Rockin' With the Folks

When my brother asked if it would be worth it to shell out some bucks for the Paul McCartney concert, I told him it was the closest we'd ever come to hearing the Beatles perform live. Of course YES!

Knowing that the Beatles were our parents' favorite band, we decided to treat them to the concert at the Hollywood Bowl. Somehow we all managed to make it there on time, amidst the horrific traffic and congestion at the Bowl entrance itself. (Over a decade of attending events at the Hollywood Bowl, and yet they still haven't figured out a solution to the gridlock in the area?!)

Sir Paul was so spectacular, he needed no opening band. The man played nearly 3 hours straight, with more than half of the songs from the Beatles repertoire. Wheeeee! At 67, he's older than my dad and in better shape than any of us. He either played the guitar or piano for every song he sang. Did I mention the awesome pyrotechnics?

The former hippies were also all out in full arm swaying glory for his 70's Wings stuff. The best part? When my parents asked my brother, "Why does it smell like skunk out here?"
Replied my brother, "That's not skunk. It's marijuana."

A fun family outing indeed.

Things You Don't Think You Need...

Until you actually need them.


This ranks up there as one of the best inventions ever. I haven't personally been sprayed by a wee baby boy, but I've heard stories of those unexpected fountains. Hopefully my cousin will be getting plenty of use/blockage from this cute little gift.

When I showed my brother, he was horrified.
"Dude, if a kid sprayed me while I was changing a diaper, I'd be like, 'I'm OUT! That's it. No mas."
My sentiments exactly.

Slackers, Generation X, Y, Z, or the Funemployed. Call It What You Will

To all those people who keep asking me in that disdainful tone of voice "So... what is it that you do all day?" or "are you looking for a job yet?"

Dude, I'm just part of a national trend. Suck it.

My brother's retort? "Lazies."

A Letter From My Goddaughter

My goddaughter handed me this card before I left for the day, with clear instructions to not open it till I got home. She even tucked it into my purse for me as a special surprise.You should click on the picture and see the letter for yourself because I can't do it justice. It's a combination of her curiosity, randomness, and cuteness all rolled into one. Them eight year olds sure are smart. And listen in to everything you talk about with their parents...
In case you can't read the letter very well, here's what it says:
Dear Auntie (Whatchamacalit),
Sorry for not writing to you for a long time. I am glad you came. Why did you want to get lade off.
Love, (Sweet, curious, eight year old goddaughter)

Little Girls and Basketball

After a six month absence, I was on track to becoming a deadbeat godmother. Yesterday, I finally spent a day with my second family, starting with attending my goddaughter's basketball game around noon.
I used to love watching my younger brother's soccer and basketball games when we were kids. What better than watching a horde of little kids run around in circles, while frustrated adults try to instill concepts of offense and defense to an audience more concerned with what flavor Gatorade juice drink they'll get after the game?
I forgot how intense parents and coaches can get. It was an Asian league, so the parents were relatively subdued compared to the games I grew up watching. However, the coaches were yelling things like "BOX THEM OUT, ladies!" "Find a man! "(to guard presumably... or else we'd have a whole slew of other issues going on.) All I could think was Dude, they're SEVEN. Just chill. I mean the final score was something like 12 to 6 and the basketball was bigger than their heads. One little girl let out an "URGHHHHH!" every time she hurled the basketball into the air to attempt a basket. Actually, I think it helped her because she was the leading scorer for the opposing team.
In the end, my goddaugher's team lost but they did have fantastic snacks. Seaweed wrapped rice with egg and ham in the middle. Japanese snacks sure beat American ones. At the game, I also bonded with my 4 year old godson by playing video games on our IPhones together. That kid can work his dad's phone better than I know how to operate mine.
By the time we got back to their place, it was pathetically group nap time for the adults while the kids played on their own quietly. I remember when it used to be the other way around. Gosh they're growing up fast.

Kids, Artists, and Herding Cats

This week, I had the privilege of visiting my cousin and observing her teach her 3rd grade class. It's been a long time since I've been around a group of kids, and even longer still since I had a taste of teaching eight year olds. While it was tons of fun to relive 3rd grade and see how everything seems so magical and wondrous through their eyes, the visit left me thinking that things don't change too much as adults.

Similarities between managing a bunch of artists and managing a bunch of eight years olds:

1) You have to keep an eye on them. Or else they wander off and do their own thing. Seriously, it's like herding cats. It was always an effort getting more than three artists together for a meeting in one place at the same time.

2) They need a lot of attention. One kid came up to me and proceeded to show me the contents of his backpack, including a disposable plastic poncho and a pen that folds up and lights up. One of the artists once accused me of not paying enough attention to her in terms of producer/artist ratio of time. Wha???

3) They need a lot of validation. The kids continuously came up to my cousin's desk to show her their work in progress and ask repeated questions. And she patiently smiled at each of them and offered up encouraging words of praise. I have to say the same kind of grin shows up on my coworkers' faces when you tell them they're kicking ass and way ahead of the other guy.

4) They try to get away with stuff. Two of the kids tried to hide their math tests and not turn them in. Much like artists who try to lay low and hope that people won't notice that certain things weren't done.

Differences between managing a bunch of artists and managing a bunch of eight years olds:

1) Hopefully, you get paid more to manage the non eight year olds

2) Most of the time, you can outsmart the eight year olds.

3) You're still physically bigger than the eight year olds. I guess if all else fails, you can pick them up and hurl them? Er, transport them elsewhere like the principal's office?

I may need a return visit for research purposes soon!

You and your muddy paws

One of the longstanding pet peeves I have with the bf is that he grew up in a culture where one doesn't take off his/her shoes at home - instead, tracking in whatever delightful concoction of urban debris of the day from the outside INSIDE. He's gotten better at taking off his stinky shoes when he comes home. I in return have gotten less anal about him taking a step or two into our abode with said stinky shoes. (I just have to vacuum more.) However, it's not until you're around your own brethren again that you realize, hey, it's not just me. I'm not weird!

The other night, the bf and I stopped by my brother's place to pick up some laundry I left there. I asked my brother if I could take a step on the carpet to grab the laundry and he retorted, "What are you, an animal?!" I couldn't stop laughing. And the bf? He responded with "That's why I'm not moving and just standing right here in the doorway!"

There Are No Losers

Conversation between the bf and my brother, as he's driving us back home from the airport after the Seattle trip.

BF: "Oh I taught your sister how to play hacky sack today up in Seattle."
Brother: "Cool. How do you play?"
BF: "You just kick this little bean bag ball up in the air and pass it around in the circle."
Brother: " How do you win?"
BF: "Uh, you don't really win. The goal is just to have everyone in the circle be able to touch it at least once without letting it hit the ground."
Brother: "I don't get it. There's no winning? There's no winner?"
Me: (Laughing) "Not every game has to be a competition!"
Brother: "Then how do you decide who loses? I can't comprehend this."

Oh Boy Part 2

I meant to follow up this first post with another one immediately the day after. And then things kept going up and down like a roller coaster or the Hollywood Tower of Terror Ride at California Adventure. I never knew when to write - when things were going really well or when things sucked. Which changes week by week, day by day. Go figure.

It's been nearly six months and frequently, I'm still stunned. Milestones are knocking me on the head left and right.

1) Told the parents

A couple of weeks ago, he came with me for my dentist appointment. The dentist and the dental hygienist have known me since I was ten and I realized my mom would murder me if she heard from our dentist about the bf before she heard about it from me. So after delaying the inevitable, I casually mentioned him over dinner and the parents took it well without asking more then a dozen questions and a request for a picture.

Flobelly, a fellow Cantonese chick married to a sweet white boy from Ohio (or is it Iowa? I swear I always get those mixed up) put it into perspective for me before I spilled the beans. She merely said "it only gets harder. That will be the easiest part. Wait till the parents meet him and then both parents meet. Awkward...." Eek.

2) Met his family and friends

The trip up north to Seattle was an eye opening experience in many ways. But the most important thing is that I met nearly all of his friends, including his best friend and his mom. So daunting considering that between them both, they've met everyone he's ever brought around. Including the ex-wife and apparently some girl who announced she was Wiccan. Huh.

3) Slowly but surely, we're being outed to the work peeps

Work is hard enough as it is, but having a relationship with someone you work with adds a new dimension of complexity. At first I was really stressed about the fact that technically he reports to me in a way, and that legally that was a big no-no. However, then I realized our company is pretty informal, that's there's like five couples already and the only person who would try to use this against me is the Tool. And even then I pride myself on being completely professional throughout the years, no matter who my work friends were or what stupid guy was treating me poorly. The Tool has got nothing on me.

Plus when the bf let slip to his seatmate that we went up to Seattle together, then mistakenly IMed his seatmate instead of me to give me the heads up, he had to go, "well, now you know." And our coworker merely responded, "yeah, it was no secret." It's almost liberating.

So, the families know. The friends know. The work folks know. Hell, my dentist and the dental hygienist knows. They even gave him a toothbrush. And this sounds kinda bad, but all I can think of is man, if this doesn't work out it is gonna be hell to disentangle and shake off.

Oi To The World

Somehow, I've made it to Christmas day without pulling out all my hair. Cards were sent out, gifts wrapped, gifts opened, parties attended, friends visited, and time spent with boy.

AHHHHHHHHH. That's me breathing a nice sigh of relief as I enjoy a window of time to myself now that food is baking in the oven and before the relatives start pouring in, in the next two hours.

It's nice to be home and sleeping for more than eight hours at a time. It was nice to sit down and have dinner with just my family on Christmas eve - the four of us - which hasn't happened in years because of sharing my brother's time with his ex. It made me downright giddily happy to stay at home with all of them watching a bad movie (Rush Hour 3 - boooooo) and being nerds by whipping out our telescope and trying to track down Mars in the backyard.

Tomorrow, I'm off to Vegas until Saturday to see my friends and meet their new baby and my brother's off to NY on Thursday until the New Year to visit his girflfriend. Family time was brief but well-cherished. Enough to get me to 2008.

Views On Marriage

I went to see my godchildren last weekend to do our usual afternoons out at the movies and then dinner with the whole family. While we were busy playing games before it was time to leave for the movie, my goddaughter turned to me and asked:

"Are you married?"
"No. Why?" I asked her surprisingly.
"Then why do you wear rings on your fingers?" she inquired.
"Oh, well you don't have to be married to wear rings," I explained. "Here you can try one of mine on too," I told her, as I took off one of my rings.
She jerked her hand away from me and screamed. "Ahhhh! Ewwwwwwwww!"

Ah the simple wishes of a seven year old...

Outed By Technology Part 2

Until the past year, I was not an avid phone text messager. It's convenient and kinda fun, but I simply cannot type so fast on a phone keypad like some of the young'uns out there. I don't think I even have a text message plan on my cell - it's probably charging me per text and I can't wait to see how that cost is coming out from all the recent exciting texting activity.

As I was replying to a certain boy's text the other night, while walking with my brother and trying not to run into a wall, other people, or my brother himself, he looked over and said "Who are you texting?"

"Um, no one." (Yeah, I'm not so slick.)

Later that night at the basketball game, I decided to divulge the fact that I was dating somebody to my brother. Strange and fascinatingly wonderful that my brother is becoming one of my closest friends as we get older.

Being my friend, he asked all the usual questions that I would ask him about his new girlfriend. Background, age, nationality, how you met, etc.
He also replied, "Yeah I figured. From all your texting." Doh. So much for subtlety.

Being my brother, however, he did have to end the conversation like this:
"I want to meet him," he said. "So I can intimidate him with my height."

Do We HAVE To Be Boring Ole Adults?

Brother: You know, a lot of people at our age stop buying birthday gifts for each other.
Me: Uh huh.
B: What do you have, like at least ten close friends you buy gifts for? That's over $300 a year at least.
Me: Um, actually more. And now everyone's got babies.
B: You guys should just agree to stop buying gifts for each other. Save that money and instead of getting something you don't want, everyone can buy something they really want for themselves.
Me: Well that's no fun. Are you saying we shouldn't get gifts for EACH OTHER?
B: No. Just for your friends. What do you want for your birthday anyway?

My brother seems to think we're too old to buy birthday gifts for our friends. Vaj doesn't want to celebrate birthdays anymore. And most people with kids know that realistically, you can't buy gifts for everybody or else you become bankrupt in a single Christmas season. Is this what being a grown-up means? Booooooooooo...

Me? I'm going to celebrate all of next month for my birthday. It's an excuse to see friends, eat well, love and be loved, and be pleasantly surprised. AND, I'm still going to buy gifts for people when I feel like it. Because buying things for other people actually makes me happy. Did I mention how much Christmas excites me? When EVERYBODY gets gifts at the same time? Eight-nine more days to go...

Labor(less) Day Weekend

In a long stretch of no work holidays until Thanksgiving, I thoroughly made the most of the Labor day weekend by mixing equal parts quality time with friends and equal parts sitting around like a log.

On Saturday, a group of us headed over to the newly renovated Griffith Observatory to enjoy the view, learn about space, and in general, hang out with one another for Jigaho's birthday weekend. Getting to the actual observatory is still quite an ordeal - you have to reserve a shuttle time online, drive out to the LA Zoo and park, catch the shuttle which takes you the longest possible way around the park and up the hill to the far end of the Observatory parking lot, and schlep over to the front desk and make sure you get tickets for the planetarium show before they sell out. We ended up staying there for hours until closing time, eating dinner at their little cafe and exploring the all new downstairs area, where you can weigh yourself at every planet's station to see how much you'd weigh, say on Jupiter. (About 400 pounds. Pooh!)

Though the live narrator's voice was extremely soothing while dramatic, I promptly fell asleep through half of the planetarium show per usual, as soon as we leaned back in our chairs and the lights went out. Maybe I'm just a gigantic nerd, but I already knew most of the stuff we were covering from all those astronomy classes I took in college and the gazillion times I read National Geographic's Our Universe cover to cover as a child. Not only did I fear spiders, monsters and the dark as a kid, I genuinely worried about supernovas and the fact that the sun would one day grow large enough to swallow Mercury, Venus and Earth in its path. Never mind that this would occur millions of years after I'd long walk this earth.

After looking at Jupiter and it's moons through the telescope, we headed back down and finished off the night with yummy milkshakes at Fred 62 in Los Feliz. Anyway, I can't wait until the hype of the Observatory dies down again and I can drive up that hill and park right in front whenever I want. I used to do that all the time and take out of town guests up there to enjoy the view and experience a piece of movie history.

On Sunday and Monday I scooped up the cat enjoyed the luxurious AC at the parents' house for the rest of the weekend, making sure to lounge in the pool for a good hour both days. I must admit, I have been spoiled with access to a private pool for almost half my life and I do feel sorry for people who never had one. It's a lot of maintenance, but oh so decadently wonderful on a hot summer day. I managed to step out twice during the weekend. Once to pick up boba teas and club sandwich making ingredients at the market with my dad, and Sunday night for Peruvian food and a movie with Bizarro twin.

Bizarro Twin took me to a hole in the wall Peruvian restaurant in the Anaheim hood, ordered our food in impeccable Spanish and proceeded to discuss ethnic stereotypes, growing up multicultural and our own perceptions of various people we've encountered. Life is never dull having her around and I often laugh out loud much more than usual. We topped off the night by watch the anti-date movie 2 Days in Paris, a movie that throws you in the midst of an angsty relationship for two days. It's directed by Julie Delpy, from the Before Sunrise and Before Sunset duo, and boy does that woman like to talk and dissect every nuance of a relationship to death. Though there are lots of funny moments in the film, we both left the movie emotionally and mentally exhausted. "I don't want to watch all this craziness much less live though it!" exclaimed Bizarro Twin. Good for us, since neither of us are remotely close to being in relationships such as the one portrayed.

On Monday night, I capped off the weekend in the best possible way. Glued to the television for two and half hours, watching the Justin Timberlake concert live on HBO, before heading back to my sauna of an apartment. Now my life is complete and I'll never have to pay to see him live in concert.

Oh Brother, Part 5

There is this wonderful McDonald's commercial from the 1980's called "Little Sister" which I cannot find though I scoured the internet for it. It pretty much sums up why I've always longed for an older brother, the idea of someone other than your dad watching out for you and protecting you throughout your childhood and then some. As much as I can't imagine life without my younger brother, I had always yearned for a big brother. So much so that when my parents asked me at age three, what I'd prefer from her pregnant belly, I requested an older brother.

As a shy, small kid who got picked on a lot, I pinned my hopes on finding a big brother to take care of me. Hey, it was better than a superhero right? At least my dreams were halfway realistic.

Anyway, 3 decades later, I've learned to somewhat take care of myself, or at least surround myself with a whole bunch of caring and tough friends. And the closest thing I have to a big brother is one of my old bosses from the mouse-eared company, who to this day seems to be able to read my thoughts and every facial twitch I make. Scary.

Instead of the foresight I could have had with men by observing a big brother's advice and dating habits, I have 20/20 hindsight from watching my younger brother's foibles and sometimes questionable rationale. When he got to junior high and I was in high school, I saw him and thought "Ah, now I get it! Why did I even bother liking boys?" When he got to high school, and I graduated on to college, it struck me in the head again. "Oh my god, they were still that immature at that age?! Sheesh. Why do I still bother liking boys?" Post college, post twenties, post heartbreak... I still look at him and wonder the same thing. If anything, I feel slightly better and encouraged. Maybe one day, it'll all catch up. Maybe one day, the hindsight will become foresight as I watch him grow up and become the awesome person I know he'll be.

Oh Brother, Part 4

Because he left for Asia for 3 weeks, straight from his friend's wedding, I didn't get to hear what went down until this past week. Apparently, not much.

"Did she go to the wedding?"

"Yeah."

"Did you talk to her?"

"No."

"Did her friends talk to you?"

"Heh. No. I guess it's too soon."

So, no he hasn't told her. Or his LA friends. In fact, he didn't tell our parents either. Until this week. And only because he had to.

"Did you tell Mom and Dad yet?

"No."

"When are you going to tell them?"

"Wednesday."

"Oh. Why Wednesday?"

"Because I'm going to Chicago for the weekend on Thursday. By the way, can I stay over at your place Wednesday night and can you take me to the airport Thursday morning and maybe pick me up Monday morning?"

When I related this whole story to my Ballet Dancer friend, she scrunched up her nose at me.

"He sounds like the guys you've dated."

Huh. Well, I guess I have no rebuttal to that. Must be some kind of cosmic balance. And I seem to have the short end of the stick.

Oh Brother, Part 3

"You have to tell her yourself." I told him. It was the only thing as his sister, as a fellow girl, that I could offer to his ex. Straightforward honesty. The courtesy and respect of finding out firsthand that her ex was already dating someone new, instead of hearing it second or third hand, especially so soon after the break-up. It would kill all hope of reconciliation - being cruel to be kind.

I believe in him strongly enough that he wouldn't cheat on his girlfriend, but I swear the boy was probably single for what? A day? A week? So much for having both their adult children still single. Yes Mom and Dad, it's still just me.

Anyway, my brother looked at me incredulously as we finished off our frozen custard on my last day there in Chicago.

"Why?!"

"Because it would suck to hear it from someone else. "

"I don't care if she hears it from someone else."

"It's like that game telephone. The story might get mangled. She might think you were cheating on her. She needs to hear it straight from you. Out of respect for your eight year relationship."

"Then I just won't tell any of my LA friends."

"Yeeeeeah, that's a plan. Is she going to your friend's wedding?"

"God, I hope not."

"What if she does? She's their friend too. You guys were together when you were both invited."

"Then I won't go!"

"You can't do that! You're in the wedding!"

Oh Brother, Part 2

I felt like a chump. After every single one of my friends knowingly said to me, "he met someone else, " I had staunchly defended my brother's honor by telling everyone "NO. He told me he didn't. AND I believe him." When he confessed otherwise, my first question wasn't "who is she?" it was a plaintive, "why did you lie to me?"

"I wasn't ready to tell anybody. I wanted to keep it separate from the breakup," he explained. "It's like you said. She wasn't the reason, just the catalyst. I had been thinking about this before business school."

Now I felt like a manipulated chump.

"I didn't want you to have a bad impression of her."

Silence.

"You have a bad impression already, don't you."

"I don't know! I'm still digesting."

"You do! You have a bad impression now!"

"Dude, I don't even know her! I'm going to sleep and digesting overnight!"

Oh Brother, Part 1

It took me awhile to digest all the new information from my brother. It's been awhile since my visit to Chicago, when on the second night, lying in the darkness, slowly drifting off to slumber, he asked me this question.

"Why is it that everyone's second question is always 'did you meet someone else?'"

"Well," I conjured, searching for the right words with the part of the brain still running its hamster wheel, "I think it's because that happens all the time. Human nature is inherently selfish, and most people don't want to be alone. I don't think they ever plan on something like that, but usually people need some sort of catalyst to end their relationships. Whether they end up with the new person or not, most people need a catalyst to help them realize that they want something else, or something more. If there's nothing majorly wrong in their current relationships, people find it hard to let go of that person in case there's nothing better out there. I've seen it happen so many times, to quite a few of my friends."

"Oh, OK, " he answered pensively, satisfied with my lengthy and wise sisterly explanation.
I let myself drift again, toward happy heavenly sleep, when five minutes later, he broke through the silence.

"Everything you just said. You're right. I met someone else."

The Art of Not Telling the Truth

Lying. It kills friendships, destroys trust, and breaks hearts. It's one thing to tell a little white lie "no you don't look fat today!", but another thing to flat out lie when asked a serious direct question. I understand avoidance and not divulging everything when not prompted. I understand poker. I understand protecting a loved one. But I don't understand looking someone in the eye and giving a false answer when asked. Maybe because I'm just not wired that way. My brain might short-circuit or severe twitching could occur.

I have a friend who constantly and not so subtlety changes the subject when he doesn't feel like answering a question. At first, I thought it was a cultural or language thing, perhaps a Swedish thing? Some days it's annoying, some days charming in a kooky kinda way. I finally realized he does that because he's a bad liar like me. Changing the subject and just avoiding the question altogether is his only defense. Of course he needs to work on those conversation segues a bit more so that he's not glaringly drawing more attention to the truth. Or nontruth.

I ended a friendship once, abruptly and without remorse, because lies were told and my sympathy manipulated. That was over ten years ago and I'm not sure I've forgiven. Or more accurately, I don't know if I care enough to even ponder forgiveness, it's that inconsequential now. All I knew is that I no longer wanted this person in my life, effective immediately.

My brother lied to me about his breakup. And tried to manipulate my feelings. Obviously I can't cut him out of my life, I adore him. And I almost understand what's he trying to do. But I'm quietly disappointed that he flat out lied to me when I asked him a direct question. It almost would have been better if he just pretended not to hear me or changed the subject to something temporarily distracting and entirely ridiculous, like baby penguins.