Category Archives: Life Happenings

Alex & Kahai’s Wedding

This wedding was no ordinary wedding nor was it one to be forgotten. This wedding was unforgettable for so many reasons and though the power was down, we powered through as a group and came out of it with memories for a lifetime.

Saturday, August 15

It began with some light turbulence in the last hour of my flight, but we all landed safely, at different times, and trickled our way to the car rental area. We were given choices of which vehicle to select and ultimately, a stunning white 4Runner was what we chose to ride off with in Oahu. Our first stop was to Costco. Lo and behold, we nearly crashed carts with the almost-married couple, intentionally, as the groom found us in the alcohol aisle. Serendipitous and silly, I screamed as our gathering occurred earlier than expected, but it was still sweet like the marshmallow crispy cookies from Costco’s baked goods section. We obtained other vacation nourishments such as instant noodles, tequila, water, and fresh fruit. Rain, wind, and playing Tetris with the room in the back of the car gave us the push to continue on our first day.

The first poke of the trip was purchased at Foodland in Dillingham! We sampled at the hot foods bar and I left with a pound of fried chicken skin, Crystal Louisiana’s hot sauce, and truthfully, not enough snacks for what was to come. Hindsight is everything and this trip made its mark as my most memorable Hawaii trip for so many reasons. Please keep reading to learn why, or experience it again if you were on the trip with us!

As we made our way up to the villa, we had two failed attempts in trying to find a couple of shave ice spots, so we settled for a quick trip to 7/11. With canned coffee for AV and DH, a Poppi for me (and a Diet Coke I never got to enjoy), we hydrated ourselves in some capacity and finally arrived to the villa, a few minutes drive from the 7/11 convenience store. Who knew that would be our first and last time being able to purchase drinks and treats from that 7/11? Not me!

As we entered the villa, we take in the noise of someone mowing the lawn, and unload our car. Memorable moment: DH’s suitcase was missing a wheel and a handle soon after broke off. We walked through the tall wooden entry doors and first thing I noticed was the wide and wooden staircase. There was a lot of wood in this villa. Going up and down the stairs would become a task we all partook in as the kitchen and living room is up the stairs, and for AV, JS, DS, and AC, they would find themselves going up and down this spiral staircase into their sleeping area, which is the loft by the kitchen. Lots of stairs for that group of four and lots of staring for our entire group as the next day inevitably arrived.

I personally was trying my best to not drink a drop of alcohol until the day of the wedding, which was on Monday, but due to the fact that AC barely made his flight, DS cried, and the bride was drinking, I started drinking the lychee vodka I purchased at Costco. “Anything for the bride!” I shouted before I drank my first shot of the trip. JS had us at high volume when he did his magic trick with a deck of cards. It was no ordinary, “Was this your card?” trick. It was beyond that. JS eventually turned in for the night and slept for hours on the couch as we stayed up. The night turned into a villa full of volunteers wanting to karaoke. We attempted to learn High School Musical’s “We’re All In This Together” dance and I am chronically unable to learn choreography, so it was a sad attempt on my part, but AV did well! DS gave us a sweet performance of Snakehips featuring Tinashe “All My Friends”, a song that always brings comfort and friends together, a theme we would find as the days went on.

Sunday, August 16

I can’t remember when I fell asleep but I can still remember waking up on Sunday and DH telling me there’s no power. I descended from the top bunk and made my way up the wooden stairs to the kitchen. The bride’s dad said he wished he cooked earlier when there was power but alas, none of us were psychic and could have predicted exactly when the power would go out. Fortunately, the stove in the kitchen was gas-powered so breakfast was prepared and enjoyed. It was my first time ever having Portuguese sausage! I have not been living life, truly, but that sausage brought some sweetness into our morning. Sausage, SPAM, a couple fried eggs, and freshly cooked rice, I could not have asked for a better first breakfast in the villa. Shoutout to the bride’s family for cooking and keeping the optimism high. Negativity? We never met her!

After breakfast, we gathered around the long wooden table where we ate and really looked at each other. I mean, we couldn’t look at our phones, the WiFi was not working! A few people had phone signal and I was not one of those few. My phone was on SOS-mode. Cue the Jonas Brothers song.

Wondering where DH and CT were, I walked into the room I was sharing with them and AA. CT said we’re leaving the villa and so we did. We walked out of the home and into the storm, literally. It was pouring rain and the wind made me question if my hat was going to stay on or not. First, we made an erroneous turn and went right on the main street when we should have turned left. We turned back and got in additional steps as we got on the proper trek to see what was open. Our clothes were soaked and our hair drenched in rain water. As we made our way to see if the 7/11 convenience store, that we visited yesterday, was open, the rain felt like tiny, sprinkled-sized arrows on our backs. There were broken power lines swinging in the air, an ambulance passed us, and brown water in the ocean. It felt thrilling to be outside in the storm with CT. We had a mission: find food, ice, and coffee for the villa. As we saw the 7/11 store come into our view, I saw a brown cardboard sign and my gut knew it was not open. There was someone inside mopping but there was no one walking in. We walked past 7/11 and saw that the Tamura’s parking lot was empty, so that store was also not a viable choice to explore and scour for items.

However, across the street from Tamura’s, we saw people and cars! Lo and behold, there was a business open. It was a small convenience store operating on a cash-only basis with no electricity. There was an older fella cashiering and an auntie cooking up some hot foods. I somehow convinced the owner to let me purchase the entire unopened box of red Shin ramyun that he had originally intended to sell them individually. We walked out with Shin ramyun, Top Ramen, Celcius energy drinks, canned coffee, and two small bags of ice. To my surprise, the ice bags were melting as we were walking back to the villa! A sweet, little boy offered to help us but it was a bit of a distance to walk, so we gestured him away. A truck that I saw pass us earlier had turned around and the uncle opened his door and said, “Get in!” He asked where we were walking to and I replied, “By the elementary school.” He responded with saying that’s far for a walk and we got back to where we needed to be in a zip.

The return to the villa meant both of us were walking around in wet clothes. With my phone not being of much use, I decided to change into a one piece swimsuit. One of my goals for Hawaii was to snorkel. I grabbed my snorkel mask from my backpack and used it in the villa’s pool. I didn’t need to see fish, I just needed to see underwater! The bride’s family was hanging out there and so I did a few, relaxing, and short laps back and forth in the pool. CT and I did one quick race and I followed my intrusive thought and grabbed her leg on the swim back to the 3 feet area. She did not drown and I did not win the race. It started raining, so we stayed in the pool and felt the rain on our skin. I wish I got underwater footage so I could capture what a fish sees in the ocean when it rains.

The day continued on with the power not on. The bride’s family braved the roads and storm and came back with butter garlic shrimp, beef, and chicken for lunch. I can’t remember how many shrimps I devoured but man, that shrimp was goOod!

I showered three times, in total, on this day without hot water and with light coming only from the flashlight of my phone. While there was still sun, I put on some makeup to make me feel more like ‘me’ and the Welcome BBQ started. By this time, we had a generator and one fridge was working and the kitchen lights were on. People who were not staying in the villa came through and the energy livened up. Hugs were exchanged, shots were poured, and the kitchen lights would flicker, go out, and turn on again. It was hilarious the amount of times we would light candles, blow them out, and relight them. We knew the generator would run out eventually, we just didn’t know when. We had fun, nonetheless. ❤ We had a speaker with some downloaded music and we were up! Up dancing, singing, and collectively making an unerasable memory altogether.

Noteable songs:

  • “Cyclone” by Baby Bash
  • “Everytime We Touch” by Cascada
  • “Unwritten” by Natasha Bedingfield
  • “A Thousand Miles” by Vanessa Carlton

Monday, August 17

It’s wedding day! We woke up and the electricity was still not on. The bride’s family made breakfast again, this time with some Shin ramyun and SPAM. I had two bags of red Shin last night and I had the Shin again. Don’t even get me started on how BLOATED I was from the salt, alcohol, and lack of fiber. After breakfast, DS and AC left the villa in search for gas for the generator and a group of us left the villa to walk, and for me and CT, we jogged around, circling back to the group, and eventually we took in the scene of the ocean. We saw the 7/11 from yesterday and again, it was not open. CT and I ran around the neighborhood and met two horses and two donkeys. Since Sunday, we were placing bets on when the power would turn on and by noon, there was still no power.

Power on or not, the classic sign of event preparation took place: getting ready and putting on makeup. We had to get crafty with our hair since the generator was being used (and rightfully so) to power one of the fridges. DS and AC came back to the villa WITH GAS! Success! And as it was the day of the wedding, photographers were present and they requested that we start getting ready for photos… This stressed DS and we all formed a circle at the end of the wooden table, applying makeup and brainstorming ideas of what to do with our hair. I ended up doing random strands of braids in my hair. At an earlier point of my trip, I realized I did not pack a formal attire band for my Apple Watch. By the morning of the wedding, my watch was dead, so alas, I did not need the fancy band (or the watch) to complete my outfit. Less is more in Hawaii.

People started trickling into the villa and we eventually all sat down on the white chairs for the ceremony. On my right arm, I noticed a little amber splat. A bird had released its bodily trash onto my forearm, lovely. Anyway, it lightly showered for a brief moment and it was gone within a few laughs. The officiant, S, told us to all stand up and there she was, the divine view: the bride. Alex walked towards us with her mother on her left, her father on her right, and a big smile I can still remember. Tears formed in my eyes as Alex and Kahai made eternal promises to each other, their love for each other is evident, and I felt so much happiness for my longtime friend as she became a wife and Kahai, her husband. Memories rushed to my mind and I recalled meeting Alex when I was 17 and she 18, not knowing where life would take us and when true love would find her. And indeed, true and unwavering love found her. A single sapphire slid down my right eye as they walked down the aisle for the first time ever as a married couple. They paused for a moment, right by my seat, and then Kahai dipped Alex for the classic wedding kiss.

Rain or shine, power or not, Alex and Kahai officialized their union and their forever began. We walked away from the ceremony, collected our surf board memento, which had our name and table name, and trekked our way to the huge white tent. I changed out of the pink dress and switched into a strapless sage dress. I sat down for a moment and then got back up to get in line for the food! When in Hawaii, eat Hawaiian food. The first bites were poke and this delectable cucumber salad. I got the salad at least twice. Before we got to the main course, the bride and groom switched their outfits and the bride’s dress was a number! It was white with long fringe as a skirt and the cutest outfit I saw all trip. The main course was sweet bread, kalua pork, chicken, macaroni salad, and more that I cannot recall. The mac salad was genuinely, truly the BEST I’ve ever had, so I got at least two servings of that as well. Dessert was shave ice from a vendor A&K had not tried yet but it was the first shave ice of the trip for many! An uncle was pouring tequila into some shave ice bowls and hey, we’re at a wedding, there will be alcohol in places you expect and there will be alcohol in unexpected places!

Outfit change!

Before the dancing began, we heard speeches from the married couple’s parents, the bride’s cousin, and the married couple themselves. We got to witness a touching moment of Kahai dancing with his mom and the height difference made it that more endearing. The bride had a sweet moment with her father as they danced and soon, they broke into a number that got us all ‘ooohing’. By this time in the evening, there was still no power, but the tent’s lights were on due to the generator and we were running on good energy. We danced, sang, jumped, and sought refuge in front of the huge fans to cool down. I can’t forget to mention the bride in the DJ booth as we all sang “Everytime We Touch” by Cascada. As the night progressed, I took a break to take a brief nap, and I woke up to DH telling me there is power! A hot shower, air conditioning, and the sound of laundry running, man, was this a great way to end a great night.

❤ Congratulations again to Alex and Kahai! ❤ I am so excited to see where married life takes you! ❤

“Yours Ever and Always.”

On December 28th, I went into my Mom’s room to look for a photo. It was a photo of her and I in Texas before we trekked over to California. I scrummaged through her closet to find the various scrapbooks we’ve accumulated over the years. I found a stack of photos of her in Vietnam, when she visited my grandmother, and I stumbled upon a photo of my mother and someone else. My mom was younger in this picture, she was at an age I had never seen her, and the man next to her, was someone I’d never seen before as well.

I flipped the photo and saw a small note written in cursive English. It hit me that I’ve seen this photo before. I remembered that I’ve read this note before. I realized this is a photo I had been meaning to find again and here it was.

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“Nothing can erase the memories of the those days we spent together.”
Yours ever and always.
Thanh

The man in the photo is my dad, my biological father, the missing person in my parentage, someone who I think about quite too often for someone who’s not in my life. In the photo, my mother and father are next to each other, standing shyly, looking like two innocent lovers who just got together. I’m assuming the photo was taken in Indonesia, where I was born, because I do not recall my father with us in Vietnam. Overwhelmed with emotion, I teared up for obvious and some not so obvious reasons. For most of my life, I felt devalued and lesser than my peers with complete families so I, myself, felt incomplete. But, now, at the age of 22, I no longer ask, “Am I worth less because my father is not in my life?”

Instead, I ask, “Isn’t his life worth less because I’m not in his life?” I know my worth and it’s not defined by the lack of his presence, him not being here for me has only made me stronger.

A memory that calls to mind was when I was in high school and my mother picked me up to go home. During the car drive, she asked if I was dating someone. I said no. Then, she began to softly lecture, teaching me lessons I would not yet reflect upon, about how men sweet talk to avoid the issues and how words cannot mend actions. On occasion, I would ponder if my mother misses my dad. I don’t miss him, but I hope he misses us.

As an aspiring writer, I devote myself to being authentic. I devote myself to living a life of honesty and documenting the truth. But… the truth isn’t always pain-free. The truth isn’t always easy to accept, but ever so often, beauty can flourish from the darkest and ugliest crevices. To be able to ascend from the murky depths of grime and filth, a blossom of change spreads its petals of perseverance, and when we prosper in an environment of deterioration, that is success. Success doesn’t always come in form of money, it can come in a manner where we learn from the past, take what we’ve learned, and execute it so our future is better, not bitter.

Speaking of bitter, today might be a bitter day for some, but not for myself. I’ve never been sour about Valentine’s Day – despite the fact that I’ve never had a Valentine – EVER – (cue in audience laughter) I actually love seeing all the love being spread today. If you know me, I love pink and today is plastered with pink. I love it!
Happy Valentine’s Day! I hope you have a day filled with sweetness – whether it comes in the form of chocolate, friendship, or family. Enjoy today, be safe and be grateful. Thank you for your time, thank you for reading. ♡

2017

When I was younger, I dreamt of flying cars and being able to teleport. I imagined that by the time I was 21, I would be able to travel from one continent to another within seconds, but alas, science has not yet matched my imagination.

Moving along, it’s been a few weeks since 2016 has ended and 2017, the new year, has begun! I’m not one to make New Year Resolutions because, well, frankly, I have enough goals from last year carrying on I’ve yet to achieve. I know my commitment with the gym and eating healthy will be inconsistent, but, at least I know that and I’m not lying to myself.

Another item on the list of “Things I Won’t Lie About” is how this year, I will focus on my friendships, more than I have ever before. Speaking of friends, this month marks the birthdays of my two best friends since high school, Cali (23) and Christy (22). 2017 also marks a decade since I’ve known these women. 10 years of friendship is quite the achievement in my book. Cali’s birthday was on the 2nd and Christy’s was on the 16th. Quick pop quiz, what’s 16+1?

Apartment 17

On January 2nd, I drove past my old apartment, the apartment where my mother and I had lived together before my little sisters were born. It was where I spent a chunk of my childhood, the almost-casino where my mother held gambling sessions, the one bedroom apartment where I grew my little sunflower plant and my mom tried to grow a lemon tree, and the spot where my imaginary friends and I frequently met.

The number 17 resonates with me mainly due to the fact I was born on the 17th day of October and when I was seventeen, I barely passed my driving test. I was infinite, unstoppable (at least I thought I was), but in all actuality, I was reckless. Fast forward to the present. As of this moment, I’ve been in the United States for 17 years, 18 years this June. I have no insane emotions or any extreme bright hope for this new year, but since the number 17 is in this year’s date, I do feel slightly giddy, but ever just so slightly – because this year could be just like 2016: a whirlwind of emotions, traveling, laughter, departure, new beginnings, and as always, growth. 2016 was one of best years of my life so let’s rewind, reassess, and repeat.

Spring 2016

 Spring 2016 was the last semester of college I spent in Southern California. I juggled two internships and two jobs in which I found myself in a routine – a safety net for five months – I had become an automated student who knew what to do each day and each week. I lived by my Passion Planner, gifted by T, so I was able to know what I was doing each hour of my life: commuting to my internship, at the gym, tutoring, working at PopBar, or hanging out with someone. But, no matter how great of a planner I was or how structured my planner made my life seem – I couldn’t plan on what was happening next in my life after graduation.

Ah yes – I graduated college! I didn’t walk across the stage because I had immense anxiety about this event ever since my junior year of college. In my third year, I had already known I wouldn’t be able to do it. Why not? It’s my anxiety, I can’t explain it. When my mother said she wanted to see me walk for my Bachelor’s – my anxiety went down a considerable amount, but it wasn’t enough for me to walk amongst my classmates. Embarrassed is an understatement – I wish I had been stronger to conquer my anxiety because it truly hindered me from participating in unrepeatable experiences.

Summer 2016

During the months of May, June, and July, I was able to travel to Miami for the first time and Mexico twice. I still question if I ever went there but as I look back on photos and videos, I realize it wasn’t all a dream but a reality. Traveling is a privilege bestowed to those who can afford it and when I went to Mexico, I saw those who did not have the same privilege as me. At some points of my travel, I felt wrong being there due to the fact I could see the inequalities of class, education, and culture. But, it made me aware and appreciate what I had and what I could give to others.

Fall & Winter 2016

I thought I had mentally prepared myself for the move back home. I had decided in Fall 2015 that I would move back home instead of staying in Southern California and pursuing a career in Orange County. But, the move back home consisted of me traveling back and forth to SoCal so often it caused me to not have a solid identity of where I belonged and where I did not – was I officially home in Sacramento or was my home still in Southern California?  I had registered for classes in my local community college for the Spring, got a job at the local mall, hung out with my little sisters constantly, but the feeling of being misplaced and lost only grew as the weeks passed.

I joked about being depressed when I moved back to Sacramento but the joke’s on me now. I never strive to be happy, just not to be sad, but it appears though that sadness struck me in the most unfashionable manner. It made me more anxious than ever, the thought of not living appealed to me, and I started drinking alcohol more often than before because I wanted to feel something else than what I was feeling when sober: dour. Mentally, I feel as though I’ve regressed because I’m back to my former self where my only defense mechanism is to: push people away, run far, far away, build a wall, have my guard up, and then build another wall. President Donald Trump, if you ever read this – a wall is not the answer.

Being distant from people is a path I know I should not take but it’s a path I took instinctively… It’s a road well paved by the copious times I’ve travelled. The further away I seem to be – the better off I presume myself to be – but the verdict is, I only feel more alone. Forgiveness is an area I feign to understand and with my character, I don’t believe in the idea of fabricated friendships, so my situation remains desolate. How do I forget and forgive? Perhaps, it will occur in 2017. Perhaps not. Only time will tell.

* My sorority sister, Melissa, wrote a reflection post about 2016, and I felt inspired to do the same.

“I have a small family.”

The title of this blog post is the title of my mother’s short essay she wrote in one of her English classes.

On the page, she wrote about her family: her father, mother, older brother, younger brother, and her sister. My heart hurt when I read the line, “He passed away.” My mother’s penmanship is lovely, it’s remained the same as long as I can remember. She writes legibly while my handwriting looks like smeared lines.

I’m crying right now as I type this post.

As I read more, I found that she wrote about my grandmother, who had not yet passed away when my mom wrote this piece, and I became even more emotional. As I finished reading her paper, I cried. I felt guilty. Guilty because I did not know about my aunts and uncles. Guilty because I was never curious and seldom asked. Guilty because I stopped talking to my grandmother over the phone when I found out she neglected and abused my mother when my mom was younger. Guilty and ashamed because I eventually neglected my own culture, spoke less Cantonese, and became more Americanized. Guilt has taught me a lot.

When I was in high school, my mother had started taking some English classes at a local community college. I remember she would be at our dinner table, late at night, past dinner time, just practicing her writing. English is my Mom’s fourth language. She can speak Vietnamese, Chinese, and Mandarin. I recall the times I got frustrated translating for my mother, wishing she would just be able to understand English so I wouldn’t have to translate for her anymore. But now, I look back on my selfish behavior with immense shame. I hardly can even speak Cantonese properly and I was becoming annoyed with my mom trying to learn her 4th language.

Thankfully, I’ve learned to appreciate my mother and her broken English. I used to frown but now I smile because my mother is trying – how could I ever ask for more?

Happy birthday, Mom. I love you so much, I truly cannot picture life without you. I know that in life, there are inevitable passages we all must one day walk. The day that we must walk different paths is a day I hope I have your strength, resilience, and courage to continue to make you proud. I may be genetically 50% you, but you’re my 100%.

Give to give, not to receive

As humans, we are naturally selfish. There’s always something we want, and most of the time, it’s never a ‘need’. In this fast paced and instant gratification generation, we have the ability to satisfy our wants but the desire to have more grows rampant, like a virus. I’ve got this, now, I want that. 

Flash back to a few months ago, I was ordering a meal at McDonald’s. I pulled up to the cashier, and I see, D, my former high school classmate, taking my card and processing my payment. She sparked a conversation with me when she remembered me from elementary school. I commend her because I didn’t have eyebrows back then.

But, I also commended her for what she had told me as she updated me on her life. In the our less-than-60-seconds conversation, I learned she lived on her own since she was 18, supports herself and her daughter, and with this small conversation, I felt an ardent desire to do something nice for her. I thought about it constantly – as soon as I left the drive though, randomly during days I cannot pinpoint, and heavily during this month of December. Out of the million sporadic thoughts in my mind, this was a recurring notion that would not settle until I settled with the fact that I must follow both my heart and mind.

On Friday, the 23rd, I had called her work asking when she worked (so that I could surprise her). Afterwards, I realized how creepy I sounded – yikes – and later D called me from her cellphone. I spilled the beans because I can’t lie that well and we met up later that night. I gave her a card and giftcards to: Target, Buffalo Wild Wings, AMC, and Starbucks. We hugged four times and she kept thanking me because this had never happened to her. We conversed for a bit before she went back home and I arrived back home feeling accomplished and fulfilled.

As I type this now, I feel as if… this isn’t enough. I wish I could do more. Not just for D, but the other young mothers, strangers who need help, people who wish they had enough, families who are barely fed at dinner, the list could go on forever. But now I know, there’s much to be done, more to be given, and lots to appreciate. As always, I appreciate you, the reader, for taking time out of your day to read my blog. I hope you have a day full of joy today. Happy Holidays.

This blog is a documentation of my life, my progress, and of course, my thoughts. This is a thought of mine: if you feel like you want to do something good for someone else, and it’s a constant thought in your mind, pursue it, plan it out, and make it go from a thought to a fact. Make it happen. Life has a lot of unopened, unexplored, and disregarded potential. If we all did the good we wished we could do – wouldn’t the world be a greater place? Being kind is a choice and generosity isn’t a trait everyone has – some can’t afford to (I understand) – but those who can – why not?

We blame society

Yet, we are society.

As an advertising major, I was shocked that in my advertising classes, we seldom talked about how advertising affects the demographic we often ignore: adolescents. Kids these days are growing up with iPhones, iPads, and other mobile devices that didn’t exist during my childhood, so it’s a no brainer that children nowadays are exposed to much more advertising than previous generations. There’s ads before YouTube videos, underneath all the free games, and during their favorite TV shows. During my projects, we’d target the most profitable demographic: the millennials or the baby boomers, but we never stop and think about who were unconsciously influenced: the younger generation, Generation Z.

As I returned home, I learned the details of my younger siblings bickering with each other, and I was absolutely livid when I found out one of my younger sisters called my other sister “obese and disgusting” along other vile words. Knowing my mother would never say such words to my sibling, I quickly made the assumption that my sister gained this thought process from the media or society (friends, classmates, etc). My hunch is perhaps 70% true since my sister wouldn’t say anything when I confronted her about her mean words.

But the main focus of this post is not about what one sister said to another, but it’s why she said those remarks, why she thought that way, and how we can change the way she thinks. Another thing to note is that millions of young children and teenagers think this way, too. The perspective that a skinny body is a pretty body, that being pretty is all a girl should be, and looks determine someone’s value can be credited to the media and societal standards. Something I learned in advertising is that the best form of advertising is word of mouth advertising – we all trust our friends more than commercials, right? So, when we hear a friend say something that’s not so positive about body image, it can make us think about our own body and how we perceive it.

Certainly, this post is not a self-love post because I am not the proper teacher for that subject, but we should all focus on how we influence our friends, whether we know it or not and whether we believe it or not that we do influence our friends. What we say about ourselves, others, and objects can negatively or positively change one’s opinion. As the oldest in my family, I recognize the influence I have on my siblings, so because of this, I am cautious of my diction, behavior, and attitude towards life. I’m now a teacher – and we all are – so we must teach, not only ourselves, but the ones around us, to be better.

This post was made in dedication to my younger sister, Lily, who turned 13 in September! Happy birthday, my little artist.

Fighting Anxiety: The Invisible Battle

One aspect of my life which feels never-ending is the conflict between my heart and my mind. Daily, I find myself in situations where I have a desire to say or do something, but my brain says, “No.” But, it’s more than just a quick rejection of my own wishes. It comes along with fear, stress, feeling stuck, and wanting to escape. However, these things are invisible to the naked eye and only I can feel them, though I wish I didn’t.

From elementary school to the beginning of my first year in college, I had the assumption that I was “strange” and not in the hipster sense of being different and cool, but because I could not handle social situations as well as the people around me. Was it normal that I would occasionally cry before I had to go somewhere and then continue to cry because my anxiety stopped me from going to places I had wanted to go? The fear of leaving my house would sometimes be strong enough to hold me back and I would stay in – does that happen to any regular person? My anxiety symptoms include: rapid heart beats, sweaty palms, trembling hands, my throat closing up, not being able to talk, and my face heating up. When I was younger, this felt like impending doom, now, I know it’s just my anxiety acting up.

I recall a specific memory from middle school, I was not yet 14, perhaps 12 or 13, and I was walking home one afternoon. I lived in this complex that was near the school and there would sometimes be people from my school who’d play in the playground, which was right in front of my apartment. When I approached the gate, I saw at least ten people I had recognized from my middle school and this wave of fear took over. I couldn’t go home. I didn’t want to see them and I definitely did not want them to see me. What I did was walk around my complex, spent time in another area far away from my home, and waited it out until everyone was gone. That was just in middle school. In high school, I remember I had so much anxiety about a competition that I flaked out on it, disappointing my coach and former teammates. Now, it’s not as easy to just wait it out or to run away.

Whenever I’m entering a new environment, or a place I’ve deemed uncomfortable, my anxiety goes through the roof. New work places and social situations I did not intend to attend are a couple of examples. I remember at one of my internships, at the beginning, I found myself with my words stuck in my throat, struggling to say the simplest greetings, and couldn’t even ask for the smallest favors. I felt as if my words were always on the tip of my tongue yet there’s a blockage so I never spoke when I so desired to. It took me a few months to get comfortable at my internship and before I knew it, it was time to leave. I wish I wasn’t so rigid and could have let down my walls faster, but it’s complicated when my anxiety doesn’t allow me to make the first move.

I’ve been tied to these chains of worry that never go away. My constant paranoia is a sidekick I’ve never wanted. But, I am stuck with my anxiety for what feels like the rest of my life. My anxiety masks who I am and because of this, I can be seen as standoffish, anti-social, or rude (all of which I completely accept). When you’re me and you’re mentally fighting against yourself, it’s not surprising when my face is full of frowns and there are no smiles to be found. Strangely, I must admit I find comfort in not having to be forced to smile and look delighted at all times.

However, one lesson I’ve learned is being comfortable means being stagnant. If I stay in the same place for the rest of my life, socially, career-wise, or academically, would I ever rise to be the woman I wish to be? The answer is no. Stepping out of my comfort zone is what spikes up my anxiety: meeting new people, going to somewhere unknown, having to bond with strangers, and so on. But nothing great comes from standing still in calm water. Overcoming the angst means traveling into treacherous tides. Is anything safe ever worth the drive? As someone who loves the rush of adrenaline, I have to stop taking flight and fight.

Fight against the anxiety, fight against the worries, and fight against the desire to give up.

Drive Safely

A haunting view I regularly see (but wish I did not) is the remainder of what’s left of a car tire each time I enter the freeway. During my trek to Northern California this past July, I consistently saw a torn apart tire that once was positioned perfectly on a car. What happened? What are the stories from these leftover pieces of rubber? Were they all deadly car accidents or were some parties saved by a miracle? These are questions where perhaps the answers can never be obtained.

On my way back from San Francisco, I saw a bumper of a car near the wall of the carpool lane. It makes me think – how often do we pass by visible damage and not do anything about it? Sometimes, there’s not much that can be done. On the freeway, I can’t just get out of my car and try to assess the debris. I’m not part of CSI. But in reference to our own lives – how often do we avoid obvious destructions, both literally and figuratively? There are moments of chaos where I know I will probably cry or fume about it but I push those thoughts, emotions, and energy aside, to an extreme distance, to focus on another item on my checklist. But, like the broken car parts on the freeway, the not so pretty moments of my life existed and sometimes still remain. No matter how far away I assume I am from my problems, it does not guarantee that my issues will dissolve on their own.

The rubber on the road does not disappear into the atmosphere within days or weeks. There could be a chance that someone will come to pick it up but there’s also the strong possibility that it will remain on the side for an undetermined period of time, perhaps months or years, perhaps forever. As we disregard the messiness of our lives, are we moving on, avoiding the wreckage, or accepting the mayhem? Like an unkempt room, items left behind in a certain position will remain there until we put it back where it belongs. Our clothes cannot wash themselves. Books cannot travel to their proper location on the bookshelf automatically.

As I pass by the remnants of what once used to be part of a car, I pray that I will never be part of the road in that same manner. But now, with this gained perspective, as I drive past rummage, I’ll think about the clutter in my life. As much as I wish I could just ‘drive past’ my personal issues, some problems are inescapable and some fears must be faced. As someone who is hooked on running away from her problems, I’ve found myself not ever being able to mend the wounds and repair the difficulties.

Sometimes, time does not heal everything. Sometimes, healing is working on the dilemma and conquering the obstacle.

This post was inspired by seeing some ripped up tires on the road. It made me think about how interesting it is to see that what we see in life can be a parallelism to our individual lives.

Every 6 Months

I will openly admit that I’m judgmental. I’m highly critical of not only others but myself as well. It is evident because I am my own biggest critic because every day, I am analyzing my actions and seem to give myself an abundance of poor scores and negative reviews. I also mentally take notes of the actions of people who are around me. In order to become a better person, I must surround myself with companions who too seek to better themselves.

At a minimum of every 6 months, I mandate myself to reevaluate my goals, friends, and environment. I ask myself a series of questions that sometimes challenge the position I’m in but growth never comes from being complacent. It’s a mental sweeping of emotional clutter to prevent an emotional mess.

  • Is what I’m doing, in my personal life and work life, part of the bigger goal that I have in mind for myself? How will I construct the bridge that allows me to close the space of where I am right now and where I wish to be?
  • Are my friends ambitious as myself and do they individually inspire me?
  • Am I currently located in a city that I want to be in – if not – when will I move and what are the necessary steps to take to get to where I want to be?
  • What am I doing today that will be good for tomorrow?
  • Have I remained honest to myself and is there integrity behind my actions?
  • How’s my health and am I properly monitoring both my physical well-being and mental state?

Comparison is deadly. I make it a point to not compare myself to my friends and their careers and lifestyles because as the worn out and played out saying goes, everyone’s journey is different. Looking at the future gives me copious amounts of hope, motivation, and determination. I am ecstatic to learn from my failures and manifest the mass figments of my imagination into reality.

Happy Belated Mother’s Day

To the woman I wish I could be, I dedicate this post to you, my mother, P.

You are a woman of your own dreams and I am, too. I never asked what your dreams were and undoubtedly, I feel guilty and incredibly selfish for having my own, chasing them, and not ever knowing yours. Like many Asian immigrants, you left your home, family, and a culture you knew well to a land of unknown possibilities.

As I get older, the Venn diagram of you and I becomes more aligned. The comparisons between you and I grow as I realize that you and I are quite similar, or rather, I am becoming your mirror image.

I can only recall you being sad less than five times my whole life. The first time was when your youngest child had to get open heart surgery, another time when you picked me up from CPS, and the third time, I felt your despair as you lost your own mother.

You sharing your sadness surprised me – I’ve seldom saw you express that spectrum of emotion – so the lesson is that even the most vigorous of dragons can fall, too.

As I age, I’ve taken note that I am more than just 50% biologically you. As a person who doesn’t often express her emotions publicly, I’ve hypothesized that I’ve inherited this trait from you. There lies scores of hidden similarities between our chromosomes. Besides our eye shapes and thin eyebrows, the honesty I share with others stems from the fact that you are painfully blunt with me. You’ve taught me to protect myself by showcasing my thorns because not everyone deserves the beauty and worth I hold inside.

Thank you for teaching me an abundance of essential life lessons that I shall pass onto friends and my future children. Thank you for your sacrifices and the strength you’ve embedded in me. When I feel weak, I think of you. When I want to give up, I think you and I push on. You are the definition of a vigilant woman, so today and everyday is for you, Mom.