I took the A train today, and if you work, you know the A train going downtown is always packed. I once was lucky to walk in and find a seat by the door. The thing with the subway in New York is that it's unpredictable. I saw the C train running on the B/D track. The A train became local all of a sudden and would only stop at certain stops. The L stopped working and I think it was because of the guy who committed suicide and splatted his guts everywhere.
I love it when I walk down the stairs and both trains come at the same time. It's one of the most beautiful things, I think. You stand there in the middle as these two trains rush by and it causes your hair to fly everywhere. I make sure to pause and enjoy that moment. When I got in the train, I barely took two steps. I found the nearest pole and held on. I never really know what to do when I'm standing. Usually I sit, look around really quickly to see how crowded the train is, then I close my eyes. You would think that I should open them and enjoy what's around me, and I agree. But I can't do that for 35 minutes. I'd look at the advertisements, which usually consists of some community college posters. My favorite is the Guggenheim one, which has been there for three months and should be taken down because the exhibit no longer exists.
I was standing there and I wasn't feeling sleepy so I kept my eyes opened. The young lady standing next to me was reading a book. I couldn't stop looking at her short blond hair. I wish there was some type of real life pinterest to collect everything I've seen that has inspired me. But I used my peripherals and I really wanted to ask her to turn around so I can look at the back of her head. Don't worry, I didn't do such a thing. But I kept glancing over. The three people who were seated in front of me all had their eyes closed. Actually, everyone seated had their eyes closed. It was awfully quiet for such a packed train. I couldn't see what stop it was and I hate it when you couldn't hear the conductor because for some season, he/she doesn't understand how to turn on the volume. I wasn't at a panic. I knew that after 59th, half the people leave the train anyway. "This is Canal. Next stop is Chambers. Stand clear of the closing doors." That's usually my cue to start walking to the door.
Showing posts with label 22. Show all posts
Showing posts with label 22. Show all posts
February 22, 2012
February 20, 2012
Sickness talk
The last time I was sick and actually enjoying every second of it was second grade. It seems all of my great childhood memories were in that time. I was 8 or something. We were still living in a studio so my twin bed was in the living room along with my brother's. He had these really colorful dinosaur sheets. I can't recall what my sheets were like, but I'm sure it wasn't as awesome as his sheets since I can't even remember it. It was a school day and I wasn't in school. Instead I was under the covers, one of those thick, heavy, flowery ones. If you have any familiarity with Asians, you know what I'm talking about. There's always some type of pattern with some shade of red. My mother's had a peacock. Mine had huge red and pastel flowers all over. One side of the blanket felt silky so when you run your hand against it it'll smooth it out and everything looked perfect. That was one of my favorite things to do, petting the blanket. At least it behaved and didn't poop. It seems life was easier with this blanket because now I have an Ikea down comforter with those duvets and life isn't as easy. It's still very warm, but I can't pet it like my Asian blanket. My mother took the day off to take care of me. I remembered my great aunt (that's what I called her, though I really don't know how she was related to me but she was related) came over and gave me five dollars. I forgot why, but I remembered wanting to be sick all the time so I can get more five dollars. Five dollars could have gotten me ten fudge popsicles or ten bottles of lucas. Even though I was sick, if the ice cream truck came by, I'd rush out the door and run after it.
On these sick days, besides blowing my nose and filling up so many plastic bags with my used tissues, I watched television all day. Daytime television wasn't made for kids (I know because they always had soap operas that had stuff my eyes should have not seen as a child) and PBS became my favorite network. I never knew what PBS stood for, but knew that before and after every show, they always thanked me "like viewers like you, thank you" and I'd always reply "you're welcome!" I never watched Nickelodeon or cartoon network because I didn't have cable. I remember I'd lie to the kids at school when they asked me if I had cable. I told me that I had it once, but my father cancelled it because I wouldn't do my homework. Everyone believed it. I already knew I wasn't a typical kid, but I still wanted to fit in. So yeah, I used to have cable and watch TRL and Rugrats until my parents turned off our 20 inch tube.
Life as a sick child was not a struggle. Now at the ripe age of 23, I'm sick and there is a TV, a huge one actually, but it doesn't work. It sits quietly in our living room and constantly reminds me everyday that I am still poor. But it is quite encouraging because I really wish I can turn it on and watch The Notebook on there. Can you imagine Ryan Gosling's face on a 50 or so inch screen!? I ended up finishing The Catcher in the Rye instead. It makes me wish I wrote more during my teens angst years (what do you call angst in your early twenties? I feel like there should be a clever answer here and then that drum sound to state that it was a joke should play). But then, I wouldn't want to reread any of that because it'll just make me hate myself because I know how annoying I can be.
One thing I kind of like about being sick is my lost of taste and smell. It means I can make anything I wanted and it didn't matter how it tasted, as long as it filled me up. It means not being able to smell urine in the subways or smelling someone's fart, including my own. It means I can put sour cream and onion potato chips in my porridge and not be disgusted by it. But it also means I can't enjoy a freshly made avocado shake/smoothie or homemade angel hair pasta with mushroom and chicken alfredo sauce. I always feel these minor sicknesses happen to make us appreciate whatever that is hurting, more. Like when your elbow starts hurting for no reason and you begin to appreciate your elbow and pray to God that you won't ever mistreat your elbow ever again. I would think of other examples, but you know what I mean. You begin to give that part of your body more attention and tell everyone you encounter to be happy that theirs is functioning properly or at least looks normal. This reminds me a lot about people too, and how when someone gets sick, or gets mad or you, or something different happens to them and it changes your relationship negatively, you begin to focus on them and really appreciate them and wish you had done more and pray to God so many times to undo it all, to bring it back to the way it was before all of it happened.
On these sick days, besides blowing my nose and filling up so many plastic bags with my used tissues, I watched television all day. Daytime television wasn't made for kids (I know because they always had soap operas that had stuff my eyes should have not seen as a child) and PBS became my favorite network. I never knew what PBS stood for, but knew that before and after every show, they always thanked me "like viewers like you, thank you" and I'd always reply "you're welcome!" I never watched Nickelodeon or cartoon network because I didn't have cable. I remember I'd lie to the kids at school when they asked me if I had cable. I told me that I had it once, but my father cancelled it because I wouldn't do my homework. Everyone believed it. I already knew I wasn't a typical kid, but I still wanted to fit in. So yeah, I used to have cable and watch TRL and Rugrats until my parents turned off our 20 inch tube.
Life as a sick child was not a struggle. Now at the ripe age of 23, I'm sick and there is a TV, a huge one actually, but it doesn't work. It sits quietly in our living room and constantly reminds me everyday that I am still poor. But it is quite encouraging because I really wish I can turn it on and watch The Notebook on there. Can you imagine Ryan Gosling's face on a 50 or so inch screen!? I ended up finishing The Catcher in the Rye instead. It makes me wish I wrote more during my teens angst years (what do you call angst in your early twenties? I feel like there should be a clever answer here and then that drum sound to state that it was a joke should play). But then, I wouldn't want to reread any of that because it'll just make me hate myself because I know how annoying I can be.
One thing I kind of like about being sick is my lost of taste and smell. It means I can make anything I wanted and it didn't matter how it tasted, as long as it filled me up. It means not being able to smell urine in the subways or smelling someone's fart, including my own. It means I can put sour cream and onion potato chips in my porridge and not be disgusted by it. But it also means I can't enjoy a freshly made avocado shake/smoothie or homemade angel hair pasta with mushroom and chicken alfredo sauce. I always feel these minor sicknesses happen to make us appreciate whatever that is hurting, more. Like when your elbow starts hurting for no reason and you begin to appreciate your elbow and pray to God that you won't ever mistreat your elbow ever again. I would think of other examples, but you know what I mean. You begin to give that part of your body more attention and tell everyone you encounter to be happy that theirs is functioning properly or at least looks normal. This reminds me a lot about people too, and how when someone gets sick, or gets mad or you, or something different happens to them and it changes your relationship negatively, you begin to focus on them and really appreciate them and wish you had done more and pray to God so many times to undo it all, to bring it back to the way it was before all of it happened.
January 13, 2012
The case of the heater
Here are two stories. My mother's co-worker, an immigrant from China, turned on the kitchen faucet and had no idea how to turn it off. This wasn't a fancy faucet either. But I guess she didn't have such sinks where she came from, so this contraption became her enemy, and she was not winning the battle. She ended up calling 9-1-1 because it was an emergency. Her sink was overflowing, and if she didn't stop it, her whole house would flood! The firefighters came and turned off the faucet. How? He twisted the knob to off.
Story two: This man (my father's friend who's also from a foreign land) didn't know the that red lights meant stop and green meant go, so every time the light was red, he would drive and wonder why people were honking at him.
I was shaking my head when I heard these stories. How can anyone not know how to turn off a faucet or understand that red means stop? Isn't that universal? "Give me the greenlight" means go right? Come on, people!
And rightie tightie, leftie loosie. I've never actually typed that out, so it looks really awkward and cute at the same time. If I turn something towards the left it will loosen it and if I turn it towards the right, it will tighten it. That's exactly what I did to our heater. It started getting cold in the apartment so I tightened it because it was loose. The next day, my roommate layered up before bed (sweatpants, sweater, three blankets). Usually, he'd don his Harvard t-shirt and basketball shorts. The day after that, it was just unbearable. I walked around the apartment wrapped in a blanket, and spent the majority of my time in the kitchen or restroom because those were the two hottest spots. It was frustrating. How can our heater break? If ours is broken, that means everyone else in the building is freezing their toes off too! I went back to the source and turned the knob tighter. It was still cold. I googled and youtubed "how to fix a broken heater" but I didn't have the advance tools, and the heaters looked different from mine.
I called our super (I'm his favorite tenant).
"Yeah, it's really cold. Our heater is broken," I told him as he walked in the apartment.
"Really? It should be working. Which ones?"
I pointed to our room. "There, and in the living room."
He kneeled down and starting turning the knob towards the left. "Look, it was closed off. You have to loosen it so turn it to the left." He went to the living room and said the same thing. "It should start heating up in 20 minutes." And he left.
Story two: This man (my father's friend who's also from a foreign land) didn't know the that red lights meant stop and green meant go, so every time the light was red, he would drive and wonder why people were honking at him.
I was shaking my head when I heard these stories. How can anyone not know how to turn off a faucet or understand that red means stop? Isn't that universal? "Give me the greenlight" means go right? Come on, people!
And rightie tightie, leftie loosie. I've never actually typed that out, so it looks really awkward and cute at the same time. If I turn something towards the left it will loosen it and if I turn it towards the right, it will tighten it. That's exactly what I did to our heater. It started getting cold in the apartment so I tightened it because it was loose. The next day, my roommate layered up before bed (sweatpants, sweater, three blankets). Usually, he'd don his Harvard t-shirt and basketball shorts. The day after that, it was just unbearable. I walked around the apartment wrapped in a blanket, and spent the majority of my time in the kitchen or restroom because those were the two hottest spots. It was frustrating. How can our heater break? If ours is broken, that means everyone else in the building is freezing their toes off too! I went back to the source and turned the knob tighter. It was still cold. I googled and youtubed "how to fix a broken heater" but I didn't have the advance tools, and the heaters looked different from mine.
I called our super (I'm his favorite tenant).
"Yeah, it's really cold. Our heater is broken," I told him as he walked in the apartment.
"Really? It should be working. Which ones?"
I pointed to our room. "There, and in the living room."
He kneeled down and starting turning the knob towards the left. "Look, it was closed off. You have to loosen it so turn it to the left." He went to the living room and said the same thing. "It should start heating up in 20 minutes." And he left.
January 11, 2012
The poop story and how a kitty changed a life
And then there were two. Two needy, breathing mammals. Lexy came in a Zappos box and left in a legit pet carrier. This time, he, I mean she, is plumpier and I hope happier. The last four days has been hell for her and her owners. The internet said to place her in a small room with her food and litter box. We didn't want her to urinate in our bedroom. We didn't want to walk around smelling like kitten droppings so we avoided the closet. And we didn't want our brand old 50 inch television that might have the possibility of working to not work at all. Our tiny black and white restroom became her new home. After this new piece of information, we moved the litter box, her green rice to riches food container, and her furry self to the restroom, closed the door, and went about living our lives. I felt like a tiger mom punishing my daughter because she didn't take off her shoes in the house. That night, the cat's constant meowing joined my roommate's snoring. And that continued for three nights.
"Have you seen the restroom yet?" asked my roommate one morning. I was snuggled under my comforter, ten minutes past my alarm.
"You should look," he said eagerly.
Last time the cat peed on the white towel, knocked over my tree oil face wash, and destroyed our soft toilet paper. I knew it. She had taken down the shower curtains! I knew those plastic hooks from Ikea weren't going to last.
To my relief, the shower curtains were still hanging.
"She shitted all over the tub," my roommate said. I pulled the shower curtains open and immediately pulled them back. There were little pebbles of poop on the right side of the tub and in the middle was a fat one in a shape of a wishbone. I knew it wasn't a big deal, at least it wasn't human poop, but this was bad. Poop is poop.
I can never be a mother. We decided to split the task: I pick up the small poops and he picks up the wishbone poop. It was a fair deal because there were more small poops. There has to be a better word than poop right? It's starting to sound too cute. Poop.
And that was the end of it. I didn't want to pick up shit every day and I didn't want the white towel to turn yellow. Lastly, I was tired of having to hide our toilet paper and needing to collect the right amount of toilet paper before I sat on the toilet. The cat wasted a week's worth of toilet paper and that was the last straw.
That night, a kind lady responded to our craigslist ad (it was in the for sale section for $65, changed to $35 when no one responded, and after the poop tub incident, it moved to the free section). Her and her kids came over, met Lexy, fell in love with her, and left with her and the 3.5 pound bag of friskies cat food. Never have I ever seen a kid so happy.
In the end, I realized that I really am not a cat lady or any kind of animal lady and if kitten poop freaks me out there is no way I can handle cute baby poops. During one of my uproars, I confidently and dramatically told my roommate "Remember how we shouldn't have regrets? Well, my biggest regret is getting this cat!" and I take that back. Because of this cat, we both added happiness to a child's life. We provided this kitten with a loving home, and overall, Lexy taught me that I should be careful next time before I allow anyone/anything in my life because when I realize it isn't working, I can't post it on craigslist and have someone else fix my problem.
"Have you seen the restroom yet?" asked my roommate one morning. I was snuggled under my comforter, ten minutes past my alarm.
"You should look," he said eagerly.
Last time the cat peed on the white towel, knocked over my tree oil face wash, and destroyed our soft toilet paper. I knew it. She had taken down the shower curtains! I knew those plastic hooks from Ikea weren't going to last.
To my relief, the shower curtains were still hanging.
"She shitted all over the tub," my roommate said. I pulled the shower curtains open and immediately pulled them back. There were little pebbles of poop on the right side of the tub and in the middle was a fat one in a shape of a wishbone. I knew it wasn't a big deal, at least it wasn't human poop, but this was bad. Poop is poop.
I can never be a mother. We decided to split the task: I pick up the small poops and he picks up the wishbone poop. It was a fair deal because there were more small poops. There has to be a better word than poop right? It's starting to sound too cute. Poop.
And that was the end of it. I didn't want to pick up shit every day and I didn't want the white towel to turn yellow. Lastly, I was tired of having to hide our toilet paper and needing to collect the right amount of toilet paper before I sat on the toilet. The cat wasted a week's worth of toilet paper and that was the last straw.
That night, a kind lady responded to our craigslist ad (it was in the for sale section for $65, changed to $35 when no one responded, and after the poop tub incident, it moved to the free section). Her and her kids came over, met Lexy, fell in love with her, and left with her and the 3.5 pound bag of friskies cat food. Never have I ever seen a kid so happy.
In the end, I realized that I really am not a cat lady or any kind of animal lady and if kitten poop freaks me out there is no way I can handle cute baby poops. During one of my uproars, I confidently and dramatically told my roommate "Remember how we shouldn't have regrets? Well, my biggest regret is getting this cat!" and I take that back. Because of this cat, we both added happiness to a child's life. We provided this kitten with a loving home, and overall, Lexy taught me that I should be careful next time before I allow anyone/anything in my life because when I realize it isn't working, I can't post it on craigslist and have someone else fix my problem.
December 22, 2011
The List
I know we haven't met, well maybe that one time a few Christmases ago with Chloe, Fran, and Tim, but that didn't count because you didn't have your Rudolph with you. I'm assuming you still get a lot of handwritten letters, more than half is illegible and ungrammatical, so I thought I'd try it the digital way. With this, you won't need your glasses or a magnifying glass and you will instantly receive my Christmas list even though the holiday is only a few days away. You have your helpers reading random blogs right? Well if you're reading this, I guess my plan worked.
This will be the first Christmas I spend away from home. And it isn't like we do anything grand. Sometimes there's a small artificial tree, and sometimes my dad will use his artistic skills and hang the lights on the window (a few years back he had them dangling like necklaces which he admired for hours). But regardless of the absent physicality of the holiday, I had my family there.
All I want for Christmas is for my family and loved ones to have a peaceful and love-filled celebration. It might get lonely on the holidays for some, so please let them know they are never alone. Add some joy, some spontaneity, some hope, and show them a miracle? Just make sure to let them know they are loved.
I'm sure every child asks for this every year, and I think you are making progress.... it's slow but I see it coming. Let there be peace in this world. If not, let there be peace in our minds and hearts.
Now I'll give you a list of things I know you can get me. I'm on your nice list by the way. No excuses! If your talented elves can't make these in the workshop, let them know they can shop for most of these online. Sadly, a majority of them are sold out. Make it work!
Merry Christmas, Santa. Stay jolly.
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| A.P.C. Fox Fur Trim Snow Parka |
 Electric Mixer | |||||||||
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| Evazan by N.Y.L.A. |
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| Daphnea by Boutique 9 |
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| Your favorite album/songs |
| Your favorite book |
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| Leather sofa |
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| Kitchen stools |
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| ASOS Premium Coat With Double Lapel |
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| ASOS Oversized Quilted Lining Parka |
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| Alpha Industries Faux Fur Hooded Fishtail Parka |
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| Glove / Mitten |
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| Beats by Dr. Dre Headphones from Monster |
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| Michael Kors flat boot |
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| Monthly pass NYC metrocard |
December 14, 2011
45 Days
I can say that every day here has been different. There's actually reason to have a daily journal because I won't be writing in the same things. Oh shucks, too late for that now. In the 45 days, I signed a one year lease to an empty apartment that I'm sharing with one of my great friends from home. I found a part time job as a sales associate for Uniqlo (I just tried the heattech scoop neck shirt today and oh-em-gee it's always toasty and I love it). I'm getting real world experience of what it's like working in a magazine office. I've stepped inside Spin Magazine's office (sadly they decided to not hire any new spring interns). In the 45 days I've had many opportunities and misfortune. My 2012 schedule is still in the air as I'm waiting to hear back from shootdigital and Men's Fitness. In the 45 days, I've baked ciabatta bread, crack pie, brownies (twice in four days). Thanks to Phimy, I've had numerous nights of fun times and numerous mornings of hang overs. I would go on, but most importantly, in the 45 days I've been here, I've been constantly moving.
You know how when you apply for college, they always want to see how well you adapt to new environments? Well I don't even know why I typed that last sentence, but I can say I've adapted very well. New York City isn't very different from any other places I went to. Even when I went to Korea, I didn't feel estranged. Physically, there are differences. People are always around me whether I like it or not. I don't have my car to shield me from the rest of the world. When I want to go somewhere, I hop on the train, and become involved in other people's lives for a few seconds before my stop. In New York City, they take out the trash three times a week, meaning that three times a week, you'll see piles and piles of garbage bags on the curb. The buildings aren't as high as I imagined them to be, the people aren't as "aggressive" and it isn't as chaotic. And I have to say, I honestly suck at blogging because I never have a focus. Sorry.
Now to answer the question: how's life in New York City? Life is being lived.
November 17, 2011
In this moment
My friend texted me saying "Life is crazy." Why? "Idk I didn't think I would ever hear back from anyone" and it made me realize that I haven't actually reflected on this life of mine. Because it really has been CRAZY. Crazy in the best sensible amazing awesome way. There are two types of crazy. The "My ex-gf was fucking crazy"crazy or your friend's reaction when you tell the story of you sitting on the subway and realizing Ryan Gosling is next to you and you both engage in an intimate conversation about which power ranger was your favorite and he gladly adds his phone number in your phone and decides to hold your hand as you both step off the subway to lead a life of eternal bliss and she responds with "O-M-G that's crazy!" My crazy is the latter. To a certain extent.
I love that feeling when things are happening. Anything, like even getting an email a response from someone, that sense of communication that life is moving forward because I hate feeling stuck and I am the most impatient person. I like for things to happen all the time. There has to be change and movement.
Does that mean that I get bored easily? No. It just means that I can't settle for something that I'm not happy with. For example, my internship during the summer was a blessing. Not only was I paid a good amount of money, but I contributed to the sales team and felt like I did a lot of good things there. The work wasn't hard and my colleagues became my friends. But after 6 months, I knew I couldn't stay there long because I didn't see myself there. I thought to myself that when someone asks me in five years "so what have you done so far" I don't want to have to say "I've been working at that place that I interned for." Period. The end. I don't think I like straight lines. I tend to get from point A to B by visiting J and saying a quick hi to L and sometimes sadly approach Z to have to get to B. And I think that's the story I want to tell. Jeez, I'm all about stories huh? It probably goes back to freshmen year in my music cluster where my professor asked everyone "What is the meaning of life" or something along that line. And he said "stories." As in, life is all about stories. Every time we talk to someone, we are telling a story. Everything we do is a story. There's a beginning, middle, end to everything we do. Think about it. When you come home and your roommate asks you how your day was, you tell her a story about your day. The action of you walking in and your roommate asking you a question and you replying is a story. Beginning: You walk in. Middle: Roommate asks how you're doing. Ending: You respond by telling her your day. Everything is a sharing, communicating. And that leads me to the eulogy written by Steve Jobs' sister where she states "We all — in the end — die in medias res. In the middle of a story. Of many stories." Okay that was kind of depressing and does not work well with this entry, but there you have it.
And now I'm in the story and I am the author. I'm no longer going through the motions (and I'm glad I have motions to go through) but now the motions and going through me. I just thought that would sound cool by switching it around, by saying that I am now in control.
If you haven't noticed, I'm talking on a high right now. I feel like I'm on cloud 9 (seriously, there has to be a better expression to express my euphoria at this moment). And why am I so over the moon? Because things are happening! Leaves are falling! People are moving! Rain is falling! Sun is shining! Subways are moving! Music is playing! Everything is functioning correctly. Leaves should be falling now. People should constantly be moving. The rain should fall. The sun should shine. The subways should move. And music should always be playing. It's that moment where you begin to realize that you're glad certain things happened in the past because if it didn't you wouldn't be where you are at this moment. I'm glad I didn't get that copywriting internship. Maybe it was a good thing I decided to take Vietnamese class instead of Spanish. And to go even further back, I'm extremely blessed and thankful my parents sacrificed everything for me to be where I am right now. In this moment, I feel infinite. In this moment.
I love that feeling when things are happening. Anything, like even getting an email a response from someone, that sense of communication that life is moving forward because I hate feeling stuck and I am the most impatient person. I like for things to happen all the time. There has to be change and movement.
Does that mean that I get bored easily? No. It just means that I can't settle for something that I'm not happy with. For example, my internship during the summer was a blessing. Not only was I paid a good amount of money, but I contributed to the sales team and felt like I did a lot of good things there. The work wasn't hard and my colleagues became my friends. But after 6 months, I knew I couldn't stay there long because I didn't see myself there. I thought to myself that when someone asks me in five years "so what have you done so far" I don't want to have to say "I've been working at that place that I interned for." Period. The end. I don't think I like straight lines. I tend to get from point A to B by visiting J and saying a quick hi to L and sometimes sadly approach Z to have to get to B. And I think that's the story I want to tell. Jeez, I'm all about stories huh? It probably goes back to freshmen year in my music cluster where my professor asked everyone "What is the meaning of life" or something along that line. And he said "stories." As in, life is all about stories. Every time we talk to someone, we are telling a story. Everything we do is a story. There's a beginning, middle, end to everything we do. Think about it. When you come home and your roommate asks you how your day was, you tell her a story about your day. The action of you walking in and your roommate asking you a question and you replying is a story. Beginning: You walk in. Middle: Roommate asks how you're doing. Ending: You respond by telling her your day. Everything is a sharing, communicating. And that leads me to the eulogy written by Steve Jobs' sister where she states "We all — in the end — die in medias res. In the middle of a story. Of many stories." Okay that was kind of depressing and does not work well with this entry, but there you have it.
And now I'm in the story and I am the author. I'm no longer going through the motions (and I'm glad I have motions to go through) but now the motions and going through me. I just thought that would sound cool by switching it around, by saying that I am now in control.
If you haven't noticed, I'm talking on a high right now. I feel like I'm on cloud 9 (seriously, there has to be a better expression to express my euphoria at this moment). And why am I so over the moon? Because things are happening! Leaves are falling! People are moving! Rain is falling! Sun is shining! Subways are moving! Music is playing! Everything is functioning correctly. Leaves should be falling now. People should constantly be moving. The rain should fall. The sun should shine. The subways should move. And music should always be playing. It's that moment where you begin to realize that you're glad certain things happened in the past because if it didn't you wouldn't be where you are at this moment. I'm glad I didn't get that copywriting internship. Maybe it was a good thing I decided to take Vietnamese class instead of Spanish. And to go even further back, I'm extremely blessed and thankful my parents sacrificed everything for me to be where I am right now. In this moment, I feel infinite. In this moment.
October 24, 2011
Lessons from a stranger
What goes around comes around Hey girl, is he everything you wanted in a man, something something hand. I wonder if he knew about this song? And he's right. It's similar to the treat others as you would want to be treated. If you get mad when someone cuts you off, you shouldn't be doing that to others. Believe in karma.
The answer "no" makes me want it more Okay, this does not pertain to abuse or any forced sexual encounter. But I told him about how difficult it was to get a part time job. For him, when someone tells him no, it drives him further to get that yes. He tells me of when he had to do cold calls everyday to advertise his business, and out of the twenty calls, only one or two people said yes. It didn't matter how many people rejected him. The few that accepted him made it all worth it.
Finish what you started That's what she said! I just ruined that joke, didn't I? When he said this, he was referring to relationships, specifically for men. For example, if you buy flowers for your girl every week, or call to say good night before bed, you can't stop doing that. Yes, you did all this to lure her in your special web, but you have to keep going even after you've got the girl. Finish what you started. Once you stop, she will notice and assume something is wrong. So advice for ya'll would be to not even start.
Men are dogs, women are cats Dogs chase cats, cats do not chase dogs. For some reason, women love the chase, and they love a man who will fight for them.
Make it happen but do it legally. If you want something, you have to make that happen.
When you have children, you have to give them the best even if that means giving it up for adoption because you don't have the means to take care of the child. In the end, you'll be happy and that child will be happy if he/she is raised in the right household. You can reconnect later, and if he/she does not want to connect with you, it is fine. No matter what, when you have a child, you have to reassure that they will be taken care of in every aspect. Be sure that you are ready to have kids because it is the biggest responsibility you'll ever have.
Don't be intimidated by anyone, we are all human This was geared towards men being intimidated by strong powerful women. Who cares if she is a doctor, or president of a country, she is still a woman and she has needs and wants a man. Her career, or anyone's career/education/financial status should not be a main focus in picking a mate. If I connect with you, that is all that matters. In the end, we are all equal, all human beings with similar needs.
You have to make yourself happy because your partner can never do that for you. They can add more happiness to your life, but they can not make you happy. And if they do make you happy, it will only be temporary. If this is the case, you need to get out of the relationship until you are happy with yourself. Don't expect someone else to fulfill that.
If you want to make money, focus on senior citizens (baby boomers) or generation y because the U.S. population is getting older and kids like us will always want the latest technology (this includes social media)
Don't stress over what you cannot control There is no need. You are wasting your energy over something that is out of your hands. No matter how much you stress, it will or will not happen. If are in a control of a situation, make sure you prepare and do what you can for the best results. If you have no control, let it go. What will happen will happen. Stop worrying.
The answer "no" makes me want it more Okay, this does not pertain to abuse or any forced sexual encounter. But I told him about how difficult it was to get a part time job. For him, when someone tells him no, it drives him further to get that yes. He tells me of when he had to do cold calls everyday to advertise his business, and out of the twenty calls, only one or two people said yes. It didn't matter how many people rejected him. The few that accepted him made it all worth it.
Finish what you started That's what she said! I just ruined that joke, didn't I? When he said this, he was referring to relationships, specifically for men. For example, if you buy flowers for your girl every week, or call to say good night before bed, you can't stop doing that. Yes, you did all this to lure her in your special web, but you have to keep going even after you've got the girl. Finish what you started. Once you stop, she will notice and assume something is wrong. So advice for ya'll would be to not even start.
Men are dogs, women are cats Dogs chase cats, cats do not chase dogs. For some reason, women love the chase, and they love a man who will fight for them.
Make it happen but do it legally. If you want something, you have to make that happen.
When you have children, you have to give them the best even if that means giving it up for adoption because you don't have the means to take care of the child. In the end, you'll be happy and that child will be happy if he/she is raised in the right household. You can reconnect later, and if he/she does not want to connect with you, it is fine. No matter what, when you have a child, you have to reassure that they will be taken care of in every aspect. Be sure that you are ready to have kids because it is the biggest responsibility you'll ever have.
Don't be intimidated by anyone, we are all human This was geared towards men being intimidated by strong powerful women. Who cares if she is a doctor, or president of a country, she is still a woman and she has needs and wants a man. Her career, or anyone's career/education/financial status should not be a main focus in picking a mate. If I connect with you, that is all that matters. In the end, we are all equal, all human beings with similar needs.
You have to make yourself happy because your partner can never do that for you. They can add more happiness to your life, but they can not make you happy. And if they do make you happy, it will only be temporary. If this is the case, you need to get out of the relationship until you are happy with yourself. Don't expect someone else to fulfill that.
If you want to make money, focus on senior citizens (baby boomers) or generation y because the U.S. population is getting older and kids like us will always want the latest technology (this includes social media)
Don't stress over what you cannot control There is no need. You are wasting your energy over something that is out of your hands. No matter how much you stress, it will or will not happen. If are in a control of a situation, make sure you prepare and do what you can for the best results. If you have no control, let it go. What will happen will happen. Stop worrying.
October 15, 2011
I blame Steve Jobs
In his commencement speech at Stanford University, the man said:
"Your time is limited, so don’t waste it living someone else’s life. Don’t be trapped by dogma — which is living with the results of other people’s thinking. Don’t let the noise of others’ opinions drown out your own inner voice. And most important, have the courage to follow your heart and intuition. They somehow already know what you truly want to become. Everything else is secondary."
Though I've always seen life in this light (special thanks to the American media) Steve Jobs gave it a stamp of approval. The man indeed put a ding in the universe and he's certainly inspired me to venture off, to stay hungry, to stay foolish. And foolish I am to be flying off to New York for an internship that pays significantly less my current one during this economic situation.
I am exchanging stability for uncertainty, income for experience, cars for subways, cardigans for coats, and LA for NYC.
I know. I've already written an invitation to myself: Welcome to the I'm-going-to-NYC-to-follow-my-dreams club. And it's not really following my dreams, it's more creating myself and figuring out what I'm made of. I really don't know exactly what I want to do, but I only have an idea. Remember my rant about me being super spoiled? Well, this will break that mold. My vague plan is to have the internship, work part time during the evenings and Fridays/Saturdays and explore New York Sundays. See, I've got it covered. I've got 3-5 months to make something out of nothing.
As for my parents, they don't understand it, but they're letting me go. My brother recorded it all so I got to be Kim Kardashian for twenty minutes. I really wanted to type out how the conversation went, but it's on film, and yes, I'm lazy again. However, after the confrontation, I wrote this draft on my blog:
Guilt. Nonchalant, Almost careless. Go and try. It's such an American thing. My father doesn't know, and I know he will only worry about the housing crisis. I, too, worry. It's selfish of me, but by me staying, what will that do? Progress is not made.
going to new york in two weeks.
lonely. sad. letting go. money situation.
mother supportive. not yelling.
moved on to car problems.
cardboard dividing the room.
mom mad she threw it down.
my own reality show.
don't wear heels.
my brother recording it all.
"why leave for a lesser income?"
major counts.
3 months will go by so quickly.
bring cats over.
she already bought a plane ticket.
her boyfriend lives there.
why leave when things are so good?
let her do it for 3 months she'll come back.
my mom silly, playing and patting his face.
how much is it?
enough. it's enough.
experience over money.
why?
caught on tape.
sound silly but let's see how it is.
sadness. a new chapter. prove them wrong. i'm so hopeful and i know it won't be so good.
Yeah, if you understood half of that, I congratulate you. Overall, it turned out to be one of the best conversations I've had with my parents. Instead of yelling at me when I proclaimed my plans, my father said in a calm voice, "But that's so far. I'll be sad."
"Your time is limited, so don’t waste it living someone else’s life. Don’t be trapped by dogma — which is living with the results of other people’s thinking. Don’t let the noise of others’ opinions drown out your own inner voice. And most important, have the courage to follow your heart and intuition. They somehow already know what you truly want to become. Everything else is secondary."
Though I've always seen life in this light (special thanks to the American media) Steve Jobs gave it a stamp of approval. The man indeed put a ding in the universe and he's certainly inspired me to venture off, to stay hungry, to stay foolish. And foolish I am to be flying off to New York for an internship that pays significantly less my current one during this economic situation.
I am exchanging stability for uncertainty, income for experience, cars for subways, cardigans for coats, and LA for NYC.
I know. I've already written an invitation to myself: Welcome to the I'm-going-to-NYC-to-follow-my-dreams club. And it's not really following my dreams, it's more creating myself and figuring out what I'm made of. I really don't know exactly what I want to do, but I only have an idea. Remember my rant about me being super spoiled? Well, this will break that mold. My vague plan is to have the internship, work part time during the evenings and Fridays/Saturdays and explore New York Sundays. See, I've got it covered. I've got 3-5 months to make something out of nothing.
As for my parents, they don't understand it, but they're letting me go. My brother recorded it all so I got to be Kim Kardashian for twenty minutes. I really wanted to type out how the conversation went, but it's on film, and yes, I'm lazy again. However, after the confrontation, I wrote this draft on my blog:
Guilt. Nonchalant, Almost careless. Go and try. It's such an American thing. My father doesn't know, and I know he will only worry about the housing crisis. I, too, worry. It's selfish of me, but by me staying, what will that do? Progress is not made.
going to new york in two weeks.
lonely. sad. letting go. money situation.
mother supportive. not yelling.
moved on to car problems.
cardboard dividing the room.
mom mad she threw it down.
my own reality show.
don't wear heels.
my brother recording it all.
"why leave for a lesser income?"
major counts.
3 months will go by so quickly.
bring cats over.
she already bought a plane ticket.
her boyfriend lives there.
why leave when things are so good?
let her do it for 3 months she'll come back.
my mom silly, playing and patting his face.
how much is it?
enough. it's enough.
experience over money.
why?
caught on tape.
sound silly but let's see how it is.
sadness. a new chapter. prove them wrong. i'm so hopeful and i know it won't be so good.
Yeah, if you understood half of that, I congratulate you. Overall, it turned out to be one of the best conversations I've had with my parents. Instead of yelling at me when I proclaimed my plans, my father said in a calm voice, "But that's so far. I'll be sad."
October 11, 2011
My mother says the darnest things
Since my mom was in the room with me when I typed the previous post, I realized I couldn't keep this joyous video to myself! She was already annoyed that I was still at the computer, when I should have been dropping off some goodies for a friend. However, she complied and watched it with me. Here's what happened before, during, and after the viewing of this video.
Me (pretend it's in Vietnamese and words in caps are in English)
Mom, do you want to watch a PROPOSAL?
Mom
What?
I open a new tab and typed google translator. I typed in the word proposal and show it to her.
Me
Didn't Dad do this for you?
Mom
No. Why would he have to ask me?
We already know we were getting married.
In Vietnam, you don't date around.
We already know we were getting married.
In Vietnam, you don't date around.
Me
Okay, well, in America they do this and usually
the girl doesn't know when to expect the proposal.
the girl doesn't know when to expect the proposal.
I press play on the YouTube page.
Me
So that's her in the red. She doesn't know what's going on.
Mom
She doesn't know that this will be on YouTube?
Me
Yes. And she doesn't know that he's proposing.
Mom
What? She doesn't know she's marrying him?
Why would he not tell her beforehand?
Doesn't she need time to think about it before she decides?
Why would he not tell her beforehand?
Doesn't she need time to think about it before she decides?
Random people begin to dance.
Mom
Are they exercising?
I'm irritated.
Me
No, they're dancing. Do you hear the music?
Mom
It's nice music.
Now more people are joining the dancing routine.
Mom
Dancing is good exercise.
Exercise is very similar to dancing.
Exercise is very similar to dancing.
Me
Mom just watch.
Mom
How come you don't like to dance?
You should dance like that. It's good for you.
You should dance like that. It's good for you.
Me
Okay just watch.
Mom
Vietnamese people love dancing.
Exercising is very similar. Good for them.
Exercising is very similar. Good for them.
Me
Look, the boyfriend is dancing too.
Mom
Why isn't she dancing?
Does she not like to exercise?
She probably can't dance.
Does she not like to exercise?
She probably can't dance.
The dancing finally stops and the proposal speech begins. The girl is giggling.
Mom
Her teeth looks like yours before you had braces.
I can see them. Very crooked.
I can see them. Very crooked.
I ignore her and proceed to translate the speech... poorly.
Me
He's saying he loves her and stuff like that.
My mom leaves the room.
Me
Wait keep watching.
Mom
It's not done yet?
In the video he asks "Will you marry me?" She responds "duhhh" with a self conscious laugh.
Me
Wasn't that fun?
Mom
Ahhh that is fun. They're oohing and ahhing because they
want you to go and give your friend his desserts already.
want you to go and give your friend his desserts already.
End Scene.
I'm glad I don't have to do the proposing
I used to think being a girl sucked. It's calamitous. I bleed monthly, I'm easily agitated, I have to be extremely careful with my mating habits, and I'm in charge of popping a 6-10 pound baby out of my thinger (just imagine pooping out a full turkey). Besides undergoing the natural processes, everything else is easy. I'm talking about relationships in the narrowest form. Politics aside, boys have a more difficult time than girls (with homosexual relationships I'm not so sure).We, in a fairy tale world, don't do the chasing. We give out numbers, sometimes fake numbers. We have the power to make or break someone's heart. Boys have the tough job - they have to put up with our hormonal moods and compete with Ryan Gosling and Johnny Depp and whoever the male protagonist is in all the Nicolas Sparks' idyllic love novels (I pick the cutie in A Walk To Remember who said "love is the like the wind, you can't see it but you can feel it" marry me now please).
Girls expect a lot from their partners and they have every right to. We all want the best. We do not want to settle with just any guy (please don't ever settle even if he's a millionaire or he has your child). Girls predict everything and anything. We (or maybe just me) have an imagination that's bigger than any romantic movie/ Korean drama. We know what we want. So can you imagine how tough it is for your partner to come up with the most original, creative, memorable proposal!? I'm having a headache even thinking about it! Poor boys. What sucks more is that certain proposals gain more attention than others because they're the best ones (and they're not from a movie!) and thanks to youtube, you and your partner are able to join in on the event. Doesn't that just suck? You're both watching it, your girl is crying, one because it's so romantic and two because this idea has already been done and she wasn't a part of it, meaning you have large shoes to fill even though you don't even know this guy who did this stunt but you loath him so much for setting the bar so high.
Below are two proposal videos that I thought were heart warming (I usually end up watching every single related video I can find but this one satisfied me). Well, the first one made me cry. The second one (recommended to me by a friend) I wasn't too thrilled about. I would go on and on about the reasons why I loved the first one so much, but..I'll go on forever and we both will not have any sleep. Watch and weep! If you have a significant other and foresee a future with them, be nice.
September 6, 2011
"In my experience, the worse high school is, the better your adult life seems to be."
Thank you Alia Shawkat (I only recognized Jack Black and Zooey Deschanel, sorry) who posted this on Rookie Mag (aimed towards teenagers - I'm 22).
Alia Shawkat writes: "In my experience, the worse high school is, the better your adult life seems to be."
Lesley Arfin writes: "You might feel at times that you are ugly and disgusting and unlovable. Some of you might feel as though you are beautiful and hot and cool and awesome. Know this: When you’re in your 20s you go through, like, a time machine of opposite days."
After reading these posts, I began to formulate my fate. It seems like most outcasts in high school turn out to be beautiful, successful ducklings. Haven't you seen the Maury show where the nerdy buck-teeth skinny girl turns into a sex kitten (and sometimes an exotic dancer) and she's there to tell her high school crush,"Look at me now, bitch."
From looking at Facebook, it does seem to be the case. Total nerds, weirdos, anti-athletes are now working their way towards medical school, attending grad school, or even owning their own business. The rest are extending their high school career through their 20s, getting drunk with the same clique of people, and having a mediocre lifestyle in their hometown. Of course this is not true for everyone, but that seems to be the trend.
It scares the cow out of me because I don't know where I stand. I had a good high school experience. Of course, if I knew this conclusion that most of the writers have concluded, I would have gone back and forced myself to hate high school. I can't say I was an outsider, or the strange girl who never talked in class and always had a book in her hand. But I wasn't the popular homecoming queen with the buff football boyfriend. I was an AP student, a yearbook nerd, and a highly enthusiastic (it makes up for my lack of talent) volleyball player, and highly emotional teenage girl with a social appetite. By looking at this, it seems I will fall into the "mediocre" category and that terrifies me. I'm starting to find that I'm becoming less social, and just less of everything I used to be in high school. Is that the affect it's taking? Am I slowly morphing into an outcast? Well, maybe I'm a step behind and this phase in my life now is my high school phase and in four years, I'll blossom into a beautiful butterfly. I'm trying my best to make myself feel better, sorry! I like extremes, and I really hope to goodness I can achieve that and break this pattern of mediocrity.
Lastly, I'll end with a positive note to everyone who might kinda sorta feel what I feel (if you understand, please inform me because even I don't know myself).
It scares the cow out of me because I don't know where I stand. I had a good high school experience. Of course, if I knew this conclusion that most of the writers have concluded, I would have gone back and forced myself to hate high school. I can't say I was an outsider, or the strange girl who never talked in class and always had a book in her hand. But I wasn't the popular homecoming queen with the buff football boyfriend. I was an AP student, a yearbook nerd, and a highly enthusiastic (it makes up for my lack of talent) volleyball player, and highly emotional teenage girl with a social appetite. By looking at this, it seems I will fall into the "mediocre" category and that terrifies me. I'm starting to find that I'm becoming less social, and just less of everything I used to be in high school. Is that the affect it's taking? Am I slowly morphing into an outcast? Well, maybe I'm a step behind and this phase in my life now is my high school phase and in four years, I'll blossom into a beautiful butterfly. I'm trying my best to make myself feel better, sorry! I like extremes, and I really hope to goodness I can achieve that and break this pattern of mediocrity.
Lastly, I'll end with a positive note to everyone who might kinda sorta feel what I feel (if you understand, please inform me because even I don't know myself).
Dan Savage writes: Sometimes the problem isn’t who you are, despite what you’re being told by everyone around you, but where you are. And sometimes the solution can be as simple as finding a new place, a better place, the kind of place where a kid like you can thrive. Your place is out there. Go find it."
Thank you Mr. Savage!
This also inspired me and you can read the rest here.
"All I can say is, take risks while you can. Believe in yourself, search for your happiness and experience new things. You have the money, you have the time. Don’t waste any of it."
Thank you Mr. Savage!
This also inspired me and you can read the rest here.
"All I can say is, take risks while you can. Believe in yourself, search for your happiness and experience new things. You have the money, you have the time. Don’t waste any of it."
Regardless, don't let this scare you. Don't evaluate your high school life and think that is how your entire life will be. You're constantly in control of your life. As for me, I need to stop making up excuses for my current ailment and stop putting the fault onto others. I don't necessarily know what I want, but I do know what I don't want. I don't want to have to write another entry like this again!
August 20, 2011
Take Me With You
 |
| Francis' attempt at taking a photo in dim lighting. I really like how it turned out though. |
 |
| I did a paper/drawing in Mrs. O' Connor's class in 3rd grade. I love seahorses! |
 |
| Reminds me a lot of our universe. |
 |
| This reminds me of the line "I've seen more spine in jelly fish" by Brand New. |
 |
| It makes me hold my breath. |
 |
| I want this somewhere in my new house. It's a huge white ball projector. Ohh, ahh. |
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| Same ball, informing us to save the sea. |
 |
| Alien like. |
 |
| I love jelly fish. |
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| Makes me feel like I should keep pushing on. |
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| A sea of sardines? It was extremely hard focusing through a thick glass, but I like this better. |
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| Let me tell you a joke. |
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| A good photo of a not so photogenic person! |
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| Talk to the tail. |
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| What a colorful world. |
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| That shell thing reminds me of a sun hat! |
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| Dragon seahorses. |
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| Banh Xeo XXL |
The last time we came to the Long Beach Aquarium, the place was already closed. The last time was exactly last summer and we have changed so much since then. Because I'm becoming really irrirated with writing full paragraphs, I'll list some highlights of the day. Of course, you will probably not understand anything I say, because most of it only makes sense to me! He's leaving tomorrow, yikes!
A day I'll never forget :)
- Wrong route to Queen Mary
- Pre-paid online did not save him money
- Polaroid showed us in a cave
- The sharks looked dead
- Exit liar
- Banana + chocolate + marshmellows + roasted almonds, or so I think
- Right, right, and right
- Snoop Dogg's hood
- The Industrial City
- Biggest Banh Xeo
- Half/Half
- Restroom break in identical house
- Psuedo first world problems
- The Notebook Night
August 12, 2011
Just Ask Yourself
It's a strange mood. I think listening to Death Cab's Two Brothers On a Hotel Bed is not helping my mood. Maybe it's also the emptiness of this room. I'm thinking about the future. Please forgive me if I go off on tangents and begin babbling like a five year old. It'll be my first (of many?) rants.I should be content right now; recent grad with a job. When I say job, I mean I get paid. It's actually an "internship" but it feels like a job. And I love it here. A lot. There is potential for being a real employee. While others would be ecstatic about such an opportuniy, I'm not. The practical (hah), cautious me would intern here for as long as possible until it becomes a full time job. But for some reason (I'm blaming all the brainwashing from inspirational speakers) I can't go on and do that.
As a kid, I've heard from so many speakers/adults/teachers/mentors to always follow your passion. They say "Do what you love." You know you love your job if you answer yes to this: If they didn't pay you, would you still work there?
And from a realistic standpoint, the job economy is so bad nowadays, that having any job is good enough. Others have told me that I should find a job, work on my hobbies on the side, and when I make enough money, quit, and pursue that hobby. This really makes sense and it is the smartest route. That's also the easiest route.
I see a long road ahead of me. I see many stories of attempts and failures. I hope to one day look back and be able to tell a story of triumph.
Here's inspiration for you all:
The point is, I can’t tell you how to succeed. But I can tell you how not to: Give in to the shame of being rejected and put your manuscript—or painting, song, voice, dance moves, [insert passion here]—in the coffin that is your bedside drawer and close it for good. I guarantee you that it won’t take you anywhere. Or you could do what this writer did: Give in to your obsession instead.
And if your friends make fun of you for chasing your dream, remember—just lie.
As a kid, I've heard from so many speakers/adults/teachers/mentors to always follow your passion. They say "Do what you love." You know you love your job if you answer yes to this: If they didn't pay you, would you still work there?
And from a realistic standpoint, the job economy is so bad nowadays, that having any job is good enough. Others have told me that I should find a job, work on my hobbies on the side, and when I make enough money, quit, and pursue that hobby. This really makes sense and it is the smartest route. That's also the easiest route.
I see a long road ahead of me. I see many stories of attempts and failures. I hope to one day look back and be able to tell a story of triumph.
Here's inspiration for you all:
The point is, I can’t tell you how to succeed. But I can tell you how not to: Give in to the shame of being rejected and put your manuscript—or painting, song, voice, dance moves, [insert passion here]—in the coffin that is your bedside drawer and close it for good. I guarantee you that it won’t take you anywhere. Or you could do what this writer did: Give in to your obsession instead.
And if your friends make fun of you for chasing your dream, remember—just lie.
August 9, 2011
Let's Talk Toilet Seat Covers
Public restrooms are fine with me, but I fear for others. I fear for others who will share the restroom with me, at my time of NEED. But lucky for one of my co workers, she walked in at a good time. I was just changing.
And then a thought occurred to me. Once my butt cheeks kissed the toilet seat, the restroom door opened, then I heard foot steps, then the stall door opened next to me, then the sound of crumbling paper. Ahh, the toilet seat cover. I realized that I have not done that. It isn't intuitive for me to do so. Am I being a nasty girl? I sometimes don't wash my apples before I eat them. When cupcake crumbles fall on the table, I lick my index finger and dab the delicious pieces up and into my mouth. Heck, I can say that I don't shower daily (8 days was my limit, oh the Woodsey challenge). When I simply must go, I go. I'm not patient enough to find the thin opening and pull it away. It's almost like getting that one thin slice of rice paper from a family of rice papers for my Korean BBQ. I end up picking two pieces and they rip, making them useless for my wrap. The topic of food and lavatory always seem to go hand in hand during a conversation. Anyways, after taking the toilet seat covers out, you then have to place them on the toilet seat, which I think needs to be done strategically. It has to be centered so it won't fall into the toilet. It's really disgusting. I'm imagining the minutiae of these private moments between you and your bowel movements in my head, and I feel awful for the toilet seat cover. Not only do they have to deal with our butts on their faces, they're the first to come in contact with the cumulation of your poor food intake. They begin their life neatly tucked in the container with their other look alike friends. When they are chosen, they feel joyous, free, for a second until they're forced to cohabit with a thermoplastic friend who doesn't like to travel. Once they become acquianted, a third party comes in, forcing a quick (hopefully) ménage à trois of sorts. And how are they thanked? They're flushed down the toilet with the rest of them. The end.
Note though, I do use toilet seat covers, sparingly, when the restroom is disgusting. But if you're in a clean public restroom, like your work restroom, think about that. Think about the life of the toilet seat cover. Is it worth it?
And then a thought occurred to me. Once my butt cheeks kissed the toilet seat, the restroom door opened, then I heard foot steps, then the stall door opened next to me, then the sound of crumbling paper. Ahh, the toilet seat cover. I realized that I have not done that. It isn't intuitive for me to do so. Am I being a nasty girl? I sometimes don't wash my apples before I eat them. When cupcake crumbles fall on the table, I lick my index finger and dab the delicious pieces up and into my mouth. Heck, I can say that I don't shower daily (8 days was my limit, oh the Woodsey challenge). When I simply must go, I go. I'm not patient enough to find the thin opening and pull it away. It's almost like getting that one thin slice of rice paper from a family of rice papers for my Korean BBQ. I end up picking two pieces and they rip, making them useless for my wrap. The topic of food and lavatory always seem to go hand in hand during a conversation. Anyways, after taking the toilet seat covers out, you then have to place them on the toilet seat, which I think needs to be done strategically. It has to be centered so it won't fall into the toilet. It's really disgusting. I'm imagining the minutiae of these private moments between you and your bowel movements in my head, and I feel awful for the toilet seat cover. Not only do they have to deal with our butts on their faces, they're the first to come in contact with the cumulation of your poor food intake. They begin their life neatly tucked in the container with their other look alike friends. When they are chosen, they feel joyous, free, for a second until they're forced to cohabit with a thermoplastic friend who doesn't like to travel. Once they become acquianted, a third party comes in, forcing a quick (hopefully) ménage à trois of sorts. And how are they thanked? They're flushed down the toilet with the rest of them. The end.
Note though, I do use toilet seat covers, sparingly, when the restroom is disgusting. But if you're in a clean public restroom, like your work restroom, think about that. Think about the life of the toilet seat cover. Is it worth it?
August 8, 2011
Commentary on DCFC's Tourist just for you
On our drive back from Westwood, I took the initiative to over annoy my driver. I heard it before, but it didn't stick with me. But that was a few months ago when I was a few months younger. Now Death Cab's You Are A Tourist will be on repeat a lot this month. Some old fans might hate this because it's just too... positive! My comments will be in parenthesis, and when I say comments, I mean stupid, strange words that will make you raise your eyebrow. Imagine a lot of gusto! And raised arms! And random sounds in between as I try to explain this song to you.
When there's a burning in your heart
An endless yearning in your heart (YES!)
Build it bigger than the sun (the sun is so big, wow go for it!)
Let it grow, let it grow (grow as big as the sun, if you can!)
When there's a burning in your heart
Don't be alarmed (don't be scared, yes you can have aspirations and desires!)
This fire grows higher (YES IT DOES!)
When there's a doubt within your mind (don't doubt, how dare you!)
Because you're thinking all the time (remember, thinking is only intended for do or die exams)
Framing rights into wrongs (no, the cup is half full, bro)
Move along, move along (American rejects)
When there's a doubt within your mind (negative pops up, crush it, erase it, don't give it attention!)
When there's a burning in your heart (again)
And you think it'll burst apart (it's too good to be true, don't let me jinx it)
Or there's nothing to feel
Save the tears, save the tears (stop being such a negative nancy)
When there's a burning in your heart
And if you feel just like a tourist in the city you were born
Then it's time to go (fuck, this is my favorite line, hi hi )
And define your destination
There's so many different places to call home (there is, got me thinking, gone gone)
Because when you find yourself the villain in the story you have written
It's plain to see (you are the sole controller of your story, write a great one, be a hero)
That sometimes the best intentions are in need of redemptions
Would you agree?
If so please show me (okay, i don't really care much about this part)
This fire grows higher
When there's a burning in your heart (fire! grows! higherr!)
When there's a burning in your heart
An endless yearning in your heart (YES!)
Build it bigger than the sun (the sun is so big, wow go for it!)
Let it grow, let it grow (grow as big as the sun, if you can!)
When there's a burning in your heart
Don't be alarmed (don't be scared, yes you can have aspirations and desires!)
This fire grows higher (YES IT DOES!)
When there's a doubt within your mind (don't doubt, how dare you!)
Because you're thinking all the time (remember, thinking is only intended for do or die exams)
Framing rights into wrongs (no, the cup is half full, bro)
Move along, move along (American rejects)
When there's a doubt within your mind (negative pops up, crush it, erase it, don't give it attention!)
When there's a burning in your heart (again)
And you think it'll burst apart (it's too good to be true, don't let me jinx it)
Or there's nothing to feel
Save the tears, save the tears (stop being such a negative nancy)
When there's a burning in your heart
And if you feel just like a tourist in the city you were born
Then it's time to go (fuck, this is my favorite line, hi hi )
And define your destination
There's so many different places to call home (there is, got me thinking, gone gone)
Because when you find yourself the villain in the story you have written
It's plain to see (you are the sole controller of your story, write a great one, be a hero)
That sometimes the best intentions are in need of redemptions
Would you agree?
If so please show me (okay, i don't really care much about this part)
This fire grows higher
When there's a burning in your heart (fire! grows! higherr!)
July 27, 2011
Shut up and get going!
Wednesday, you are cruel. It's ONLY 11:03. This will be a quick blurb. I'm not going to think about what I am writing, rather, I will be writing anything to pass the time.
My co-wo made a folder on her laptop titled "Future Wedding Ideas" or something familiar to that. Like always, I'm browsing Wedding photographer's site to seek inspiration. Most of the time, it makes me feel "sucky" and annoyed, envious, and also joyful of their success. I told my co-wo and she was surprised also, at my conclusions of the characteristics of photographers I've stalked so far: 20s to 30s, believer in God, married/engaged. Yay, two more to go for me!
Last week was such a high for me. It was full of potential! And that fire is slowly dwindling away.
July 25, 2011
July 21, 2011
Vietnam Airlines Would Have Been Easier
"This is Air China, not China Airlines. You'll have to go out, and turn right. It's in the Tom Bradley Building," she said as she handed me my father's passport and flight information. I grabbed them and started walking briskly towards the sliding glass doors, with my father following closely behind.
"It's wrong. You should have checked," he said to me. For some reason, I assumed it was Air China because that was the airline I took to Korea. Who knew? I had to admit, yes, I was wrong, and my father was right. Like always.
"China Airlines has China at the front. And this one has A-I-R then China after," laughed my mother. "If I was here alone I would never even make my flight." She's really good making light of serious situations. Now I know where I get my constant commentary skills from.
Before today, my father told me to be home 7:30pm so I can take him to the airport at 9pm, 5 hours before his departure. I didn't want to bother arguing, so I dropped my plans and was home at 7:30. I never understood showing up to something 5 hours early, unless I'm waiting in line to get great seats at a show. His reasoning, like many, is because "in case something goes wrong." He's always extremely prepared, but that takes a toll on his mental health. My dad is constantly stressed, over the littlest details.
For example, as we were leaving our apartment, I handed him a pack of floss. I wasn't sure if floss existed in Vietnam so I gave it to him in case. If I had to choose between flossing or brushing, I'd pick flossing. It's liberating to know that the gaps between my teeth are vacant, and that I don't have last night's dinner in my mouth as I'm eating breakfast. He placed it in his duffle bag. After honestly a few minutes of staring at his bag, he took out the floss. He held onto it, looking at his luggage, then at his duffle bag, then back at the floss in his hand.
"Dad, it's fine to leave it in the carry on. As long as you don't have any liquids, or drugs, or weapons," I reassured him. My brother jokingly told me later when I told him this story that floss can be used as a weapon. I can imagine that. It's similar to how Middle Eastern women thread their eyebrows, but instead they can slice off appendages with a quick wrist motion.
My father didn't say anything and placed the floss in his luggage. He couldn't risk it.
As we were in the now China Airlines check-in line, he gave me 10 dollars to pay for the parking. I refused, confidently telling him that parking will not be that much, six dollars maximum. He took out the money from his leather fanny pack and gave it to the my brother instead.
The line was packed, and we moved every five minutes. As I looked around, I couldn't help but wish I was going with him. It's been 7 months since my trip abroad, and I'm still living in the memories.
A majority of the passengers were Vietnamese - I can tell by the numerous Nguyens labelled on their cardboard boxes. My dad had a similar one too, except his was protected with layers of tape, just in case. A few feet away from us stood a Vietnamese couple, the kind that made me resent my own people (at least in my generation). She had long, coarse, black hair with red highlights. It's as if she dyed it 1000 times and had it permed, then straightened, then permed again. I know I shouldn't judge, but I had nothing better to do in that line. She stood at 5 feet, maybe even less since she had on heels. Her waist looked like a 24, and I could bet that her twins were bought. They were round, and large, making her body disproportionate. I looked down at mine, and knew for a fact hers were fake. Sorry little babies, but you are staying the way you are. Her man was beside her, rearranging items in the luggage. He looked like a nice guy. Slender, around 5 inches taller than his companion. His hair though, turned me off. It was the typical Asian cut. I wish I knew hair terms, but it was buzzed on the bottom (a fade?) and there was hair on top. Sorry, but you probably know what I mean. If not, google "typical Asian hair cut for men." (I lied, I just googled it. Maybe styles have changed).
The breast augmented lady glanced over, and I felt her eyes looking at me. She's probably thinking I'm some 15 year old nerdy tourist who needs a makeover: more makeup, more hair, more junk in the trunk, more oomph. I gave her a kind smile, and she looked away.
The line began to move and finally, we were next. The check-in agent handed my father the golden ticket, the one he's been waiting for for the past 17 years.
"We can't go with you to security," I told my dad. "This is it!"
He gave me a kiss, more like a sniff, on the cheek. He then went to my brother and did the same. We are not an intimate bunch, until I went off the college.
"You should take a photo of that!" said my brother. I looked over, and holy moly, my dad just gave my mom a kiss on the cheek. We've never witnessed this before! Yes, we saw them holding hands when my dad made me record them at the park for his home made music video. And we've seen them dance when my dad showed me some ballroom moves before dropping me off at my eighth grade dance. But never have I seen my dad's lips pressed against my mom's beautiful blushed cheeks. Never! I smiled, not just because of the rarity of the event, but at the fact that it was so low-key, so normal. I can't imagine being with someone for 38 years. Go parents!
The walk back to the car felt quiet without the presence of my dad. We got lost looking for our car and the situation was rather funny. We joked around, pretending to be my dad, thinking of what he would be saying right now. Usually, if my dad would start yelling at us for being so forgetful. He would stress, and stress, and stress, and won't stop until we found the car.
Three and a half hours later, we were finally heading back. I handed the man at the booth our parking ticket. "That will be nine dollars," he told me. I looked at my brother without saying a word and he handed me the ten dollar bill.
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