through a colored lens
My new part time job is a lot of work. But at the same time, I enjoy the work I'm doing and I know that I'm being taken care of professionally and personally at this new place. It's also an awesome organization that played a huge role in bringing me where I am today. Anyway, I digress.
These past few days have been filled with meetings after meetings, leaving me with little time to do actual work on planning Friday's training. Despite this fact, the meetings were filled with opportunities for me to learn a lot about my job. Something that struck me: At one point during one of the meetings, I looked at the 7 other people around me and realized that I was sitting around a table with all people of color. This meeting was with the rest of the staff, two VPs of our organization, as well as the Executive Director and Associate Director of another non-profit that we're partnering with. While I dislike calling people who aren't of European descent "colored" people (because we all have color in our skin for goodness sake!), this was the only way to accurately describe the make-up of this group of important community builders. It was really an amazing experience for me.
Why did this observation make a difference to me? Well, what makes this significant is that one, most of the people who make things happen in organizations are old white men. [Yes, even old white men rule non-profits.] Secondly, the people sitting around me weren't all of one race/ethnicity, but a mix which represented the make up of this area. It was also a profound moment because most of the organizations I had worked with in the past (for and non-profit) were a majority white. This was the first time I could sit around a table with people of color who were in positions to make things happen. It struck me as a profound moment of seeing the table not just of people in specific roles representing our respective organizations, but as people of color, with personal and collective histories and a deep investment in our community. Wow.
9/25/2003
9/22/2003
advice from an occasionally bad driver
This morning I stopped by Walgreens to drop off some film. On the way there, I had to manuever through traffic to get to the store, cutting in front of cars to get over to the left turn lane. As I was pulling to a stop in the left turn lane, a car drives by and a guy yells "HO!" out the window to me... um, okay. Yes, I understand that my turn into the left lane stopped the 5 MPH traffic for about 1 second. I understand that it slowed the momentum going through the light. I know that morning rush hour traffic sucks. But the guy still got through the signal. He lost maybe 2 seconds from his commute. RELAX, dude.
I guess what bugs me a lot is when people shout out names to me when they don't like my driving. I admit that I'm not the best driver. In fact, I fully admit that sometimes I do stupid things. But it's unnecessary to call me expletives out of frustration. Instead of the usual female dog comment, I would prefer that people yell out more helpful comments like, "Hey lady, drive slower, there are kids here!" When a paranoid lady shouted this phrase at me in a parking lot, I listened up and took her feedback. Another time, a guy shouted out, "Use your turn signal!" Even though I decided that his feedback was not necessary (as there was only one way to turn and he was just impatient), at least I could yell back, "It's not necessary, you fool!" Okay, so I didn't do this, but I could have. My point is, that if you must yell out in frustration, please provide helpful info and don't just call them names. They're not going to understand if you call them names. Especially when you're yelling out comments that have nothing to do with driving. I suppose that guy assumed that my bad driving was a result of my sexual history. How am I supposed to respond to that comment? I guess one response might be: "Wow, I'm glad he used the "Ho's are bad drivers" principle in judging my driving skills. I wasn't familiar with this generalization, but now that I'm aware, I better shape up or else people will think I'm easy. Geez, thanks sir!"
This morning I stopped by Walgreens to drop off some film. On the way there, I had to manuever through traffic to get to the store, cutting in front of cars to get over to the left turn lane. As I was pulling to a stop in the left turn lane, a car drives by and a guy yells "HO!" out the window to me... um, okay. Yes, I understand that my turn into the left lane stopped the 5 MPH traffic for about 1 second. I understand that it slowed the momentum going through the light. I know that morning rush hour traffic sucks. But the guy still got through the signal. He lost maybe 2 seconds from his commute. RELAX, dude.
I guess what bugs me a lot is when people shout out names to me when they don't like my driving. I admit that I'm not the best driver. In fact, I fully admit that sometimes I do stupid things. But it's unnecessary to call me expletives out of frustration. Instead of the usual female dog comment, I would prefer that people yell out more helpful comments like, "Hey lady, drive slower, there are kids here!" When a paranoid lady shouted this phrase at me in a parking lot, I listened up and took her feedback. Another time, a guy shouted out, "Use your turn signal!" Even though I decided that his feedback was not necessary (as there was only one way to turn and he was just impatient), at least I could yell back, "It's not necessary, you fool!" Okay, so I didn't do this, but I could have. My point is, that if you must yell out in frustration, please provide helpful info and don't just call them names. They're not going to understand if you call them names. Especially when you're yelling out comments that have nothing to do with driving. I suppose that guy assumed that my bad driving was a result of my sexual history. How am I supposed to respond to that comment? I guess one response might be: "Wow, I'm glad he used the "Ho's are bad drivers" principle in judging my driving skills. I wasn't familiar with this generalization, but now that I'm aware, I better shape up or else people will think I'm easy. Geez, thanks sir!"
9/14/2003
movin' on
My time working with middle school students ended this Friday. It was very anti-climatic as no one was really around and my other co-worker (who will be leaving on Monday) was on the phone when I packed up my things and left the office. I didn't expect fanfare; my exit actually reflects the way I felt about the organization. My boss is not the most organized person and so she spent this past week training other staff and didn't have time to schedule in my exit interview or anything remotely close to a final goodbye. I guess it's really not the final goodbye as they've messed up my final paychecks and I have to sort out this minor mess next week.
My co-worker who's also leaving thinks it's incredibly ironic that my new job is part-time AND pays me more. It's also fairly ironic that I'm going to be doing the training and learning curriculum for the Americorps members -- ironic because we struggled with getting properly trained in our Americorps position this past year. It's exciting to return as part of the staff at the Americorps program I was a part of two years ago. One of the AC members is actually an old friend of my high school friend (whom I remember when she was in high school and I was in college!). Weird.
I am trying to spend this weekend relaxing and vegging out. I hope this is the first step in starting to take care of my health and balancing my life. It's amazing how my health has deteriorated this past year. Besides losing a fair amount of weight, I'm actually starting to get wrinkles and bags under my eyes. Let's not even talk about the rest of my health issues. Yes, I'm 25, but no, I refuse to look like I'm turning 80 soon. I'm moving forward, trying to let God take my life and lead it. This year's theme: Submission.
My time working with middle school students ended this Friday. It was very anti-climatic as no one was really around and my other co-worker (who will be leaving on Monday) was on the phone when I packed up my things and left the office. I didn't expect fanfare; my exit actually reflects the way I felt about the organization. My boss is not the most organized person and so she spent this past week training other staff and didn't have time to schedule in my exit interview or anything remotely close to a final goodbye. I guess it's really not the final goodbye as they've messed up my final paychecks and I have to sort out this minor mess next week.
My co-worker who's also leaving thinks it's incredibly ironic that my new job is part-time AND pays me more. It's also fairly ironic that I'm going to be doing the training and learning curriculum for the Americorps members -- ironic because we struggled with getting properly trained in our Americorps position this past year. It's exciting to return as part of the staff at the Americorps program I was a part of two years ago. One of the AC members is actually an old friend of my high school friend (whom I remember when she was in high school and I was in college!). Weird.
I am trying to spend this weekend relaxing and vegging out. I hope this is the first step in starting to take care of my health and balancing my life. It's amazing how my health has deteriorated this past year. Besides losing a fair amount of weight, I'm actually starting to get wrinkles and bags under my eyes. Let's not even talk about the rest of my health issues. Yes, I'm 25, but no, I refuse to look like I'm turning 80 soon. I'm moving forward, trying to let God take my life and lead it. This year's theme: Submission.
9/06/2003
my official quarter-life crisis begins right.. now
Despite having a holiday on Monday, this week felt like a stinking long week. It began with putting in my two weeks notice to my boss on Tuesday. I spent the rest of the week reassuring myself that quitting my job without an immediate prospect lined up was the right thing to do. My mom kept reminding me that I not only needed to take care of grad school plans, but also take care of myself. I felt good about my decision and saying good-bye to a job that provided a lot of stress and amazing kid-related stories, but not much sanity. On the other hand, I was nervous because I kept thinking about the kids I'd leave behind and the feeling that I hadn't been "tough enough" to stick through it. At the same time, I realized that my job was never set up for me to stay longer. There was no incentive except for the kids, who will be well taken care of by the staff that I helped hire. So, yeah, I quit my job. Oh goodness, I quit my job.
But the story didn't end there, because God is always good. I interviewed with my old Americorps agency to be on their staff. It had been three weeks and they kept pushing back their decision because of various reasons. I wasn't counting on the job, but I still prayed like crazy about it. I actually put off quitting, but realized that regardless of this new job prospect, I needed to get out. Anyway, today, they called me and gave me the best birthday present I could have received --- a new job! So even though I faithfully quit my current job because I needed to take care of myself, God still provided. This time, I'll be working part time and making slightly more than I did when I worked like a dog and made close to nothing. Thanks Lord, you hooked it up real good.
Can you handle another blessing? The car insurance company is going to pay me a fat load for my totaled car.... fat, meaning that they're appraising the car for MORE than I bought it. He he. Sometimes I don't know whether to cry from sadness or gratefulness. Most of the time my tears flow for both.
Once again, some verses to sum up what's been going on:
"Praise the Lord, O my soul, and forget not all his benefits -- who forgives all your sins and heals all your diseases, who redeems your life from the pit and crowns you with love and compassion, who satisfies your desires with good things so that your youth is renewed like the eagle's" -- Psalm 103: 2-5
Despite having a holiday on Monday, this week felt like a stinking long week. It began with putting in my two weeks notice to my boss on Tuesday. I spent the rest of the week reassuring myself that quitting my job without an immediate prospect lined up was the right thing to do. My mom kept reminding me that I not only needed to take care of grad school plans, but also take care of myself. I felt good about my decision and saying good-bye to a job that provided a lot of stress and amazing kid-related stories, but not much sanity. On the other hand, I was nervous because I kept thinking about the kids I'd leave behind and the feeling that I hadn't been "tough enough" to stick through it. At the same time, I realized that my job was never set up for me to stay longer. There was no incentive except for the kids, who will be well taken care of by the staff that I helped hire. So, yeah, I quit my job. Oh goodness, I quit my job.
But the story didn't end there, because God is always good. I interviewed with my old Americorps agency to be on their staff. It had been three weeks and they kept pushing back their decision because of various reasons. I wasn't counting on the job, but I still prayed like crazy about it. I actually put off quitting, but realized that regardless of this new job prospect, I needed to get out. Anyway, today, they called me and gave me the best birthday present I could have received --- a new job! So even though I faithfully quit my current job because I needed to take care of myself, God still provided. This time, I'll be working part time and making slightly more than I did when I worked like a dog and made close to nothing. Thanks Lord, you hooked it up real good.
Can you handle another blessing? The car insurance company is going to pay me a fat load for my totaled car.... fat, meaning that they're appraising the car for MORE than I bought it. He he. Sometimes I don't know whether to cry from sadness or gratefulness. Most of the time my tears flow for both.
Once again, some verses to sum up what's been going on:
"Praise the Lord, O my soul, and forget not all his benefits -- who forgives all your sins and heals all your diseases, who redeems your life from the pit and crowns you with love and compassion, who satisfies your desires with good things so that your youth is renewed like the eagle's" -- Psalm 103: 2-5
9/02/2003
8/21/2003
a silver 2003 honda civic EX
I almost passed out earlier this evening. It might have been the fact that I was hungry... or maybe it was because I became a CAR OWNER today. After some negotiating (and help from friend who knew the fleet manager at a dealership), I signed my name to my very own vehicle. The process was pretty informal as the sales person was a friend of my friend. However when it came time to sign the papers, I stopped breathing and felt light-headed as I signed at the dotted line. I am an adult!
I almost passed out earlier this evening. It might have been the fact that I was hungry... or maybe it was because I became a CAR OWNER today. After some negotiating (and help from friend who knew the fleet manager at a dealership), I signed my name to my very own vehicle. The process was pretty informal as the sales person was a friend of my friend. However when it came time to sign the papers, I stopped breathing and felt light-headed as I signed at the dotted line. I am an adult!
8/17/2003
update
I spent a week as a camp counselor for a bay area KUMC youth camp. One of the kids in my small group was Chinese. He became my homeboy instantly. The kids were shocked that I was 10 years older than they were (they assumed I was 19). Some of the boys called me Ah-juh-mah. I took advantage of my seniority to make them do stuff for me. I also bonded with my Chinese sister-who-goes-to-a-Korean-church. Hurrah for fellow left-handed Cantonese ladies.
God hooked it up for me while I was away. While I was at camp, the car insurance peeps called my parents and told them that my messed up car was not worth fixing and were going to assess the market value pre-crash to determine how large a check they're going to cut me. Yay, sort of. Being away at camp was really healthy for me because I barely thought about my janked up car and my janked up circumstances. It was a good - though completely exhausting - break from my reality.
Okay, that's it. I'm stinkin tired. I slept 12 hours on Friday night and 9 last night... and I'm still pooped.
I spent a week as a camp counselor for a bay area KUMC youth camp. One of the kids in my small group was Chinese. He became my homeboy instantly. The kids were shocked that I was 10 years older than they were (they assumed I was 19). Some of the boys called me Ah-juh-mah. I took advantage of my seniority to make them do stuff for me. I also bonded with my Chinese sister-who-goes-to-a-Korean-church. Hurrah for fellow left-handed Cantonese ladies.
God hooked it up for me while I was away. While I was at camp, the car insurance peeps called my parents and told them that my messed up car was not worth fixing and were going to assess the market value pre-crash to determine how large a check they're going to cut me. Yay, sort of. Being away at camp was really healthy for me because I barely thought about my janked up car and my janked up circumstances. It was a good - though completely exhausting - break from my reality.
Okay, that's it. I'm stinkin tired. I slept 12 hours on Friday night and 9 last night... and I'm still pooped.
8/09/2003
another drama
Wednesday night I was driving home from celebrating a friend's birthday. I was pulling up to a light behind a car when all of a sudden a car crashes into me from behind sending my car straight into the one in front of me. Yes, folks, I was in an accident. But following in the footsteps of the random crap that has happened to me in the past few years, this was no ordinary rear-end. After the sucka hit my car, the guy hopped out of his car, ran across the other side of the expressway in oncoming traffic, jumped a fence and took off, leaving his broke down car. Meanwhile I'm sitting in my car, which is now attached to the underside of a Ford Explorer, in shock, thinking WHAAATTTTTT???????? A man who witnessed the accident from a few cars behind came over and started asking me questions (What day is it? Are you okay?) while I blubbered answers to him through my sobs. [Did I mention that I got this new car in October?] The ambulance came and said that I was okay but I needed to see my doctor (by this time I was practically hyperventilating). WHY DOES THIS CRAP KEEP HAPPENING TO ME?
I'm pretty sore and the doctor said I'd be okay (although you never know with Kaiser). My car is a total loss. I don't know if the CHP officers have caught that sucka, which might have been racing with another car when he plowed into me. I'm thankful that I'm still alive and relatively well. I cannot shake the fact that unfortunate things keep happening to me. My mom keeps saying that God is telling me something. I agree, I just don't know what he's telling me.
Wednesday night I was driving home from celebrating a friend's birthday. I was pulling up to a light behind a car when all of a sudden a car crashes into me from behind sending my car straight into the one in front of me. Yes, folks, I was in an accident. But following in the footsteps of the random crap that has happened to me in the past few years, this was no ordinary rear-end. After the sucka hit my car, the guy hopped out of his car, ran across the other side of the expressway in oncoming traffic, jumped a fence and took off, leaving his broke down car. Meanwhile I'm sitting in my car, which is now attached to the underside of a Ford Explorer, in shock, thinking WHAAATTTTTT???????? A man who witnessed the accident from a few cars behind came over and started asking me questions (What day is it? Are you okay?) while I blubbered answers to him through my sobs. [Did I mention that I got this new car in October?] The ambulance came and said that I was okay but I needed to see my doctor (by this time I was practically hyperventilating). WHY DOES THIS CRAP KEEP HAPPENING TO ME?
I'm pretty sore and the doctor said I'd be okay (although you never know with Kaiser). My car is a total loss. I don't know if the CHP officers have caught that sucka, which might have been racing with another car when he plowed into me. I'm thankful that I'm still alive and relatively well. I cannot shake the fact that unfortunate things keep happening to me. My mom keeps saying that God is telling me something. I agree, I just don't know what he's telling me.
7/30/2003
my day
My back is sore from sitting on my uncomfortable-yet-stylish Ikea sofa. I never noticed that it wasn't a very cushy sofa until today since I spent over 8 hours lounging around on it. I love the time off and it has given me a lot of time to reflect and rest... and watch Surprise By Design on the Discovery Channel -- one of my top 5 favorite home make-over reality shows.
Today I killed a fat spider in my dining area. It was hanging on a t-shirt hanging from my table. I screamed, it fell on the carpet and then raced toward the wall. I grabbed a folding bar stool and pinned it to the wall. The little bugger is still stuck in between the stool and wall as I haven't gotten up the nerve to discard the carcass.
That was my day.
My back is sore from sitting on my uncomfortable-yet-stylish Ikea sofa. I never noticed that it wasn't a very cushy sofa until today since I spent over 8 hours lounging around on it. I love the time off and it has given me a lot of time to reflect and rest... and watch Surprise By Design on the Discovery Channel -- one of my top 5 favorite home make-over reality shows.
Today I killed a fat spider in my dining area. It was hanging on a t-shirt hanging from my table. I screamed, it fell on the carpet and then raced toward the wall. I grabbed a folding bar stool and pinned it to the wall. The little bugger is still stuck in between the stool and wall as I haven't gotten up the nerve to discard the carcass.
That was my day.
7/28/2003
back to reality tv and friendster
The Restaurant is the most exciting reality show on tv right now. There are no "confessionals" or intereviews where they cry because they just broke up with their boyfriend... again. It's pure action, reality tv style. From eavesdropping on customers bashing the food (and then complementing Rocco's mom) to watching the prima donna wait staff get booted off, this show is by far more exciting than Who Wants to Marry My Dad or even the OG reality show, Real World (which is, let's face it, getting pretty old). I'm addicted to watching Rocco and his staff putting out fires (both figuratively and literally).
On another note, don't you hate it when people whom you were never really friends with try and add you to their friendster list? If you don't recognize them as a "friend" and hit no, then you'd be rude, right? At the same time, you have to wonder if they just adding you to pad their list so they seem like they have tons of friends? I mean, this has never happened to me, just thought I'd ask ;)
The Restaurant is the most exciting reality show on tv right now. There are no "confessionals" or intereviews where they cry because they just broke up with their boyfriend... again. It's pure action, reality tv style. From eavesdropping on customers bashing the food (and then complementing Rocco's mom) to watching the prima donna wait staff get booted off, this show is by far more exciting than Who Wants to Marry My Dad or even the OG reality show, Real World (which is, let's face it, getting pretty old). I'm addicted to watching Rocco and his staff putting out fires (both figuratively and literally).
On another note, don't you hate it when people whom you were never really friends with try and add you to their friendster list? If you don't recognize them as a "friend" and hit no, then you'd be rude, right? At the same time, you have to wonder if they just adding you to pad their list so they seem like they have tons of friends? I mean, this has never happened to me, just thought I'd ask ;)
7/23/2003
taking a break
I'm taking an informal sabbatical this week. There were many signs that I was becoming burnt out from my job... constant complaints about my job, purposely calling in "sick" and instead going shopping with my roommate or sister, regular crying episodes in front of my co-workers. So I threw in the crying card with my boss's boss (you can't say no to an employee who cries) and got a week off of work.
This week I'm supposed to be thinking about how I want to change my work situation and/or deal with it. And yeah, I'm doing that. At the same time, I realize that my job is a lost cause and that all I want to do is sit on my veranda and sip fruity drinks (if I had a veranda, anyways). I also spend a lot of time thinking about all of those characters in books and movies who are complete slackers yet have still managed to find their way to success. Okay, these people are mostly made up or exaggerated, but I'm sure there are people out there like that.
Blah, quarter-life crisis rears its ugly head once again.
I'm taking an informal sabbatical this week. There were many signs that I was becoming burnt out from my job... constant complaints about my job, purposely calling in "sick" and instead going shopping with my roommate or sister, regular crying episodes in front of my co-workers. So I threw in the crying card with my boss's boss (you can't say no to an employee who cries) and got a week off of work.
This week I'm supposed to be thinking about how I want to change my work situation and/or deal with it. And yeah, I'm doing that. At the same time, I realize that my job is a lost cause and that all I want to do is sit on my veranda and sip fruity drinks (if I had a veranda, anyways). I also spend a lot of time thinking about all of those characters in books and movies who are complete slackers yet have still managed to find their way to success. Okay, these people are mostly made up or exaggerated, but I'm sure there are people out there like that.
Blah, quarter-life crisis rears its ugly head once again.
7/19/2003
just like kix
All through my childhood and adolescence, I was always the perfect friend... in the eyes of my friends' parents. They considered me a "good influence" on their little monsters. Back then I was a straight A-student, quiet, respectful and to top it off, my mom was a teacher -- the ultimate qualification for a perfect friend. I was invited to all of the birthday parties of the girls in my class and most of the parents invited me for play dates with their daughters... I was the golden child. I could do no wrong in their eyes. In fact, I may have even been able to save their precious ones from the evil girls who like to chase boys during recess (I of course, did not engage in that sort of activity, but that's a story for another post).
On the other hand, my so-called "friends" (aka the girls whose mom invited me to play) thought otherwise. In 2nd grade I remember going over to Kristin Thompson's house (a huge house in PV - aka where the rich people live) and being ignored the entire afternoon. Was I not fun to play house with? Were my brown velcro shoes not up to par with her white ballet shoes? Was I not anglo enough? The answer to these questions was probably a huge fat yes. Being the "chosen one" among the parents in my class did not make me popular with the little girls who took baton-twirling class on tuesdays, horseback riding lessons on thursday and had their own mini custom-made house in their backyards. The fact is, I wasn't fun. I was just there to make their moms feel better. And the worse part about it was that I knew it and so did the girls.
This pattern continued throughout my adolescence. However, now I wasn't just a good influence, I was the trend-setter. I remember my best friends in 6th grades both got their ears pierced within a few months after I got mine. It wasn't that they saw my little golden studs and wanted to copy me. It was that they went home to their parents saying, "See, even Wai-Ling got her ears pierced. Why can't I?" To which their parents replied, "Oh, if Wai-Ling got her ears pierced, then it MUST be okay." Yes, I'm mother-approved.
But it didn't even stop there. Flash forward to college. One of the summers I was home, I went to a shady club on Sunset Blvd. because a friend's Smashing-Pumpkins-inspired band had landed a gig there. I ran into a friend whom I knew in elementary school (we had gone to different high schools); his mom was the music teacher at my mom's school. A few days later, my mom mentioned that the music teacher had mentioned that her son ran into me at a club. The other teacher said something to the effect of: "I was afraid of my son going to places like that, but since Wai-Ling was there..."
Yes, I only engage in wholesome activities and if I am there, it means that the place is mom-friendly and suitable for your child as well. Yes, I am just like those crispy corn-puffs: kid-tested, mother approved.
All through my childhood and adolescence, I was always the perfect friend... in the eyes of my friends' parents. They considered me a "good influence" on their little monsters. Back then I was a straight A-student, quiet, respectful and to top it off, my mom was a teacher -- the ultimate qualification for a perfect friend. I was invited to all of the birthday parties of the girls in my class and most of the parents invited me for play dates with their daughters... I was the golden child. I could do no wrong in their eyes. In fact, I may have even been able to save their precious ones from the evil girls who like to chase boys during recess (I of course, did not engage in that sort of activity, but that's a story for another post).
On the other hand, my so-called "friends" (aka the girls whose mom invited me to play) thought otherwise. In 2nd grade I remember going over to Kristin Thompson's house (a huge house in PV - aka where the rich people live) and being ignored the entire afternoon. Was I not fun to play house with? Were my brown velcro shoes not up to par with her white ballet shoes? Was I not anglo enough? The answer to these questions was probably a huge fat yes. Being the "chosen one" among the parents in my class did not make me popular with the little girls who took baton-twirling class on tuesdays, horseback riding lessons on thursday and had their own mini custom-made house in their backyards. The fact is, I wasn't fun. I was just there to make their moms feel better. And the worse part about it was that I knew it and so did the girls.
This pattern continued throughout my adolescence. However, now I wasn't just a good influence, I was the trend-setter. I remember my best friends in 6th grades both got their ears pierced within a few months after I got mine. It wasn't that they saw my little golden studs and wanted to copy me. It was that they went home to their parents saying, "See, even Wai-Ling got her ears pierced. Why can't I?" To which their parents replied, "Oh, if Wai-Ling got her ears pierced, then it MUST be okay." Yes, I'm mother-approved.
But it didn't even stop there. Flash forward to college. One of the summers I was home, I went to a shady club on Sunset Blvd. because a friend's Smashing-Pumpkins-inspired band had landed a gig there. I ran into a friend whom I knew in elementary school (we had gone to different high schools); his mom was the music teacher at my mom's school. A few days later, my mom mentioned that the music teacher had mentioned that her son ran into me at a club. The other teacher said something to the effect of: "I was afraid of my son going to places like that, but since Wai-Ling was there..."
Yes, I only engage in wholesome activities and if I am there, it means that the place is mom-friendly and suitable for your child as well. Yes, I am just like those crispy corn-puffs: kid-tested, mother approved.
7/14/2003
like a school reunion, only without the awkward conversation
You ever wonder what happened to that girl in college that all the guys drooled over? Or do you ever have a fleeting memory of that guy in high school that was in all of your AP classes? I have. This is precisely why friendster ROCKS. Even though the website has become so slow due to all the traffic, it hasn't stopped me from searching through the 100,000+ people I'm connected to (through my mere 13 so-called friends) for those random acquaintances.
What makes this site so ridiculously fun are the photos. My latest discovery was a classmate from high school who was in all of my ap classes, played games on the TI-85 like it was an X-box and hung out with the rest of the geeks from the french club. I definitely respected him as a fellow over-achiever and high school nerd. When I found him on friendster, I barely recognized him. Besides the fact that he now lives on the east coast and dates hot men, I also got a great view of his washboard abs (oh yes, he included a picture of them). Ahhhh, friendster.
This ingenius site also allows me to check out figures from my past without actually having to contact them directly. I can still remain anti-social while finding out who's doing what and where. It's the lazy person's way of reconnecting, without really connecting. Yes, it's probably not the healthiest pasttime, but it's efficient in that I don't have to get off my couch and pretty myself up to see old friends or acquaintances whom I'm not really going to develop any long-term relationship with. So it's really the most practical answer to the question, "I wonder what ever happened to...?"
You ever wonder what happened to that girl in college that all the guys drooled over? Or do you ever have a fleeting memory of that guy in high school that was in all of your AP classes? I have. This is precisely why friendster ROCKS. Even though the website has become so slow due to all the traffic, it hasn't stopped me from searching through the 100,000+ people I'm connected to (through my mere 13 so-called friends) for those random acquaintances.
What makes this site so ridiculously fun are the photos. My latest discovery was a classmate from high school who was in all of my ap classes, played games on the TI-85 like it was an X-box and hung out with the rest of the geeks from the french club. I definitely respected him as a fellow over-achiever and high school nerd. When I found him on friendster, I barely recognized him. Besides the fact that he now lives on the east coast and dates hot men, I also got a great view of his washboard abs (oh yes, he included a picture of them). Ahhhh, friendster.
This ingenius site also allows me to check out figures from my past without actually having to contact them directly. I can still remain anti-social while finding out who's doing what and where. It's the lazy person's way of reconnecting, without really connecting. Yes, it's probably not the healthiest pasttime, but it's efficient in that I don't have to get off my couch and pretty myself up to see old friends or acquaintances whom I'm not really going to develop any long-term relationship with. So it's really the most practical answer to the question, "I wonder what ever happened to...?"
6/26/2003
freed
It's true that when you finally throw up your hands and ask God to do His work, He does. Today my executive director said that because of Americorps funding issues and other paperwork, I will not be held responsible for the botched payroll paperwork. Yes, this means I have been freed from my indentured servitude to the Y. It's a miracle because I spent most of last week depressed, as I explored my options (getting a starbucks-type job to pay off my current job, paying off the debt and moving home, etc.) and realized that I was screwed. Howeverf, I spent this week in intense play with 4-6th graders as a part of my servitude. I haven't had the opportunity to rest, let alone think about my financial situation. It's amazing how God takes care of things when you're not even looking. *sigh*
It's true that when you finally throw up your hands and ask God to do His work, He does. Today my executive director said that because of Americorps funding issues and other paperwork, I will not be held responsible for the botched payroll paperwork. Yes, this means I have been freed from my indentured servitude to the Y. It's a miracle because I spent most of last week depressed, as I explored my options (getting a starbucks-type job to pay off my current job, paying off the debt and moving home, etc.) and realized that I was screwed. Howeverf, I spent this week in intense play with 4-6th graders as a part of my servitude. I haven't had the opportunity to rest, let alone think about my financial situation. It's amazing how God takes care of things when you're not even looking. *sigh*
6/25/2003
the r word
I think the kids in my team know how to make me mad. Last week one of the kids i have a love-hate relationship with, called me racist. WHAT!?? I promptly made him take a time out and go speak to the program director. Uh-huh. You do NOT call me racist. On Wednesday, I was with a different team of kids and another guy called me racist because I was making him sit out (and therefore, being too critical of him because he's part ASIAN!) I had a long talk with him and later on, he realized the error of his ways and "retracted" his statement.
What is up with this? Do I exude the anti-racist vibe? I almost lost my cookies when they said these things. I think what bothers me the most is that they use this statement only to express their frustration. I don't even think these kids realize that racism still exists and instead, use the term as a way to express how something is unfair to them. If nothing else, I hope they understand that this claim must be used carefully in anger. I can't wait to see what they pull on me this week.
I think the kids in my team know how to make me mad. Last week one of the kids i have a love-hate relationship with, called me racist. WHAT!?? I promptly made him take a time out and go speak to the program director. Uh-huh. You do NOT call me racist. On Wednesday, I was with a different team of kids and another guy called me racist because I was making him sit out (and therefore, being too critical of him because he's part ASIAN!) I had a long talk with him and later on, he realized the error of his ways and "retracted" his statement.
What is up with this? Do I exude the anti-racist vibe? I almost lost my cookies when they said these things. I think what bothers me the most is that they use this statement only to express their frustration. I don't even think these kids realize that racism still exists and instead, use the term as a way to express how something is unfair to them. If nothing else, I hope they understand that this claim must be used carefully in anger. I can't wait to see what they pull on me this week.
6/21/2003
HP5
I purchased my copy of Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix last night. My friends and I arrived at Barnes and Noble at around midnight to a line, wrapped around the building and no parking spaces. Once we made it to the front of the line inside the store, we received a sticker with a letter of the alphabet attached. We had to hang out in the store until our number was called. Then we got to stand in yet another line to wait to get the book. I almost passed out in the spirituality aisle waiting for the letter M to be called. It was madness. I was so tired that when I got home at around 2am, I just dumped the book, still in the bag, on the floor of my bedroom.
Was it worth it? Well, let me put it this way: This morning there was a knock at the door. Since I've decided that I will no longer answer an unexpected knock (Who knows if it's the cable company or someone wanting me to learn about dianetics?), I didn't rush to the door. A few minutes later, I opened the door and found a box on our doorstep. The package was for my roommate from Amazon.com... and yes, you guessed it, it was HP5. This is when waved my fist and I asked myself, "Why did you stay up so late and wait in those long lines to get a book you could have gotten the next morning delivered to your doorstep?" So back to the question... the answer? No, not really. The book is still sitting on my floor and now I'm just really tired.
I purchased my copy of Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix last night. My friends and I arrived at Barnes and Noble at around midnight to a line, wrapped around the building and no parking spaces. Once we made it to the front of the line inside the store, we received a sticker with a letter of the alphabet attached. We had to hang out in the store until our number was called. Then we got to stand in yet another line to wait to get the book. I almost passed out in the spirituality aisle waiting for the letter M to be called. It was madness. I was so tired that when I got home at around 2am, I just dumped the book, still in the bag, on the floor of my bedroom.
Was it worth it? Well, let me put it this way: This morning there was a knock at the door. Since I've decided that I will no longer answer an unexpected knock (Who knows if it's the cable company or someone wanting me to learn about dianetics?), I didn't rush to the door. A few minutes later, I opened the door and found a box on our doorstep. The package was for my roommate from Amazon.com... and yes, you guessed it, it was HP5. This is when waved my fist and I asked myself, "Why did you stay up so late and wait in those long lines to get a book you could have gotten the next morning delivered to your doorstep?" So back to the question... the answer? No, not really. The book is still sitting on my floor and now I'm just really tired.
6/16/2003
yet another post from another angst-ridden 20-something wondering why her life is so hard *sigh*
"What we have before us are some breathtaking opportunities disguised as insoluble problems." -- John Gardner, in a 1965 speech.
Yes, I've resorted to using quotes instead of my own words to describe what has been going on in my life. Lately I've been at a loss to describe some of the challenges that have been put before me. And part of me is ashamed for being so self-indulgent about these problems as I know that there are people out there who face larger issues in their lives. I suppose my seemingly "insoluble problems" are nothing in comparison with real conflicts that others face all over the world (i.e. Poverty, war and death).
So I guess this quote doesn't really fit my problems, rather, it fits my perspective on my problems. And I guess it's appropriate for this blog... Well, I suppose blogs are just spaces for us to be really self-indulgent while pretending to expound on the ways of the world and the woes of being 20-something. (As I place the back of my hand on my forehead and sigh dramatically). Am I renouncing the blog as simply a tool to express one's psychosis? Well, yes... and no. Yes, because I recognize that sometimes, I am crazy and I need a place to get rid of the crazies. No, because I am not only crazy, but a frustrated journalist who needs some place to keep her writing skills sharp.
While I'm at it, does that mean that this post I just wrote is even more self-indulgent because of the fact that I'm aware at the nature of blogging? Ai-yah, I will stop now.
"What we have before us are some breathtaking opportunities disguised as insoluble problems." -- John Gardner, in a 1965 speech.
Yes, I've resorted to using quotes instead of my own words to describe what has been going on in my life. Lately I've been at a loss to describe some of the challenges that have been put before me. And part of me is ashamed for being so self-indulgent about these problems as I know that there are people out there who face larger issues in their lives. I suppose my seemingly "insoluble problems" are nothing in comparison with real conflicts that others face all over the world (i.e. Poverty, war and death).
So I guess this quote doesn't really fit my problems, rather, it fits my perspective on my problems. And I guess it's appropriate for this blog... Well, I suppose blogs are just spaces for us to be really self-indulgent while pretending to expound on the ways of the world and the woes of being 20-something. (As I place the back of my hand on my forehead and sigh dramatically). Am I renouncing the blog as simply a tool to express one's psychosis? Well, yes... and no. Yes, because I recognize that sometimes, I am crazy and I need a place to get rid of the crazies. No, because I am not only crazy, but a frustrated journalist who needs some place to keep her writing skills sharp.
While I'm at it, does that mean that this post I just wrote is even more self-indulgent because of the fact that I'm aware at the nature of blogging? Ai-yah, I will stop now.
6/10/2003
do i really want to rake the muck?
As a journalism major, there's one section in every publication that I can't get enough of: the masthead. This is the page with the list of editors, contributing writers and people who do neat stuff to the magazine and make it look good. Of course, the "contributing editors" page where they feature the guest writers and their nifty bios is also another favorite of mine. One of the first things I do when I buy a new periodical is to scan the cover for bylines. Next, I flip carefully through the annoying ads at the beginning, making sure I don't skip a page with text. Then I flip to the list of names. I stop to scan the list, hoping (and dreading) that I will see a name of a former classmate from j-school or a friend of a friend who does the freelance thang. Then I let out a sigh and move on.
I think this obsession - yes, I'll admit it - is not so healthy. I don't think I do this to actually find my j-school buddies (in reality, most of my j-school buddies hated journalism and ended up pursuing consulting or PR), but I guess as sort of a masochistic desire to remind myself of my perceived failure to become the brilliant journalist that everyone thought I'd become.
Why bring this up? I was just reading the bios for a new Asian American magazine and I recognized two classmates from journalism school, both with impressive bios. Feelings of envy, regret and bitterness surfaced. Then I though, "Hey, why not post this up on blogger? Angst is always good fodder for a blog entry." (Sarcasm is good fodder also.)
So yes, I'll shout it out to the world (or rather, I'll type it out so my 7 friends can read it): I feel like a journalism failure.
I know you all gasped. It's true, folks. I could go on, but I won't. I realize that this feeling of failure is often momentary as I like to push it into the deep caverns of my mind, where it can stew and simmer until the next time I read a well-respected periodical.
As a journalism major, there's one section in every publication that I can't get enough of: the masthead. This is the page with the list of editors, contributing writers and people who do neat stuff to the magazine and make it look good. Of course, the "contributing editors" page where they feature the guest writers and their nifty bios is also another favorite of mine. One of the first things I do when I buy a new periodical is to scan the cover for bylines. Next, I flip carefully through the annoying ads at the beginning, making sure I don't skip a page with text. Then I flip to the list of names. I stop to scan the list, hoping (and dreading) that I will see a name of a former classmate from j-school or a friend of a friend who does the freelance thang. Then I let out a sigh and move on.
I think this obsession - yes, I'll admit it - is not so healthy. I don't think I do this to actually find my j-school buddies (in reality, most of my j-school buddies hated journalism and ended up pursuing consulting or PR), but I guess as sort of a masochistic desire to remind myself of my perceived failure to become the brilliant journalist that everyone thought I'd become.
Why bring this up? I was just reading the bios for a new Asian American magazine and I recognized two classmates from journalism school, both with impressive bios. Feelings of envy, regret and bitterness surfaced. Then I though, "Hey, why not post this up on blogger? Angst is always good fodder for a blog entry." (Sarcasm is good fodder also.)
So yes, I'll shout it out to the world (or rather, I'll type it out so my 7 friends can read it): I feel like a journalism failure.
I know you all gasped. It's true, folks. I could go on, but I won't. I realize that this feeling of failure is often momentary as I like to push it into the deep caverns of my mind, where it can stew and simmer until the next time I read a well-respected periodical.
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