Three month reflection


(Photo taken 04/09/14 from a friend’s apartment in Little Italy)

I have been in this new city for three months and after a short series of unfortunate events, it has made me question if it was a mistake leaving home. And then I realized how ridiculous that sounded and reassured myself that I regret nothing. I may not have any income, (as I slowly deplete into my savings), and I may be crashing on a couch in the city, and I may not have the slightest idea of what I’m doing, but I’ll take this over the alternative. The alternative, of course, being preparing for Cinco de Mayo at a Mexican restaurant and daydreaming of getting out of my comfortable life.

Alright, no need to sugar coat it, I’m just going to lay it all out there. I have absolutely no fucking idea what I am doing. Finding a job has proven to be far more difficult than I imagined (although I did have a job just shy of two weeks before quitting, but I won’t get into that). I am basically a lost bird who left the nest and is flying from branch to branch. I have no idea what a home is as I am bouncing from guest room, to guest couch, to wherever I can sleep. Some days, I break down in tears at how unbelievably home sick I get. I’ve weened off of my medication and now all my neurotransmitters are back to being all out of whack. And I’ve met a boy who I may or may not have developed these things called “feelings” for and I have no idea what to do with them (aaand I hope he’s not reading this because I’ll be embarrassed).

But like I said, I don’t take any of this back for anything.

Half the battle is trying something different…it doesn’t work for all and that’s not a bad thing. The fact that you tried is SO awesome and admirable!… From my point of view, you ROCK for having tried it!!!

My old manager, mentor, and friend said that to me the other day as a reassurance that I did the right thing. It may not feel like it at the moment, but my time here is far from over. On my worst days, I want nothing more than to pack up my things and go back home. But on my best days, I reflect on how I was able to see and do things that I never even thought were possible. I think back to a year ago when I was struggling to graduate school, and after all the times I almost gave up, I still managed. I think back to all my hardest days and how I was able to get through them. And with that, this is no different.

So, in conclusion, I’ve been here for three months, still have no idea what I’m doing, and deal with some days that are shitty, but rejoice in the days that made this all worth it. Hopefully, I’ll have something more exciting to share next time :|

[04/10/14; 5:25pm]

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Do I Wanna Know- Artic Monkeys

Have you got colour in your cheeks?
Do you ever get that fear that you can’t shift
The type that sticks around like summat in your teeth?
Are there some aces up your sleeve?
Have you no idea that you’re in deep?
I dreamt about you nearly every night this week
How many secrets can you keep?
‘Cause there’s this tune I found that makes me think of you somehow and I play it on repeat
Until I fall asleep
Spilling drinks on my settee

(Do I wanna know)
If this feeling flows both ways?
(Sad to see you go)
Was sort of hoping that you’d stay
(Baby we both know)
That the nights were mainly made for saying things that you can’t say tomorrow day

Crawling back to you

Ever thought of calling when you’ve had a few?
‘Cause I always do
Maybe I’m too busy being yours to fall for somebody new
Now I’ve thought it through

Crawling back to you

So have you got the guts?
Been wondering if your heart’s still open and if so I wanna know what time it shuts
Simmer down and pucker up
I’m sorry to interrupt. It’s just I’m constantly on the cusp of trying to kiss you
I don’t know if you feel the same as I do
But we could be together if you wanted to

(Do I wanna know)
If this feeling flows both ways?
(Sad to see you go)
Was sort of hoping that you’d stay
(Baby we both know)
That the nights were mainly made for saying things that you can’t say tomorrow day

Crawling back to you (Crawling back to you)

Ever thought of calling when you’ve had a few?
‘Cause I always do
Maybe I’m too busy being yours to fall for somebody new
Now I’ve thought it through

Crawling back to you


–> This song is so relevant right now that I can’t even handle it.

Response to- Writing Challenge: Writerly Reflections

This is my first time doing a daily challenge. This challenge wants us to think back to how and when we fell in love with writing, so I thought sure why not.


I can’t quite pinpoint an exact moment on when I realized that I loved writing. What I do remember is that I was in the sixth grade and during Christmas time, a close friend of mine gave me this fuzzy pink journal. My first thought was, what the hell am I supposed to do with this? Little did I know at the time how useful it turned out to be. Fast forward fourteen years and endless diaries/journals/blogs later, I owe it all to that journal and how it was the start of something great.

During grade school, I was not the stereotypical Asian, as I was failing math classes and passing my English/writing classes with A’s on top of A’s. Before the time of iPhones and tablets, my friends and I would pass notes to each other during passing periods. Filled with teenage angst and battling puberty, what was there really to talk about besides how much we hated our parents and how cute that boy who sat behind us in science class was? Regardless of the topics we covered, those were times where we were able to share our deepest desires without having to worry about the amount of “likes” we could generate.

From an academic standpoint, my teachers praised me for my writing. I think the thing I liked about writing was that it not only came easy to me, but it was a release. Writing was the complete opposite of math, where there was usually only one correct answer, but different ways to get there. And although we dreaded writing essays on books that we skimmed through, writing taught us that there was no right or wrong answer. Instead, it made us analyze a topic and forced us to prove the reader why what we were discussing was true and valid.

One of my proudest moments in high school came in the tenth grade when I won an essay contest. All, or most, tenth graders at the time were required to write an essay about “When Not to Keep a Secret.” Mine was about knowing someone who wanted to commit suicide, but I was not a fan of the paper, so I threw it away. A couple months later, I found out that my essay was the winning essay of school, and one of four in the county. My English teacher, crazy ol’ Ms. Nixon, was so proud of me that she gave me an automatic A+++. Of course everyone asked to read my essay after this, and I had to tell them that I discarded it.

I wish I could say why I really threw the essay away. I think I was so discouraged when I found out about other students who turned essays in, students who had 4.0+ GPAs. Typical me, beating myself up, I thought there’s no way I could compete with these guys; this essay is horrible. Well, I was wrong. But this comes to show that our biggest critic is no one but ourselves. For whatever reason, we are convinced that no matter how good we think we are, there is always someone better. I guess that’s just the battle of a perfectionist.

Anyway, where am I going with this? I think I lost track as my mind trailed elsewhere. Back to writing– my teachers were impressed, my friends loved my stories and told me I should write a book one day, and my journals knew me better than anyone else. My favorite type of writing is non-fiction, and it’s usually about love, or lack there of. Heartbreak was the greatest inspiration from my writing, because I knew it all too well. At a young age, I was constantly searching for love. Falling for boys who were no good for me was my forte. Being so intense with my feelings, when I fell for a boy, I fell hard. When my first boyfriend broke up with me, he said “You’ll never find anyone better than me. I was the best thing to ever happen to you.” A year later, I made him eat those words when he tried to ask me out again. We were young and I thought I loved him, but unlike him, I grew up. And every boy that came after him was infinitely greater than he was. And every boy who walks into my life makes a great story (How very Taylor Swift of me, I know).

In conclusion, I write to release all my emotions that are bottled up. I write to entertain. I write to share my stories so that others can relate. I write to help me figure out life. And most importantly, I write for me.


Reading back on this, I’m not even sure if I answered the prompt or not. And my mind may or may not have been just scattered all over the place. Whoops.

[03/24/14- 7:00pm]

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The one that got away.

All I do is write love stories and they’re never about the same two guys. This one is a bit different. The writing style is a very different. Not much editing– just spilling my heart out. And there is some cussing, so if you’re not into that, sorry.

I remember when we first met. And how you pretended like I didn’t exist. And how I was oddly into that. And I remember the first time you hugged me. Just because you felt like it. And how I thought you were weird because you were. But I remember that smirk. That stupid half-assed sorry excuse of a smile on your face. But I remember because when you actually smiled, the butterflies fluttered. And I don’t know how it happened. Because it came at the worst time possible. But it did. And I fell. But the butterflies would come and go. On some days, you smiled. And on other days, you didn’t. And on those days, I did the same. I remember those games that you played. And how you told me it wasn’t a game. That you did care. That you didn’t want to hurt me. And I remember how I believed you. Because I so badly wanted to. And I remember how this went on for years.

I remember when you first told me about her. About how she was going to be the one that you ended up marrying. And I remember how much it broke my heart. To hear you say that. But I smiled. And I remember our first kiss. And how it was a long time coming. That the anticipation made it worth the wait. I remember the way you looked at me. And how no one ever looked at me the way that you did. I remember when you said that you loved me. And how you were probably drunk and didn’t mean to say it and don’t even remember. But I do. I fucking do. Because a girl doesn’t forget when a boy tells her that he loves her. And I remember how guilty I felt because I was with someone else. Above all, I remember how happy you made me. But I also remember how crazy you drove me. But you got me. Like no one else got me. And we would just sit there and stare at the fucking stars. And talk about the moon. And the universe. And life. And us. And how we would’ve never worked out.

I remember. I remember it all and I wish that I didn’t because I don’t have you. And I never did. And it fucking sucks. And it hurts. And it tears me apart because I still see you everywhere. And I hear your voice. And I think about what could’ve been but never happened. Timing was never on our side. And there was nothing that we could do about that. And our time was up. That, I remember. I remember.


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The 2014 MLB Fan Cave Dwellers are announced and…

Image… the list does not include me. WOMP WOMP. Congrats to those who made it, though!

I don’t know if I really stood a chance, but there was a tiny glimmer of hope in me that thought that there was a possibility. I am bummed that I didn’t make the cut, but what bothers me more is how they went about this process. When I submitted my application, there was fine print that read:

Sponsor will post on the Judges’ selection of Submissions (the “Semi-Finalist Submissions”) that have the highest overall combined scores, as determined in the Judges’ sole discretion, based on the Judging Criteria. fans will have the opportunity to vote for their favorite Semi-Finalist Submissions (“Fan Vote”). The Judges will consider the Fan Vote and overall combined scores on the Judging Criteria to select the top Submissions (the “Finalist Submissions”)… On or about February 28, 2014, the Judges will announce a minimum of three (3) winning Finalist Submissions (the “Winning Submissions”).

None of the previous statement happened. I understand that in previous years, there were ~50 semi-finalists selected, then put up for a fan vote, followed by 30 finalists who were sent to Spring Training. This year, they were sneaky and inconspicuous about the whole process, leaving a lot of us in the dark. Those we weren’t selected finally got a notice of rejection, oh you know, just 18 days after hanging on a thin thread.

Apparently, MTV2 teamed up with MLB Fan Cave as a collaboration, but it appears as if MTV2 just took over. And I don’t have a problem with MTV, as I am a fan myself and seeing the two worlds of MTV and baseball collide sounds amazing to me. It’s just that I wish I knew that was the case when I applied. As far as I was concerned, I applied to be an MLB Fan Cave Dweller, not an MLB Fan Cave Dweller x MTV2 show personality. Otherwise, I would have prepared myself more to impress MTV as it seems that they were responsible for most of the selection. It’s always important to know your audience.

So, now that I’m left a little bitter from this, maybe I shall refuse to watch their new show, “Off the Bat,” but I won’t. I can’t resent MLB Fan Cave, as the experience of applying alone, left me with some new friends on Twitter. This also means that I get to stay in Chicago and seek out what I really came out here to do. I know that I said MLB Fan Cave was Plan A, but if there was a letter before A in the alphabet, that’s what it would be. The Fan Cave was more of a dream and something that would’ve been nice to have happened, but be fine with if I wasn’t selected. Always looking for a silver lining, this means I get to attend baseball games at one of the oldest and most historic ballparks (despite the team’s reputation), I will be able to fly back home to visit when convenient, and I can get a real start of my career out here. This was not a complete loss, but more of the motivation that I needed to get my priorities straight– a much needed reality slap.

Oh, and there’s always next year ;)

[3/19/14- 3:31pm]

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I have short red hair now.

I have short red hair now.

Now that I’m back to short hair, that means no dating guys who have longer hair than me (I have a thing for guys with long hair. I.e. Jared Leto). But wait, then I remember that my dating life is non-existent and the closest thing I’ve had to a date is with the television screen.

Also, after 24 years, my hair is no longer virgin. I am officially a red head ;)

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Ten things that happen when you drink.


As a forward, you don’t need me to tell you what happens when you drink. I’m sure there are pictures and stories from your friends that you probably don’t want to be reminded of. Well, this list includes some of mine and things I’ve witnessed. Carrying on…
I’m not really a fan of drinking and I don’t need to drink in order to have fun. Unfortunately, I come from a family of drinkers and currently live with people who have an alcohol tolerance level that is infinitely greater than mine. So once it’s drinking time, one shot somehow turns into ten, and I’ve become this person that I am not too fond of when usually sober.

1. You get rosy.
In my case (because Asians lack the metabolism that breaks down the alcohol), I get red. I’m talking beet red and only one shot in. This is followed by questions such as, “Why are you so red?” or “Are you drunk, already?” Sure, one shot and I’m completely inebriated.

2. You like everyone– especially those you don’t usually talk to.
For some reason, alcohol convinces you that it’s a good idea to talk to people that you don’t normally talk to. Whether it be complete strangers, people you don’t even like, or ex-boyfriends(the worst!), suddenly you want to be their best friend.

3. And in some cases, you like people a little too much…
Sometimes you end up in bed with someone that you just met… which is followed by regret the next morning. We’ve all been there…

4. You think you’re Beyoncé.
You want to sing Beyoncé songs and dance Beyoncé dances because you, in your state of mind, think that you can sing and dance just like her. One time, I found myself at a small bar in Brooklyn, NY singing “Irreplaceable” and moving my hips, channeling my inner Beyoncé. The best part is that everyone else is drunk too and cheering you along in support of your efforts, that may or may not be a fail, of mimicking Queen B herself.

5. You wish you could document EVERYTHING.
Is it fear that you’ll wake up the next day and forget, or is it because you think you’re having SO MUCH FUN that everyone has to see it and be envious of you? This of course means countless tweets, Instagram pictures, check ins, and Snapchats that your friends do not even care about.

6. You are a glass case of emotion.
And if you are like me, you already are on a daily basis, so this is just heightened. You hear something funny and it is the funniest thing you have ever heard. Someone says something insulting and you are immediate waterworks. And in extreme cases, you’ll fight someone for giving you a dirty look.

7. You’re suddenly very hungry.
After a few hours of drinking and dancing, food sounds good right about now. Mexican, preferably. My go to was carne asada fries from a 24 hour taco shop when I was back home, but now it’s this 24 hour Chinese restaurant in Chinatown. In most occasions, the food isn’t even good– it’s just food that happens to be there, and suffices your appetite.

8. It sounds like an EDM concert in your head.
Maybe it’s just me, but my head throbs with sounds of UNTZ UNTZ UNTZ and it’s just awful. This is not appealing to me when sober and definitely not when drunk.

9. You try to sneak off to go take a nap.
Sleep is all that is on your mind and you can’t wait for the precious moment of your head hitting the pillow. At my 21st birthday party, I tried to sneak away from the party and attempted to fall asleep in the bed of my friend’s truck. My cousin found me and then I fell trying to get out of the truck. All a girl wanted to do was sleep!

10. You wake up and tell everyone, “I am never drinking again!”
… Just a complete and utter lie because someone is throwing a shot of Hennessy in your face before you can even finish the sentence and it’s round two all over again. “After tonight, I’m never drinking again!”

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