Entry 45: Living in a Depressing World

When I woke up Monday morning, my heart wrenched as I saw the news about the Las Vegas shooting . A lot of us have – at some point – been to Vegas, walked the same streets (probably a little drunk or with a drink at hand. Shoot, I know I was)  been to the Mandalay Bay, and are now having those of thoughts of holy shit – I could have been there. I could have experienced that. 

Thankfully, we are safe. Me writing this little blurb, and you reading this or other articles, and watching the news with your hand over your heart while hugging your little ones, (or in my case my dogs ). All the while trying to process, What the fuck is wrong with this world. 

The thought comes up every time some sort of tragedy strikes. We become sad and upset and find ourselves wondering why these sort of things happen in life . The sad truth of it all is, it seems as if it has been happening more and more often.  One after the other, after the other,  leaving us with the inability to just focus on one thing. Or even have a breather.

It was earlier this year that there was that attack in Manchester during the Ariana Grande concert, and I remember feeling the same way as I do now. Yet with all the crap happening – the other attacks in London,  Black Lives Matter movements,  Antifa protests, natural disasters, the NFL, and now this – Manchester seems like a long time ago.

I will say that there are a few things that annoy me when these types of events happen

  1. stupid people rationalizing that it’s God’s way of getting rid of certain people, or hoping that it did:  in the case of Harvey, Irma, and the mass shooting – the “Trumptards”. I’m sorry, that’s a horrible thought.
  2. Politicians who immediately see these events as a way of furthering their agenda within hours of the event. I agree gun control is a thing that needs to be addressed, but can you give it at least 48 hours so we can process, and pray, and make sure all the victims and injured people are okay?

It’s depressing that this is the world we live in, and even more depressing to think of our future growing up in a world that is seemingly getting worse. But I think it’s important to remember that while these evils do exists, there is still good in the world. You don’t have to look very hard or very far to find it. It is times like these where good has the opportunity to shine,  where political and religious walls can be brought down to unite one human being to another, and where we as indiviudals can be reminded to fight the evils that do exist by being the best human beings we can be and instilling the same values upon our children to do the same.

That probably sounded cheesy or preachy.. or whatever, but I don’t know… this is kind of a big thing that just happened.  Hopefully I have something light-hearted to talk about next time… like how Husband is sick .. which is not light-hearted, but the fact that I’m suggesting Filipino remedies is. Stinky Asian Filipino oil (Husband – No). Let me put Vicks up your nose (no) . Let me put Vicks on your Feet (no) .

Anyways, until next time…

 

 

 

 

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Entry 45: Living in a Depressing World

Entry 43: Becoming Older… and Apparently More Parent-y

Every Sunday for me and my family is Football Sunday. And when it’s not football season, it’s Walking Dead Sunday, and then Game of Thrones Sunday. And if neither of those shows are on, me and husband look at each and are like, none of the shows we like are on… what do you want to do? At which point, we filter through HBO, Prime, or Netflix, and if nothing on those services appeal to our interest, we watch Big Bang Theory.

Luckily, we have not faced that roadblock since it is football season. This past Sunday night football, we had a few friends over, and extended the invitation to a few friends of a friend.

At the end of the night, one of the extended friends, who is 23 years old, was like you guys don’t have any kids? (A : Uhm, I think you would’ve seen them if we did) ..oh… cuz you guys are like.. parent-y.

I don’t think he meant it in a negative way, or at least I certainly didn’t take it that way. The only reasons I can think of why he said it was maybe because a. we’re a whole decade older than him or b. we’re good hosts and fed him.

Whatever the reason, in my head – I was like, parent-y? when did that happen? Especially since I myself don’t think I have the maturity of a parent, let alone an adult. Maybe if I showed him my adult coloring book collection, or the hello kitty socks that I have in my drawer, he would think otherwise.

Or not.

Earlier that evening, a commercial came on for The Voice.

23 year old :  I don’t even know who the black chick is.

Me: That’s Jennifer Hudson… she was on American Idle

::Blank stare::

I have accepted that this will happen more and more the older that I get: having to explain pop culture and events of yesteryear that will be met with blank stares. I am anticipating that the day when I have to explain who NSync and the BackStreet Boys are will come fairly soon. It will be a day that will hurt my heart, but one which I will gladly take the time to explain the cultural phenom that was.

It makes me think about how my teachers in high school tried to explain world events that they lived through – like the Berlin Wall coming down. Or how my mom’s face would light up whenever she saw Donny Osmond on tv , and how I myself met them with stares of yea, I know you’ve lived through this, and I can see you feel a certain way, but I can’t exactly share your emotion. 

Ehh, it is what it is. It’s all a part of getting older… and becoming parent-y .. I suppose.

Until next time…

 

Entry 43: Becoming Older… and Apparently More Parent-y

Entry 42: Rice is Rice

I was at the local grocery store buying the weeks groceries. As I was checking out, the cashier commented on the bag of rice I was purchasing.

“Is that brand good?” she asked

I gave her a look of confusion

“Is that what Asians eat?”

“I don’t know,” I responded. “It’s fine?”

I found it funny that she thought that in some way I was qualified to speak on behalf of all Asians, or that all Asians are alike. I mean, I am Asian, I look Asian, but if one is also basing their definition of “Asian” on existing stereotypes, I don’t think I meet all the check boxes:  I’m not good at math, I’m not a child musical prodigy, and if you ask me cultural questions or what Asians do to celebrate what.. I wouldn’t know how to explain a lot it.

But in regards to this rice-buying, I think if I was more Asian, I would’ve gone out of my way to travel 40 minutes to the only Asian market in town comparable to the ones back in Seattle, to grab a bag of rice. That’s what my dad would’ve have done. He’s one of those who’s hardcore about where and what brand of rice he buys.  If he saw me buying a bag from a grocery store whose “Asian section” consists of a few shelves filled fortune cookies, Top Ramen, and soy sauce, he would probably look at me with shame, wondering what he did wrong.

And then he would probably make me put it back and drive that 40 minutes to get proper rice.

But alas, He’s not here and I was lazy, and ultimately I was okay with buying rice from the regular grocery store. This did, however, make me think how there’s so much of a cultural gap between me and my dad. As much as he tried to raise me and my brother “In the Asian/Filipino way” ,  a lot of the culture and traditions he had grown up with ultimately became lost in us as we became infused with becoming “Americanized”  Not all of it, but enough.  As friends start having kids, it makes me think about how much of the “culture” that was passed on from our parents that we ended up keeping, will be valued and kept by our children?

I don’t know if I’m making sense, but I guess what I’m trying say is – what if my kid not only doesn’t care about where or what brand of rice to buy, but doesn’t like rice at all and is like, gross mom – I’m going to eat this quinoa bowl instead.  or what if they don’t Filipino food in general? I have a cousin who’s half Filipino and he doesn’t like Filipino food, and all I can think of is – how did that happen? And…What if they don’t like to Karaoke?!?!  That would mean that there would be days where I would be the only one in my house, munching on Filipino food, with a karaoke mike in my hand, the other mike sitting on the stand… waiting to have someone pick it up so they could duet with me.

Ehh… I know it’s not the it’s the end of the world if my kids end up different from me.  The more important thing is that they’re healthy, happy, and not a dick. But with regards to passing on culture, I guess the only thing you can really do is try to infuse them with the values and traditions you find important, and hope that they grow to value it as well.

Some other random thoughts I have :

  1. Remember that website AsianAvenue?
  2. In Seattle, remember when you’d go out on Friday/Saturday and there’d be people taking your picture so you’d end up on that Sea-Spot website or whatever? Is that still a thing?

Anyways…Until next time.

 

Entry 42: Rice is Rice

Entry 41: Assuming Everyone Else’s Life is Perfect.

A wise friend told me, don’t compare yourself to others, everyone’s got their own issues. 

Seems pretty self-explanatory, something that I know in the deepest corners of my heart, and yet I sometimes find myself forgetting this and getting caught up in what I don’t have, what I’m not doing, or where I’m at in life compared to everyone else.

Social media doesn’t help . Not that I’m trying to blame it or anything, but I can see the toxicity in consuming one’s time in other people’s statuses and photo posts.  While I love seeing updates and pictures of where people have been and what they’ve eaten, I think I tend to subconsciously forget that people generally only post the good stuff that happens and not necessarily the struggles that life brings them. Which I get, I don’t like to advertise the bad shit on the interwebs either, but it doesn’t mean I don’t go through them myself.

What ends up being presented is a partial truth to the reality of life. 

It’s like when I read trashy romance novels that tell stories of  whirlwind romances and sexcapades that leave me with the feeling of – Why doesn’t my husband ravish me like that?!? Or Save me from towers?!?  (Well, because you don’t have a tower,  you do not live in 17th century England, you don’t even like getting your hair pulled, and most of the stuff that goes on in trashy books doesn’t happen in real life. )

So if you’ve ever thought my life is awesome based on all my selfies and social media posts – it is. But surprise. It isn’t perfect. But I need to work on not dwelling on how my life is or isn’t compared to everyone else, but counting the perfect and imperfect blessings that exist.  And if there’s something that’s lacking in my life that bugs me, to ultimately do something about it, instead of dwell. Which is hard, because I’m a chronic dweller.

 

Anyways, I hope everyone has a great week! Nothing exciting is happening to me this week. Does going to Costco count? I don’t know. But … until next time 🙂

Entry 41: Assuming Everyone Else’s Life is Perfect.

Entry 40: The Louis Vuitton Gym Bag

There’s this lady at the gym that I see all the time waiting for her yoga class. She’s probably in her late twenties or early thirties, a mom – and everyday I see her, she has strapped around her shoulder a Louis Vuitton gym bag.

This intrigues me. Having never owned a Louis Vuitton bag in my life, whenever I see her, I constantly find myself wondering what it must be like to prep for the gym and decide, Hey I’m going to use this expensive ass bag for all my gym stuff.

How do you even decide to get one in the first place? Deciding to get a Louis Vuitton is one thing,  it’s another thing to get one specifically for the gym. I imagine that at some point, said lady decided she needed a gym bag, decided she specifically needed a designer gym bag and while shopping must have been like no, I don’t want a Gucci gym bag.  I want a Louis Vuitton one. No, not that one. The bigger one.  

Or maybe she has 10 Louis Vuitton bags and the bag she was using was one she bought 5 years ago. Since it was so 5 years ago, of course she was going to use it as a gym bag.

But I kind of get it; material possessions often are looked as reflections of our social status. As our society emphasizes the need to succeed,  there exists this secret (or maybe not so secret)  competition to be at the top in the hierarchy of life, with the bigger, more expensive stuff acting as measures of our value and success.

So, if one’s going to be boss with a Louis Vuitton bag, why not be one with a Louis Vuitton gym bag? Just because… that’s even more boss than just having a regular bag.

My current gym bag is a Adidas sackpack from TJ Maxx that I got for $10. Its not boss at all. What it says about me is I bought this bag to carry my shit while I work out, and it was cheap. I don’t carry it with me all the time though; most times I have my wallet and my phone, and I stick it in my sports bra, right in the area between a boob and the armpit.

(I can see your head tilt and brows furrow as your trying to visualize sticking a phone/wallet in your bra if you’re a girl…or if you’re a dude, visualizing a girl sticking a phone/wallet in her bra. Thats kinda weird, you’re probably saying. And it kinda is, but thats how I roll.)

If I do happen to get designer stuff, someone please call me out if I become one of those stuck up chicks who’s like, is that from the Gap? Gross. Those females do exist. I know because one time I was talking to this co-worker, and was admiring her watch:

Me: Is that Michael Kors?

Coworker: Oh no… its Chanel sweetheart.

Well shit I thought. Excuuuuse me. 

She gave me a look that told me she wouldn’t be caught dead in a Michael Kors anything; she was better than a Michael Kors, and thus was cooler than me.

Yea, I don’t want to be that person, so call me out.

Anyways, that’s all for now. I hope everyone has a great week, and if you have one of them designer bags that cost a couple regular people paychecks, I hope you’ll still be friends with people like me who shop at TJ Max and Target.

(Note: I first wrote this whole post spelling Louis wrong and had to correct. God forbid someone reads this and is like…. Hey, you spelt “Louis” wrong.  I wasnt high cultured enough to know, but now I know. )

Until next time.. ..

Entry 40: The Louis Vuitton Gym Bag

Entry 38 : The Fear of Wrinkles

I don’t know when people generally start having mid-life crises’, but around a month before I turned 33, I started having this fear of getting wrinkles. It started with a conversation I had with a friend who casually mentioned her skin routines involving facial masks and exfoliating which led me to be filled with this feeling of oh shit. I am 33 years old and I haven’t moisturized daily, ever. Or exfoliated or done facial masks. I am going to wrinkle!

Since that initial freak out, I have found myself perusing the skincare aisles of every store (particularly Target) and stocking up on preventative wrinkle care.

I suppose there’s nothing wrong with taking precaution, but it has led me to think about why I find it so important to not age. Aging is inevitable, people are bound to wrinkle and develop puffy circles are their eyes and grey hairs. But why was it so important to me?

That is where it hit me : my self worth.

I am by no means a supermodel, but I’ve been called pretty and take pride staying in shape (or at least trying to) . But I suppose that is all I can see as being worth anything. I know it’s no use to mope around with that sort of mentality, and ultimately I have the power to change my life to make it something I’m proud of; it’s all in a matter of actually doing it.  While its really hard to break free of that when beneath those layers, there is that lack of self-confidence, I’m going to try to make it my resolution this year to snap myself out of that. … on top of fighting wrinkles.

Anyways, until next time.

 

Entry 38 : The Fear of Wrinkles

Entry 37 : What’s Your Story?

Have you ever been asked the question What’s your story?

My immediate reaction is always like : What do you mean what’s my story? I don’t really …have one. Whats YOUR story. Then based on their answer, I answer the question.

To be quite honest, I don’t think my life is all that exciting so I’m never quite sure how to answer. When you think of stories / movies, they usually consist of a plot – sometimes with twists, turns, and an apex to the plot  – and my life has none of that. Its just, ordinary. To me its awesome, but ordinary. I mean, I cleaned my spare bathroom yesterday. This happens once a week. And then after that I folded laundry.  And then I grilled hot dogs for dinner.

If you want to go into the depth of my character, well – some might find my interests boring. I like to read, get lost in Michaels, word puzzles and regular puzzles, and binge watching The Great British Baking Show. I got into a Games of Thrones debate with the produce guy at the grocery store the other day. I hear any sort of Game of Thrones reference and my ears just perk up. He was talking to the other produce guy about the battle scene from last season and I just joined in like  I know right!?!  That was friggin crazy!

Some people think my personality weird. In high school, when I first started dating my high school boyfriend, this girl asked him Why are you dating her? She’s weird. At the time, it kind of hurt my feelings, but then I was like, wait a minute – she’s right. I am kind of weird; not in the bad socially-awkward way, just in the- I used to humm while i brushed my teeth -kind of way (true story. i dont do it anymore though, i swear…. ) and some people find that weird. I used to hope that girl who called me weird was losing in life, but I’ve gotten over it and have come to embrace the “weirdness” as part of why I’m awesome

Back to my story. This makes me realize how grateful I am not to be dating, just so I don’t have to answer that question. The very thought gives me anxiety. I would probably be rejected by waves if I was like I like puzzles, but it’s something I would say because it’s true.

I’m glad my husband didn’t think I was too weird on our first date. After we ate, I started making a sculpture with tortilla chips and poured water over it, saying its called art, you wouldn’t understand. I’d like to think he was just like Yea, shes a little weird, but super hot so I’ll let it pass. 😊

Anyways, until next time….

Entry 37 : What’s Your Story?