Entry 27: Getting a Job

Earlier today, a recruiter called saying he had an opportunity that he thought would be good for me

When’s the earliest you can start? 

The question made me anxious, mainly because making snap decisions is against my nature. I like to brew on things, look at things from all angles and possibilities before making a decision. While in some instances this can be good,  it tends to over complicate things that don’t necessarily need to be over complicated. Like, do I want chocolate or vanilla ? I don’t know. It depends, is there a possibility that the chocolate could potentially get on what I am wearing? or get on my face? There’s so many factors!

So when posed with the question of when I could start, in my head I was like,ahhh I don’t know! I have to think about this. This is a lot right now! 

Instead, I heard myself say “Monday.”

After I hung up, I felt a little uneasy about it. I didn’t feel uneasy about the idea of getting a job, per se, but the fact that the idea didn’t really get a chance to settle within me.  There’s so much to brew on when going through life-changing things. Like the fact that I’ll have to do my workouts after work, and that I have to be more efficient with everything I do because I won’t have the opportunity to take my time doing things or take a nap.

It’s funny though, how whenever I’m working, I don’t want to work, and when I don’t work, the idea of working seems all the more appealing. If only there was a job where I could just get paid for doing something that would allow me to take naps whenever I wanted.

Anyways, I’m probably over-complicating it all. Everyone has to deal with juggling life, and while I have been fortunate to have not had to work these past few months, it’s something that I’ll have to figure out. On the plus side, maybe now I can go ahead and just get my instant pot that I’ve been wanting for months now.

Until next time….

Entry 27: Getting a Job

Entry 26: Going to Confession

Have you ever found yourself making deals with God/Jesus?

 I used to do it a lot in my younger years

Please Jesus, if I get an A on this test – I will give the next homeless person I see $10. 

or

God, if you please let this happen, I will promise to go to church 50 times in a row

A majority of my prayers revolved around grades and boys, issues detrimentally important to the teenage me.  However,I came to the realization that asking God to fix my grades and boy problems was kind of ridiculous in the grand scheme of life.  Why would God care about why ‘Steve’ didn’t say hi to me when I passed by his locker?  or help me get a 4.0 in everything,  when there were kids dying in Africa? The older I got, these negotiating prayers occurred less and less.

Last week, I found myself bargaining with God for the first time in a long while. It had been a rough week, one that I promised God if this gets better, I will go to confession. 

I won’t go into details of how or why it was rough, but by Saturday – it did get better and I found myself faced with the question of whether or not I should actually go through  with what I had promised. Technically only God knew I made the promise, and he was forgiving of everything… so that meant I didn’t have to go right?

The truth is, I don’t particularly like confession. It’s kind of like going into detention, but not. Instead if a pruc to a priest, the one person you’re supposed to put your halo on whenever your see them.

I ended up going, and while I was at first anxious and scared, it was a liberating experience, as it always is during the handful of times that I had done it.

It did leave me with a few thoughts: why are old people the only ones who usually go to confession? Is it because they’re nearing the end of their life and they think oh shit, I need to be as sin-free as possible before I die ? I suppose those who don’t see the end of life in sight, don’t have that same sense of urgency. Or perhaps the importance of religion and going to confession has faded. I don’t know.

What I do know is that confession has always been something I feared, in part because I tend to avoid facing and coming to to terms with my imperfection.

 

 

 

 

Entry 26: Going to Confession

Entry 25: Valentines Day

In light of Valentines Day, I got this email with the following subject line:

Have you gotten your sexy Valentines Day Lingerie yet?!?

Normally,  I send Victoria Secret emails to the trash, and this one ultimately was dragged and dropped into that folder, but for a brief moment, I panicked.

Oh shit! What do I do??!!

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After I opened up that email and clicked on a few camisoles and chemises, I came to the realization that this panic I was feeling was exactly what the marketing strategists at Victoria Secret was wanting me to do. They got to me during a moment of weakness.

Ahh Hell nah!

I try not to get caught up in the whole “Valentines Day” ordeal.  I’ll get Husband chocolate (because really, I’m the one who wants to eat them) and a card (because I like cards). One time I got Husband a katana sword, but really it was just an excuse to get a katana sword. We had been binge watching Walking Dead at the time and after we got through season 2, it became clear that was imperative we got a katana sword. For the zombie apocalypse.

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Another time Husband got me the same card he got me 2 years before.

“Isn’t this the same card you got me a few years back?”

I looked in my box of cards and found the exact same Valentines card  with two puppies cuddling together from 2013 and I laughed.

So you can see how seriously we take Valentines Day.

While I personally think Valentines Day is a big jumbo wambo for these companies to make money off of everyone,  that doesn’t mean you have to believe what I think. Go! Get your sexy underwear specifically for this day designated for love, seduce your significant other, and eat all the chocolate covered strawberries you want! I’m not going to stop you, because I can’t.

But I will leave with one piece of advice: make sure you let your significant other know you love them on other days besides Valentines Day. Give your girlfriend flowers on a random day to let them know you were thinking about them. Ladies, seduce your man on a Thursday, or Friday in March. It’s great that Valentines Day is there to remind us how great love is, but it doesn’t have to be just for that one day. Really, it should be everyday, because love, loving, being loved is awesome.

Until next time….

Entry 25: Valentines Day

Entry 24: Trashy Romance Novels, My Guilty Pleasure

The first time I read a book that had a suggestive sexual scene in it, I was 10. The book was Waiting to Exhale.  My face was like

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In retrospect (now that I’ve been exposed to worse things), the contents of the book werent that bad in the grand scale of risque-ness, but my 10 year old self, innocent of the world, had no prior exposure to anything of that sort, so you can of course imagine my shock.

My parents really didn’t put much of a filter on anything when it came to music, television, or books; they probably didnt think they needed to. I was a star student, had perfect handwriting, got As in stuff like participation, and never talked back.

So at a young age, I watched shows with bad language, listened to music that was sexually suggestive, saw movies with people shooting each other up , and other things some parents (maybe even myself) probably wouldnt let their own children watch or listen to. The effects of the exposure to such vulgarities at such a young age may still yet be waiting to emerge.

There was a few times when my mom layed down the law.  One time, I was watching Saved by the Bell and during a particular episode, Zach and Kelly kissed. From the background, I heard my mom yell You need to turn that off! What kind of stupid show are you watching? In my head I was like, Really mom? This isnt even bad. I listen to rap music and movies I probably shouldn’t see with suggestive sex scenes  but you don’t want me to watch Saved by the Bell?

I looked at my mom and she gave me the Filipino mom look, the one that glared at you in silence, envoking the fear God and fear of her. I switched the tv channel. Even though my mom was a petite asian woman, she was not someone you messed with.

With books, you really don’t expect a 10 year old to read anything other than Harry Potter or Little House on the Prairie.  Granted, I read those and a lot of other books, but at 10, I  remember being in love with everything to do Whitney Houston. And so, upon seeing a book based on a movie that my idol was in available at the local library, I went ahead and borrowed it.

It took me a day to read it (I was a fast reader) and I remember not quite getting what it was about (these ladies were having midlife crises? my 10 year old self could not relate to midlife crises’) but at the same time, getting that it was probably something that I shouldn’t be reading. I read huddled in the corner of my bed, quickly trying to hide the cover of the book whenever my mom walked in, lest she might inquire what it was I was reading, take it from me, and then I would be in trouble.  I was probably more paranoid than I needed to be as the cover was just of Whitney Houston and some other black ladies laughing.

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Or not, my mom could very been like, Why does the book you’re reading have middle aged women on it? 

But anyways that was my first mature adult book. I didn’t pick up another adult book til I was in college, but since college, romance novels, have become my guilty pleasure. Specifically those romances that are of the historical romance genre. You’ve probably seen them,  the books with titles like Taming of the Duke or Pleasuring a Duchess . Typically the covers have damsels that have their dress about to fall to the ground, whilst having a countenance that says omg, what’s going on?  I have all these feelings I don’t quite understand or how to act upon, but I want to. Meanwhile a buff ass Scottish Laird or English Lord stands in the background with his shirt off, about to ravish her, but he doesn’t and you can tell by his eyes that it’s taking all of his God-given willpower not touch her boobs in order to keep her innocence in tack.

I love these books, and yet, I’m so embarrassed that I love them.   Most times, I’ll read them on my ipad (Thank God for E-readers), but lately I’ve been going to the library to pick books up since they’re free. I know, my mind is capable of being far more intellectual, so I’ve tried to make it a rule that for every 1 or 2 trashy romance novel I get, I pick up a smart book to stimulate my mind- like The Odyssey or Grapes of Wrath.

Maybe I am so self-consumed in thinking that random people who are sitting next to me on a bus or plane are paying attention me and care what I read. But to be honest, pay attention to what people read. (I also like to pay attention to what people have in the shopping carts while I’m waiting at the checkout. I find it interesting what people buy, especially at Costco. I’m always like… wow, that’s a lot of asparagas. or thats a lot of ensure product)  Whenever I see people reading 50 Shades of Grey on the bus with their faces 5 inches away from the book,  I can’t help but think, This lady is on a bus, probably reading a sex scene and is probably having these feelings… on a bus. 

I’ve been doing a lot of thinking about  what reading romance books tells about me and what it does to my psyche: does it set up expectations or want for me to be ravished or loved a certain way? Does it reveal that I have a longing for something or feel like something is missing in my life?  I don’t think I want to be like locked in a castle or locked up at all, but do somehow  feel I have this inner desire to be a modern day damsel in distress needing to be saved and taken care of because of what I tend to saturate my brain in romance books? Maybe. Something for me to ponder about, I guess.

 

Entry 24: Trashy Romance Novels, My Guilty Pleasure

Entry 22 : “We Ain’t Never Getting Older”

Every time I listen to that Chainsmokers song We Ain’t Never Getting Older , I cannot but help but think – These guys are going to be sorely disappointed, because they’re going to get old and have to Adult and figure out how to get their shit together.

I don’t even know if that’s what that song is about, but those are my thoughts.

You’re probably thinking, Uhm…I think you’re bitter because these artists are younger than you and have a one-hit wonder, and you’re only on entry 22 on a blog no one really reads and don’t really have a job right now so…

Touche.

 

Entry 22 : “We Ain’t Never Getting Older”

Entry 20: Homecoming

Well folks, I made it back to Seattle. It’s been a year since I was here last, and while everything pretty much feels the same, so much of life has happened in the midst of my absence that at first I couldn’t help but feel like a bit of an outsider to it all: all the babies that I know are walking and talking, friends have gotten engaged, buildings have just popped out of nowhere that weren’t there during my last visit (seriously, how did they get it up so fast). One thing that has stayed the same and has gotten progressively worse: traffic.

It was bound to happen; life takes what course it wills itself to take and in being gone for a year, I surely could not expect it to wait for me until I returned.

But I must admit, I find myself self-conscious over the fact that my mannerisms and dress might reveal a small townie-ness that had – unbeknownst  to me – somehow become infused into my identity this past year. With every look given by a stranger, thoughts of why are they looking at me? Can they tell that I’m not from here? have run through my head.

Perhaps it is all in my head; I do tend to over-analyze minute details and come to conclusions that may not be the truth of a situation. Who knows, perhaps their fleeting looks are due to my  amazing tan which – in December, in the Northwest – is something that can be arguably classified as unusual and awesomely exotic.

I think this whole “outsider” feeling is a result of transitioning from a part of the country that I had gotten so used to during the past year, to remembering that there does exist places ( like Seattle ) that has a Starbucks at every corner, conveniently places Whole Foods, and that there are people who pair super trendy tailored suits with marmot hiking boots (True story: I saw this guy in Seattle with this gettup and was like holy shit, is this a thing? ) This feeling was the same feeling I had when moving to Tucson when I was observant of the fact that many people here wear converses, and like country music, and wear  cowboy boots.

It’s interesting to see these differences in not only what is trendy, but also demographically, economically and culturally. Even though we’re all part of the same country, there does exist this difference that shapes how individuals act and dress, as well their values, fears, and ideology.  I must admit, I find myself sometimes living in a self absorbed bubble, but find it refreshing when I take the time to see beyond it with an open mind in an effort understand how it all interconnects, or not

But I guess what I was trying to get to with all of this is that at the end of the day, despite that initial feeling of not ‘being from here’, that feeling has gone away as that sense of comfort has kicked in in knowing that I have friends that are 10 minutes away, or just down the street at their moms house  (just like in high school).  And that there’s an H-mart down street. And a Starbucks that I can walk to at the mall. And that while a lot of things have changed, there’s a lot of things that have stayed the same. So, it’s good to be back, even for just a little bit.

 

 

Entry 20: Homecoming

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.

 

Entry 17: Getting Technical with your Ethnicity