just your Average Monet

unhappiness erased

2012-01-16T22:19:00.000-08:00

there are some things in life you just can't take away from me...

my friend m said something very true: you can't go to the happiest place on earth with someone who makes you unhappy.

so i went, with people who do make me happy.

it's over but now what

2012-01-01T02:32:00.000-08:00

i want to start off the new year right, by talking about all that was wrong with last year. 2011 was shitty. it really was. it was the worst year out of my 28 so far.

it wasn't because i was unhappy with my job, or the city i lived in, or even the fact that i was so sick for most of the year i ended up in the ER for the first time in my life because all those things are just part of life and growing up. it's because i spent a year of my life with someone i gave all my trust to, something i never do, and found out that it was a complete lie. i no longer have a sense of what reality is or was. nothing can describe how traumatized i feel from everything i endured during my relationship with this person.

i rarely hate people. ideas yes, collective types of people yes, an individual person, hardly. i don't even resent my ex who strangled me several times throughout our relationship and left bruises around my neck. we were young and stupid and simply didn't know how to deal with being in a relationship. i imagine he's a better person now. i hope so because i'm no longer who i was during that time either. that makes me believe that people can indeed change and that people deserve the benefit of the doubt, because that's what i hope people will give me. no more of that though--not anymore.

the person i spent my 2011 with robbed me of my self-composure, my naivete, and the last remaining pieces of optimism i built for myself these past few years. the amount of hate and anger i feel towards this person is something i don't think i can let go. it's an empty hate. a hate that won't go away no matter how much i talk about what happened and it seeps into everything else that is associated with him. he is proof that people only take advantage of you when you give them a chance and change is a myth.

it's been a month since i found out that 2011 was essentially a complete and utterly outrageous lie. i want to forget that 2011 ever happened. i want to forget that this person exists because he reminds me of how horrible the world can be, how deceptive people can be, and how selfish the world actually is.

i want so badly to start off 2012 by saying that it's going to be a great year and all that trash. but the reality is 2012 will be time lost in recovery and distrust, a walk through some dark spaces with a chip on my shoulder.

insomnia

2011-12-28T03:19:00.000-08:00

it's very unsettling to continuously unravel more and more of this nightmarish puzzle.

google is a very scary thing.

all grown'd

2011-12-25T19:14:00.000-08:00

today we celebrate the birth of christ. it also happens to be the second year anniversary of this blog.

coincidental? i think not.

i've come to a conclusion this past week: i'm finally an adult.

two years ago, before i left LA, i felt as if i was 40 years old and carrying the mental burden of an entire community of people. i felt weighed down by expectations and requests, personally and professionally. my friends were concerned about my health and my colleagues felt that i was taking on an unfair sense of responsibility that was disproportionate to my age. i also looked old. no really. people who have seen me since that time love to tell me how amazing i look now. clearly, i must have looked like shit before.

my almost two years in NY was the complete flip. i felt like and behaved as if i was 22, like a recent college grad who was finally free from parental constraints. except that i was actually 27 and finally free of any self-restraint. no one knew me in NY and i could do whatever the fuck i wanted. so i did. it was fun. it was also crazy and reckless, probably dangerous at some moments. and now that i'm done with that time of my life, i see how naive i actually was.

i keep thinking about how i was conned out of a year of my life by the crazy person i called my boyfriend. in examining my actions and reactions to all that he was, i realize how insanely naive i was to have believed in someone so absolutely. to have trusted someone so easily. to have had so much faith in humanity. and lacked the humility to realize that all of it was too good to be true because it actually was.

i end 2011 with the sobering realization that there is a lot of evil in this world and it lurks in the shadows of people you think are your friends. this sobering thought makes me feel old. not old like 40 from the weight of responsibility, but old like 28 from the weight of experience.

it was a good lesson to learn now and a good way to end a miserable year. here's to looking forward to 2012 with a chip on my shoulder and being suspicious of every single person in my life.

the true sign of adulthood: bitterness, hostility, and paranoia.

dear cheater

2011-12-15T16:34:00.000-08:00

i know you think it's in your genes but why didn't you just accept responsibility for who you are? instead of talking about how your grandpa had eight wives, that your whole family has commitment problems. being monogamous is a choice to respect the person you love, to cherish them above all others, including yourself.

i knew that once the chase was over i'd have problems holding your attention span. part of the fun of the first three months was the timeline i gave you. you felt a need to impress me. but once i was yours, once i fell hard, we were over. especially after i repeatedly told you that marriage was not something i was ready for after six months.

your delusions of self-grandeur were sometimes funny, often sad. i'm sad you didn't see how well i actually understood you. and i'm sad i overindulged you. i never took your allusions to being hit on constantly seriously. maybe i should have. i just thought i could trust you. i thought you were telling me the truth when you said someone was all over you and you rejected them because they weren't me. i trusted you. because that's what you do when you choose to commit to someone. you believe in them.

don't tell me how you felt unappreciated after all the things you did for me. i never asked you to move across the country for me. i'm not even sure that you did it for me anymore given you lied about everything else. i heard you when you said i chose my friends over you too often, i heard you when you told me it bothered you that i didn't say i found you attractive frequent enough. and i tried my best to validate you, make you feel emotionally safe, but it was never enough. it was never enough because you knew deep down inside that you didn't deserve me, that you are an ugly person inside, a coward who made someone else the problem so that you could run away from being a better person.

i loved you for all your flaws. i'm probably the only person who didn't need anything or want anything from you but loved you anyway. everything you gave me was extraneous and material; all i wanted was to feel safe with you. and you ruined the possibility of ever giving me that again.

damaged, again

2011-12-10T11:16:00.001-08:00

i feel sick to my stomach. everything i had imagined that could go wrong, has.

almost a year ago, i met someone charming, funny, and smart. despite everyone's warnings, i dived in head first. i let him convince me that he wanted to be a better person, that he isn't what everyone thinks he is, that he wanted to be in an exclusive relationship with me. i believed him when he told me that i made him feel like he was in high school again, that he was in love with me in a way that he had not known before, and that he wanted us to work. that he would become something better because of me.

last week i found out he's been cheating on me since july. six months after we started dating. with someone i know, nonetheless. and it wasn't with just one person, i'm sure, since his profile is up on various online dating sites.

how could someone put in so much time, effort, and money into something and then turn around and just fuck it up? he spent so much time ingraining himself into my group of friends, my life, and then all of a sudden, he just lost interest. but he didn't have the courage to tell me he had lost interest. instead, he picked fights, made it seem like there was something wrong with me, broke it off and took me back, telling me he still cared about me and needed to figure things out. he promised me things would get better, that we would make it work.

no. you already figured it out. you already fell out of love. you were already sleeping with other people, in MY bed. you were already in love with someone else, telling them you wanted to marry them, that you had a ring for them the way you had a mythical ring for me. it was probably the same ring you've used on every other person before me. maybe even your fiance's ring. your fiance who may still have been engaged to you when we started dating. maybe i was the other person starting in january and now you've just moved on to the next other person. maybe from day one, nothing you ever said was true.

you just couldn't tell me the truth. and you wasted a year of my life.

and now i feel dead inside. like someone ripped out my insides and repeatedly punches me in the stomach. i wish i could cry but instead i just lay in bed wondering why.

CJ7 = Fluffy Alien Puppy

2011-11-22T13:12:00.001-08:00

Want:

Whenever I'm in a horribly depressing mood, I watch feel-good movies. Hence, I have a crazy collection of Disney films, rom-coms, and action movies.

Today, I felt like shit. So I pulled out one of the best family films I've ever seen in my entire life: CJ7.

Yes, it's a Stephen Chow movie. Yes, it's like Roger Ebert put it {"E.T." x Stephen Chow} x {Po + Pikachu} = "CJ7". Sure it's got a happy ending. And oh yeah, it teaches you that being poor is not a crime or a plague. Stephen Chow movie about morals? Do you have a problem with that??

How can you not love an adorable alien plush character and a cute little boy who is actually played by a talented child actress?

And best quote ever "bitterness, like the sea, is boundless."

TV is my Life

2011-11-12T03:05:00.001-08:00

I was watching Up All Night and Chris is looking at a death clock for an estimation of how long he will live. So of course, I had to Google it.

One site thinks I'll die on October 26, 2039. I think it's a Wednesday. Then this other site thinks I'll live til 72.

It's nice that the first site offers you an opportunity to live longer though.

The other thing I wondered about while I watched the show, asides from my impending and inevitable death, is why do female characters on television always have just one best friend? I know it's a convenient and cost-saving writing ploy but it makes women seem very isolated and prepares young girls to grow up thinking that they should only have one female friend in their life. Or to only date amongst their circle of friends. Or that you will end up falling in love with someone you work with.

Does life imitate television or does television dictate life?

Good Stuff: SNOTM

2011-11-11T11:52:00.000-08:00

Someone linked to this picture and I thought it was hilarious so I decided to check out the website, "Stuff No One Told Me". Great name, right?

I was surprised to find that the artist is actually Spanish and living in Mozambique with his girlfriend who is Taiwanese from Brazil! Talk about being international. More than anything, his comic from just a few days ago really made me say "hm" in a good way. Check it out!

Encounters of the real kind

2011-11-10T10:34:00.001-08:00

I realize I actually don't have all nine seasons of X-Files...I don't have the 8th season, probably because it was so terrible after David Duchovny left the show. The 9th season was a gift from my college roommate who became obsessed with the show after I introduced her to it. I'm just going to pretend like those last two seasons don't exist.

And so my vacation from the pressures of reality has come to an end. With wise words echoed by both Calvin and Mulder, "I've seen the life on this planet Scully, and that is exactly why I am looking elsewhere."

As a child, my favorite books to read were fantasy, historical fiction, and mythology. Anything outside of the realm of my reality was what intrigued and captivated me. I learned to love to escape through the written word, which allowed me to visualize as opposed to television which did all the creative work for you. Although that has changed with age. Just the other night, I dreamt up an entirely original episode of X-Files of which I had no part in, except as a viewer. I should have written it down. It was kind of awesome albeit bizarre.

These days, I am the complete opposite. I no longer read fiction and can only stay interested if the subject is real. Maybe it's because contemporary fiction sucks. Or maybe it's because I've given up on hoping for something better in this life. After all, the idea of happily ever afters and intelligent life is appealing because neither are often encountered.

So cheers to the best two weeks I've had in a very long time--thank you Chris Carter. I still want to believe.

Emo Up!

2011-11-07T01:18:00.000-08:00

Part of my gchat conversation with G about birthdays and growing older:

G: seriously
our milestones have passed
all we gotta do now is wait for social security
which prob won't even be there by the time we get older lol

me: if i'm 65 and there is no ss, i'll get euthanized
seriously, it will be expensive to stay alive at that point

G: that was the most depressing statement ever

me: i probably couldn't say that to anyone else

G: awesome?

I was kidding. Kind of.

50x50: Boston

2011-11-06T00:26:00.000-07:00

"I dream things that never were and ask why not" - Robert Kennedy

Last year, immediately after Thanksgiving, I hopped on a bus from Hanover to Boston to visit my friends and one of the highlights of the trip was checking out the JFK Presidential Library and Museum.

There was something about being in the presence of such greatness that was exciting and breathtaking to me.

Mostly, though, it was inspiring.

The X-Files in short form

2011-11-05T17:48:00.000-07:00

I started watching X-Files from the very beginning on the second or third day I got back from NY. It was background noise while I unpacked all the boxes I shipped home and rearranged things in my room so that all my things would fit.

Two weeks later, with many interruptions in between, I am finally starting one of my favorite seasons of all time: 6. When the series stopped taking itself seriously and started to have fun/poke fun at itself in season 5, the show became ingenius not to mention the chemistry between Duchovny and Anderson hit new heights.

So as I'm discussing my nerdy obsession with X-Files, G sent me something I thought hilariously apropos:

Who doesn't love more of the same?

I'm going to go play with my Mulder and Scully action figures now!

50x50: Hanover, New Hampshire

2011-11-04T23:36:00.000-07:00

My family away from home, V has been an integral part of my life since college when we sat next to each other in freshman lit. As different as night and day, together we make up a 24 hour cycle and somehow, it works.

Last year, when I couldn't make it home for Thanksgiving, of course, V took me home with her. Immediately upon my arrival, her mom took pity on me and handed me a cashmere sweater because I was definitely not prepared for the New Hampshire "autumn." It felt like winter more than it did autumn! She predicted then, correctly, that I wouldn't survive the east coast.

It was actually my second trip out to Hanover because I first visited during the summer when V graduated from B school. She had given me a short tour of the area then. Other than some houses, there really wasn't much to see, asides from nature.

There was something Austen-ish in the grey to me that weekend. Having grown up in an urban suburban area, I wasn't used to the quiet, the space, or the lack of fences. Her yard stretched into the neighbors' yards and beyond--no boundaries and no need for such. The space in between served to isolate well enough.

Quiet can be disquieting.

33 x 33: Disneyworld

2011-11-03T18:48:00.000-07:00

Back in March, L took me to Disneyworld for our 3 month. I never did get to share those photos because I was too lazy to upload them at the time.

Since it was a brief weekend trip, we only had enough time to see Epcot and the Magic Kingdom, which wasn't as fun as Disneyland in CA. So out of the two, I definitely preferred Epcot because it was so different from any other theme park I've ever been to.

It just happened to be the International Flower and Garden Festival so topiaries were featured throughout the park.

This was not good news for L's allergies. Since there really aren't very many "rides" at Epcot, just "cultural" experiences, all we did was eat and drink.

We didn't get to see much of Disneyworld due to unforeseen circumstances that arose from our stay with L's friend but we did spend some time hanging out in Winter Park, Florida. I got to experience my first Chick-fil-a. On our first night in Florida, L's friend took us to dine at Mr. Sisters.

A very fine establishment indeed. It was right next to a lake and the menu pages featured men in their underwear. The next night we went to a gay club and for the first time in my life, I saw someone dancing with their walker.

Florida was an experience, to say the least. It was also another state off of my 50 x 50 list!

Lessons on Teef

2011-11-02T23:50:00.000-07:00

So for the past year now, I've been brushing my teeth with Crest toothpaste even though I grew up using Colgate. This happened because my roommate had a LOT of green tea flavored toothpaste his family had sent him and so we wanted to use it all up instead of buying new toothpaste. The cheap in me was glad.

A long time ago, I had a major allergic reaction to Crest toothpaste. My lips swelled up and I freaked out because they were also tingly. I had to skip work that day and ended up calling Crest customer service since I didn't know what to do. Turns out that sometimes that happens to people who use Crest and they said it should go away. Hours later, my lips were still kind of numb but the swelling went away and I went out and bought a tube of Colgate.

However, I didn't have a problem using the green tea flavored Crest. I was happy, thinking that whatever had caused the reaction that one time was no longer a problem.

Then a few months ago, I ran out of toothpaste and L took me to Costco. Without giving it too much thought, we picked up the best deal, which turned out to be Crest. Since I'd been using Crest all year, I didn't think it'd be a problem.

It wasn't, not a huge problem. But my mouth did feel kind metallic after brushing my teeth and a thin white film would develop over my gums. It never failed. And it was really gross. When I asked my sister, the doctor, she told me that she's always had that and hadn't given it much thought. I asked L and he said his dentist told him it was his gums deteriorating, which really freaked me out!

But then, I looked it up online, of course. When all else fails, ask Google! Turns out that there are certain ingredients that will cause this film to develop and I think it does have to do with eroding your gums...

So now I'm home and I'm back to using Colgate. And you know what? No more white film on my gums!

Worst part though, I just went to the dentist a month ago and asked her about the white film and she told me she had never heard of this problem before!! Can't trust the dentist, but I can always count on Google. And Colgate.

Space Invaders!

2011-11-01T23:35:00.000-07:00

Was walking around downtown Culver City the other night and came across these cute Space Invader sculptures.

Too bad someone wrote "occupy Culver City" on them...

At least the red one was saved!

Baby steps

2011-10-30T22:03:00.000-07:00

Weddings used to make me happy. Now they make me sad. Maybe it's because I used to never want one.

I was excited to go today, thinking it would be great seeing everyone again and catching up.

Seeing everyone again was weird. I felt out of place. Disconnected. Uncomfortable.

All the questions...feeling like I had to explain myself. Everyone says they're happy to have you back but I can't help but feel empty inside...as if that's what people are supposed to say to someone who left abruptly and came back just as suddenly.

I know I don't owe anyone any explanation but I'm so insecure about my decision that I just can't shake the urge to tell them all how I was so miserable and depressed I was sick all the time, that I ended up in the hospital, that I dreaded going to work, that I hated the city.

I just want to hide and not see anyone right now.

It's a jungle in my backyard

2011-10-27T11:08:00.000-07:00

This is what my backyard looks like right now:

It started a few years ago, maybe even ten, when my dad decided to grow his own winter melons. Being a Cantonese family, we are very serious about our slow-cooked soups and winter melon can get expensive if you buy it all the time. Since then, my dad's empire of produce has grown to also include Taiwanese "A" Choy, tomatoes, sweet potatoes, dragonfruit, and bittermelon. This is in addition to the lemon, fuji apple, and avocado trees that have always been in our backyard!

I think the bitter melon are the cutest!

I'm really proud of the ecosystem my dad has built! He spends every morning (after he does his tai chi and 1/2 mile jog in our neighborhood park) gardening and watering the plants. He's thinking about building terraces next. For what else, I'm not really sure.

My very own office...for a week

2011-10-26T13:08:00.000-07:00

Of course right before I left my job, I got my very own office. Two weeks before my last day, I was told to pack up my old desk space and move over to my own office. When I told the operations person that I was leaving, she raised her eyebrows and merely said, well you'll still need to move and your replacement will take it over.

Great, I get to move and clean everything up for whoever takes over for me. Sounds like a common story in my life, cleaning up for someone else.

After I moved, everyone walked by and remarked how cute my office was...and I would chirp yes, i love my office, for the next week!

I don't really miss it though.

33 x 33: Apple Picking!

2011-10-25T12:43:00.000-07:00

Last week, I went to DC to visit some of my friends and it just so happened to be the end of apple picking season. So of course we all piled into my friend M's car and drove about an hour to Maryland and prepared ourselves to eat some deliciously fresh apples!

Delicious!

Not only were there apples of an assorted variety, but there was also a pumpkin patch across the way.

My friend picked up three! I've never seen green pumpkins before...

I only picked about five apples because part way through, I stepped in some poop. I'm not sure who's poop it was--dog, horse, cow, human, other?--but it definitely took away my appetite.

Other?

The Great Escape

2011-10-24T08:59:00.000-07:00

Two years ago, also in October, I left my last job. Halloween was the last day of that particular position and this past 14th marked the end of a childhood dream.

I'd always wanted to go to NY, ever since I gave up going to art school when I was an 8th grader. I had to move on to something else, so I set my sights on college at NYU. It sounded far away and that was good enough as a dream as any.

When NYU's financial aid package came in the mail, I cried. They were asking me to pay more than what my parents made collectively in a year. There was no way I could afford to attend. My sister took me with her to the east coast (with her scholarship money) so that I could see the schools while she checked out med schools.

I remember entering the NYU financial aid office and thinking it looked like a bank. I walked up to a "teller" behind bullet proof glass and tentatively said I wanted to see if I could possibly get more financial aid because I really wanted to attend NYU and the amount they were asking me to pay was more than what my parents made collectively for the year. Was there something that could be done? The woman behind the glass simply said, "I'm sorry, there are plenty of other students who can afford to attend NYU. We cannot offer you anything else."

So instead, I went to school in SoCal to an institution that offered me amazing financial aid, thinking I would become a foreign diplomat, again so I could get as far away as possible. But I hated econ and decided that maybe I should change my major. I switched to literature and decided I would once again try to get to NY, this time for book publishing. Not magazine publishing, and not journalism (because I hated that class), but books. It was the epitome of the written word!

But internships came and went, the realities of earning an income to pay for school loomed greater than the dream of working for free in NY, so the years passed and I somehow ended up working for government, the last place I ever thought I'd be working. And when I became burnt out at my last job, the allure of moving far away and pursuing this random goal I had set for myself became too much to pass up. So I quit my job, packed up my things, and moved cross country.

I was miserable. And here I am. Back at home. The place I was always trying to escape from, but the place that loved me most, and the place I realize I love most.

Part of me wants to escape again. Join the PeaceCorps, try the foreign service exam, volunteer or study abroad. Will I give it a try? Who knows what I'll be running from again...or maybe running to.

The price of fashion

2011-10-23T08:30:00.000-07:00

My mom has worked in the garment industry since she came to this country more than three decades ago. I remember when she had two sewing machines at home and my sisters and I would help her fold collars, cuffs, and dress sashes so that we could make more money. Sometimes, she would pay us a penny per piece. That was probably out of the five cents a piece she was being paid.

I've watched the industry change through the eyes of my mother and over the years, it has become more and more difficult to make even $50 a day, despite sometimes putting in maybe 10 hours of work each day. And over the years, a list of brands and companies that I refuse to buy from grows.

Having grown up without health insurance or the prospect of "retirement benefits," it's hard not to hate the garment industry (and the restaurant industry, but that's a separate rant). When you know that someone is getting paid $1.50 to make something that is sold at the mall for anywhere between $30-$100, it's hard not to want to pay the lowest price possible.

The worst are "higher-end" brands who utilize the same sweatshop labor as no-name companies or clothing brands like Forever 21. Because of this, I refuse to buy bebe, Guess, and Charlotte Russe because not only do they pay incredibly low prices to the factories, they are also incredibly demanding in terms of the work, nit-picking over a stray thread here or there, forcing factories to buy back the clothing if they are not pleased with the details. If you want high quality work on your clothes, why don't you pay the people making it a liveable wage so they can afford a pair of glasses to take a better look at the detail work? Seriously, my mom's eyesight has deteriorated over the years and no one helps her pay for those glasses that she needs to earn a living with.

You can unionize all you want, and sue all you want, but these companies aren't changing their ways. In the end, the factory owners, who are the ones getting fined and squeezed for work by foreign competitors, are not the decision makers. They can only bid competitively for work to stay afloat. Many of these small business owners are immigrants who don't speak English and can barely afford to pay out salaries to their workers. Everyone is suffering, except for the decision maker--the brand.

If brands paid factories adequately and well, and didn't turn a blind eye to how the factories they employ are treating their workers, laborers would be paid liveable wages. And if consumers knew that the price they pay for their clothing didn't necessarily equate to better quality maybe they would think twice about paying $50 for a t-shirt when they could get the same stitching and fabric for $5-$10 from an unrecognizable brand. It's all coming from the same place, it's just about margin of profit.

My recommendation: buy from a discount retailer. The same factory will send three shipments of the same product--one to a major department store (think Macy's), one to a discount store (think Ross), and one to whereever else it's being sold. If you're paying full price, you're not helping anyone, including yourself.

Erasing the past

2011-10-22T20:09:00.000-07:00

Been spending the days getting rid of stuff. I don't know if I'll end up regretting what I toss but...in the end, it's really just stuff.

Ah. The remnants of childhood...

In other Star Wars news, I found out that Tataouine really exists--in Tunisia! Ideas are forming for my next travel plans already...

firefly

2011-07-03T20:55:00.003-07:00

brief, fleeting
like laughter lingering...

a spark of night
a trail of light

precocious pleasure
but an old soul's treasure;

fairy dust--
an innocent's trust.

sunset's dance...
alas,
a funeral prance.

Careful what you wish for...

2011-06-30T20:14:00.002-07:00

Over a year ago, when I was burned out and recovering from stress and depression, I decided I wanted a mindless job--something that would be easy and mechanical. It sounded amazing--to be told what to do, taught like a child--easy peasy. Relaxing. Like rehab.

A year later, I realize that's exactly what I ended up with. The year is gone and I am left with very few new skill sets. I believe I have even lost the skills I once had. I now feel dumber and less competent, more insecure than ever before in my life.

A small part of my soul died each day this past year. Does your soul ever regrow?

Sunday Always Comes Too Late

2011-04-02T22:56:00.000-07:00

I've kind of been feeling like the luckiest girl on earth these days. It's hard to keep myself from becoming that annoying person who can only talk about their significant other.

But who can blame me when I get texts at random like "I miss you like a fire misses oxygen to burn." It's hard not to gush about someone who takes you on a three-month anniversary trip to Disneyworld, because I've never been. Or who tries to order me food, across the country, when he finds out I haven't eaten yet. Who buys me flowers when he sees me glancing at them as we saunter in the neighborhood. Who apologizes for things that he didn't do, just so I'll stop being angry.

Especially when I get calls from girlfriends who tell me about how non communicative the men in their lives are and how they are frustrated by the uncertainty of their relationships. Instead, I have someone who starts and ends their day with a phone call to me. Who validates me and our relationship consistently and constantly.

It's also hard not to fuck things up.

Being the insecure, paranoid, neurotic, and pessimistic individual that I am, it's hard not to question the reality of this person in my life, every time he does something amazing for me. I'm lucky I have a gaggle of girlfriends who have wrangled me into submitting to the concept of love, the idea that I deserve to have this person in my life, and that I should not panic, run away, and self-sabotage. My friend, the amazingly smart slozzy, has pointed out to me a critical point: if anything should go wrong with this, I will only have myself to blame. Because as it stands, I'm the only one in this couple-dom who is putting up the barriers and the brakes.

The other night, I had to fill out a contact information update from a friend for her impending wedding. There was a field for "Significant Other." Up until a week ago, I couldn't bring myself to refer to him as my boyfriend. My issues with categoricals asides, I just couldn't bring myself to recognize that I am, indeed, in the much fabled "healthy relationship." But I took a deep breath, typed in the poor guy's name, and clicked send.

It's the least I can do for the guy who has managed to fly out to see me four times in the past three months.

Ready

2011-02-03T09:37:00.000-08:00

I haven't really been blogging lately because there have been so many things to adjust to in life this year. Most importantly, though, I've stopped because I think I'm getting ready to write again.

It's almost like I need emotional constipation in order to become creative with the way I spin my words. The more I self-analyze, the more I open myself to people, the less emotive I become.

The other reason I stopped blogging is because of privacy issues. I realize that oversharing comes with it's own dangers -- you open yourself up to judgement. I've been feeling especially sensitive these days.

I'm kind of glad to be feeling, something, again. It makes me feel ready to create. Out of anger. Sadness. Joy.

How the fuck did this happen?

2011-01-25T19:04:00.000-08:00

So I started dating someone. Yeah, I know. It's kind of serious.

It's changing my interactions with other people, with friends, and I don't know if it's in a good way. I don't ever want to be that girl whose life becomes consumed by her relationship.

At the rate that this relationship is going though, I'm afraid that I'm going to become someone I don't want to be. But part of being in a relationship means compromising parts of who you are in order to allow the other person to be a part of your life.

I'm not sure that I'm ready to give up being selfish. Is it possible to stay selfish AND be in a relationship?

I think so, but it's not good news for the other person.

Happy anniversary to my love affair with myself!

2010-12-25T11:55:00.000-08:00

A year ago today, I started this blog.

I don't know what compelled me that morning to wake up bright and early to type out a post that was already written in my mind. It came easily to me. I was excited to have something to say that I wanted to share with the world. It was the first time I didn't hesitate to open up my thoughts to people who know me. I think a year later, I am now venturing into overshare.

For most of my life, I struggled to share my private thoughts with even the closest of friends. Maybe because I seldom think anyone is truly interested in who I am or what I think about. This is actually the third blog I have started, but the only one I have ever consistently written for. It's quite the feat.

Average Monet has become a great mirror for me. It's the good, the bad, the ugly. Without apologies. A replacement for a diary/journal/close confidant, it has kept me sane throughout moments of weakness, doubt, and strength. It has brought me closer to people who would otherwise not know anything about me, and maybe they like me less for it, but if so, I don't mind having them fade into the background of my life.

Upon reexamining some of my early posts, I realize that I have accomplished almost none of what I set out to do. In many respects, I've actually done the exact opposite of some goals I set for myself. But I'm not going to beat myself up over it because there is no point in doing so. The year has passed; it's time for new goals, or a reinstatement of old ones. Or maybe, I should just realize that the best way to live life is to do what feels right and allow myself to trust that I am going to make the right decisions for my own best interest.

I've been questioning whether or not I should continue posting. I am wondering if maybe I am "oversaturating the market" or starting to intrude on other people's right to privacy. As a writer though, there is nothing off-limits in terms of inspiration.

We'll see what the new year will bring. Maybe there will be fewer posts. Maybe there will be a shift in style. I'm not really sure right now. But I'm okay with that.

Merry Hanuramakwanzmas!

The Cheese Factor: A Winning Strategy?

2010-12-23T09:46:00.000-08:00

Last night I met a friend of friends whose name I had heard mentioned before and who I was actually really excited to be meeting in person. For whatever reason, I swear one of my friends had, a long time ago, told me he was gay. This turned out to be really awkward because he actually isn't and I came to this realization after receiving a really blunt proposition via text.

Sure he was super flirtatious. Sure he was kind of in my space. And sure I thought it was kind of weird that he would hold my hand after high-fiving me, but I THOUGHT HE WAS GAY. Which somehow made sense to me in my mind.

After joking around for a while, we exchanged phone numbers because that's what you do when you think you're going to have a new awesome and fun gay best friend. When he disappeared with another friend of mine I texted and asked where they had gone thinking they had left without saying goodbye. Imagine my surprise when I received a text saying he was next door and that he needed to behave because he wanted me (basically). After doing a double take, rereading my text, and wondering if I was drunk, I then hunted down a friend of mine who knows him and asked him about the guy. Turns out, the texter is actually quite the opposite of gay. Others later confirmed that he is, in fact, a known womanizer.

First, I think, how is this possible? Because he's not that attractive, and don't you have to be attractive to be a womanizer? After a moment of recovery, I think, why does this always happen to me? And then, I laughed, because it's pretty damn funny.

This is not the first time I have mistaken a straight man for a gay man. Although, this time, it was due to a faulty memory that led me astray. This is also not the first time I have been propositioned by text. By someone I met for the first time.

So I ended up not responding, not knowing what to say to something like that. I have to give the guy props for confidence and persistence though. He came back and asked me what I thought about his text, to which I replied that I didn't know what to say. He told me to think about it. He also emphasized that he visits NY quite frequently.

I'll admit that the text conversation that followed was probably one of the most amusing ones I've had in a long time. I kept thinking, is this guy for real? Because his lines are really cheesy. Like makes me roll my eyes cheesy. But they also make me rlolz because they are so ridiculous . I'm tempted to actually ask him if these lines have worked for him in the past but I suppose that would be my answer since it does get a response.

I told him I might be willing to have coffee with him. Maybe.

A.M. and the Amazing Monocolor DreamCoat

2010-12-20T11:32:00.002-08:00

So I not so secretly desire to be goth.

Yesterday, I found the coat of my dreams. I was shopping with D at a consignment store that sells really high end designer stuff at really discounted prices. Jimmy Choos and Christian Dior heels were at $150+. Most items were a little worn but there were a lot of items that were actually new (at least they had the original tags on them still).

The label: Alice + Olivia. The coat: black, knee length with an asymmetrical/angled hem, pieces that added texture and complication to the visual, and an amazing collar with an asymmetrical zipper instead of buttons.

I was in love. D was in love. We both admired and tried to ignore the $200 price tag. I tried it on and we both knew it was perfect for me. Except that it wasn't. Because I couldn't zip it up. The coat was perfect except it was too small or I was too big, or it was, perhaps, both. Sadly, I knew that I could not bring myself to spend $200 on a coat that did not fit perfectly, even if it was the design of my dreams.

15 minutes after sadly putting it back on the rack, the coat was gone. Destiny spoke and I moved on.

I don't know that I could ever bring myself to spend $200 on a coat, or any item of clothing, actually. But a girl can dream, can't she?

City Sniff

2010-12-19T21:22:00.001-08:00

With a deep breath, I braced myself for the biting cold to greet me upon surfacing from the belly of the metropolis.

To fight the cut of icy wind, I pull up my scarf and bury the tip of my nose into the warmth. With mittened hands buried deep in my coat pockets, I exhale and the steam of my breath frosts my glasses. I sigh from exasperation and again, my glasses are engulfed in steam. Quickly, the lenses clear again but it doesn't matter because I walk with purpose, as I always do, blindly until the haze vanishes. There is no better cure for idleness than a fear of losing the senses in your extremities.

I navigate the dark shadows scurrying on their way into the night's folds. Quickly, my steps avoid the pavement lines, puddles, and the marks of pets striving to exist in a concrete forest. Just as quickly, my breath draws in and out, in time with my feet. With each breath inwards, I relive my day…the smokey musk of the kitchen my dinner was born from...'m glad that this is the overbearing scent I am forced to relive as my thoughts retrace steps through streets and subway passages…hills of trash I dodge as I bump into cranks and tourists…the sweet aromas of roasting almonds and chestnuts…the sizzle of halal meats echo in my dreamlike-daze…and then, my body appreciates the transition to warmth as I descend into the mouth that is the subway entrance.

The platform is cold as I settle into my coat and observe my fellow commuters. I pass couples and mostly single men, weary from cold and darkness. The 1 approaches, crawling it's way to a stop, as if it too is ready to turn in. The doors open and a flood of Manhattanites pour forth while I sidestep the rush. Bodies anxious for home spill into the car, I along with them. I wrinkle my nose and hold my breath as a wall of sharp odor hits me. Looking up from my warmth, I see the car divided by an empty space surrounding a hunched figure and a mound of trashbags. People cover their noses with their scarves and uncomfortably look away.

I struggle internally as the agonizingly slow subway crawled its way to the next stop. I wonder if wanting to move to the next car would be offensive or contrary to an instinct for compassion. I frown, perplexed by the thought of this individual struggling for refuge from the same cold I had just escaped, considering what I would want from a stranger were I to have nowhere to turn for warmth. But all thoughts are eclipsed by an overwhelming desire for air. Once the train motions to a halt, I lightly step from car to platform and with a few steps am back on the subway in a different car.

As the train moves once more on its routine track, another car jumper remarks, "I respect you man, but I can't be in the same space as you right now." Maybe, sometimes, it's okay to pursue oxygen at the cost of someone else's dignity. More importantly, sometimes it's okay to prioritize self-interest over all others'.

In relieved silence, I bury my face once again in my scarf and ready for my exit to the street and out of the miserable microcosm of humanity's travails. Icy cuts confront my exposed face and I shiver as I trudge against the invisible forces of nature. In mere moments, I arrive. With a sharp exhale from a mouth devoid of spittle, I bask in the yellow, seedy light preempting my entrance to the comfort of familiarity and my exit from life.

Guilty Pleasures: Jesse McCartney

2010-12-11T23:01:00.000-08:00

Is it wrong that I really like this song?

I can't help it that Jesse McCartney writes alluring pop songs...did you know he wrote the Leona Lewis song?

Yeah, I didn't think so. I'm still in shock about it. Apparently, he wrote it because of his long-term girlfriend. He was apart from her for four months. FOUR MONTHS. And he was so sad it hurt...like he was bleeding.

Lucky her.

...

I'm not bitter!

Cravings: Toast + Honey + Butter

2010-12-11T21:29:00.000-08:00

I discovered this when I studied abroad in Milan from a friend who is from Hong Kong but grew up in English boarding schools.

+ 1 slice of toast (toasted)
+ butter
+ drizzle of honey

= YUMNESS

I Just Want To Be An Ice Queen

2010-12-10T21:30:00.000-08:00

Love love love!

Alexander McQueen, Fall 2008

Currently on display at the FIT Museum

There's just something about black, lace, asymmetry, and snowflakes that just make this dress magical. <3

Cravings: HK Milk Tea!

2010-12-10T21:26:00.000-08:00

+1 tablespoon sweetened condensed milk
+1 bag of TenRen's Black Tea
+hot water

= Yummy Hong Kong Style Milk Tea!

Enjoy!

Obama-rama: More Fist Bumps Please!

2010-12-09T23:08:00.002-08:00

I'm going to start posting things about Obama that I love because he is just so awesome! I need an outlet for my enthusiasm for all things Obama.

This was inspired by Dead Serious who hipped me to this awesome picture:

DS and I talked about how Sarah Palin would never fist bump that dude in the photo. But we do think George W might. I even think he'd have a beer with the guy. I honestly wouldn't mind having a beer with George W. Sarah Palin though...she's a different story.

So anyway, enjoy!

If You Like It Then You Shoulda Bought A Drink For It

2010-12-09T21:00:00.000-08:00

Always pay for the girl's drink. Always. No excuses. Just do it.

If you want to leave a good impression on her, insist on it even if she protests. Even if you are not interested in her, paying for her drink will let her know that you're the type of guy who is generous and mellow enough to go with the flow even if the date is headed into friend territory. If she fights it, just tell her she can get the next round or drinks next time you meet up. So now you've killed two birds with one stone: second date and/or a good impression. Deal sealed!

One of the biggest pet peeves I have is when I have drinks with a guy, and it's just us two, regardless of who invited whom, and he doesn't offer to pay. It's not a meal, it's a drink. It's not about whether or not I actually want you to pay; I just want to know that you are willing to pay, that you want to pay.

I have often found that guys who do not offer to pay for a girl's drink, even if it's just a friend, are often rather inconsiderate and tend to need to be taken care of. I don't know what the correlation is but they are more akin to boys than to men.

This isn't even about being a guy. I tend to enjoy spending time with people who are generous with their friends because it is just a part of who they are, regardless of gender. When I made more money, I always bought rounds for my guy friends when we drank and I also switched off on paying for meals. Just think about it. Do you prefer hanging out with a buddy who buys rounds or do you prefer hanging out with the guy who is always nickel and diming you? Pointing out that since you ate 1/3 of his mozzarella sticks, maybe you should give him $2 extra. Yeah, I didn't think so. Guy who buys rounds has way more friends.

Let's even take out gender in the terminology. The drink buyer signifies what role the person will play in the relationship. I don't know about you, but I don't want to take care of someone else. I want to be taken care of. At the same time, I know I pull my own weight; I'm never the weakest link. This leaves three possible roles for my future significant other to fulfill: my equal, my caretaker, or the weak-link. Therefore, I can only look for the caretaker/equal because weak-links mean working overtime to make up for the dead weight. I do not want to be the breadwinner. Goal is housewife hello!

Let's slide down the slippery slope now, shall we? If he doesn't pay for you, most likely as not, he also doesn't open the door for you and prefers walking in front of you. He also probably talks as if he knows the answer to everything and hasn't noticed that you're no longer paying attention to a word he's saying. He will also be the kind of guy who doesn't put thought into your presents or anniversaries who, instead, asks you what you want in all such instances. You will always be disappointed because he will tell you that nothing he does is ever good enough so he might as well just ask you outright what you want. In other words, he is incapable of stepping up. Forget that shiznitch.

As someone who knows what taking care of a man-child is actually like, take my word for it, he doesn't ever change. It only gets worse because he will only wallow deeper and deeper into his black hole of self-pity until he gives up entirely, relegating himself to never being good enough. And you will always, never fail, be able to count on the fact that he will disappoint you.

And I will never, ever, return to that kind of hell-hole again.

Hate Up, Not Down!

2010-12-08T21:00:00.000-08:00

I have recently discovered that there are two types of haters. One is a productive kind of hater, someone who expects more from people and is irritated by said people not measuring up to standards. This is a good type of hater because it pushes for progress. Also, because that's the kind of hater I am.

The other kind of hater is someone who dislikes things simply because it does not suit their needs or tastes. This is the nonproductive hater, the one who simply hates because it makes them feel better about themselves to make others seem less than or not equal.

Do you see the difference? One hates up and the other hates down. One positive and one negative.

I hate on negative haters because it is really just a reflection of narrowmindedness and insecurity.

As a positive hater, I champion the attitude because if people didn't get called out on their inability to measure up, how would change ever happen??

It wouldn't. For shizzle.

What I Am Willing To Wake Up For

2010-12-06T21:10:00.001-08:00

Dear Anonymous Commenter:

I like to ask people what they are willing to wake up for on a Saturday morning at 6AM. I think it tells you a lot about what makes them happy and what they should really be doing in life.

Most people don't have an answer for me. They don't want to wake up early for anything; they really like sleeping. That answer makes me pretty sad because, to me, I think it means that there isn't really anything that is meaningful to them that they are passionate about.

What do I wake up for?

There are many things in life I will wake up at 6AM of my own volition to do. One of them is to write.

I will wake up after a dream or through half sleep filled thoughts to jot down an idea for a story. I have woken up, typed up 2+ pages at 7AM and gone back to sleep. On a Saturday. Or Sunday. Any day.

Words. Language. Pictures. A yearning to speak and be heard. To express who you are because you matter. I write because I want to be heard and I want to help others be heard too.

I was told all my life that as the youngest of three, I did not deserve respect (from the family) or the right to be heard and that I would never be taken seriously because I would always be viewed as the baby of the family.

Many a time throughout my life, I would cry as I tried to argue with my mom and my sisters as to why it was important to take my feelings into consideration and to hear my story, only to face laughter. They thought it was cute. They thought it was adorable that little AM wanted her version of truth to be acknowledged. What an absurd idea.

I can still feel the frustration of those moments. How I wanted to be taken seriously. How I screamed at them, asking them to listen to the words that were coming out of my mouth and feeling like it didn't matter what I said because they had already made up their minds that it wasn't worth their time to listen. That I had nothing of value to contribute to them or to the world. I was a kid and I didn't matter.

For most of my life, I did not value myself in any way. I felt diminished and stifled and I was angry throughout 2/3 of it. The other 1/3 is made up of an ignorantly blissful childhood and more recent years in which I've managed to identify the self-destructive deprecation I have had to overcome.

Writing was one of the only things that got me through some of the darkest moments in my life. Because my voice was stripped from me by the very people who were supposed to cultivate it, I was forced to find an alternative. I read to escape and I learned to write everything I felt because I could go back to read it and validate my own thoughts, my own existence. I felt like words on a page was my only way of being remembered. And I was so bitter that I looked at my writing as my legacy because I spent a good amount of my time looking forward to death.

I often reread my writing from those 15 or so years and it often makes me cry because it reminds me of the pain I felt and how alone I thought I was in the world. I felt so unloved and bitter. And paper was my sounding board, my confidant, my validation.

So now, to boil it down to basics, I work hard to help people tell their stories and to have a voice because I want everyone to matter. The more stories that are heard, the less alone I feel, the more I realize that there are people just like me, who have struggled to find a reason to stay alive, to find meaning in an empty existence, and who are also constantly disappointed by people but continue to fight a very natural tendency to give up on all of these things. I wake up every day hoping that someone wants to hear my story and hoping to find a story that has yet to be told. I wake up every day believing that everyone has a right to be heard and to live with dignity. I wake up ready to fight for those things.

I wake up because if I didn't, I'd be dead. And I'd really much rather be alive. At least, for now.

What Do You Wake Up For?

2010-12-04T17:54:00.000-08:00

Recently, I’ve been encountering/meeting people who are interested in pursuing the creative arts as a career. I love it when people, especially Asian Americans, choose to follow their hearts and trek down the road less traveled. Or, in some of our cases, the road our parents tell us not to take.

However, I’ve also been noticing that these same individuals are not necessarily driven to educate themselves about their craft of choice. Many of them claim their creative tendencies to be their passion but, to me, passion means living, breathing, and dying for that one thing that lights a fire in you. And a lot of the people I’ve been coming across who want to pursue their “passions” just aren’t willing to give up a whole lot for what they think is the career that will make them happy.

My query to them is: how will you compete against the hundreds of others who can also claim the same “passion” but who hunger for it at the risk of losing everything they have?

Sure you may think you have the talent, but can that really compete with disciplined training? Or the benefits of a pipeline that has passed down knowledge of the industry and inner workings of the system you need to break into in order to succeed? When it comes to success, I think you need equal parts opportunity and equal parts readiness. The one doesn’t come without the other. So even if someone could offer you the chance of a lifetime, but you haven’t been training for that sprint to the finish line, chances are, you’ll be passing out or puking your guts out long before your fingertips can even touch that lovely ribbon signifying the achievement of your goal.

If you’re not willing to give up the comforts of your life in the present to pursue what you believe to be your passion, then you should probably rethink what it is that you are truly living for because I can tell you right now that you don’t have what it takes to make it unless you are focused on that one thing. And that means partaking in every possible thing that is even remotely related to that chosen path, be it classes, social environment…or complete immersion.

If that’s not where you are, then maybe you just don’t care enough to make your dreams come true.

You have to want it. Desperately.

Random Roundup

2010-12-02T23:00:00.000-08:00

Today=

- emotional board meeting
- dramz filled situations
+ drinks with friends
+ running into someone I know at random on a street corner
++ GLEE soundtrack mashed up with dance beats
- sobriety
+ one drink
- one drink
+ busy day at work
+ successful professional development event for work
+ boss not in office today
- bed bug sniffing canines

= +^3

Asian Poses FTW!

2010-12-01T21:15:00.000-08:00

A long time ago, I came across this blog and I have no idea how or where I stumbled upon it but I love it! Periodically, I return to it just to see what's new.

I'll admit it, I check it every once in a while to prep for my next photo moment!

Can't you just imagine me accepting one of these challenges?

To Hell In A Handbasket

2010-11-30T21:39:00.000-08:00

Somehow, I have been looped into the initial stages of planning my high school reunion.

How or why this happened is still a mystery to me. For whatever reason, I was included on a Facebook message to 5 people, all of whom were involved with student government back in the day. I was an officer for only one semester my senior year, and not even one of the more prominent positions, yet I was contacted. WHY?!

I don't really know what to do. Given that the other four are all friends with me on FB, it's clear that I check it often so I can't get away with not responding, can I?

The truth is, I have no desire to see anyone from high school that I don't already see on a regular basis. I hated my time there and even though I was probably considered successful while there, those were some of the worst years of my life.

Just dealing with being on the same message as these other four is giving me flashbacks and mild anxiety. These same people made me feel inferior, alone, ugly, unwelcome, and angry. All the insecurities I dealt with then are resurfacing just as I type and think about these people.

It's not that they hated me; I'm sure they actually really liked me. But they were popular, pretty, and normal. I was...well, I wan't any of those things. I was an emotional wreck. I was battling depression and self-mutilation. You know, typical teenage angst. And like most people, I was miserable trying to grow out of it.

So here I am, trying to seem helpful and cheery because that's all I know to do when confronted with uncomfortable situations. Why am I going to play along when I have no intention of attending my own reunion?

I hope to one day establish an alumni group that will return to help the current high school students move on into successful careers that they might not otherwise know about. I hope to create a scholarship fund for students who want to go to college but lack the support of their families...for people like some of my friends who didn't manage to make it out of the hell-hole of our youth.

So here I go, back to hell, of my own volition.

Fuck me.

Love Should Be Viral

2010-11-30T19:27:00.001-08:00

Caught this on Facebook via Gizmodo.

Brilliant publicity stunt or the sweetest trick a guy could turn for his girl? Either way, the guy is getting the best of multiple worlds.

Help a romantic/band get more play and pass it along!

Inside/Outside the Bubble? Or Does the Bubble Exist?

2010-11-28T21:11:00.000-08:00

I desperately want to believe that 1) being female has not given me a leg up, so to speak, in making connections, 2) being semi-attractive has not been a factor in my success at holding the attention of people I connect to, and 3) that I am not egotistical for even considering these factors.

Over the weekend, I visited some friends in Boston, one of whom I never had much of a chance to hang out with in LA because she was always super busy with work. It was interesting hearing her perspective of what my relationship to many colleagues were because she was an outside observer. She seemed surprised that I had not, at one point and time, dated most of the people I had worked with.

It's not the first time that this topic has been broached, yet, it never ceases to catch me off guard or surprise me. Maybe it's the naivete. Or the denial. Or maybe the notion that the suppositions most people make are simply unfounded and I have been right in believing all to be neutral/platonic. In any case, I was forced to revisit some rather uncomfortable topics. Certainly, I have no problem sharing the truth (from my point of view, of course) because I either share or I don't; I am not one to dance around if called upon for story-time.

However, the fact that it was pretty much the second thing she asked me about (my love life, that is) is rather unsettling. It made me wonder what if I made it this far in life not because I'm smart, good at what I do, or hard working, but because people find me attractive and have made exceptions for me? Am I Drew Baird? Have I been living in a bubble?

But after allowing myself to momentarily glimpse what life might be like if I were hot, I think I can safely settle back to my version of the truth: I'm not that attractive. Sure I'm not unfortunate looking, but to coast through life based on my looks is definitely not where I am. If that were the case, I wouldn't have developed a personality. Plus, I wouldn't have had to work so damn hard all these years. Additionally, most of my managers have been female.

My friend basically told me that I was probably oblivious to the attention that I was given by my colleagues but maybe she is wrong. I do believe that people can conduct themselves with professionalism and be friendly without ulterior motives because that's how I presented myself. If I can do so, why can't others do the same?

However, she's not the first, or the second, or even the third, to suggest this or ask me these questions. I want to hold fast to my own perspective of the matter but sometimes I wonder if I'm just being ignorant to my own situations. Maybe if I treated every male I met as an interested party, life would be different. Instead, treating every man I meet as someone who is completely uninterested in me as more than a friend/professional contact is confusing and sometimes disastrous. But if I were to treat every male as an interested party, I'd feel like a narcissistic bitch.

Conclusion: stop meeting people and avoid this conundrum entirely.

The H Word

2010-11-25T21:37:00.001-08:00

Okay, I have to borrow a line from my friend K.

I don't believe in gender equality, I believe in female superiority. I don't want to work the same amount as men and get paid the same, I want to work less and/or not work at all and have an income.

Yes, I'll say it. I want to be a housewife (or the divorcee of a wealthy man). Not because I don't want to work, but because I want to do whatever the fuck I want, which may or may not entail working a job.

What did feminism really do for women anyway? We have to work a full-time job but make less than men, still take care of the family (which we've always done) in terms of nurturing and leading the household, and somehow we have to be sexy too. Um, who the hell fulfills our needs? It seems like feminism just gave us more work with less benefits.

Forget that shit. I say that we be worshipped for having a vagina and giving birth, put on a pedestal to be admired and fought over, and be given free reign to spend our time focused on looking amazing.

I think everyone would be much happier that way, including me.

It's called delegating, folks.

GLEE + Bruno Mars + Harry Shum Jr = joy!

2010-11-24T21:49:00.002-08:00

Just when I thought GLEE couldn't get any better, this week's episode made me cry. Not only are they showcasing the very talented Harry Shum Jr waaay more lately, the storylines have gotten really great. Finn is such a fallible character; I think the writers are brave for making him so hard to like but so easy to identify with. They are the first TV show I know of to have taken criticism and spun it into an amazing lineup of storylines. One of the big complaints I had when it premiered was that none of the diverse characters were allowed screen time and I feel like this season they completely flipped that around, adding to a really rich and fun entertainment experience.

Props to GLEE for highlighting bullying in schools and the inadequacy of the system to deal with the issue. I have seriously been tearing up at all the scenes where Kurt has to suffer.

TV makes me so emotional!

I'm on the prowl and I don't even know it

2010-11-23T22:29:00.000-08:00

Tonight I did some volunteerwork. As I was chatting with the person who organized the whole thing, the girl he was with came up behind him and did something really territorial: she scratched his back. You know, the way a kitten kind of scratches the bottom of the couch.

Something about that really bothered me. I get it, he's taken. Don't you think I would have assumed so when I met him and you, at the same time? So after spending about an hour volunteering together and not being affectionate, you decide that it is necessary to do so in my face because I'm talking to him? Am I really so threatening? And btw, what you got ain't sparkly enough to steal.

Not to mention it's annoying that people think that's what my MO is. Get your minds out of the gutters!

Although I understand women's natural tendencies to lay claim to their men, I just find it so unflattering for the woman. If your man can't make it known that he is already spoken for without your display of ownership, I wouldn't make a bet on a happily ever after.

If a man is so easily stolen by you, they will just as easily be stolen from you. But this applies to women too; it's just common sense.

Wouldn't it be funny if I ended up being the mistress of someone?

Funny or sad. I confuse the two oftentimes.

precious

2010-11-22T21:07:00.000-08:00

Life is too short.

It's too short to be angry or sad or dissatisfied.

Life is unexpected.

Too much so to wait. For anything.

Life without regrets is life fulfilled.

Urgency. Appreciation.

Light.

Ode to a Spirit Passed

2010-11-22T19:48:00.000-08:00

My heart aches.

I hardly knew you but you touched my life, as all good spirits do, no matter how brief or fleeting. Your light will continue to shine and your bright soul will remain with those who remain tied to this earth.

The suddenness with which you left us behind shocks and saddens us. How are we to accept this loss?

Your impact on all of us is evident by the outpouring of love. You gave so much to those around you; how is this fair?

Our community has suffered too many great losses this year.

Manang, may you rest in peace. Mahalo.

Fed Up

2010-11-22T00:29:00.000-08:00

It's officially over. I'm done with seeing the glass half full.

The glass is fucking empty. I threw the water out because I got tired of watching it evaporate.

I tried really hard for one year to be someone I'm really not. Trying to see things in a positive way; trying to believe in people and get away from the ugliness of life.

My conclusion?

Life is ugly and people make it that way. Given a choice between the self and the selfless, 98% choose the self. And they have the gall to say, what else do you expect?

Being in NY reminds me why I hate people. Thank you NY, for reminding me of who I truly am.

Roots-Pieces

2010-11-21T01:38:00.001-08:00

A long conversation with Dead Serious about family history made me dig up some pages from my senior thesis in college.

My writing was really stilted back then; I think I was afraid to write from the heart because my advisor had told me that most personal theses in the past became too flighty and messy. So I went in the opposite direction, ending up with something that couldn't decide on being academic or literary--basically a mess. I still got an A-, probably more for content than for writing, but I can't complain.

It's one of many writing projects I need to go back to revise...

An excerpt from my final chapter - Roots:

Sitting around the dinner table, I grew up listening to stories I didn’t seriously consider until I became much older.

This past summer, I helped my parents organize their bills and documents. In the closet, I came across a folder containing immigration documents and identification photographs of my family from their arrival in the United States. The faces looking back at me were unrecognizable. The eyes gazing into mine were sunken into dark and sallow faces of what looked like the ghosts of Dad, Mom and my two sisters. I was in shock at the photos of these strangers lying tucked away in my parents’ closet. Never had I imagined the close resemblance my family had to the pictures of starving Somalian refugees plastered across countless supermarket counters, begging for relief and monetary assistance. Here, my own family’s visages peered back at me, asking me for recognition. It is strange to think of my family as strangers with their own secret stories to tell. There had been many stories laughing about concoctions they had come up with for food at the camps, or the abundance of free seafood on the shorelines compared to the expensive fish we put on our tables today, but none of these jests told the serious tale of the photographs I had seen.

It took my family a long time to adjust to living in the United States and to earn back the flesh of their bones. In the process, my oldest sister lost her Vietnamese and my parents learned to speak a little bit of English. My mother’s eyesight is becoming blurry under the strain of constant examination of her needlework. Dad’s arms have become dark and burnt from the fires of the restaurant he works at. I ask my parents often if they regret coming to the United States, especially since they are constantly discussing retirement to Vietnam, but my father says that America has given them things they would never have been able to achieve in Vietnam, mainly an education for my sisters and me. As for being nostalgic, Dad often says, “Out of ten who come [to America], nine must change and adapt to a new lifestyle. You do what you can to survive and make ends meet.”

The concept of struggle has always been predominant in my household. Stories about the refugee experience and how life became a competition for survival were woven into daily dinner conversations. Reminisces about people who have come and gone in our lives sift through our minds as we savor the food on our table. Strength in survival dominates the household attitude at every instance, at once allowing us to realize our own strength while contemplating the thin line between our lives and others.

Flashback to the Wonder Years

2010-11-19T08:37:00.002-08:00

I learned a long time ago, in high school, that guys intuitively sniff out insecurity.

Case in point: there was a girl in my project group who tried really hard. She was competitive, loud, and kind of annoying, actually.

I was kind of the opposite. I was chill with the rest of the group and really didn't care much. I didn't understand what we were doing in class half the time but I plodded along and enjoyed the crazy antics of my group. There were 4 guys and 2 girls in the group and most of the time, the attention of 3 of those guys was on me.

One day, I remember watching this girl get hysterical on 2 of the guys in our group who were clearly giving her a hard time just to get on her nerves. As I and the other guy looked on at the spectacle she was creating, and reveling in, he turned to me and started singing the Blink 182 song.

I laughed even though I felt sorry for her because it was really obvious what she was doing. It was pretty sad.

High school really just is real life on a smaller scale. It's the same characters on the same stage, just with a few less props.

I'm sure somewhere out there, someone's humming that damn song as they watch me tapdance to my New York tune.

More Awkward Moments with Friend Stealer

2010-11-18T21:07:00.000-08:00

So friend stealer, or FS, as we shall now call her, has been dating. She thinks we're really similar but we're actually really not. She's really good at dating. I'm not.

The other weekend, I met up with her at a bar before heading to a party together and found her drinking with two guys. One was tall and the other not.

So when I hang with gfs, I try not to give them a reason to think I am edging into their territory. If there are men around, I don't assume anything and keep my distance. I'm not there to meet guys; I'm there to chill with friends. So I chat with the guys a bit, not to seem hostile, but it's not like I was turning on the charm. Both guys were pleasant enough and then we all parted ways.

Fast forward to this past weekend. A friend of both mine and FS's was in town. Dragging along a drunk FS, we headed to St. Marks to meet up with the visitor.

Unbeknownst to me, FS had been texting her new guy (the tall one) the entire time we were enroute and soon enough, he had joined us at the karaoke bar.

Ok, first of all, chicks before dicks and bros before hos. I don't think it's right to meet up with a random date when you are supposed to hang out with an out of town visitor that you haven't seen in half a year or more. But that is neither here nor there.

New Guy says hello and I say hello. FS goes off to karaoke with LA Visitor and so I make small talk with New Guy. He asks how I am. I say fine, how are you? He says I'm good.

And then he pinches me on the cheek.

WTF

Who does that? I just met you fool! Don't touch my frickin face!

For the rest of the night, I ignore both FS and New Guy as they canoodled. Except for the random moments when FS was not around, which is when he would WAVE at me. Yeah, you read that right. WAVE.

So I haven't said anything to FS and I probably won't. What would I say? Hey, FS, your new guy is either super weird or he was hitting on me!

Yeah, no.

Oh FS, you make such terrible choices.

I'd Like to Meet Drunk Me

2010-11-18T20:23:00.000-08:00

I love hearing stories about what I did while drunk from friends. From what I can tell, I'm pretty entertaining and not much of a mess.

Lately, I've heard a few surprises though. It's kind of scary actually, not to know what was happening while I was so inebriated that I was no longer in control of the situation. That's actually why I stopped drinking. I realized I was no longer being safe. Just taking a break to get back a bit more control in my life.

I've been lucky so far though. Nothing has really happened to me even though there were so many times something could have. Just funny stories to share with friends.

Is Vacay Over??

2010-11-16T00:17:00.000-08:00

Tonight's meeting was sobering. I scored applications for a fellowship program and less than 1 percent of the applicants were asian american. And all of them couldn't compare to the rest of the applicant pool. It made me upset and disappointed.

The community here in NY has not impressed me. They have been a little hostile, to say the least. I get it. NY is tough and you need to prove yourself before you can earn trust. But if you're as tough as you think you are, you'd know what kind of person you're up against within 2 minutes of knowing that person. So all you hatin' New Yawkers aren't really as awesome as you think you are.

So this brings me to a crossroads. Am I going to roll up my sleeves and get dirty? Or do I wanna go home, change, and come back after taking a nap?

I'm thinking what I need is a good night's rest and I'm only halfway through my REM.

FUUUUUCKKK.

I am Copy Girl

2010-11-14T10:05:00.000-08:00

Remember the infamous Ross and Rachel episode of Friends where they go on a "break" and Ross ends up sleeping with the Copy Girl?

I am now Copy Girl.

Of course I had no idea at the time it happened. As I am wont to do, I had asked him if he had a girlfriend and he told me that they had broken up three months ago.

I kind of feel at odds about the whole thing. If I were the girlfriend/ex-gf, I don't know that I would want a guy back if it was so easy for him to find someone new to drown his sorrows with. Three months is a bit of time but if you really wanted someone back, wouldn't you behave while you were waiting to figure things out?

I'm so glad that I'm not her right now.

OMGeeee a.k.a. Talk to the Hand

2010-11-11T21:11:00.001-08:00

I often find myself having “OMG conversations,” as in, “oh my gosh, I can’t believe I’m having this conversation.” 98% of the time, it’s because I can’t believe how clueless or dumb the person I am conversing with is.

I try really hard to be patient, I really do. I try to be understanding. I try to factor in reasons as to why this person could possibly think a certain way or not know certain things. At the end of the day, I usually walk away wondering how it’s possible to be that oblivious.

Given that I am genuinely and frequently surprised in good ways by amazingly intelligent and insightful conversations, I try to remember and cherish those moments above all else. However, in the immediate aftermath of mind-numbingly dumb conversations, I am often left traumatized and bewildered.

The most common offense is the unfounded overgeneralization: a sweeping statement that is built on a minute premise that cannot be proved and which is easily broken down when asked no more than three questions. Sometimes, it just takes one good question for the offender to rethink their statement. Oftentimes, the offender is too dumb to realize that they are refuting their own point when answering said question.

People like to think that they are so smart and so amazingly unique in perspective when all they are is a reflection of what everyone else is thinking or have done--they're just too dumb to recognize it. I know I'm repeating myself. I know I rant about this a lot but I really just can't help it because I encounter it way too much. I often find myself losing focus while listening to other people talk because their stories are so uninteresting and similar to the stories of so many other people I've known. My uh-huhs are so automatic and patterned that I am usually writing a blog post in my head about the situation while the other person tells me I'm an amazing listener. I really am though. If I weren't, I wouldn't recognize all the parallels of their utterly ununique perspectives to other people's equally unsingular lives.

For the most part, I'm just too lazy to engage in refuting your unfounded points or to walk away from you. So I will put up with your insipidness but that doesn't mean I'm not secretly writing a novel while you go on and on about your philosophical values that are clearly borrowed from somebody else who is definitely smarter than you.

Original thought is dead, folks. We're just living through the funeral procession. Am I the only pallbearer?

Cowardice & Convenience

2010-11-11T20:44:00.000-08:00

The other day, I randomly got an anonymous postcard. Creepy much, right? After reading through it, I concluded that it could only have come from my X.

It's been 2.5 years now since I broke up with him. Do I think about him? Yes. Fondly? At times. Am I ever angry at what he did to me? Hardly. We were young and neither of us knew any better but I eventually did grow up to know better and that's when I left. I think that's how relationships are. Either both of you are willing to put up with each other's crap or else one person realizes that they don't need to so they up and leave.

Two and a half years later, it's good to know that he still considers me a good friend and that he's finally over the anger. Contrary to what many people may think of my flighty and fickle ways, I'm actually one of the most loyal and committed of people you will ever meet, should I choose to be that person to you. The battle is making sure that you are worth my time.

I know without a doubt that I was an amazing girlfriend who went above and beyond any capacity that a friend or human being could possibly endure. All in the name of love. I was young. And foolish. And it will probably never happen again. We can all thank my X for that one.

Am I bitter? For all that he put me through, no, I don't think so. I fully recognize that I put him through a lot of shit too but I'm done making excuses for behavior that I now recognize as abusive, unwarranted, and immature. I learned by example and now I'm spending my time unlearning all of the relationship habits I picked up from him and was a result of my own twisted, yet innocent, idea of love.

Coincidentally, this popped up on my iPod this morning while getting ready for work:

It felt appropo.

#1 or Bust

2010-11-08T23:18:00.001-08:00

Treating me like an option is a surefire way of being crossed off my list.

Sure, I’m commitment phobic and I am always hemming my options but if you want to win me over, you should separate yourself from the crowd by treating me like I’m your only bet. Plus, I'm only weighing options because no option really stands out.

I like a guy who knows what he wants in life and is willing to take a risk to make that happen. If you’re in it for the game, I’ll play along but you won’t be the one winning.

Malfoy was cute enough and interesting enough to catch my attention for the evening but he was neither cute enough nor interesting enough to dazzle his way out of being just one in a lineup. Or enough for me to put up with bullshit.

Look, if you're going to text me, make a point of not wasting my time. Don't ask me what I'm doing to see what your options for the night/weekend are because I have my own plans. If you're not going to respect me or my time enough to ask me ahead of time to meet up to actually get to know me, I'm not going to bother letting you know what I'm up to.

I already made an allowance past my three day rule, I'm not going to extend my one week rule.

Tough broomsticks.

Hot But Not Hot Enough

2010-11-07T22:26:00.000-08:00

A really cute guy I met one night of epic drunkenness in August through my friend E has proclaimed me a hottie. I can't deny it; it's incredibly satisfying. The guy had a girlfriend at the time we met and I was wasted out of my mind but he had told my friend E afterwards that he thought I was really cute.

Just the other day, E told me that I had actually danced with the guy that night, which I have absolutely no recollection of. Because I was wasted out of my mind and I had no idea he had a girlfriend. But E didn't stop me, nor did he stop himself. Hmm.

We had gone to check out his DJing gig at a bar that night before moving on to a huge party in Brooklyn later on. He then met us up but I have no recollection of the rest of the night or how I got home. Which is why I do not remember dancing with him. Apparently though, I left a good enough impression on him that night for him to remember that I am hot...3 months later.

His girlfriend broke up with him about a month ago...to explore polyamorous relationships. Yeah. WTF?

He's still hung up on her though. Lucky her.

I'm not touching that with a ten foot pole. No matter how hot he is. Or how hot he thinks I am.

Unless I'm at a Halloween party wearing a wig and mask, which apparently makes me an entirely different person and makes hooking up with people I shouldn't completely okay.

Sober vs. Drunk, Part I (and Part Last?)

2010-11-07T16:21:00.001-08:00

Being sober isn't what I remembered it being.

For the first time in my recent memory, I partied sober. It's funny thinking about how I felt about drinking just a mere three years ago. I was always designated driver; I believed that if you couldn't have fun sober then you weren't really having fun. I didn't judge people who drank, I simply wanted to be able to have fun without drinking.

Well, that's ruined for me forever. Boy have the years grown on me.

I did okay Friday night. Actually, more than okay. I had a lot of fun. A really good friend was in from out of town and we met up for dinner with our other friends and karaoked until our voices were hoarse. It was an early night and I got home by 2:30AM. It felt good to be home relatively early, sober, and to have sang to my heart's content.

Last night was a different story. First, I went to a Diwali party in Jersey City. It was...good...food-wise. Company-wise, I felt out of place and rather bored. Everyone worked in finance and didn't really seem interested in talking to someone they didn't know. The host and hostess were kind enough but more and more, I realize that people really have no idea how to be "hosts." Or maybe I'm just expecting way too much of people these days. Or maybe I'm just used to socially savvy people who are kind enough to be great at introducing friends to friends.

I think I'm tired of insecurity. In myself and in others.

Next up, I met up with my friend in the Lower East Side. She was hanging out at a bar with two guys on what turned out to be a pseudo-date. I admire other girls' abilities to turn a chance meet-up/hook-up into dates. I have, thus far, been unable to do so. Anyhow, she was really drunk. I chatted with the two guys as she got some food and then left them behind. However, we also grabbed McDonald's before hopping into a cab to hit the Rooftop of the Empire Hotel.

The Rooftop is probably the worst club/lounge/bar I've been to in NY in the six months I've lived here. The crowd was douchey, the music sucked ass, and I'm pretty sure my friends almost got ripped off for the table they paid for. It was quite ridiculously gross for a supposedly "upscale" establishment with "strict dress codes enforced." If my friends hadn't ended up meeting me there, I would have gone home within the hour. Instead, I suffered through 3 hours of attempted dancing on a simultaneously sticky and slippery floor amongst really trashy and douchey looking people while a spastic DJ cut short all the good songs in order to play really bad ones. I don't think I've ever seen that many unattractive people together in one room in NY before.

Suffice it to say, my friends and I tried to make the best of it and outlasted my friends who were there celebrating a birthday. I think they had fun, but I really don't know. At the end of the night, I was really displeased. I don't know that being drunk would have helped made the night more palatable, but I'm convinced that at least I wouldn't have noticed half the things that made it so horrible.

Today was a pleasant enough Sunday. I turned down meeting up with a friend for drinks, completing the sober weekend full circle. Compared to last weekend though, drastically less fun.

Is that your broomstick or are you just happy to see me?

2010-10-31T20:45:00.000-07:00

I didn't think my costume through enough to realize what types of men I would be attracting with it.

I really loved Kickass so when I saw a blog post about easy costumes to put together that included Hitgirl, of course I jumped at the excuse to buy a wig and embrace the geek in me.

There is no denying how awesome this pint-size heroine is--she basically steals the movie from everyone involved. Sure it was disturbing to see a 10 year old murder with glee, but that's just socialization talking.

For the most part, people either didn't know who I was or else they thought my costume was awesome. The people who thought it was awesome were usually fanboys. So of course I got approached by a guy dressed as Malfoy when I was out with my friend T on Friday night. Fortunately, he was good looking enough for me to engage in conversation with. I was surprised by how concrete the chat was considering I had met him at random in a bar. Soon, I was on the dance floor with him where the space was so tight we really had no other choice than to be up against each other.

After a while, I became highly aware of something rubbing up against me. I wasn't sure what to think of it really. It wasn't the first time it's happened to me and I'm sure it won't be the last. But I really didn't know what to make of the situation, whether it was creepy, funny, or flattering.

Thinking back about it I realize that maybe it was just his broomstick. Seriously.

The Scream On Fire!

2010-10-25T20:49:00.000-07:00

My friend had a pumpkin carving party for her birthday this past weekend and someone CARVED that! Can you believe it?

I was in love.

A tall, boyish man who can carve a Munch into a pumpkin? Yes please. But of course, he is already taken. All the good ones are.

Oh, and the fire is actually another pumpkin.

A Letter From The Future

2010-10-17T21:16:00.000-07:00

Dear Amazing Future Significant Other,

Let's get real here, I fell in love with you because you fell in love with me because we both know that I don't like to make the first move. Somehow, you knew that I was the type of girl who is damaged goods--incapable of opening up until you had proved your worth. You wanted to know me from the moment we met because you could tell that I was pretending to be boring to fend off unworthy distractions. You could see through the nonchalance because you cut through the bullshit, just like me.

You think it's worth your while to spend time with me even if all I am willing to give you is a few hours of the day, but you know you'd be able to win me over because you already know that we will connect. Your confidence is charming but it stems from a humble acceptance of all your flaws. That's why you're willing to accept mine. But most importantly, the first moments that we met, you knew you wanted to be my shoulder to cry on and you wanted to protect me from everything that hurts in this world because you can tell that I have a chip on my shoulder from all the people that somehow managed to steal a piece of me--and you could tell this shell is just candy coating-breakable for a soft melted hazelnut choco filling wrapped in love.

It doesn't bother you that I'm crazy. Not at all. You find me quirky. You do not have the urge to "fix me" because you don't think I need to be fixed. You find my past unsurprising, not because it was typical teenage angst, but because you believe that darkness and light co-exist and complexity is the norm. My philosophical bents are funny to you and you know that I find humor in dark places because at the end of a life, there is nothing to do but laugh like will-o'-the-wisps do during a summer's breeze. We laugh in outrage at the unique sameness we each are and we're glad that we found each other.

Most importantly though, AFSO, you love me and respect me so much that you will never touch me in anger. You would rather hurt yourself than ever me and to see me sad or angry would hurt you to the core. I see it in your eyes, in the loving and unwavering gaze that comes from your heart, that you think I am amazing.

It seems that I am asking a lot of you. I am. Because you see, these are all the things that I would give to you. In a heart-beat.

I believe that you exist, because I exist. If I'm willing to be this person for you, surely, someone is willing to be this person for me? And I'm hoping that that person will be you.

Hope to meet you in the distant future sometime (distant because I have to live life to the fullest before we meet so that I can fully appreciate you).

Loves,
AM

p.s. I really do hope you exist. Or else, this is merely a dead letter and I am relegated to be a scrivener instead of a painter.

Ladder Climbing, All Over Again

2010-10-16T12:35:00.000-07:00

I miss LA mostly because I miss being clued in.

The other night, I sat through a dinner with people I am on an advisory board with. We were all there to talk to the national executive director of our organization and it was the first time I have ever met him. He founded the organization and, to his credit, built it to a fairly decent presence.

Sitting at the long table and nursing my drink, I realized how disconnected I was from the rest of the board. They have all known each other for a long time and are all from New York so they have a lot in common. They probably wonder how the hell I got selected for the program in the first place and am now curious to know why on earth I would have been okayed for the advisory board. I also felt really out of place because of how little I know about NY politics and community; I was really frustrated with myself for not doing more research and having more to say. I feel really intimidated by my fellow board members and quite inadequate.

About 45 minutes into dinner, I finally caught the eye of the ED and introduced myself. Immediately, he knew who I was though. He said that the LA chapter director had spoken really highly of me and that so had the NY chapter director. All of a sudden, a comfortable wave of recognition washed over me and reminded me of who I used to be and what I'm capable of doing.

Here in NY, I'm nobody and I often wish I had the same pull as I did when I was in LA. Coincidentally, a friend called me last night to bounce ideas off of for some national political plans. I told him I didn't know why he was calling me because I have nothing to offer anymore. He told me it's not true, but I do know it's true. I'm fading away from the LA community's mind, quickly becoming irrelevant, and I'm just a speck on the NY radar right now. It's so frustrating to be working my way from the bottom up again and even worse that I'm working through it with nothing to offer.

I felt redeemed, though, after speaking with the ED. He talked to me like he knew all about me and had mentioned that the LA chapter director had emailed him just a couple weeks ago to tell him to say hello to me. It really warmed my heart that he was thinking of me.

I forget that the ED also follows my Twitter; it's so weird how people know you through these social media accounts who would otherwise never know anything about your personal opinions, etc. It's nice but creepy at the same time.

It's A.M., Bitch

2010-10-14T21:29:00.000-07:00

I just got into a fight with my sister on the phone. I knew I was picking a fight and that I was being a bitch, but I wanted to keep going with it anyway.

There are some days where I just want to be really malicious and mean. It used to be, that on those days, I would take it out on myself. I would punch walls, drink, or smoke an entire pack of cigarettes, all at once.

Today, I picked a fight with my sister and probably made her cry.

I actually have a knack for that--making people cry. People don't believe it; I think that's why it's so effective. I never talk with the purpose of making someone upset but it does seem to happen regardless of my wishes.

I'm probably just really at the short end of the patience stick right now. Need some space to recharge. I've been socializing way too much lately and this loner is not accustomed to putting on a friendly front for so long. It's also that time of the year--the fall never brings me good memories. Instead, I continuously try to erase these old ones by creating new ones.

I feel sorry for my family and close friends--the usual victims of my terrible temperament.

Star light, star bright...

2010-10-13T21:24:00.000-07:00

I went to MoMA this past weekend with some friends. Turns out I get free admissions for 5 people total with the company corporate card—shweeet!

In the garden courtyard area, there is a wishing tree where you can write a wish on a tag and place it on the tree. It’s quite cool. Of course, being the greedy bastard I am, I had to write more than one.

At first, I didn’t know what to wish for, even though I knew with great certainty that I wanted more than one. It took me some time but once I thought about it, I knew exactly what I wanted:

1 – I wish that my friends will have the strength that they need to get through the toughest moments in life.

2 – I wish for my parents to have just enough to be content with life.

I wonder if putting this out to the world will jinx my wishes but, in my mind, the more I can emphasize what I want in life to as many as possible, the more likely it will become true.

There really isn’t much that I want in life. Just love.

It's too late when you're dead

2010-10-13T19:51:00.000-07:00

Reading a chapter about funerals in a manuscript my boss is working on today made me think about the pointlessness of cemeteries.

When my mom’s best friend passed away, I attended the funeral with my family. She was almost like a godmother to me and my sisters and I had grown up playing with her kids, who were like extended brothers and sisters to me. Her life had been hard; she basically raised 5 children on her own when her husband ran up gambling debt and left them. They became pariahs—family and friends turned their backs on her because of the debt that the husband had left her with. People hounded her for money when she was barely making ends meet. Our family was one of the few to remain friends with them.

She ended up suffering from a type of cancer, I’m not sure which, and passed on after wasting away to a thin nothing. My last memory of her is barely a wisp of who I remember her to be when I was a child.

The day of her funeral, there were many people who showed up and my mother bitterly gnashed between her teeth: where were they when she was alive, when she was suffering? When she needed support and love?

My parents always taught me to respect, honor, and cherish people while they are still living. What’s the point of making a spectacle out of paying respects after someone is dead? They're already gone and won't be able to enjoy your words of self-placation.

Needless to say, we don’t visit gravesites and we have a very clear conscience.

I can read you like a book, but not like a blog post

2010-10-12T21:22:00.000-07:00

I like to think that I’m rather observant of people, which leads me to conclusions that some might say are similar to judgements. I judge, but I’m not judgemental, and I think that a lot of people have a hard time distinguishing between the two.

The other night, I made the mistake of having a serious conversation with someone I’m having issues with while drunk. This never leads to a good result. I actually don’t remember the entire conversation and can only recall the gist of most of what we discuss which means the whole incident is going to continue bothering me until I see/talk to this person again.

I do distinctly remember telling him that I can read people really well. I always hesitate to say this because of course I have been wrong about people many times in my life, but I have found that I do have a knack for guessing things about people’s personalities and past that is very apparent to me, though it may not necessarily be so for other people. It actually surprises me when I say something that I have assumed is true and the person is taken aback that I know that about them, or guessed as much about them.

In some ways, it steals their thunder, I suppose. I recently had a long conversation about depression and suicide with a different friend and when they told me that they had attempted suicide at one point, is chronically depressed, and currently going through therapy, it didn’t faze me. I actually told him that I had guessed as much, which freaked him out because he didn’t understand how I could have known such a thing about him. I couldn’t really tell him how I knew that, but I had guessed it about him and have been interacting with him based on my presumptions being correct without ever having verified it. He couldn’t get over it and was quite freaked out about it for the rest of the night, even though I didn’t think it was a big deal.

Weirds, no?

So I had this drunk conversation with another friend this past weekend and he pressed me for details about what I thought of him. I shouldn’t have qualified and hyped myself so much but I was really reluctant to give him my honest opinion. I was also drunk. In the end, I was able to give him a few things to chew over but I definitely did not lay it on in full, thank goodness. I don’t think he was surprised by what I had to say. He did, oddly enough, thank me for telling him. I forget what he said after that because I was so drunk my friend put me in a cab because she could tell I was venturing into emotional-land.

I do regret saying that I can read people really well, though, because it just sounds so pompous to me. And some would question my judgement since given I can read people well, why do I constantly end up in situations where I am taken advantage of? But that, of course, is a different part of me that needs to be dealt with—I like to give people chances to change or to prove me wrong. Admittedly, that is a dumb and I deserve what I get for believing in people.

People need to stop humoring me when I'm drunk.

Inflate My Ego, Please

2010-10-11T19:53:00.000-07:00

I’ve decided that people’s inflated sense of self really gets in the way of them living to their full potential.

People seem to think that they are too good for certain things—too good to take a job that they feel overqualified for; too good to take a salary that isn’t exorbitant; too good to do something for other people when the returns aren’t obvious.

Since when did we become so entitled and deserving? Or unique? For whatever reason, everyone seems to think that they are so different and spectacular that they deserve to be treated like they are God’s gift.

Excuse you, but God created billions of other people too. You can’t all be unique or special. And if everyone deserved everything, the world would have run out of resources a long time ago. Maybe the dinosaurs died because they thought they were too good for the plants on earth and started wondering what the plants from outer space tasted like. Or something like that.

People ask me how I made moving to NY work. My answer: I was willing to do whatever it took, which meant waiting tables or working at McDonald’s, for who knows how long. When you figure out that your job is not who you are, or that money doesn’t make you, or that other people’s opinions are uninformed and full of shit, it’s a lot easier to live by your own rules and work towards the things that matter. What’s even better is to realize that every job needs to be done and that respect is in how well you do your job, not what that job is. People who disrespect what others do for a living, or disrespect on a sliding scale of pay, are a waste of human flesh and bone.

Knowing that money and titles don’t mean jack shit really opens a lot of doors. Knowing that other people’s opinions don’t mean jack shit will wipe your mind clean so you can start over and actually think about the things that matter.

Like why frying something makes it so much tastier. Is it the grease? The crunchiness? A combination? Such a mystery!

Gordita

2010-10-11T19:34:00.000-07:00

I just ate what is probably the equivalent of 6 tacos. I started out with only eating 2. Then I thought that since the taco shells won't last for long before going stale in the open box, I should try to eat as many as possible.

I wouldn't call what I did a mistake. However, I do think that if given the opportunity, I would have chosen differently.

I try to live my life without regrets but sometimes, I really need to rethink my principles.

Beyond Bored

2010-10-10T08:30:00.001-07:00

Another college buddy of mine visited this past weekend. It's really funny how I was dreading meeting up because I thought that I would have nothing to say but then I ended up pouring out my heart to him. I'm pretty sure all the alcohol had something to do with it.

I haven't seen BE in over a year. Last time was when I visited him in Austin for a couple days. I think I realized at that time how little we had in common. I think this past weekend I realized that we don't need anything in common because he is an ear when I need someone to listen to me and a hug when I need to be comforted. He's just there to unconditionally care about me, even after a year of mistreatment from me. One of the first things he said to me was that he would be planning my wedding, should it ever happen. It warmed my heart. However, in the same breath, he also said that we will probably be married to each other at 40 at the rate we're going and that I should just give in. Awkward...

Upon trying to update him on everything going on in my life, I worked out a minor revelation: I'm bored. I'm bored out of my fucking mind.

I realize that I have been trying to convince myself that I am living the dream hence I am not allowed to see any flaws with the dream.

The self-delusion must end here.

I am content with my life but that doesn't mean that I can't be bored. I have been feeling boring when I meet people because I am actually bored by them. I didn't know all of this until this past weekend though.

It feels good to lay blame on other people.

Mira Mira

2010-10-07T22:44:00.003-07:00

I hate pictures of myself.

There's something about the camera capturing my very essence that spooks me. Not to mention, I just hate looking at myself.

Even pictures of my legs make me shudder:

My friend is a photographer and even though he said that he always captures the best in people, all he could muster was this shot of my chubby legs. Some photographer!

J/K I'm sure he tried his best. It's not his fault that my face doesn't like the camera. Or is it that the camera doesn't like my face? I forget.

A Womanizer With a Heart of Gold (?)

2010-10-06T21:28:00.000-07:00

This past weekend, BD was back. BD, aka Borderline Douchebag, amuses me.

He's a womanizer but a gentleman. Is that even possible? You see, he just wants to be a slut, but that's just being a man, isn't it? He likes to talk the talk and enjoys telling me about his sexcapades, but at the same time, I can tell that he's a good person at heart. He likes to talk about his exploits, but even he admitted that he would never treat someone he knew the way he treats these women that he just sleeps with. He told me about a woman he had fun with in NY but whom he would most likely never see again. I told him that was mean but he said that that's why he chooses women he doesn't really know to do that with. He said he would never do that to someone he knows and actually cares about. BD has a heart after all....kind of?

The last time I saw him, I looked him in the eye, held his face in my hands, and told him that one day, he's going to get married and be whipped. And then I will laugh and mock him. He admitted that he probably will be. He even ventured far enough to say that he is whipped, usually by women who like to use him up and mistreat him. Why are men like that? When I asked him, he admitted that it's because he has low self-esteem. He's a funny guy.

For all his run-of-the-mouth womanizing ways, BD is incredibly nice to me. He brought me back a gift from his trip, for no particular reason really. He texted me pretty much when he landed because he wanted to hang out. We did end up hanging out, with a number of other friends, until dawn. It started to rain and I was cold but luckily I had an umbrella. I offered to share it with him and he even held the umbrella for me. I found it amusing that he didn't want me to step in puddles and made it a point to lead me around them or tell me to watch out for them, even offering his arm/hand to me so that he could help me step over them. When it was time to head home, he insisted that I didn't go home alone though. So everyone ended up accompanying me home to my apartment, which made me feel bad because I felt like I killed the party. So I made everyone breakfast to try to make up for lost fun.

When a friend offered to ride with me on the subway to accompany me to work that morning, BD insisted that he do the same. So even though everyone was super groggy from a 30 minute nap, three guys accompanied me to work that morning. I felt strange running into my neighbor on the porch step at 7:30am, with three men, but I greeted him anyway. It was a comical sight, I'm sure. Funny thing is, the friend got off where he needed to transfer to get home but BD and his friend stayed with me, even got off at my stop with me and started walking me. I insisted that they didn't need to walk me to work in the rain, especially since their hotel was rather a long ways from my office. So he finally agreed to leave me to walk to work.

Next day, I was actually feeling really down about a lot of things and decided not to go out with BD and a number of other friends. When I talked to him on the phone, I was surprised at how concerned he was. He actually stayed on the phone to talk to me even though he was at a friend's house, I'm not sure if it was because he felt obligated since I had mentioned that I felt down. At any rate, I appreciated it.

I also appreciated that he tried really hard to meet up with me repeatedly throughout the weekend, despite seeming to have a lot of other friends to hang out with. And he always spent the nights hanging out with me. The last night we hung out, we all went to karaoke and he got me to dance with him while he sang Stand by Me. What is up with guys karaoke-ing and taking me by the hand to sing/dance with them? Second time in like 3 weeks.

At any rate, BD redeemed himself to me in many ways. Even though I still think he is gross and is a walking STD, I find him endearing. Being a gentleman goes a long way. But only when I find you cute in the first place.

He also has a porn 'stache right now. I shake my head just thinking about it. But I laugh too.

2 Beers, A College Buddy, and...a Bouquet?

2010-10-06T00:59:00.000-07:00

This past week has been a whirlwind of LA visitors. I was happy to see all of them, but really relieved that I am done entertaining guests. For now.

Last week, I hung out with an oppa from college. For some reason, all my friends from LA told me to "get ready" for their visits. I think people have this odd notion that all I do is drink and party, but my life has become so tame and boring it is a little ridiculous. So tame, in fact, that my tolerance is now significantly lower than ever before!

Oppa and I went around the corner of my apartment to a very cool bar that has a Guinness club and yummy premium beers. We only had two but I got so wastefaced that I don't remember much. I have a vague recollection of being in the park near my apartment and then another memory of him trying to get me to sleep in my room.

When I woke up in the morning, I had these on my kitchen counter:

Of course, they weren't in a vase because I had been too drunk to put them in one. But there they were, a bouquet on my counter when I woke up to the doorbuzz of my other LA friend who had just arrived at 7AM. I was half wasted still but managed to crack open the door for her.

I was so hungover I went back to bed, leaving my poor visitor to nap on the couch, which I felt terribly about when I came to and was conscious enough to realize I was being a bad host.

That was just the first day of a long series of drinking and hanging out with good friends. It was good times, for the most part.

In the closet

2010-10-04T22:18:00.000-07:00

I realize that I don't really feel like blogging of late but couldn't quite figure out why for some time now. It might be because my life has been pretty boring of late. It could also be because I party too much and am never home long enough to write. Or. It is possible that I am no longer self-centered.

Clearly, none of these reasons are the correct ones.

I just came to the conclusion, this past weekend, that it is because my ego has withered away. In order to be creative, I sincerely believe that you must think you have something worth expressing to the world. If you didn't, why create? Or contribute?

I think that moving to NY has killed most of my self-esteem. I waver between days where I think I can conquer the concrete here and days where I feel beaten down and alone. I'd say that 83% of my days are spent thinking about how alone I am. Being alone has a weird affect on who you think you are. You create a maze of images that you wander through, like a giant closet, fingers trailing to find the right image to throw on each day and night you exist. It sucks being indecisive. And it sucks when you look into your closet and disdainfully turn from each available image, wishing that you had a nicer selection to choose from. Wishing you could choose from someone else's closet.

I'm almost back to the point where I don't want to look into a mirror. Almost.

YCS, it's an affliction

2010-09-28T23:54:00.000-07:00

Hi, I'm Average Monet and I have YCS - Youngest Child Syndrome.

I really don't like to take care of people, which is hilarious because I feel like that's what I do all the time. Or maybe I'm delusional and spoiled and every little thing I do for people seems to be this huge thing to me when it's really not. I can't tell what I'm delusional about anymore!

I try not to mind caring for other people, cooking for them, buying them things, etc. because I used to enjoy it. I still do, for certain friends because they are so amazing to me. However, I've reached a point in my life where I've begun to notice imbalances in certain relationships and I'm becoming rather bitter about it.

On a related note, I've decided that my Future Roommate must be more alpha, more neurotic, and more OCD than me. I'm tired of being the person who initiates cleaning the apartment or taking out the trash. And Future Roommate must cook and want to feed me! In other words, I want to live with my mom, dad, or sister. Or Amazing Future Life Partner.

I also seriously think that, from now on, I only want to find friends who can teach me things in life and who are giving. Kind of tired of collecting friends who don't care to contribute to my life and who enjoy the benefits of meeting my awesome friends but who never invite me to anything fun or interesting or introduce me to cool peoples.

The sum of all these pet peeves are also known as YCS. You see, growing up as the baby in the family, I was always given special treatment. That meant the drumstick of the chicken for the dinner, or being asked if I am hungry and being fixed whatever food anyone older than me was having, or being talked to like I am totally incapable of doing anything for myself. For whatever reason, I went through a phase where I thought I wanted to be the older sister to whoever crossed my path because I missed out on that experience.

WHY WOULD I DO THAT? Life as the Youngest Child is amazing! I think I've dallied long enough in the realm of Older Sibling. It's time to return to my rightful place--Spoiled Younger Sister and Baby of the Family.

Don't hate!

A little Calvinism, and I don't mean Hobbes...

2010-09-27T23:26:00.002-07:00

So that last post was an interesting trip down memory lane. I wrote that piece when I was just a junior in high school and I have a feeling I may have actually printed it in either the school newspaper as an editorial or in the school literary magazine. I feel like I probably submitted an edited version though...won't be able to verify that until I go home and dig through my stuff.

Funny how we sometimes grow but not very far from the seed...or the roots. I may be climbing upwards towards sunlight but there's a part of me still buried deep below the soil. I guess it's what makes me me and it's what I'm still grasping at. Without the darkness at my roots, I wouldn't be able to uncurl a petal or a leaf to the whisper of the breeze...

Even though I want to break free from the earth, it's what keeps me upright and I'm never going to be able to escape it.

Pieces of my past...

2010-09-24T22:52:00.000-07:00

January 26, 2000

The average teenager has been offered a drug at least once in their life. The average teenager is stressed about grades, sports, clubs, and any other extracurricular activity. The average teenager is confused and has an identity crisis. The average teenager thinks they have problems…do they?

The average teenager doesn’t know how to deal with their problems. It’s “I don’t care”, “I dunno”, and “Whatever”. They’re words, phrases, letters grouped together. Where’s the cream filling? Inside. Avoidance, carelessness, they’re all the same. Often times, it leads to depression, drugs, violence, gangs, and, sometimes, suicide. One mistake can cost a lifetime. I know, I’ve been there. I know people who have been there.

It’s hard to look up, when you grew up seeing people full of potential never reaching their potential. Unthinkable factors interfering, in a kaleidoscope of cosmic collisions. Like seeing your best friends’ father lose a family to a life of gambling. Or seeing their sister run off with her boyfriend to join a cult, returning to be detoxed and to return to an incomplete family. It’s hard watching their brothers go from the guy next door with straight A’s, to High School dropouts with shaved heads and a tough street attitude. Especially when they were practically family. Supernova.

It’s hard to be optimistic when you’ve been told you’ll never succeed in life. It’s not as if they meant it, they’ve only said it once. But the one time it was said, it left a fossil. I wish my mind was like the beach. The dry sand crumbly at low tide. But every day, the lapping waves smooth it away, leaving silky sand to glisten in retreating sunlight. Tidal Wave and it’s gone.

It hurts to see sunlight when you’ve lived all your life under a shadow. It sucks to be last, but it sucks even more to be forever second best. You’re never noticed. You’re a shadow. Who cares about the silhouette when they can see the real thing. You may burn brightly, but there will always be a brighter one. Night skies are always full of burning balls of gas billions of light years away. But the Moon’s closer, we’ll just look at that instead. It’s a glowing piece of rock. Lunar eclipse, it’s gone.

It always seems like time goes by too fast. Sit back, and it’s like the world’s playing in slow motion. How fast are you going when you’re really just watching? But time, it’s like sand in a sieve. You hold it in your fingers, and it’s gone. There’s no control over it. Don’t even try to grasp it, it’s futile. It doesn’t tick, it flows. It flows like a stream, cool, refreshing, but biting, uncontrollable, torpid. The currents rush forever onward, but they cleanse.

It’s all relative. To society, he was a failure. To me, he was a hero. To have come to a country he knew naught of and relearn a whole new lifestyle is a feat in itself. Not only did he pick up the language at fourteen years of age, but he put himself through college and earned a degree in engineering. One year into his bachelor’s, his dad began to gamble. Not only were they bankrupt, but they owed money to loan sharks. Soon, his brother had to deal with the payments. He quit school and got a job. Slowly, he as well as his brother repaid their debts, but the interest was too high. They spent so much time with these loan sharks, they became their companions, friends, and then finally, brothers. They had become one of them. They admired their work and education as well as their loyalty and sense of duty to their family. Not only did they join them, but they began to lead them. One night, the brother attended a wedding banquet at a restaurant. He stepped outside for a quick smoke. When they found him, he had been stabbed over twenty times. He repaid his debt plus interest. So his brother takes his place. His brother who had a degree to be an engineer. Now, he works on revenge. Others see these brothers as a menace to society. But I see victims, I see people who have overcome the odds, to be beaten by them. I wish I was blind.

How can two wrongs make a right? Last I heard, she was in Riverside. Last time I saw her was over five years ago. Last we heard, her mother’s boyfriend was trying to adopt her. Not as if she didn’t have a family, she had us. The minute her parents split, we had offered to adopt her. But her mom kept her, for alimony. She cared about her daughter, just not a lot. He loved his daughter, just not enough. We loved her too much, we wanted her, but couldn’t have her. Might as well say it. I remember she gave me her Pound Puppy because I liked it. I was only four. I didn’t know I already had more than her. Who knew it would come to this. The last time I saw her, we didn’t want to part. But we had to. Who knows what fate she was welcomed to. This year, she graduates. This year she can take control. This year we wait.

It always seems like everybody’s breathing down your neck. You’re not the sun, the world does not revolve around you. No matter how hard you try, you can not be the center of the world. You think you are, but you’re not. It’s a reality check. You think people are making a big deal out of it, it’s because you’re trying to hide the fact that it’s nothing. It’s pointillism. Connect the dots anyway you want, and you get the picture you were looking for. No outlines, just an attempt at an image. But it’s there, and you make it what you want.

The world’s plastic. It’s fake. We’re fake. We pretend to be human, but we’re not. We center on how to be humane when we have families of children whose parents had them for welfare money. We’re in a world where charity is tax-deductible. We’re running around raising money for causes we have no idea about, and we have even less of an idea as to where the money actually goes. We cry for people we don’t know. We lament and mourn for causes and events we’re not connected to. We stick our heads into business that isn’t ours to interfere with. We play with wars as if they were Battleship. A game of little plastic toys.

We live in a world of machines. Copy machines. How many copies can we make before it breaks down? Mass production. We’re all mass produced. Copies of each other. We admire plastic faces made up of plastic noses and contact lenses. We take pictures of bodies that have been cut up and put back together again. The key to makeup is to look as if you’re not wearing it. How ironic is that? Might as well be put in plastic molds, why be born? Conformity. Imitation. How original can we be, we’re homo sapiens.

It’s hard to keep promises when you’re the only one keeping them. We share the same day of birth, just eight months apart. We were born in the same hospital, just not at the same instant. When I cried because I was alone, he said he’d walk with me. When I won, he applauded. He made me feel as if I really had won. He took care of me, I though he was the best brother I could ever have. But the eight months between us grew wider. He had new friends. I understood. One of his last statements will forever linger in my mind. Promise, no matter what, we will always be friends. No matter what. But now he’s gone. Is this the what he was talking about? Like a thunderstorm the rain pours in sheets. The drops of water pound against pavement and roof. It’ll stop. It has to. It can’t rain forever. And when it does stop, there’ll be a rainbow. There has to be because there is absolutely nothing else to look forward to. It’s a desperate hope.

It’s hard to go on. It always is, it always will be. It’s the pain that drives. But when your mind is set, it’ll take you places. Like driving in the middle of a desert, you can’t stop. You could, but you won’t. It’s instinct, you fight. You’re not the only one. It’s not as if no one’s made it before. It’s called over dramatization. Like modern actors doing Shakespeare, it’s exaggeration. Imitation, copying, and pretending. Draw the curtain.

When at first you don’t succeed…take a different approach. Letter openers don’t have sharp blades. It’s a dare. Mind over matter. Who will give in? Try a real knife, but do you dare? Do you really want to die? Or are you just kidding yourself? Mind games. You’re playing with yourself, against yourself, and you lose either way. No pain, no gain. Try pills, but you take a few. A few isn’t enough. You need a lot. Be greedy, take a lot. But you can’t, you can’t force yourself to. It’s a shame. You lost.

“Do or do not; there is no try.” The beams of light that fall between the slits of a jail cell’s barred window penetrate the cell, but does nothing more than that. An attempt at a life is heinous, no one gave you the right to be God. But when you don’t succeed at it, it’s torture. Self-defacing are purely attempts to unleash self-hatred. But you’re being self-centered. There are plenty of people to hate you, why take the pleasure away from them? Slitting wrists is a craven attempt at the attention of others. You’re just playing with yourself, wondering if you have the courage to press all the way down. Either do it all the way or don’t do it at all. The in-betweens are the worst. When you’re on the brink, don’t look down, just jump. It’s an act of faith. When you awake, you’ll see how much more of a loser you really are. You couldn’t even kill yourself, what could you possibly be good at? Your heart keeps beating, and you keep hating, yourself, for being such a failure.

Why try when you’re only going to fail? Human folly. To be human is to hope. To live is to hope. We may deny Hope, but It’s there. Like air, we need it. We suffocate without it. Without Hope, the cold fingers of Despair close about our throats, slowly closing, slowly suffocating, softly strangling. Stealthily, it overcomes. You succumb. To Despair.

You don’t know what you have until you’ve lost it. It’s gone, meaning not there. You didn’t notice the space when it was occupied, but now that it’s void, it’s loud, it calls. How loud can silence be? As loud as a mute’s cry of anguish. As loud as the thoughts running through your head. Headache. Was the pain there the whole time and you didn’t notice it until now, or did it just come? You don’t know. We don’t know. I dunno. Oreo. They leave aftertastes. It lingers in your mouth filling the empty space, but its memory is not the same as its physical presence. It melts.

There are no two snowflakes alike on this world, and yet they’re all snowflakes. Why the grouping? Why must we classify? Everything has to belong. Order, law, justice, restriction. Fetters of society, bind. We must belong. But we don’t.

We all want to stand out. To be unique, the one and only. There are billions of people here on this earth. We look like ants scurrying to their ant hill. They’re all ants. They all scurry. And they’re tiny as well as busy. Full of it. Are they really that busy? Peacock. Funny how everything holds elements of everything else.

The bigger they are, the harder they fall. We are so absorbed with the way people seem to be. Their confidence, their willingness to be social. We label them as arrogant, snobby. The ones who are shy, are they really? The ones who are arrogant are, often times, the ones in most dire need of attention and care. The smallest failure and they crash. Those who are "shy” may not be so much intimidated by the assertiveness of others as they are unwilling to waste their capabilities upon the lower castes. The deer runs for pleasure, not to flee.

We’re as good as blind. How much of the world can you really see when you’re looking through narrow slits? Not a lot apparently. You think you’re having a bad day. You’ve failed some stupid election, some stupid contest, or a ridiculous standardized test. There are people being shot, hung, stabbed, or mutilated every second of our lives. There are people being born and killed every minute we exist on this earth. There are people running from wars, from persecution, from people, from their past, from themselves. We lose a loved one, and it’s the end of the world. They lose a whole generation of family members in one earthquake, and they’re still out there fighting to survive. Compared to the universe, what is earth but a tiny marble, a grain of sand in an hourglass of time. But we treat ourselves as if we are the hourglass, the marble bag. We’ve lost our marbles.

It’s hard to continue working on something you love when you realize you have no talent. Loving something means knowing when to let go. It’s cherishing every moment. But when your love means the defacing of a beautiful thing, you have to stop no matter how much it hurts. A gentle blow of your breath will ruin the mirror image of a still pool. Its clarity and depth distorted by the disruption. Then you know you have intruded upon something precious. Skipping stones skid the surface, and it all blends. But the gentle leaf that floats to its surface adds a touch of reality.

When failure repeats failure, it seems as if you’ll never win. Bottom line is, were we meant to win? Can we win? Will we win? You work your ass off and you die. Is it winning? Or are you losing? How can you tell? How do you fail? You can’t win, but you can’t fail either. I won’t let you. I won’t let you be labeled. And that’s when you win.

When you consider yourself amongst the many different/similar peoples of this world, we all seem so pompous, so very full of ourselves. What are we really but actors, all playing parts. Exaggerations. Puppets. But who’s pulling the strings?

I sure do think a lot about relationships

2010-09-22T23:29:00.000-07:00

Since moving to NY, I have reconnected with two of my friends from college. Both of whom I have always had crushes on.

One now has a girlfriend that he is very content with. The other is constantly dating and tells me about it.

Whenever I see both, I always wonder why I can't get guys like them to date me. They are both really smart, really good looking, and seriously nice people--that's why they are my friends.

It makes me wonder what's wrong with me. Why don't guys like them, like girls like me?

It's actually kind of painful to hang out with them because it's like a reminder of my own shortcomings.

But my job makes me believe that one day, I'll find that person. If I can find a dream job, I can find a the man of my dreams too, right?

D. Advocate

2010-09-21T22:15:00.000-07:00

I feel like the dbag's advocate. Everyone has been noticing it; it's time I put it down in writing: I attract douchebags. I am the Dbag's advocate and enabler.

I think I've reached a point where I am just so desensitized from all the douchebaggery and misogynistic language spewed at me that it no longer phases me. Things that used to offend my sensibilities now just seem to be acceptable facts of life about who people are. Maybe, I have simply lost my drive to "correct" people or "fix" things.

Just a couple weeks ago, an ajushi I knew from LA came to NY for a visit. To my surprise, he actually called me up. I say surprise because he never contacted me when I was in the same city but he sure did love to make out with me. I guess he thought he'd finally have the chance to nail me since I'm in a different city and it'd make for a nice story to tell on his return home...to his tailgating buddies...or whatevers.

Long story short (maybe I'll write up the whole incident in a different post later), the guy ends up asking me if I've slept with his friends, then proceeds to ask me to go home with him about 20 minutes later, and finally leaves without saying goodbye. Lots of awkwardness to go around on that one. He could of at least had the decency to buy me a drink.

Fast forward to last night and I had a deja vu moment with someone else but somehow, this time, it came off comical rather than hurtful. Am I simply losing perspective?

Similar things were said, but in different ways, and perhaps with even different motivations. Someone I have known for a while asked me if I had been sleeping with his friend whom I have been hanging out with a lot. I should have been offended but instead I laughed. He continues to tell me that I am bang-able but too nice; he would never want to hurt me.

Poor me! All these strong burly men who want to protect me because I'm going to fall in love with them and get so attached that I will be devastated when they tell me they only want to have fun. I feel sorry for...me?

Silly man-slut. I told him that if he had ever asked me out, I would have actually gone out with him. But now that I know he's 2/3 of the way through reaching 30x30, it's clear to me that he should be quarantined. He even told me that he gets tested but that really didn't boost my opinion of him or help him in his quest of finding the next big bang.

Plus, I like how all these men I know just love to bare their sexual history to me. What am I? The free clinic?

beat it bugsy

2010-09-21T20:39:00.000-07:00

I came home at 4am this morning, exhausted, and ready for bed.

I go into the bathroom to take out my contacts and crack open my contact case.

Lo and behold, there is an INSECT swimming around in my contact solution. It's not dead. It's swimming. As if my contact case is a resort for bugs.

I ran around my apartment not knowing what to do. Half an hour later, I decide to squeeze hand soap into the case and watched as the thing spazzed out and died. IN MY CONTACT CASE.

Seriously disturbed by the whole episode, I turned away and got into my Tauntaun sleeping bag to nap for 3 hours before being awakened by the rude alarm of my cellphone. I avoided the contact case in my bathroom this morning.

It's still there. Now with a dead bug swimming in globules of green Method hand soap.

I don't want to face the horror of my own hands' doing. And I don't want to put my contacts in there.

What to do. What to do?

bzzzzd

2010-09-13T18:19:00.000-07:00

I just had two glasses of wine. It's been that kind of day.

Maybe I'm pmsing. Maybe I had a really rough day. Maybe I'm just an alcoholic. Whatever the reason, I just had Papa John's pizza and buffalo wings with some wine. Yeah. I'm classy that way.

My friend D has been staying with me at my apartment for the past few weeks because he can't move into his apartment until October basically. It's really fun having him around. Especially since my moody roommate is away traveling. It's like being at home again.

Today was kind of a rough day. I wanted to cry. Sure my boss didn't blame me--even told me that it wasn't my fault--but being the overachiever I am, I hated feeling disappointed in myself for not catching the small details in a contract request I had prepared. I've worked at a law firm damnit! I should have known better. Instead, legal and managing editorial came down and gave me and my boss a talking to. It really wasn't harsh but for in my head, I was way harder than any words that were exchanged this morning.

I think I do that a lot. I am crazy self-defeating in my head and it's really hard to tell myself to stop. Every unspoken word is fodder for self-deprecation.

Every day is a struggle but let's keep that secret between the two of us.

LA for Life

2010-09-01T21:18:00.000-07:00

Yesterday, a really good friend of mine in LA called me because she saw that I was posting on LA friends' Facebook walls that I missed them. She guessed that I was getting homesick.

This is exactly why I miss my friends from LA. Who can compare to people who notice patterns in my behavior and who care enough to call me just to make sure I'm okay? And to top it all, who offer to buy me plane tickets home to LA for the holidays? They can't compare. It's not the same. And this is why I love my friends in LA (and the ones that moved out of LA too!).

Not only do they have my back, but they watch out for me and take care of me. I'm a giant baby in NY, just waiting for someone to come into my life and tell me that they're going to make it all better. It just so happens that most of those people aren't in the same city as me.

Friend Stealers

2010-08-29T20:20:00.000-07:00

Lately, there has been this girl that I think is really fun to hang out with but I'm starting to worry that she is a friend stealer. Everyone I have introduced her to is now her friend and since she is funner and cuter than I, I am worried that my friends will start hanging out with her without me. In which case, I will be incredibly sad because I've worked hard to find new friends these past four months and she has been in NY for a whole year now. It isn't fair that I am introducing her to all these cool people's I've had to fight to find and she has not introduced me to anyone cool at all. Especially male friends. The couple times she has invited me out, it is always solo. She almost left me the other night when we were hanging out in Ktown except that I had actually met the two people she was about to leave with and they recognized me. In the end, I left with them and we partied hard but I think that she doesn't really want to include me when she hangs out with her male friends.

Then the other night, I introduced her to a guy I am actually interested in, thinking that they have a lot in common. Little did I know that she would end up going home with him. For one thing, I'm glad the douchebag revealed true colors early on so I don't have to bother dating him to figure that one out. The other thing is I'm glad that I'm learning to be wary of this girl. Additionally, she embarrassed me in front of an LA visitor with whom I have a history with just a week ago. It's hard to tell if these are just the actions of a drunk girl with serious issues or if she is genuinely ill willed.

I firmly believe that friends are not just around to keep each other company, they are supposed to provide support and help each other grow. I'm starting to wonder if these friends are simply draining me instead of giving me the nourishment I really need in this new city and new life. What I really want are friends who are ready to throw down for me because that's the kind of friend I [think I] am.

I'm getting pretty tired of helping friends get what they need in life and I'm tired of them not being brave enough to step up right behind me when I'm getting the short end of the stick. I can only give so much without return before I start to feel like I am being stupid, and before other friends point out how stupid I am for allowing these people to take advantage of me.

I refuse to settle when it comes to dating but who knew that I would settle when it comes to friendships.

Blackbook cleanup

2010-08-10T20:23:00.000-07:00

I just went through my cell phone and deleted a LOT of phone numbers. A lot of them are names I don't even recognize. Some are just boys that I've kept numbers of so I know not to pick up. I get confused sometimes if I don't label them and I wouldn't want to pick up accidentally.

The majority of the phone numbers I deleted, though, are of people that I simply have no desire to stay in touch with anymore.

I considered just leaving them in there; after all, what difference does it make? But the extra scroll through just takes up too much time when I'm looking for numbers.

Plus, there are some people I just wouldn't want to accidentally dial.

Measuring up.

2010-08-08T00:28:00.000-07:00

Lately, I've been dealing with a lot of internal struggle. I don't know if everyone goes through this or not, but I definitely overthink life. I'm guessing everyone does because I like to think I'm pretty average. I can't seem to move on until I get my philosophy on something straight and these huge turning points are what highlights my next steps in life.

I remember, when I was working as a rep, that I felt uncomfortable being an extrovert and needing to learn how to carry a conversation with strangers plus speaking in public. I felt fake. I also felt like the antithesis of who I thought of myself as: an introverted loner who really had nothing in common with most people. I was a hater who really didn't care for people as individuals but who had a fondness for humanity, if that made any sense.

I was forced to make a conscious decision--step it up and become the extroverted go-getter to do my job right, or quit and languish, returning to my shy and introverted ways.

Once I decided to become an "adult" by doing something I didn't want to in order to succeed in my profession (aka "the real world"), I grew exponentially as a person. I became everything I had always shied away from but learned to make it palatable to my own value system. Then, I learned to love it.

I feel like I'm at the same crossroads except that the person I need to become is not anti-thetical to my values. Instead, it is someone I'm not sure I can become because I don't know if I am good enough. I always ran away from creative pursuits because I never thought I could do it; I don't think I'm good enough. I dropped my dream of going to art school to become an illustrator because I didn't think I could get in. I didn't pursue publishing out of college because I thought it was too hard (i.e. I wasn't good enough). I never wanted to write professionally because I knew I wasn't good enough.

So here I am. I know I need to step up and dedicate myself to reading, writing, and learning to edit.

Is it in me?

I don't know.

Fight or Flight...?

2010-08-07T12:13:00.000-07:00

Sometimes I feel like I am running away from life.

Whenever things get to a point that doesn't please me, I pick up and leave. Maybe this is the healthiest way of going through life since I spent a good amount of time thinking that I should always keep trying and never give up. But part of me wonders if I am just avoiding pain with this new thought process.

I look back and wonder if I left LA because I really wanted to pursue publishing or if it was because I just couldn't deal with working a job that I didn't feel I was excelling at.

I'm starting to get scared that I might not be good at editing too. Will I run away this time?

Nary, nary, quite contrary

2010-08-04T22:43:00.001-07:00

I don't believe in relying on other people for anything. But I want to.

The hard part about opening up and being vulnerable is you start to believe people when they say they want to be there for you, that they are there for you. The reality is, no one can be there for you 100%. No one has your back or is willing to put themself on the line for you--that's just crazy talk. I've convinced myself that it is also unfair to expect this of people; I'm not sure if this came about because the expectation is unrealistic and illogical or simply because I was tired of being disappointed.

Truth is, I want to be that person--for everyone I care about. But I can't be. Not anymore. I've been burned too often. And the definition of having someone's back becomes too amorphous to handle. What I consider to be having someone's back is too different from what others consider to be "being there for someone." My definitions are usually a page out of the Medieval Ages from the book of chivalry--which no one but crazies live by these days. For normal people, having someone's back is "listening." I'm sorry, but that's just not enough for me.

I probably suffer from youngest child syndrome. I want to be taken care of. I want people to protect me and tell me that I'm better than that when I need to hear it, because so often, I think I'm not. I like spending time with people who tell me that they went through what I'm going through and explain to me how to get through it all. Empty advice from people who don't know what they're talking about, although well-intentioned, simply annoys me. Writing this out, I seem impossible to please, and maybe that's why I realized my expectations were simply irrational.

But on the opposite end, I feel like I anticipate what other people need. Maybe, again, I am simply delusional. Then again, I think I was good at what I did professionally because I am good at anticipating needs, seeing more than what meets the eye, and dealing with people who often do not know what they need themselves and providing it.

I tell myself that no one is the same, that I should recognize the singularity of every person as a unique human being, but at the same time, we are all the same. We all have the same ability to be a better person: smarter, more compassionate, nicer, more respectful, more successful. I often say that if I can do it, so can anyone else on earth. People like to make excuses, that it's all circumstantial. When I look at my circumstances, I don't feel like I overcame more than anyone else, nor did I have the privileges of others. Thus, if I can make it, why can't everyone else?

People like to think of themselves as unique. I do not. I like to think of myself as being just like everyone else. In a world of billions of people, I doubt that you can really be an individual. Striving to be unique is kind of a waste of time because that's what everyone else is trying to do. By trying to be an individual, you're just doing what everyone else is doing, defeating your own intentions. But people fail to see the futility of their ambitions. Then again, all of life is a single futile motion.

I wax philosophic. Back to friendships:

So did I lower my standards by reconciling nonexpectations with personal definitions of friendship? Yes. Am I okay with that? Ultimately, deep down inside, no. Am I going to live? Yes.

In life, we sometimes must settle. At least for moments in time until we can start to dream again.

Someday, I'll find someone who believes that friendship is about putting yourself on the line for someone you believe in and care about, regardless of consequences. I will probably marry that person. Maybe I confuse friendship with love. Or maybe people have completely tarnished what friendship and love actually mean.

Window Fun

2010-08-01T17:26:00.000-07:00

I have a new neighbor across the way and my kitchen window looks directly into his bedroom.

From what I can see, he's kind of cute.

This reminds me of the Naked Guy in Friends. Not that my neighbor was walking around naked; he was wearing a white tank and shorts. It also reminds me of the episode where there's a woman who is always looking into their apartment with binoculars.

I did have a bit of fun washing dishes yesterday. I'm not sure if he saw me, but I was at my kitchen sink for quite some time.

He also lucked out since I was going out last night and he got to watch me get ready, if he noticed me. Something tells me that he did notice. At some point, he opened his window.

I made it a point to walk by the kitchen window often while putting on my makeup, getting dressed, and doing my hair. He was also at his window for some time, unpacking.

I laughed the entire time I was getting ready and left my apartment in good spirits.

He put up blinds over his window today.

I End My Night When People Start Their Day

2010-08-01T17:06:00.000-07:00

I really need to stop partying until 6 AM.

This morning, I drunkenly tried to unlock the front door of my apartment building but got the key stuck. I started to panic and didn't know what to do because the same key had to open the second inner door for my building. I didn't think I was THAT drunk so I didn't understand why my key was stuck. I began getting stressed out thinking I wasn't going to be able to get into my own apartment building. Then I remembered I have a roommate.

I buzzed my roommate and told him my key was stuck and I didn't know what to do so he said he'd come down and help me. Poor guy; it was 6 AM!

Soon enough, another tenant in the building found me fumbling with the key and tried to help me. I felt a little embarassed--I was still wearing my party clothes and probably looked pretty wasted. However, he made me feel better because he couldn't get the key out either; it wasn't because I was drunk!

Then, another tenant showed up, a woman in jogging clothes, who knew exactly what to do. She made a comment that made me think this has happened to her before so I felt less bad about the situation. My roommate appeared just as the woman managed to unstick my key from the door.

I apologized profusely to my roommate and thanked the two neighbors and hurried up the stairs.

I hope I'm not the only girl in the building who comes home at 6 or 7 in the morning, drunk. Good thing I look really different when I'm not partying--the glasses will help me pretend that I'm not that girl. Unless I'm the only Asian chick in the building, which might actually be true.

There's No We In Life, Just I

2010-07-30T22:28:00.000-07:00

When things start to go south for me and I find myself wallowing, I have a number of tricks I pull out. I start making phone calls to friends to catch up. Sometimes I tell them I feel down; most times I don't.

Then I start to think about all the people in my life and try to convince myself that they care about me. I remind myself of all the things I am grateful for and try to erase the bitterness. I try to think of nice things to do for the people in my life, but for a very selfish reason: I wish someone would do those things for me.

Give what you want to receive. Everything in life is ultimately about you, about me, about what I want and how I want to be treated. Ultimately, I am selfish and everything that I do is tainted by that selfishness.

This thought used to suffocate me with guilt but now I can admit to it without qualms. There is nothing wrong with selfishness as long as it can coexist with selflessness. So long as I know what I value and want in life and can understand that my wants are not my expectations, than this will not be damaging. At least that's what I tell myself.

D always tells me that the Libra in me will perpetually seek balance. He is probably right. There is something in me that drives me to seek control, fairness, and equilibrium.

I read and reread the Tao Te Ching frequently and usually keep a copy with me; I actually have three copies, the most treasured of which is lost forever in the clutches of my ex-boyfriend--it has all my notes and thoughts scribbled in the margins. Too bad, but I bought a new copy to restart my quest for zen last year.

Originally a buddhist concept, the idea of zen seeped into Chinese philosophy and became immortalized by Lao Tzu in his beautiful prose. All the greatest turning points in my life have been marked by great books. When I read Camus' The Stranger, I finally felt like I wasn't alone in the world. Ironic.

When I read the Tao Te Ching, I felt like everything I was wrestling with made sense. All my contradictory ideologies no longer seemed at war with one another; they were simply co-existing in my mind, the natural way of the world balancing itself--it clicked and I found my balance.

The struggle to make sense of the world became less crazy to me when I realized that nothing makes sense and everything is contradictory in order to exist.

All of existence is at once solitary and co-dependent.

The Daily Pep Talk

2010-07-29T17:12:00.000-07:00

Every day, on my way to work, I give myself a pep talk.

I know it sounds cheesy, but it's really a huge personal battle to face my day in a new city and a new job where I feel at a loss for the most part. My confidence is waning as I feel small and lost, and uncertain about myself.

Between leaving my apartment and getting to my office, I have a total of about 20-25 minutes to reflect during which I sometimes develop anxiety about facing my day's worth of challenges.

After getting off the metro, I generally face my fears internally and have to tell myself the following:

- You are smart and capable. You managed to work 2+ years in politics when you started with knowing zilch about public policy and government structure representing community interests.
- All skills are basic. You managed an entire organization and did fine; you can manage being an assistant to someone.
- You are friendly and interesting. You used to run mixers and know everyone when you started with knowing no one. You built an entire network in 3 years from scratch and you can do it again.
- Stand tall because you are attractive. Stop slouching and be confident in who you are because there are people out there who enjoy your company and find you pretty/cute enough to want to date you/make out with you etc. Even if you're going to be a wallflower, be a sunflower and not a wilty one getting ready to decompose.
- You have good friends. So no matter what, there are people out there who like you for who you are, even if you aren't really smart, attractive or interesting. Everything is relative and as long as you find your niche, you will find people who will value you for who you are.
- Your boss hired you for a reason. Don't let her down!

So these are the thoughts I run through, pretty much on a daily basis, before I enter my office. I don't get pumped up like a boxer before a fight, but I do take a deep breath before walking through those revolving doors to my building.

Then, when I see my co-workers, I immediately feel small and shy, my shoulders drop and round, and I stare at the floor and avoid eye contact.

Life's a struggle.

Flower Power

2010-07-29T16:44:00.002-07:00

For the longest time, I didn't know what my favorite flower was. I wanted to say roses because that sounded right, but it didn't feel right.

Then I thought I really liked irises because they are purple. But I really didn't like their shape.

My mom really likes tulips so I thought maybe I'd go in that direction.

Then for a while, I really liked plumerias.

However, throughout the years, I think the flowers that have remained consistently attractive to me are lillies:

They just seem so cheerful and lush, so brilliant in colors:

Stargazers...so beautiful...

Amethyst Calla Lillies

Such pretty Fall colors.

Amazingly rich purple....

Simple elegance.

I have a soft spot for flowers.

To top it all, you can eat the buds! Called golden needles in Chinese, I had no idea I've been eating Lily buds all my life until I looked up lillies for this blog post. I also found out that the garden varieties (like the ones used for bouquets) are mostly Asian haha.

I learn something new every day...

Facelift

2010-07-28T19:57:00.000-07:00

I decided that my blog template was really depressing so I changed it.

The only thing that sucks about this new one is that you need to go to the post itself to comment or else click on the comments number at the top of the post to go to the comments section for the post.

Sorry for the inconvenience but I really needed something to lighten up my mood.

I actually wrote a really really long post that was so honest that I'm scared to post it. I don't know what people will think of me if I post it and, in many ways, I'm afraid to put myself out there in such raw form. But maybe that's what's been stunting my growth as a writer these past two years; I've really learned to shut myself down according to what I think is PC or "appropriate."

I keep thinking that I'm shielding my friends from my ugliness--I often feel like I'm the portrait of Dorian Gray and my blog is the canvas. As I continue on with smiles in the real world, all the ugliness bleeds through my words and into the internet to live forever...

Today's Roundup

2010-07-27T15:59:00.000-07:00

+ The colors I chose for my business cards were complimented on by the artistic and production directors--they all told me that the color combination was really great.
- I'm not supposed to get business cards because I'm only an assistant (my editor told me to ask for them!).
+ My to-do list is pretty small right now.
- I feel like I'm not doing anything/enough.
+ My boss has a lot on her plate because she has a great reputation for turning out great books.
- She was so busy she forgot to tell me to go to a really important meeting with her today.

= neutral day

- I feel really down about life right now.

= - day

Permission for Complexity

2010-07-26T21:33:00.000-07:00

I have been thinking a lot about why I have to explain who I am to everyone these days, even to my closest friends. Thankfully, they are all being patient with me and putting up with my emotional outbursts (of which there have been many lately).

The thing is, I keep fluctuating. I go between wondering what's wrong with me and then getting really angry that I have to categorize myself. But no one is asking me to. It's actually me. I'm the one who wants to be understood. I'm the one that wants to connect with someone else and feel accepted. And I don't feel that way right now. My life feels really askew.

I have never enjoyed explaining my actions or who I am or why I behave the way I do. I just want to be accepted, as is, no questions asked. But I know I need to explain it because no one is a mind reader, and that's exactly what I fought against for so long. Obstinately. It's actually something that constantly throws me back into depression.

It's depressing because when did we become a society that forces people to give up individuality and complexity in order for us to be better able to process our relationships? And this seems to be a pervasive issue for our society's attitude towards every aspect of life: we want things simple and fast and easy. Being one-dimensional and stereotypical enables us to move on from situations quickly. But where do we need to get to in life so immediately that is making us so glib in picking up and dropping people?

I struggled for the longest time with depression because in my mind, people didn't care enough. People care, but not to the extent that they should. Slowly, to cope, I learned to accept that as a fact of life.

Lately, I'm starting to wonder why I ever gave in and accepted something that is entirely against my own philosophy. I feel defeated in many ways. Tired. A bit of a traitor to my own individuality.

Why do I have to be happy? Or positive? Or cheerful? Or even a good person? There is no reason for me to be a good person, a good friend. I could just as easily be a complete jerk to everyone I meet and manipulate situations to my benefit, just for play. But instead, I force myself to be someone I think I should be. I'm starting to fail to live up to my own expectations as I see my own reflection coming back to me through my conversations with friends of late.

I don't know who I want to be anymore.

Religion is a crutch. Answers come easily when you have someone else dictating your reasons to live to you.

Being an atheist is hard because you are left to accept the fact that there are no answers in life and you live simply because your only other option is to die.