1. Having everything I own contained in one space
2. Forced interaction with peers (see: common room)
3. My own bed, bathroom, and TWO closets
4. Cable television on a large LCD flat-screen.
5. The elevator, garbage chute, and laundry room all located right down the hall.
Posted in Good Days | Leave a Comment »
Posted in Culture | Leave a Comment »
At least that’s what I call him when my boyfriend’s not around.
Posted in Family | Leave a Comment »
Spring Festival / Chinese New Year’s falls on Valentine’s Day this year. This fact is insignificant to me on its own, as I have never actually celebrated February 14th in the American tradition of Hallmark cards, gourmet chocolates, or red roses.
However, it is the Year of the Tiger – my birth year – and it will not come around again for another twelve years. In the past, my family (more like the entire surname clan) would gather at my great-grandmother’s house. Since her passing two years ago, we have not seen our distant relatives. There are no tes, shrimp chips, or steamed dumplings to look forward to. No red envelopes to pass out to giggling children or lion dances to watch. The gap was filled with mediocre attempts to capture the atmosphere of my childhood. I want this time to be special, memorable, and enough to last another decade and two.
What do you think we should do on this auspicious occasion? If you observe this holiday, what are your plans? What does Chinese New Year represent to you?
Posted in Culture | 1 Comment »
An old colleague passed by me on the street today.
He very briefly lamented over a recent course of training he endured, his voice cracking in frustration, “Ughhh, it was even more pointless than the ones they made us go to when you worked with us.”
I asked him to explain, to elaborate.
He continued speedily, his voice as quick as his gait as we began to walk in opposite directions, “It was pointless because I will never use any of that – it will never be applied to anyone I meet or anything I do.”
I have been known to bask and revel in the theoretical. However, there is a nagging feeling that accompanies limiting oneself from application. It is self-imposed, because technically, nearly every conceptual idea can be related to some worldly experience or level of reality. Sometimes, it’s simply being stubborn.
Posted in Practical Advice | Leave a Comment »
He approached the shopping cart with a guilty look on his face, carrying practically every flavor our local grocery store carried in stock.
“I can’t decide!” he said, almost defensively.
After a terse, intentional moment of silence I agreed amiably, “Sure. We can judge them all.”
His face lit into a smile. We purchased all five against my better judgment. We brewed a pot of coffee and set upon our mission seriously.
Italian Sweet Creme is perhaps the most solid and delectable of the bunch featured above. It holds the right amount of sweetness and adds a touch of creaminess that turns every cup of coffee into liquefied, edible silk. Its flavor is not overpowering and is perfect for the every day caffeine boost without losing its appeal. Highly recommend it.
Pumpkin Spice is usually released in November, right in time for Thanksgiving. It tastes like autumn – cinnamon, nutmeg, and pumpkin without the crunch of fallen leaves. The overall flavor is a bit heady, and is not one that I would be able to consume on a regular basis. It would go well with a slice of apple pie and a dabble of whipped cream.
Gingerbread was our mutual least favorite. When I think of gingerbread, I think warm, moist cookies or intricately decorated houses teeming with frosting and gumdrops. However, when one drinks down some joe flavored with this cocktail, it almost makes the coffee dry and seems to somehow mimic the effects of a gingerbread cookie’s texture on the tongue without actually existing. Not very pleasant, and a bit too novel to work.
Caramel apple is an incredibly sweet flavor and reminds me of Starbucks’ hot apple cider, if it had been poured straight into plain coffee – not very appetizing. In fact, if everyone bought Coffeemate, Starbucks could well suffer in sales – there are no tricks to their beans. They use a lot of synthetic and natural flavor blends to win over their consumers. I would actually rather purchase this than spend $3.00+ on a cup, hand-blended by a barista. Still, while the Starbucks equivalent is sickly sweet, this one just does not endear itself enough to be an automatic re-purchase. The caramel does not really come out and one is left with apples. I do not want apples in my coffee.
Peppermint mocha was the flavor I felt most skeptical toward at the start of our taste test trials. Normally, a whiff of mocha anything is enough to deter me – something about it just numbs my tastebuds into submission and avoidance. However, the minty allure was enough to keep my mouth watering enough for the first cup. For the second. The winds blew harshly against the windows. The storm blew a mild draft threw the aged building’s cracks, and over the course of the weekend, more cups were poured in an attempt to block out the chill. This is the perfect complement to winter weather, and one that will be missed come spring.
Have you tried any of these flavors? What do you think about them?
Posted in Culture, Practical Advice | Leave a Comment »
Staring around at all of the silent bodies around me, I dropped my eyes to the floor.
The bus was a nocturnal creature with mute cargo. It moved slowly, illuminated by passing street lights, in a darkening world.
A man sneezed.
“Bless you,” I responded automatically, having been taught manners. Everyone else stayed silent.
“Thank you,” the middle-aged businessman said, clutching his briefcase tighter to his knees.
More silence. My cellphone vibrated, and I answered, “Hello?”
When Ruth approached me on public transit, her eyes were determined. Her eyelids donned a light dusting of blue eyeshadow. She wore a black pencil skirt with waterproof black boots.
“I’ll meet you at the corner store,” his voice said over the phone.
“Okay. Almost there,” I agreed, watching out the window as the bus pulled and lurched from stop to stop.
“Good,” he breathed back, “I’m —”
“–Excuse me, but how do you get your hair so shiny?” Ruth asked.
Slightly bewildered, I turned and found a sprightly elderly woman sitting next to me.
“Hold on a sec,” I said into the phone and turned toward her.
“I was sitting across from you and couldn’t help but admire your hair,” she added, encouragingly, waiting for an answer.
“Ummm, thank you…I don’t know…I don’t pay attention to it…I just put some mousse in….” I finished lamely.
“Ooh! Which brand?” she said excitedly.
“Garnier Fructisse,” I respond, quirking an eyebrow.
“Is it expensive?” she asked back, her voice eager and tinged with curiosity.
“A little over $3.00,” I estimated, flinching as I heard my boyfriend’s disembodied voice talking into the phone, asking who I was conversing with.
“My name is Ruth,” she introduced herself, “I was born on March 1st. I will be 73 years old. And I’m a Pisces.”
“Hello, Ruth,” I grinned slightly, “My name is Rae. My birthday passed a few months ago, but I turned 23. I am a Libra.”
I picture this stranger as she starts calculating her finances in her head. I almost want to give her $3.00 so she can go to the store and buy herself some mousse. I want her to feel beautiful, but she seems like a woman with a personal image and dignity to maintain. She would never accept loose change from the likes of me.
“Are you Jewish?” she asked suddenly, her cheeks turning slightly pink.
“No–” I began to answer, but she abruptly walked toward the front.
Her stop was coming up.
“What’s the brand again?” she yelled over her shoulder, as she exited.
“Garnier,” I called after her, “The bottle is bright neon green.”
Ruth nodded, “Nice to meet you.”
“Likewise.”
As I retold the tale to my friend, he commented, “You know – I don’t talk to strangers on public transportation. I put in headphones. I keep my eyes safely averted to the window.”
“I couldn’t just ignore her,” I said.
Plus, it was nice to actually make a connection in such an aloof, but tightly packed world.
Posted in Culture | Leave a Comment »
There was a single basket full of various belongings. I added mine to the pile unthinkingly – two important items – my keys and cellular phone.
The officer nodded me along with a bored expression, a couple of people waiting ahead of me. Still, we were a small group.
I joined the cleared few on the other side. A boisterous woman with a wide smile and loud laugh grabbed at the contents of our shared basket. When I reached toward it after she seemed done, she shouted, “What?! Why would you put your things in with mine?!”
Mild dread licked at the bottom of my stomach. I don’t know. Inexperience with being checked for weapons or drugs? The officer watching, but never voicing different protocol? A simple mistake? All three.
“It was a mistake. I rarely go through these things,” I answered her, my hands speaking for my nerves and eyes looking toward the officer, who was slightly perking up at our exchange.
I gathered the keys up, twisting the lanyard about my fingers anxiously and stared at the nearly empty bin for a second. A frown etched its way across my hesitant features, “Excuse me, but I had a cellphone here.”
The accusatory, slightly angry woman suddenly stiffened beside me, but made no move to leave. She placed one hand on her hip, and rested the other casually on the conveyor belt. The officer picked up the basket, rifled through its meager offerings, and blinked at me in silence.
I cleared my throat, unnerved by the lack of vocal response, maintaining eye contact with the police officer, “I cannot find my cellphone. I placed it in the basket before stepping through the scanner.”
Again, the woman ahead of me spoke. She turned to me and barked, “Are you sure you had a cellphone?”
The frown deepened, defined itself more. “Yes,” I said firmly and stoically, “I had a cellphone in that basket.”
The officer looked between us, watching a couple of others edge away from the awkward scene. His partner spoke up to the side of us, and we turned toward a confident, melodic order, “All right, then. Since everyone else is being so quiet, let’s stand off to the side and sort this out.”
The woman repeated herself, “Hmmm, you sure you had a phone?”
Why was she still standing here? No. I fabricated this entire scenario. The questions and sarcasm played on loop in my thoughts.
“Yes, I definitely left a cellphone there. I could tell you the make, model, assigned phone number. We can call it, if you would like,” I softly muttered to suppress the growl that wanted to escape. Why did she ask me that again?
The woman looked to either side, at both officers, and slowly withdrew my property from within her pocket.
Internally, the spark of registered shock poked and prodded. A monster slithered through my veins, but I fought it down. Thankfully, my face held a neutral expression. The officers’ eyes widened, but their postures slackened. They would not accuse her of anything. She was being honest and there was no proof that she held intent for theft. I recovered the phone and not wanting my uncertain suspicions to betray tone, gave a simple nod in gratitude.
An accident? Still possible. It is better to believe in the goodness and fallibility of humanity than to drudge up hard conclusions about a stranger. Reader, you can be certain that an unassuming bag will be placed into the scanner next time. The basket will never be used again.
Posted in The Meaning of it All | 1 Comment »
As posted on PostSecret on January 10, 2010
Mother always assaulted my childhood with an earnest, ongoing plea, not only in words, but actions. Her ultimate lesson was akin to, “Complete your education. Follow your dreams. Pursue a solid career. Never, ever depend on a man to provide for your needs – I won’t have you dependent on anyone else but yourself.”
So, always being quite studious, that particular lecture was not left unheard. I listened and learned it well. Education? Nearly done. A wall of honors. Whispers of such potential swarming around me by respected professionals, urging me to go even further than my intended aspirations. Check. Solid career? Well, not off to a shabby start. Currently climbing the ladder and determined to keep on rising. Excellent evaluations, thus far, though feeling rather personal insecurity in my age. Check. Self-sufficient in financial matters? Oh, a definite check.
Isn’t this what all of the Rosie Riveters worked toward? Isn’t this what all of the Susan B. Anthony’s yearned for, fought for? Women Rights. The right to divorce and to choose a spouse without being treated like chattel. The right to work. The right to ownership of property and voting. An equal say and still battling a slightly imbalanced pay rate. The ability to take maternity leave without risk of peril to one’s job position. The ability to be valued for one’s mind and obtain a first-class education and actively put such degrees to use.
Still, the notion of choosing to halt all of those options and stay at home is tempting. Exhilarating, but seemingly against societal norms. The thought of my children, offspring who do not even exist, who may never be born even, being sent off to the care of others while I work, is worse than any dull, rusty blade digging into my belly.Yet, so is the disdain or disbelief others would express at me giving up my aforementioned potential for future success. A dual-income is almost a necessity, with the standard of living expected these days, with achieving a lifestyle I would wish and hope for any kids I might bear and raise. With college costs on the rise. A mortgage. Car payments. Groceries. Basic necessities for minimal comforts. Personal toiletries and such. It’s impossible.
I will not give up who I love in pursuance of money. And we will never be rich. Our career plans do not foresee much fortune. But, they do promise a boon of contentment and satisfaction.
Maybe it can be done.
Posted in Future Aspirations | Leave a Comment »
Error: Please make sure the Twitter account is public.
|
last.fm pandora
