Entry 18: Anniversaries

May is my anniversary month, a time where it has become a traditional joke to remind people of when A passed out at his own wedding.

If you were there you probably remember the words “omgosh” coming out of your mouth, and if you weren’t there, you’ve had to settle for third person accounts of the day.

Now, I’m not one who generally provides the world with daily status updates of my undying love for my husband; it’s there, but frankly, I find excessive internet affection annoying. And by excessive I mean like every 30 seconds :: status update:: my significant other is amazing. Then 30 seconds later ::status update:: my significant other is more amazing than they were 30 seconds ago.

These are the same people who take a million pictures of the cheesecake they had for dinner at a million different angles, a thing that could essentially be summarized in 1 picture that yes, there was a cheesecake…and yes, it was amazing.

But I digress.

I do like sharing what goes on in my head during really big occurrences in my life (because my brain is funnily all over the place) …like the first time I met A.

Now, I get that every love story begins with the same Oh, my heart was beating so fast and there were butterflies everywhere! different color butterflies just fluttering….  I’m pretty sure they were flying in my face while we googly eyed all night…. 

But let me premise this by saying that at the time of our first date,  I had been saturating my reads with trashy historical romance novels. You know, the kind with the Gaelic Laird who finds an English damsel in distress who, upon seeing the mighty warrior with powerful thighs and  his devilishly handsome grin, starts having these feelings that go against everything she had learned from her pure virtuous upbringing with the nuns. Though she tries to resist these thoughts, she finds herself blushing at the very thought of what it would be like… to just …straddle him.

You might laugh, but these books do exist; I know because I have read  a lot of them and I still read them from time to time. While some people find guilty pleasure in keeping up with the Kardashians, Britney Spears, or watching YouTube videos on “how to twerk”, my guilty pleasure is trashy historical romance novels that often leave me wishing I had that experience of being saved from a locked tower of some sort.

But what does this have to do with the first time I met A?

In being so saturated in these books, the first time I opened the front door and saw A, with his 6ft plus self and muscles just …everywhere, he was literally the biggest person I had ever stood next to, mainly because I hung around Asians 99 % of the time. It sequentially made me think about all the Gaelic Lairds I had ever read about, which then made me come to the realization that this … this being in front of me is what  all the fictional damsels were probably looking at when they were getting all hot and bothered.

I am pretty sure my first words were something along the lines of “hey”,  but my thoughts could only revolve around one word:


.. and that my friends, was my first impression. It’s been 8 years since that epic event in my life, and after 6 years of marriage,  reminiscing about the first whoa always puts a smile on my face.


Entry 17: Getting Technical with your Ethnicity


I hate it when people go into the ‘nth percentage when it comes to the question of What’s your ethnic background?  Honestly, when I ask the question, I’m looking for a list that consists of maybe 4 things, max. So when people start getting all technical like…

Well, I’m like a 1/4 Irish, a 1/4 German, 1/3 French, and then my Great -Great Great-Great Grandfather was like a Shah of Sunset  or something, and also, I’m like… 1/16 Chinese  because one of my ancestors is from the Ming Dynasty, OH I’m like 1/32 Native American – I’m pretty sure my Grandmother from like 20 generations ago was like an Indian Princess. 

It is then that my eyes sort of glaze over and I’m like holy shit, that’s a lot of things. Then I begin to wonder why I even asked the question and while vow to never ask it again,  I always find myself asking that question again to make conversation.

But if you take me for example, I’m Filipino, (I know, surprise!) but I’m not even that great of a Filipino.  Sometimes, people will be like,  what is this dish called? or how do you say such and such in Filipino.. and I’m like… uhmm. I don’t know? In the midst of the Filipino, there is a mix Chinese and Spanish blood hidden, as is the case lot of other Filipinos.

So when someone asks, Are you Vietnamese? ” (because apparently, I look Vietnamese), my answer is usually, ” no – Filipino.” I don’t even go into the Chinese or the Spanish part of me because – a. I don’t even speak Chinese or Spanish and b.  I can’t even relate to the cultures.

Then the question I get when it is revealed that I was born in Hawaii: Are you Hawaiian? Can you speak Hawaiian?”

Which brings up another thing: How is it that if something has pineapple in it, it automatically becomes classified as a  “Hawaiian” dish? Put a pineapple with chicken, it’s Hawaiian chicken. Put strawberries, grapes, and melons on a kabob and it’s a regular fruit kabob, but put pineapple in it, then it becomes a Hawaiian kabob. Put a pineapple with Canadian bacon on pizza, and it’s a Hawaiian pizza, but if you just had the Canadian bacon, is it then just a Canadian pizza? I don’t know. I’ve never heard of anyone just wanting Canadian bacon on their pizza.

Anyways, I digress.

Maybe I would feel differently with people getting all technical about their background if I myself couldn’t identify with one culture or ethnicity.  The US is such a melting pot of cultures and ethnicities that have married together that’s something to be proud of. But  perhaps for some there exists this need to stand out or hold on to that the 1/64th of something in the midst of that fusion.

And that’s fine. I’m just saying, if it was me – I would keep to 4 things, because when you get into the 1/64 of something, it’s like honestly …do you really relate to the 1/64th of you that is a Chinese princess?  or the even lesser fraction of you that is a Neanderthal?

More than likely, no.