Days of My Life

It seems that by far, 2013 has been my slowest year with regards to blogging. But otherwise, it has been my busiest year with regards to the work-school cycle. On top of that, I am fortunate enough to add that this has also been my busiest year with regards to travel. To briefly recap an otherwise exhaustingly extensive life story: I resumed working two jobs in March, went to San Francisco and Portland in June, continued working and commuting between both jobs throughout summer, visited New York in September, started job hunting in November (to no avail thus far, but that's okay), visited Seattle and road-tripped back down to LA two weeks ago, and turned 22 last week. Turning 22 actually has nothing to do with anything, because it feels like I've aged so much in the last few years anyway. The view from my mom's friend's home, where we stayed in New York On the ferry to the Statue of Liberty New York Grand Central Terminal With regards to school, I was doing

Auxiliary verbs: is, am, are, was, were, be, being, been, has, have, had, do, does, did, shall, will, should, would, may, might, must, can, could . I learned these 23 auxiliary verbs in eighth grade, when Mrs. Heffner pushed us to learn and love grammar. And learn and love grammar I did. But I never really heeded the word "auxiliary," much less used it or saw it in writing. A few days ago, while thinking about everything that I have been doing for the past two and a half years, especially with regards to work, auxiliary came to mind. Initially, I thought it weird that such a word would occur to me in the middle of that thought process, but upon contemplation, I realized how applicable it is in relation to me. And by me, I mean what I do, because really, what are we but what we do, right? (Not necessarily, but that's a conversation for later.) Anyway, I am auxiliary . My current and past job descriptions can all be summed up with that one not-used-often-enough word. Lik

...and school ain't one. Yet. I thought that work--and work only--all summer would mean no worries about anything. But I've been worrying a great deal about a great deal the past several weeks. From shady subletters and questionable checks to worn tires and creaking brakes, at one point everything just got overwhelming. Certainly, these things pale in comparison to other people's concerns. But I'm just so tired of everything, especially traffic. I've gotten to the point of actually being content with one-hour commutes that in late morning or middle of the night would take only a quarter of an hour. One hour and fifteen minutes is where I draw the line between annoyance and moodiness. It's just terrible. And the way that some people drive these days is ridiculous. I like to think that I have been driving more safely--I wouldn't say "better" just because I never drove "poorly" to have to get "better"--lately; for instance, I use

I don't know -- --can be taken as a sign of nonchalant ambivalence or of true un-knowledge. The phrase bothers me immensely particularly when I know that it's employed for the sake of ease. Rather than explaining what or where something is, "I don't know" replaces an extended side of conversation and deems the preceding question insignificant, thereby making life slightly more difficult for the asker. It can also suggest an un-caring or indifference. Both cases are demonstrated below: A, while driving: What time does that place close? B, while on smartphone: I don't know. A: What do you want to do? B: I don't know. What about you? A: I don't know. In the case of true un-knowledge, life is still easier for the intended answerer, especially sans the supposed guilt from taking the easy way out by unthinkingly claiming "I don't know." The situation also remains the same for the asker. Either way, the asker may reiterate

Growing up, I couldn't wait to be 20 years old. I thought the 20-something years would be the best, primarily because of: driving : You can go anywhere, any time you want. Even carrying around a car key makes you look cool. Imagine actually driving the car. Having to drive every day now, and I often wish I didn't have to. Traffic is such a nightmare, gas is nightmarishly costly, LA parking is a hassle, other drivers are an even bigger hassle. It's just so stressful, and childhood me never suspected such a characteristic of driving. working, making money : You make your own money, so you can do what you want with it. In fact, the more you make, the more you can spend (on clothes)! Not as easy or simple as it used to sound. I neglected the first step of this process, which is to find a job. And even afterward, money still doesn't come easy. I also neglected paying bills, something a child doesn't necessarily think about when dreaming about the future. And on thi

It was an exhausting, eventful month. There was a wedding in Fremont the weekend before finals week. There was finals week. There were graduations in San Diego and Riverside at the end of finals week. There was San Diego again the following Monday. There was a job interview the day after. There was Portland for the latter half of that week. There was another wedding--but in Alhambra/ Monterey Park--that Sunday. There was job interview (part two) and work. There was the company dinner. All this within the past four weeks, ain't it grand?  Life has been extremely hectic this month. The only time it was finally calm and quiet was the few days in Portland, where life and time happen exponentially more slowly than here in Los Angeles. While people in Portland certainly do work and do all the normal things Angelinos do, it's just so... tranquil, which I have rarely ever experienced down here unless I intentionally seek a quiet spot wherein to hide. But I&#

It's one of those I feel so nostalgic and poetic that I have  to write  nights. I can't believe I've gone so long without writing despite that so much has been running through my mind and schedule this entire quarter (eight weeks in already, can you believe it?). It's been a hectic quarter, keeping up with two jobs yet again. Admittedly--though not surprisingly--I haven't been keeping up with schoolwork, but when do I ever? Classes have been quite unexciting, but that's probably my own fault. My post-postmodernism seminar is full of interesting ideas and theory and is taught by one of my favorite UCLA English professors (the only reason I enrolled, really). But I never say anything in there. I halfheartedly flip through each week's novel on Sunday night and frantically skim the secondary readings two hours before class. Even when I do have something to offer to the discussion, I immediately internally deem it irrelevant because I haven't read enough of

We are so often plugged in--to our smartphones, iPods, laptops, etc. Sometimes it's a way to defy--or cope with--loneliness. Instead of just walking or waiting alone, we plug ourselves into our devices to look like we have something to do other than stand around in solitude. Contrastingly, sometimes it's a way to create your own bubble. "Leave me alone. I'm listening to music and doing something important as I avert eye contact with everybody." Regardless, we have become so constantly plugged in that we've lost a considerable amount of sight of the outside world. Even if that is the purpose of plugging in, we need to reconnect with the community and pay more attention to our surroundings, be more aware of and courteous to others...by unplugging every once in a while. By being plugged in, we risk missing out on many things--from hearing a friend say hello in passing to recognizing someone needs help onto the bus (I actually experienced this the other day), fr

In my Chinatown home, I always had a cup. That cup was for water, milk, juice, and sometimes even soup. That cup was a Styrofoam cup. It was disposable, it was clean, it was temporary. I halfheartedly rinsed the cup before each use, haphazardly tossed it into the fridge afterward, and heartlessly threw it away after a week or two. I thought I was cool for "getting a new cup" every week. And then today at work while picking from six communal espresso cups, I realized that having your own, permanent cup somewhere is a sign of your belonging and permanence there. In the cupboard above the sink is an array of company mugs with their respective owners' names printed on them. I don't have one yet, and actually prefer to use one of the six communal, anonymous espresso cups--whether for coffee or for water--for now, because I don't know my condition of permanence here. I suppose that having your own cup is analogous to committing to the company. But I never felt imper

(a continuation of  "Life and Lemons" ) ...But no matter which lemon you pick, it's only a matter of time before the rind turns wrinkly, the flesh turns dry, and the yellow turns moldy. Because everything, no matter how fresh, juicy, plump--and full of potential--it initially seems, comes to an end, and that is the sour reality. And that is why, while you must be aware of and heed limits, you don't just stop picking. Once your basket has emptied of the best lemon(s) you have ever picked, once your glass has emptied of the best lemonade you have ever squeezed--you smack your lips and "mmm" in satisfaction of what you just had, rub your hands together and "hmm" in preparation of what you can have. And you go out and stand in the middle of the down-sloping hill again, bracing yourself for whatever tumbles down from the top. Why don't you simply accept that what you just had was the peak of your existence and stop hogging up space on that hil

Sometimes, life gives you an empty bucket. Other times, it throws lemons at you like tennis balls out of a machine. Just when I thought I had an empty bucket, I encountered a great lemon: fresh, plump, bright yellow lemon. "This'll make for some great lemonade," I thought. I began to squeeze the lemon, indulging in every drop of cheek-tingling, tangy juice. All of a sudden, another lemon rolled toward my feet, and my eyes steered away from the one I was already juicing to the one I could be juicing. Surely, I couldn't squeeze both at once, because I have only so much focus, time, and effort. I couldn't immediately stop juicing the first one because I had only started. At the same time, I couldn't simply let the second lemon--just as fresh, plump, and bright yellow--roll away right before my eyes. I wanted to take full advantage of both lemons. I wanted to juice the first one and to pick up the second one. I wanted to keep and savor both, but the problem wa

I believe I have finally reached the calm that I had frantically been seeking for several months. I have finally taken opportunities which stood right in front of me and pursued what I know or suspect I want. And I'm in a better place (not that I was in a bad place to begin with, don't get me wrong) because of this. Not until recently did I truly learn the significance of the following cliches: The first step is the hardest step. You never know until you try. The first step really is the hardest. There have been too many great opportunities I have passed up simply because I was too reluctant to fill out an extensive application, too lazy to write a cover letter, too comfortable to consider a change. But once I decided to get myself over the seemingly impossible hump, all the open doors became much clearer to see. It really isn't difficult to revise your resume, to email HR, or to do anything. The hardest thing is just to get yourself to do it. Surely, the comfort zone

I miss the chase. I miss chasing and being chased. Looking at one old photo in particular reminds me of the several times in the beginning he said, "I'm going to chase you." I thought, "Psh, okay. You've already got me anyway." Maybe I shouldn't have adopted and demonstrated that attitude so quickly. Perhaps I should have just let the chase and the subsequent excitement persist. But what difference would that have made except maybe slightly prolong the duration of the whatever-it-was? I can't expect to be chased--though chaste, I can expect to be (bad joke, sorry). I also can't chase just to chase, because that would leave me breathless. Additionally, though I know it's the 21st century and I do have slightly feminist views, I often feel immodest in my pursuits. Initially, the excitement and uncertainty will entice me, but eventually, it is the same uncertainty that pulls me back. Okay, admittedly, the former uncertainty is one of whether