Look Back

Society is wickedly bent out of shape with its hyped up ideals about ‘letting go’! While I concede that it’s quite irrelevant to dwell on an entity that cannot be changed, it’s perfectly okay to think/talk/laugh about it! Why must we be so eager to ‘let go’ and ‘not look back’?

And how does this pertain to me? Because I haven’t been able to make peace with my [borderline mentally unhealthy] emotions ~ resulting in a guilt that has already begun to fester within me. I can only be thankful that I have enough willpower and common sense not to let said emotions drive me insane.

What I feel today, right now ~ I cannot change. These emotions are the vehicle which will move me into the person that I will be tomorrow.

"So you left your job?"

“What’s next for you?”

*CUE DEFENING SILENCE NOW*

Soul searching is my natural modus operandi. I’m never afraid to analyze or admit to anything. I never pretend to reflect the state of the average 22 year old woman, and have enough self security to state that I am not the mirror image of a contemporary alpha female.

So when faced with the above-question (on more than one occasion within the recent days might I add), how is it that I still can’t bring myself to say “I’m not exactly sure” without feeling as though my self worth is in a steep decline and downward trajectory?

I’m doing it all with gusto – moving forward and trying to have fun in the process. But still, there’s a vast and black-hole infested gap between spending my time wisely and spending my time wisely and getting paid ish-loads of greenbacks!

I remain optimistic. All I can do is send out a gajillion copies of my resume in hopes that a great company is in need of a sleep deprived college grad who speaks broken Tagalog. I found a great listing in the Times the other day ~ unfortunately, I do not speak fluent Hebrew. Damn.

In terms of job-seeking, I am committing the equivalent of The Full Monty starting tomorrow. I mean, I’m gonna be no-holds-barred man. So to the club of early-twenty-sum Asian American professionals, pull a chair out for Rowena ~ because here the ---- I come.

I Didn't Wanna Have To

With a slue of worldly experiences, it’s quite peculiar that I still haven’t mastered the art of moving beyond my physical attachments.

I’ve been sitting here for minutes mentally debating on whether or not I was going to write about London ~ and how it’s been one year. Even now, as I start to write about my thoughts on the experience, I feel a bit guilty that I’m making you read about it all over again.

In typical Rowena fashion, I’d make a top 10 list of my favorite Euro-memories, accompanied by my top 10 favorite Euro-photos. But since my experience there was frickin lovely without say, I’m going to write about Will instead.

London was straddling a cold October night, and the three of us piled on layers of clothing and winter accessories to make the five minute walk to the children’s hospital behind our flat. We washed our hands, took a deep breath, and there he was ~ Will Shin ~ so tiny and half asleep. As small as he was, he intimidated me ~ so fragile, so untouchable. So I lightly brushed his face and arm, and even sang to him a bit. Yeah, I cried. How could I not? He was premature and fighting for his life. It was then I realized the strong soul in Will, because even though all he did was lie there in his bed, he had the power to make me forget that my heart had been shamed just days before.

The story has a happy ending. Will and company are moving to America on Wednesday. I owe this post to him because I just finished reading Phil’s (Sandy’s brother and Will’s dad) post about saying goodbye to London ~ and well, what can I say, it struck a cord.

The #1 thing I learned was… to take way too many pictures.


Photo: Norma, Helen, and I leaving Cambridge.

Coldplay Owns Me

Photo: If you squint one eye and widen the other...

As expected, Chris Martin was bloody genius. Being in the same venue with the bloke was surreal! Irvine Meadows isn’t a big venue to begin with, so regardless of our boondawg lawn seats, I could still make out the cute, adorable, want-to-put-him-in-my-pocket lead singer.

They were unbelievable live! And when the first several notes of 'In My Place' (my favorite Coldplay song) projected through those loud speakers, a slue of unforgettable memories came bellowing back.

Twas great to hear a British accent again! Best birthday present. Thanks Darryl.

Intercultural Programming

Not to delve into my personal life (again), but recent events forced the wheels in my head to burn rubber all day. I met someone last night. No one special, just someone who’s eyes caught mine across the room. Although we hit it off right away, a more sober version of myself had different thoughts on the entire night come this morning. Overhearing him chatting with my girlfriend about their cultural commonalities (they are both the same ethnicity) made me wonder ~ can two people who are mildly attracted to one another really look past the ethnic differences that are a common encouragement for other people to date within their own race (when both individuals are extremely passionate about their own cultures)?

The idea of interracial coupling is becoming extremely paradoxical. Granted, the idea of one person who is willing to look past everything he doesn’t understand about you is quite enchanting. On the other hand, it would be so much easier to date someone who doesn't think eating rice for breakfast is weird.

I’ve never dated a Filipino before. I’m naturally accepting of the hybrid of two cultures (I love me them white boys). Isn’t it beautiful? In fact, interracial relationships are not at all the issue here. A more appropriate term to label this quandary would be intercultural relationships. It’s hard to compromise with someone who is super-dooper pro “his culture”. There’s absolutely nothing wrong with this. But it gets to the point where you cross your heart and hope to bjeezus that his pride doesn’t make you cringe. Pride is good, but too much is just that ~ too much.

It’s a really scary thought isn’t it? All our lives we are taught to be proud of who we are, and accepting of others at the same time. Sounds easy, right? I used to talk to someone who is the same race as this guy and it was so much easier because he didn’t always talk about “his culture”. It's an unfair comparison (I know) because one night with this bloke really didn't give me a chance to learn a lot about him. But still...

For egotistical purposes (and peace of mind), I’m really glad I’m the one whose number he wanted. My decision on whether or not I want this great looking guy to actually call me is still pending. The whole ‘cultural’ mumbo-jumbo was a bit of a turn-off. (UPDATE* he ended up being totally lame.) Anyway, here’s to hoping that the next few years go by relatively slowly. I’m going to soak in every last drop of my fertile youth before it is stolen by a future relationship.

UPDATE* I'm reminded of my Korean guy friend in Riverside who, while madly head over heals for his Filipino girlfriend, says that at the end of the day, he'll end up with a Korean girl. I guess I understand, but am very perplexed... what happened to love conquers all?

Happy Birthday Daddy!

Photo: My dad and I, this time last year.

Mom, Paul, and I drove out to Glendale to surprise dad at his office. The look on his face was priceless! He was so proud to have the entire family unit present, and he made this evident by walking us past each office/cubicle in the building, & introducing/re-introducing us to his coworkers. I haven't been back to Glendale in nearly 16 years (and I'm amazed that dad makes that journey to and fro each day), so you can only imagine how elated and nostalgic the experience must have been for me. We drove past our old elementary school and condo. I started to tear at the thought of micro Ro running up and down that long hall and penetrating that grass! Micro Paul got his used-to-be-fatass stuck between the concrete floor and metal gate that led into the parking structure whilst in an 'all fours' position. Oh my brother. It was an amazing trip down memory lane.

I love you dad.

DHT – Listen to Your Heart

I am embarrassed that I allowed my high expectations to lead to such a high degree of widespread confusion and disappointment, turning an otherwise cool and collected young woman into an insecure and unsure little girl. How can one who seemed so perfect to me not so long ago, quickly transform into a coward seeking refuge in the miles that separate us? While I hate to admit it, I’ve been warily negotiating my feelings within the recent weeks, and have tried hard to look at this situation with understanding and acceptance. At the end of the day, I long for something to be angry at ~ to make this already prolonged process pass by a bit more smoothly. I can’t find a reason to be angry, for with the exception of this one thing, I have a harmonious and satisfying blend of family, social life, and the excitement of starting a career.

It takes more than playful messages that become widespread in timing with each passing month. Inconsistent intervals of thoughtful e-mails that feed a dying a hope for a hopeful woman aren’t cutting it anymore. Making plans and bailing out are cowardly. It’s just so difficult to look back and recall how kind and tender you’ve been ~ even if at times I made horrible decisions that may have knocked things off center. You are so giving, willing, unbelievably smart, and so very kind, so very kind. That’s what kills me.

Napa 29

We b'dazzled ourselves and made reservations at Napa 29 to celebrate Heather and Johnny's hush-hush wedding. Napa 29 is a quaint, posh, and really expensive eatery in the Riverside/Corona area. The $30 meal + wine was well worth it. Check out my egg plant tower! Awwweee yeeeaa!


Photo: Gabi, Ro, and red red wine.


Photo: Amazing eggplant dish.

23 Days Left of Being 21

A book I read last week listed several aphorisms. The one I liked the most was:

‘Don’t let go too soon. Don’t hang on too long.’

I need to part with my thoughts for a while and let the cosmos re-align. Maybe then will my mind be clear of things that I’ve had a hard time phasing out.

In other news. It's August! Not only will I turn 22 this month, and part ways with my job at ISC, but I'm also going to see Coldplay live! Chris Martin, love him. Any man who can play the piano can easily finesse his way into my heart. He wrote "Fix You" (off of the album X&Y) for his wifey Gwyneth Paltrow, and it flat out takes my breath away. Pure genius.

[In terms of leaving the above mentioned job, and finding a new one...] I think that deep down inside, I’m holding my breath for something great to happen to me. Like that great wind to sweep me off into the right direction, wherever that may be. I’m at this stand still where I have to make a decision, and quick. But I have this eerie feeling inside of me that says – I’m not ready.

London

Photo: A pic I took right after daybreak.

I almost threw up at the thought of London being bombed. The underground was our life. Kings Cross was one of our exits. The bus that was blown up was headed to Russell Square which was where I lived. My flat was around the corner. London was the best isolated four months of my mere (slightly under) 22 years on this planet... and it breaks my heart to be reminded of how evil some people can be.

Tahoe

4th of July at Lake Tahoe was great. I spent some time with my best girls at our (well, Jodi's) own private cabin and beachfront. So naturally, I felt like a complete snob all weekend. Jodi, you are the master sailor, and I thank you for not knocking me over with the boom. Arrrgh maytey.


Photo: Pubbing and Karaoke


Photo: Look at that view!


Photo: Le Big Hats

Done With School

And just like that it’s over.

Much to the relief of my peers and I, our last final exam wrapped up by the stroke of 11am on the campus bell tower last Friday. Followed by a short brunch at a neighboring Coco’s restaurant, we rejoiced over the bittersweet realization that ‘that was it’. Graduation parties commenced that night, immediately trailed by consecutive gatherings within the following 48 hours. In between all of the cake, karaoke, and getting lei’d was something I’d like to call… commencement.

Okay, the ceremony was pimp. To be frank, I enjoyed it much more than my high school graduation. Was it perhaps because I was so much more proud of myself? Was it because I was sitting next to my favorite economics study buddy Nelson? Was it because my entire family was sitting in the front of the audience cheering me on for two hours straight? Was it because I had more leis on than any other girl in the audience (that athlete Williams actually beat me, bastard). I don’t know, maybe it was because I just had my highlights redone and I was feeling really good about myself that day. Whatever the reason, my family and I had such a blast.

The student speaker was badass. I can only thank God that she made me laugh, made me sigh, and made it quick. She started the speech by finding eerily accurate commonalities between all of us students, “At the end of four years, we have all learned many valuable things that have aided us along this path. We have mastered the art of turning a two page paper into a four page paper with the use of Courier New font. We have mastered the ability to make a four course meal out of 10 for $2 ramen. We have learned how to function 24 hours on 3 hours of sleep, and we are here today because we seek more out life than just phat rims and bling bling.” - Ivory

Our key speaker was Linda David, wife of the creator of Seinfeld and current star of the hit HBO show that I’ve already forgotten the name of. She is an activist for global warming. So on her behalf, please visit this webpage: http://www.stopglobalwarming.org.

Anyway, I walked the walk and almost forgot to shake the chancellor’s hand to receive my faux diploma as a result of screaming really really loud for myself once my name was called out. What can I say, I had to laugh at myself once I realized what I had done. To sum up the greatness that was commencement: outside of the students throwing tortillas in the air during the speeches, outside of having my mortarboard on backwards for a good hour before realizing my silly mistake, outside of the few Business Econ majors in comparison to the army that was Liberal Studies, and outside of all the funny inside jokes that occurred between 5pm-8pm on Saturday evening, I want to be sure that the whole world knows that if it wasn’t for my dad and mom, Leo and Esper, who left the motherland to seek a better life for my brother and I, my life wouldn’t be as great as it is this very moment. So daddy and mom, this one goes out to you. I love you.

Thanks to everyone who came to have lunch with my family and I the following day.


Photo: I do it all for my family.


Photo: Gabi and I before graduation.

Banksy

Banksy is so freakin’ sick! No, he’s not just my favorite street artist because he’s British and I’m obsessed with all things English – but his talent is so pure and so original.

“Billboards are like having millionaires throw rocks at your head. You never asked to see them, they invade your life and make you feel inadequate. Time has come to pick up the rocks and throw them back.”

“Imagine a city where graffiti wasn’t illegal, a city where everybody could draw wherever they liked. Where every street was awash with a million colours and little phrases. Where standing at a bus stop was never boring. A city that felt like a living breathing thing which belonged to everybody, not just the estate agents and barons of big business. Imagine a city like that and stop leaning against the wall - its wet.”



And if you're familiar with his work (meaning, you are cool), you may know him as the guy who gets all 'stealth mode' and puts up his own artwork in various museums using double sided sticky tape. The goods look legit!



http://www.banksy.co.uk/

A Song Stuck in My Head

I still can't sit through this Dixie Chicks song and not think of:

m&m's, fanta, stella, the movie, have you been here all this time?, there's one over here, help me, week eleven, the white shirt, the black shirt, he's jealous?, walk with me up the stairs, moment at the speakers, big rocks, blurry photograph, markings on the calendar, see i called you, christmas trees, crying hard, text messages, fight scenes, sit by me on the steps, you guys were getting mushy, gray, you saw me sleeping, spice girls, run to the printer hurry, oh he so did that on purpose, she stormed out of the bar, he came for me, stop staring at his arms, we have to go to the bathroom, quite smitten is not spelled quiet, the perfect card, look at another picture, that was the last time i ever saw him.

Every moment was worth it.

Fun Week!

On top of celebrating Christine and Casey's birthday (twice!), and going to an Angel's game with Forbey & company (and being the only Asian there), I was lucky to have made it out to UCLA for Normacita's party.


Photo: My two favorite Bruins.

Top 20 Highlights (in chronological order):

01. Norma’s 10E directions.
02. Driving around the block 8 times to find parking.
03. Helen ready to throw down, again.
04. Seeing Norms, Maritza, and Michael Hopps.
05. Happy.
06. Seeing Michelle and Kathy.
07. Calling Jodi, Ace, and Cami.
08. Seeing Misty and Eric! Small world.
09. Kathy in a state of inebriation.
10. Hopps is my favorite.
11. Finally meeting people from Norma’s pictures.
12. Looking for frat parties at 2am.
13. Hopps' UCLA dorm room.
14. Knocking out at Norms'. Finally.
15. Waking up and eating dried out tacos.
16. Chinatown!
17. Bad waiters at the “B” restaurant.
18. Twins in their convertible.
19. The Gatorade bottle on the truck.
20. The brand new Jetta, smashed.

Postman's Park

Go buy Closer now! Stop reading this blog, go to Best Buy, and purchase the bloody movie! Why? Our park is in it! Norma, Sandy, and I were first to discover Postman’s Park in central London whilst walking to class at the Museum of London. Our fortunate misguidance led us into the serene, picturesque, and obviously movie worthy location. Empty in the mornings with the exception of construction workers (and yes, they were featured in the movie) and perkie English birds, we made the park our own. Little did we know that our weekly tiffs regarding what side of the grass to walk on took place on the former stomping grounds of both Jude Law and Natalie Portman.


Photo: Screen cap of Clive Owen and Natalie Portman.


Photo: Screen cap of Julia Roberts and Jude Law.


Photo: Screen cap of Postman's Park.


Photo: This is a pic I took of Postman's Park.

Closer's Plot: A silly girl who moves to London and somehow falls for a silly boy named Dan. Now where have I heard this story before?

While you’re at it, go buy Bridget Jones as well! BJ sites? Been there, done that. Bohra and I shopped at the famous Borough market, had a pint of Guinness at the well known Globe Pub, and took a mess of pictures in front of Bridget’s door (where Colin Firth tells her that he loves her, just as she is).


Photo: Her door is actually Globe Pub's back entrance.


Photo: To the left, typical English man. So posh.

Realist?

Ever since my best friend started cheating on me with his girlfriend, our time together has been lacking. We played phone tag for three weeks until my last phone call threatening to revoke any license he had to sexually harass me resulted in dinner and some TV on Friday night. And as we got to talking about our futures, I noticed a shift in my infantile and dream-like outlook on life. I realized that we grew up, and that I've slowly been transforming into a realist. Bullocks.

Oscars

Back from Vegas in time for the Oscars.

Let us partake in a moment of silence to comprehensively appreciate the beauty that is Natalie Portman. Phenomenal, as though she's fled from the pages of Greek history. I am perfectly okay with the fact that she did not win an Oscar for best supporting actress for her role as Alice Ayres in Closer. She’s young, her time will come. In the interim, silence.

Valentine

No matter how many times my fragile heart may break, and no matter how many times someone slips through my fingers, I still feel that love is so underrated.

From London to LA

Helen and I made the trek up to Goleta for a play date with Jodi, one of our closest girlfriends (and Helen's former roommate) from London. The weekend was, needless to say, mind numbingly out of control. It coincided with a mini-reunion of all folk Bedford, hosted by the lovely Stephanie of flat 14.


Photo: Ro, Jodi, and Helen


Photo: Sarah, Blair, and Jeremy

And in the spirit of all things London, I leave you with the last of London: photos from our last romp through the Ministry of Sound. I have to laugh a little bit when I look at these photos. Take notice at how the hottest two pictures of the night were taken with a 35mm camera. Vintage, very vintage.


Photo: Lovely ladies at Sarah and Bohra's flat.


Photo: I'm molesting poor Dan.