave. there were three shootings around there this week. the night is off to a classy start. we leave for the next place. there is a line outside, but we get in quickly. i follow marnie who follows dan and his friend to the back where there is a mass of people. the music is blaring and everyone is standing with their backs to us. time freezes and no one moves. we are in a zombie movie. i wait for them to all turn towards us at the same time, revealing their bloodied mouths and pale skin. instead, a girl walks past us, hitting the play button on the scene. carrying two drinks in her hands, she makes her way back through the crowd towards the front of the room. it clicks then that there’s a bar back there. we’re just getting more drinks. marnie orders me something orange and actually light and fruity. i am touched and bumped from every direction and decide we are in a zombie wasteland after all. there is something else. i noticed it when we first came in and the entire way walking to the bar. i am a head taller than everyone in the room. never mind that i’m 5’3”. all that matters is that here i’m a gazelle! i am a supermodel! i let it go to my head for a second, enjoying that which never happens. i think of alan. i like feeling for a minute how he must have felt everywhere he went, towering above most at 6’2”. three guys along the wall do nothing but stand and stare with hungry eyes. they look like the type to refer to women as “females.” a group of girls sings along to rihanna’s “work.” who knew there were words besides work, work, work, work, work? marnie leaves me to find the bathroom. “come down here much?” dan asks. “not really. i used to go to one place though,” i say. it’s not the entire truth but not a lie either. i’d been there at least a few times. “loft. you know it?” “oh, you don’t wanna go there. it’s ghetto,” he says. in my head i think it might be more fun than standing next to the three guys man-handling all the females with their eyes. when marnie returns, we finish our drinks. by now, my orange drink has kicked in. while everyone downs shots of something, i quietly enjoy the swish of my insides rocking on a gentle sea. the kind of place you can go for a warm swim. i turn down drinks offered to me. there is a fine line between this and having my head collapse. we go outside and then we just stand there. i wonder what we are waiting for. after tugging at my hand unsuccessfully, marnie leaves me again to get an ice cream sandwich with new friends she’s made. when she comes back, i convince marnie we should walk to loft. there’s a dance floor there. i hate standing around doing nothing. dan’s friend and i start walking, and marnie and dan follow behind us. as we turn the corner, dan stops and heads back towards the street. marnie chases after him. i stand with the friend, neither of us knowing what’s going on. we make small talk. he is turning out to be okay. “he just left,” marnie says when she returns. “he just left?” i repeat. “yeah, just got in an uber and went home.” the warm island i’m on softens how i might have felt about this otherwise. at loft, we make our way to the dance floor. i feel the music reverberate through me and dance like i’m in a music video, a tasteful one. i imagine alan there, too, dancing without a care in the world. someone grabs my hips and presses his pelvis against me. i haven’t had someone try that in forever. it almost makes me laugh, but instead i turn around and shake my hand between us, like a parent who has to hide her amusement when disciplining her child. he backs up. marnie is lost in the music video too. she doesn’t notice the grinder. it surprises her when the grinder’s friend backs his butt up into hers. i see him coming at her from the corner of my eye, but i don’t warn her so i can see her reaction. she whips around and mouths a big “no.” maybe she says it too, but i can’t hear it over the music. he moves away but, in a ballsy move, doesn't leave our dance circle. he just gets really into the music. another guy joins our group. he looks like a recent indian immigrant. did he even come with anyone? people are so courageous. next to us a couple are dancing. he has “blud life” printed on his shirt. i wonder if there is a tie to the gang and try not to bump into him too much. when the streak of good songs ends, we leave the dance floor. the grinder’s friend and the immigrant get absorbed into somebody else’s music video. at home, i notice a stain on my shirt. someone has spilled an orange-pink drink on me. i drop my keys by the front door and am glad i remembered to buy more laundry stain stick on amazon last week. posted by sobrina tung at 5:17 pm 9 comments email this blogthis!share to twittershare to facebook tuesday, june 7, 2016 new writing on full grown people a personal essay i wrote about the loneliness of grief is up on full grown people today if you'd like to read it. posted by sobrina tung at 8:38 am 11 comments email this blogthis!share to twittershare to facebook thursday, september 3, 2015 dear alan: 3-month update dear alan, today i am 32 years old, and in so many ways, i don't feel it. i still get excited about going to the candy store. i have a tendency to dress like i'm five. and i have no idea how my 401k works. then something will remind me of you and i feel a hundred years older. the door to my grief swings open and i am swept away. i am like the 75-year-old widows in the bereavement group the hospital set me up with. except we wear different shoes. theirs are thick-soled and unabashedly comfortable-looking. they cover every inch of skin. my shoes are strappy and offer no arch support. they're not the most comfortable, but they're not terrible either. the ladies in the group talk about their 50+ years of marriage, their kids and their grandkids. i tell them that you and i were married for a year and that we really wanted kids. it's clear that i'm not 75 either. i don't plan beyond the next two weeks. i struggle with verbs. i say things like, "my husband is a software engineer." i don't know how to answer when new people ask how long we've been married. i look down at my hands so they won't see me cry. i think about all the times i asked you if you would still be with me if i was a zombie, and the way you always said yes without a moment's hesitation. i'm sorry i told you i wasn't sure what i would do if the situation was reversed. in the movies, staying with your zombie lover is always a futile effort. but now that you're gone, i get it. i would still be with you. it would be worth it to be together. i kept my promise. i didn't sleep alone in our apartment for the first three months. a different friend stayed over each night. sometimes we'd go to dinner, sometimes we'd just watch tv. when i'm alone, sometimes the silence is deafening. i miss the sound of us. i miss hearing you eat five bowls of raisin bran. i miss hearing your mechanical keyboard at the desk next to mine. i miss hearing about project 1999. i would take zombie you—any you—any day. i used to joke that it didn't matter if i died in a car accident because then i'd get to be with you again. sophie told me at some point she'd have to start worrying and taking that seriously. so i stopped saying things like that out loud. i try not to even think it but sometimes i can't help it. i know i promised i'd keep living my beautiful life for you, but it's hard. i've gone hiking a bunch and i've been swimming and eating good food. i pretend like you're still going to bust me when i'm in the kitchen late at night eating chips. it makes me laugh. oh, and i wore the skirt you liked to lu and jesse's wedding. we still have to get them a wedding gift. i want to sign the card for the both of us, but is that weird? anyway, i'm trying my best. over the past three months: sophie and i took the meepy parents to hawaii. they never thought they'd get the chance to go in this lifetime (their actual words). that would sound so dramatic if i didn't know they truly meant it. they loved sleeping by the ocean and would wake with the sun and run out to the beach. oh, meepy parents! we went to a luau. you would have been so disappointed in us! (tourist trap!) you were right, it ended up being pretty terrible, especially the food, but the sunset over the water was nice. i drank a bajillion lava flows because did you know they taste like delicious milkshakes? the fact that i could drink a bajillion (read: two and a half) and not feel anything makes me think they were, in fact, milkshakes. we went to the twin falls. you would have loved it. before you get to the water you walk through (landscaped) jungle. your two favorite things: water and jungle! the water was chilly but you quickly forget because you're swimming in a waterfall and you feel like you're in a disney movie. i tried to watch the sunset every night. this one was eerily beautiful. we got this for dessert at mama's fish house. you wouldn't have liked it because of all the chocolate, but isn't it pretty? p.s. i've had better fish at nick's. lu and jesse got married. i wore the new skirt i showed you. you called it a "fun" color. i love how everything is fun to you, from car rides to colors. everyone coincidentally wore petal pink nails and nude shoes. it was fun. we celebrated the fourth of july on the leclair's new rooftop deck. the view of the fireworks was great, and we didn't have to deal with any crazy crowds. grace brought sparklers because they reminded her of you. what a sweetie. i visited roy in l.a. and we ate so much food. we also spent a lot of time looking at cute things. you would have been so happy for me. i wish i could have shown you the venice canals. roy and i both saw them for the first time, and he's lived there his whole life! one morning we had brunch in a greenhouse which i know you would have loved. petrie stayed with me for two months because the meepy parents "wanted me to have a friend." at first i was scared i would forget to take care of him and he would accidentally die, but it was nice having him around. do you know how many weird people stop to talk to you when you have a dog? so many! one lady kept talking to me about the guy that pulled out a chainsaw and was threatening everyone in her apartment complex. at first she made it seem like she just wanted help finding this karate studio, but i think she needed a lot more. petrie and i got out of there real quick. anyway, he kept asking where you were. then he got really loud and really mad when he found out you were gone... ...and then just really sad and quiet when i told him it was for forever. he's still trying to make sense of it. we went on our annual trip to visit stacy and rob at the mouse house in capitola. this would have been our fifth year in a row. the clouds dotting the sky were beautiful. and then the sun set and the sky turned pink and purple and blue. it almost made me cry. i've been swimming a lot at pj's. and omeida took me swimming at the sjsu pool a few times. i'm getting so much better at relaxing; you'd be proud of me. i wore my snorkel a couple of times. really nerdy, but i saw someone else do it and it makes swimming way funner. i went to this late-night restaurant in portland for mac and cheese. they bring your leftovers wrapped up in aluminum foil shapes. i really wanted the three-foot sword (as i know you would have too), but i got a bunny. lame. omeida showed me a new trail at quicksilver. i can't believe how big the park is! she didn't know about the trail we always do, so next time i'll show her that one. it was really hot and sunny that day, but i loved it. it felt like summer was seeping deep into my bones. i don't know what i'll do when the days are shorter, the light slips away faster and the darkness comes quicker. that's further than two weeks away, so i'll think more about that later. i still can't believe you're gone. posted by sobrina tung at 8:30 am 12 comments tags: alan, grief, personal, relationships email this blogthis!share to twittershare to facebook older posts home subscribe to: posts (atom) sobrina tung pies welcome to quiet like horses, a blog on office life, weddings, crafts, fashion, food, design and travel. i live in the sunny silicon valley and love sharing my favorite products and other delights. send me a note at:sobrina.tung at gmail dot com keep in touch on facebook or follow me on instagram. all the pretty people blog archive ▼  2016 (4) ▼  nov 2016 (1) forwards and sideways, but never backwards ►  oct 2016 (1) ►  sep 2016 (1) ►  jun 2016 (1) ►  2015 (28) ►  sep 2015 (1) ►  may 2015 (2) ►  apr 2015 (4) ►  mar 2015 (6) ►  feb 2015 (2) ►  jan 2015 (13) ►  2014 (79) ►  dec 2014 (8) ►  nov 2014 (5) ►  oct 2014 (9) ►  sep 2014 (6) ►  aug 2014 (6) ►  jul 2014 (7) ►  jun 2014 (4) ►  may 2014 (9) ►  apr 2014 (3) ►  mar 2014 (4) ►  feb 2014 (8) ►  jan 2014 (10) ►  2013 (148) ►  dec 2013 (10) ►  nov 2013 (8) ►  oct 2013 (11) ►  sep 2013 (13) ►  aug 2013 (5) ►  jul 2013 (12) ►  jun 2013 (11) ►  may 2013 (11) ►  apr 2013 (14) ►  mar 2013 (17) ►  feb 2013 (15) ►  jan 2013 (21) ►  2012 (258) ►  dec 2012 (15) ►  nov 2012 (22) ►  oct 2012 (24) ►  sep 2012 (18) ►  aug 2012 (17) ►  jul 2012 (19) ►  jun 2012 (22) ►  may 2012 (23) ►  apr 2012 (27) ►  mar 2012 (26) ►  feb 2012 (22) ►  jan 2012 (23) ►  2011 (175) ►  dec 2011 (16) ►  nov 2011 (22) ►  oct 2011 (19) ►  sep 2011 (17) ►  aug 2011 (14) ►  jul 2011 (12) ►  jun 2011 (13) ►  may 2011 (14) ►  apr 2011 (13) ►  mar 2011 (13) ►  feb 2011 (14) ►  jan 2011 (8) ►  2010 (178) ►  dec 2010 (14) ►  nov 2010 (12) ►  oct 2010 (13) ►  sep 2010 (19) ►  aug 2010 (22) ►  jul 2010 (21) ►  jun 2010 (23) ►  may 2010 (12) ►  apr 2010 (7) ►  mar 2010 (12) ►  feb 2010 (9) ►  jan 2010 (14) ►  2009 (184) ►  dec 2009 (10) ►  nov 2009 (17) ►  oct 2009 (15) ►  sep 2009 (18) ►  aug 2009 (24) ►  jul 2009 (24) ►  jun 2009 (13) ►  may 2009 (10) ►  apr 2009 (14) ►  mar 2009 (15) ►  feb 2009 (10) ►  jan 2009 (14) ►  2008 (88) ►  dec 2008 (12) ►  nov 2008 (12) ►  oct 2008 (6) ►  sep 2008 (10) ►  aug 2008 (9) ►  jul 2008 (10) ►  jun 2008 (3) ►  may 2008 (5) ►  apr 2008 (8) ►  mar 2008 (4) ►  feb 2008 (9) pinterest-hover © copyright quiet like horses | all rights reserved


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