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 ūüôā

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

Entry 34: Prepping for Desert Heat

I’ve been in the desert for about a year, and have been getting compliments on the tan that I’ve acquired.

What can I say? In being graced by sun majority of the year, my Filipino was bound to come out. I don’t know for sure if that’s why I don’t ever burn and just tan nicely, but it’s the only logical reason I can think of.

Not to say that I have never gotten sunburned ever

There was one time I burned really bad: Husband and I had gone to Hawaii and I got super dark because he gave me tanning oil, instead of sun-protection. I fell asleep under the sun and woke up 3 hours later so burnt, it hurt to shower for weeks. Even the locals’ eyes filled with pity as they saw me teetering around the shops in my burnt skin. That’s when you know it’s bad, when the locals feel bad for you.

I learned my lesson (tanning oil is not a replacement for SPF),¬†and since then have not gotten sunburned, but I’m still not excited for the inevitable surge of heat during the coming months. As I’m writing this, my memory is getting flashbacks to last summer, when it got over 100 degrees and just walking a quarter of a mile became the longest walk ever.

It’s the kind of heat that makes it suck to even breathe, where even wearing nothing doesn’t help. Where the only thing that helps is sitting in an air-conditioned place and doing nothing but eating something cold, like icecream, or popsicles, or frozen grapes, with the tv on and the remote within reach.

If only every day I had an excuse for doing just that.

Until next time….

 

Entry 34: Prepping for Desert Heat

Entry 32: Case of the EX

I’m instagram buddies with an ex-boyfriend who had broken my heart when I was 22. I suppose it’s to prove that I have no ill-will towards him, but whenever I see a picture he had taken posted on my feed, I still feel a hint of the pasts’ bitterness gurgling at the pit of my stomach.

What a fuckin idiot. 

Our breakup (while putting me through 9 months of post-breakup ugly crying and questioning my own self-worth) actually led me to a more blessed life, but as much as I try Рthat bitterness still lingers.

The thing is, I don’t want it to be there. I want to be able to think of that time of my life – the love, the heartache, the depression – and be okay with it, to acknowledge it without negativity, because life did¬†turn out great despite not knowing how I would be able to go on.

Taylor Swift is known for writing songs about past relationships. It’s probably very therapeutic for her, but it makes me think that the reason for my animosity is because it’s all pent up… in the crevice of my heart somewhere. I guess I should try letting it out more?

Anyways, until next time….

 

Entry 32: Case of the EX

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 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:

Whoa…

.. 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 18: Anniversaries

Entry 16: When Your Friends Have Babies

One of my best gal pals is having a baby as I write this, and I can’t help but be filled with a feeling of excitement mixed with anxiety, that I feel that I need to write out.

I know, I know… I’m not the one who’s in a birthing room about to pop a child out, but watching ¬†a lot of my friends get pregnant and have children has made me think about how everything would be when the time comes, God-willing.

Like, it amazes me how moms just innately differentiate when a baby’s cry ¬†is¬†because the kid has to poop, versus has to eat. Or how a room can be completely silent because the baby is 2 rooms away, and a mom will have the 6th sense to be like, oh – my baby just rolled over.¬†I’m usually the one who is like, ¬†What the shit just happened?¬†How did you know?!?!

I guess it’s all in the power of bonding with a child, the kid’s swimming in your belly for 9 months, of course a mother’s going to know these things.

Although, I’m skeptical when some moms say things like, my baby is trying to tell you that he wants ¬†chocolate. ¬†In my head, I’m like – are you sure about that? a. The kid’s like 3 months old and b. I’m pretty sure that the kid’s just blinking at me. And even if they wanted chocolate, are you sure you’re not just projecting your own want for chocolate?

Then again, I’m not a parent or a baby whisperer, so I can’t say.

Another thing that I don’t quite understand is posting on social media a million pictures of a baby doing one action. Like, rolling over. Or eating. I get that kid’s are cute and I agree it’s important to capture moments¬†so that it can be remembered in the future, but does the world really need to see 40 pictures of ‘baby eating carrot for the first time’ when it’s essentially the same picture documenting the one event?

I don’t know. There is no right or wrong answer with that and really, people are free to do whatever makes them happy. Like I said, my understanding of all this is based on the fact that I am not a parent, but I know that my outlook on things could become different once that life status changes. ¬†I mean, I already post a ton of pictures of my dogs that probably make some people say stuff like:¬†Come on Winter, another picture of Coco laying on her belly?¬†or…¬†Another picture of Gage flopping his ears?¬†¬†::Unfollow:: I don’t care. To me, my dogs are the cutest and they make me happy, so – if people want to share a million pictures of their child running through a forest, that’s cool.

Anyways, my head is just swimming with so many other thoughts revolving ¬†babies, I don’t even know where to go with it. But they say it all comes together when it happens: the 6th sense, the knowing if you’re baby is crying because it needs to poop, burp, or if it needs ¬†a piece of chocolate. And if you don’t know something, you learn so that you can be a baby guru for future moms who end up feeling the same anxiety.

in that sense, I’m lucky that I have a lot of baby gurus to turn to if I have questions whether or not what my child is doing is normal?¬†¬†So, it will all work out.

 

Entry 16: When Your Friends Have Babies

Entry 15 : Becoming A Jaded Old Asian Lady

The idea of being “old” is subjective: some consider the age of 30 to be old, others think of 50 as over the hill. ¬†And then there are those who believe that one’s attitude towards life defines the perceived youth, regardless of actual age.

With that being said, the older I get, I find myself being a jaded old Asian lady, more often than not.

Case in point: husband and I went out to eat at this restaurant/bar in the University district a few months ago. The place was full of college kids: sorority girls who wore short shorts that hugged just above cusp of their butts, and were matched with off-the-shoulder sweaters that labeled the¬†Greek sorority letters of “Alpha Beta Phi”. Or was it Alpha Beta Zeta? I know there is probably some sister out there who, slightly offended, is like… “actually, it says Beta Sigma Chi”, and to that person I say, “whatever. I really don’t care”.

There were also the frat boys who wore hats that said “Pimpin” sideways on their head and sunglasses inside the restaurant because they saw a rapper do it in a music video so surely it wasn’t an idiotic thing to do.

And then  there were other kids who were neither sorority or frat, but who were just hungry for the burrito that Рat this point in their lives  Рwould not result in a weight gain of any sort

These young adults were so full of hope and a sense of optimism; seeing them in the vibrancy of their youth made me want to ¬†roll my eyes and just be like, ugh….. ¬†I hated that I felt that way, but I couldn’t help it. ¬†Perhaps it was because I had been like them once: so innocent of the world, full of dreams, and with no concern for existing credit card debt, paying mortgages, or the fact that poop needed to picked up on Mondays because Tuesdays was trash day.

More so than that, these young people represented a time in my life when I was insecure, overly shy, and so concerned with what the world thought; there are so many things I wish I had done differently. Like, I wish that when sitting next to Brandon Roy (UW ¬†basketball player back in the day, went on to play for the Trailblazers) ¬†in anthropology class, I hadn’t been such a dork with my “So you play basketball… are you any good?” line. Shit, ¬†I very well knew he played basketball, and very well knew he was the best player on the team. ¬†He never sat next to me again, probably because he was like this chick is weird .¬†I sigh in regret every time I think of this interaction; it could have been the start of a friendship that would have opened up a friendship with other basketball players.

While there are other shoulda, coulda, woulda moments from my formative years that I wish I could do over, what I have learned  in growing older is that I can either sit and sulk in regret, which will undoubtedly lead me further into a pathway of jadedness and get me no where in life, or I can look at every experience with a sense of gratitude for teaching me a life lesson that has helped me grow into a better person. My choices Рgood and bad Рhave led me to the road that I am in now. Which to be honest, is a road that is blessed beyond measure.

And so, when in the midst of young people who are living in the vibrancy of their youth, I remind myself this: I had my time; this is their time. Besides, life now is great, I may be older and may have lost my limberness and some perkiness in my boobs, but at least I’m not {as} naive and broke. Well ¬†– I personally am broke, ¬†because I technically don’t have a job, but as a combined income with my husband…. well…. you know what I mean.

 

Entry 15 : Becoming A Jaded Old Asian Lady