Category Archives: Personal

Sniff, Sniff… Sniffle

I think I’m coming down with a cold. That isn’t what this post is about, though. It’s about my childhood pets. I saw a woman walking two gorgeous lhasa apsos yesterday, and it made me miss my dogs so much!

Boomer and me

I was home alone one day, so I hung out with Boomer. We started playing house, and I gave him the pretend name of Moose. We had to retrain him to respond to ‘Boomer.’ My brother was pretty upset about that.

Benji and me

Awww, Benji. I miss him. I was 9 when we brought him home. I was 23 when he died. He was a loving dog who loved pizza. I would take him for a walk when I got home from school. We were pals. When my bedroom door was closed, he would “knock” to be let in by bumping his head on the door. He loved to play with furry toys, and he liked to stick his face in snow.

I don’t know if I’ll ever have my own pet. I considered getting a cat, but the chances of me killing it because I forget I have it are 50/50. Even though I grew up with a dog, I can’t help but see dog ownership as a daunting responsibility. So, I feel lucky that I had great pets when I was younger. I’m content with the experiences I had.

Maybe I’ll get a fish someday. For now, I’ll have to stick with a pet rock or My Pet Zombie.

Hi.

Something has happened to me over the past six months. I have become this new version of myself. It’s not necessarily my self-awareness that has led me to this conclusion. People in my life have told me that I’m different. I’m more assertive, more confident. More friendly.

I would be lying if I said I didn’t have a bit of stick-up-my-ass syndrome. Even as a little girl, I was labeled a snob (suplada for you Filipino readers out there) because I wasn’t like so totally social. I don’t have that gene that gives me the ability to smile and click with someone right away. I’m not paranoid or untrusting. I just can’t fake it. Let’s use shoes or clothes as an example. You have to try things on, see how they feel, get comfortable in them, and experience things while wearing them in order for them to become meaningful. On the other hand (and let’s go along with this clothes metaphor), I can’t judge people based on what they wear. It’s not fair for me to be emotionally and facially neutral to people I don’t quite know, yet assume that people hate me because THEY are emotionally and facially neutral. Still, I think it’s only natural to want to be around people who smile at me, say hello, and generally acknowledge my presence in some way. It’s welcoming and warm, and it puts me at ease.

I have slowly turned into the smiley girl who says hello. I blame my co-worker. She smiles and says hi to everyone, and even jokes around with random people. In return, people are super friendly toward her. Yeah, it helps that she’s cute, but it’s so refreshing to hang out with her. Here is what I have observed, and it’s kind of a no-brainer: there’s no harm in being friendly. Being friendly has changed my overall disposition. I laugh a lot more, I’ve made new friends and acquaintances, and I’m just so damn happy all the time. The days when I’m not happy, those people to whom I usually say hi notice that I’m down, and they try to cheer me up.

However, there are some people who just seem oblivious to my friendliness. Most people automatically say hello back, in the same way that “good” or “fine” is the typical response to “how are you?” regardless of how you actually feel. Some people just smile or nod. But there’s that percentage of people who don’t respond at all. It’s a little discouraging, especially if I’m saying hello to someone whom I am really eager to get to know. A discouraging moment happened today, when I saw a girl from work outside of work, said hi to her while standing right next to her, and got no reaction whatsoever. Umm… AWKWARD! My feelings are still a little bruised. Here’s the thing, though. These seemingly oblivious people who may have a hearing or social awareness problem give me a glimpse of the person that I used to be. I had many moments where I would pass someone, hear them say hi, and wonder if they were talking to me. Should I really complain that someone broke my social butterfly heart when it’s entirely possible that I have broken someone else’s social butterfly heart without even knowing it? Nope.

So, here is my unsolicited advice: Greet people and pay attention. Whether you’re walking to the restroom or trying to figure out what to get for lunch, having some awareness of the people around you is a good thing (and not just because they might mug you if you’re too much in your own world to notice). A person who says hi to you may just be saying hi to say hi. Or, maybe they want to break the ice, demonstrate that they’re approachable, or maybe —-just maybe—- they’re desperate to make a connection with you. It’s kind of that whole thing about how our best friends start out as strangers… you never know what a simple exchange of hellos can bring into your life.

Let me tell you something else about my co-worker, the one who has taught me to be more friendly and social. I liked her before I ever officially met her and long before we started working on the same team. I liked her because she often had a genuine smile on her face, and because she would smile and say hi to me when we crossed paths. That was one of the things that factored into my decision to take the new job: knowing that she was there made me feel like I already had a friend. I now consider her to be one of my closest friends, someone I can trust, and most importantly, someone who wants me to be happy and makes me laugh everyday.

“It only takes a split second to smile and forget, yet to someone that needed it, it can last a lifetime. We should all smile more often.”
- Steve Maraboli

[colon] [close parens]

Ready? OK!

DO YOU KNOW that it’s National Cheerleading Week? Oh my gosh, it is! Can you dig it? Can you D-I-G-I-T?!?

I was a cheerleader in 4th grade. Our school colors were red and white, and our mascot was the cardinal. Cardinals, you’re looking -clap- GREAT! It’s almost laughable that I was a cheerleader. Sure, I was spunky, had a lot of energy, and I had a lot of school spirit. Ahem. But I wasn’t exactly athletic. I am talking picked-last-in-gym-class levels of athleticism.

Looking back, I am really not sure why I decided to go out for cheerleading. I suppose I must have been impressed by the cheerleaders at our school pep rallies. They wore cute outfits and they always looked like they were having fun. There was something about the routines they did, how they knew when to clap, when to stomp; the motions they made with their bodies that looked complicated, but were really just simple and calculated. I suppose I thought, “I can do that. I can be peppy. I can be loud and cheerful.”

We had to learn two cheers for varsity tryouts. I practiced and I was ready when it was my turn to show off in front of the coach. I knew I did the best I could possibly have done, but I still wasn’t sure if I would make the squad. There were already a few girls who were in the squad the previous year, and only a limited number would be selected. I was elated when I saw that I made the squad and even more elated when my coach remarked that I had great jump height.

Thankfully, I didn’t have to be a super gymnast. Cheerleading for me was learning routines, staying in sync with the other girls, memorizing cheers, and committing to practices and cheering at school sports events. No pyramids, no splits, no tumbling aside from the occasional cartwheel. I loved our coach. She was laid-back, trustworthy, and helped us keep a positive attitude even when our team was losing or the opposing team’s cheerleaders were doing aerial cartwheels. (She wasn’t too happy when we bent over, lifted up our skirts, and shouted, “UP YOURS!” to the other cheerleaders at a football game that one time.)

My cheerleading days are a blur to me now. I still remember some of the cheers and routines. I bust them out from time to time, successfully creeping out anyone who is around me.

Hey! Hey you!
You really think you’re cool
You thought that you were winning
But you ran out of fuel!

You found out
That we’ve got class
It must have been confusing
‘Cause you ran out of gas!

My favorite thing about cheerleading had little to do with cheerleading. I used to ride with the same family when we drove to away games. I’m not even sure how or why I ended up riding with them. My fellow squad member was one or two grades ahead of me, and our only interaction was during cheerleading practice or games. BUT ANYWAY, my favorite thing about cheerleading is the impact it had on my music tastes. Specifically, cheerleading and riding around with that family was my introduction to the oldies. Of course, I had heard all the old songs before. The Supremes. The Beatles. Dave Clark Five. Dusty Springfield. But this experience made it different. The dad would sing along as he drove. My peers liked the music. It was such a happy car to be in. I found myself going home and setting the dial to 104.3. I would listen to it after school and dance around in my bedroom. Even if cheerleading sucked, the way it fueled my appreciation for the oldies would have made the entire experience worth it.

GoooooooooooooooOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO CARDINALS!!!!

Impression

I have been thinking a lot lately about first impressions, approaching strangers, small but memorable moments. There are vivid moments throughout my life that I remember. They lasted a minute, maybe less, but I remember everything about them.

I remember one day in high school, after lunch, I was walking in a crowded hallway. I was on the ground floor of the building, and I remember that I was wearing a skirt that day. I was a junior and he was a senior. We ended up walking next to each other. “Palpitate,” he said. I looked up at him; he was tall. “Palpitate. What does that mean? Our hearts can palpitate. Right?” He looked at me. We continued to walk side by side. “I think so,” I replied. He smiled. “Thanks,” he said, and then we parted ways.

I was on a plane with my Mom, flying back home from one of my music competitions. I was in the window seat, my Mom in the middle, and a man to her left, in the aisle seat. We got our drinks and our lunch. (Wow, remember when you would get lunch on a plane for free?) The box contained a sandwich and potato chips. The man handed the chips to my Mom. He had on headphones and he was reading a book. My Mom handed the chips to me. I looked at the man to thank him. He smiled and pointed at his book: The New Sugar Busters. I was happy to have an extra bag of chips.

I was young, maybe 10 or 11, walking back home from my Grandma’s house. It was summertime. My neighbor from across the street came out of his house and met me on the sidewalk in front of my house. He was skinny, wearing jeans and a white short sleeve undershirt. “Here you go, sweetie,” he said as he put a long cowry shell necklace around my neck. He had never really spoken to me before. I said, “Thank you.” He nodded and went back into his house. He passed away some months later. Cancer. I still have the necklace. It’s hanging on the mirror in my bedroom. I like to think that he would keep an eye on me during those summers that I was home alone.

Small moments. Lasting impressions. I can only dream that someone remembers a moment they shared with me, and that the memory brings a smile to their face.

Dysmorphia

This post isn’t about my body. It’s about my mind, my skills, my potential. It’s also about trust and confidence.

I gave a presentation at work this week. I was anxious in the week leading up to it. I feel spastic when I present. Am I talking too fast? Am I pronouncing words correctly? Do I make sense? Am I making eye contact? Will I be able to answer the questions that are asked of me? Once I started the presentation, I felt good. I knew the material really well, so that helped. Was I as prepared as I hoped I would be? No. But I got through it. I got through the whole hour. People laughed. They engaged in discussion. They clapped and thanked me. I got some immediate feedback from a few team members. Later in the day, I met with my boss and he gave me good feedback as well.

What really did me in is when my boss’s boss talked to me about the presentation. If anyone would give me constructive criticism or be frank about skills that need improvement, it would be her. I was elated when I realized that she had only good things to say. She had heard through the grapevine that I was nervous, and she asked me if that was true. I told her it was. She said she couldn’t believe it.

I suppose I never worry that I’m too full of myself. Even back in my music competition days, I won a lot of 1st prize trophies… but in my head, there had never been that perfect performance. I can always do better. Always. Thus, despite all the great feedback I got on my presentation, I can’t help but think about what I will do differently so that my next presentation is better. On the other hand, without that feedback, I would still be thinking that the presentation was a disaster that nobody enjoyed.

I don’t like soliciting feedback. It scares me. I don’t want to hear anything bad. I don’t want to be patronized. I just want the truth. And the truth can be harsh. It really can. But the truth can be amazing, and hearing what other people have to say is one of the ways that we improve ourselves. It’s how we find out what we’re good at. It’s how we open our eyes to opportunities. I look to my trusted friends and to those I respect for an honest opinion. Here’s the thing: whenever there is anything less than positive to say, it is immediately followed with advice or questions to help me be better. It’s what we should all do for one another: tell people how wonderful they are and help them to become better people.

I will admit that I avoid anyone with negative energy or anyone who makes me feel badly about myself. I think it’s a courageous thing to do: sometimes it means ending relationships with people we love. But I depend on people to tell me who I am. After all, I’m nothing if I’m not around others, making an impact on their lives. I need them to ease my anxiety, affirm my attributes, point out my flaws, and even suggest paths and actions that I would never think of on my own.

People are my mirror. I am a mirror to other people. So, listen to what people have to say, and be thoughtful with what you say to others. It matters. Don’t hesitate to tell someone when they have done a good job. It may mean the world to them.

Let It Snow

This post was originally titled, “Hibernation,” and was going to be a treatise on staying in during winter in order to avoid the cold and snow. I will admit it upfront: I do not like driving in the snow. It’s scary and can be stressful, and my little Honda Civic feels like a deathtrap. I dread having to drive anywhere: work, the grocery store, my condo. Still, we have only had two big snowfalls this winter, and if I wasn’t traumatized enough after witnessing a woman have to drive through a red light because she couldn’t stop, or after almost crashing into a railing over 294 because I was sliding, seeing cars end up in ditches, or having to–this is the worst–clean my car in the middle of a raging blizzard, I think I will be just fine. Here’s the thing: some really amazing things have happened to me during crazy snowstorms.

In 2000, my mom took me shopping on a day so snowy and crazy that the mall closed early, but not before I found the perfect little black dress for a party I was invited to by my crush.

In 1999, I went on a road trip with my sister and two cousins to Indianapolis for a Backstreet Boys concert (yeah, yeah, hilarious). We stayed there two nights. On the second night, the weather was insane, but we still drove to the drive through liquor store to get some beers. That was an awesome trip. It’s one of those things that I can’t believe we did, especially in those conditions. It makes for a great memory, though.

In 2009, my niece Juliana was born. It snowed that night. Having been born in August, I can maybe brag that it was sunny. I think snow makes for a cooler birth story.

In 1999, there was a snowstorm so bad that it forced everyone to stay in. My family and I hung out in the basement, played mahjong, and drank. Then, once the snow stopped and the alley and streets were clear enough so that we could go somewhere (and the piled up snow was taller than I was), we went shopping. We were carefree and simply enjoying each other’s company.

In elementary school, we used to play on the snow mounds made by the snowplows at the end of the parking lot during recess.

In 1994, I have this distinct memory of having walked in snow that was up to my crotch. I was wearing my school uniform: red plaid skirt, white tights, and boots. It was a wild thing for me to do, but a much more efficient way to get into the car versus walking around the snow.

For many years, the Zoo Lights Festival at Lincoln Park Zoo was something I loved to visit. Hanging out at the zoo, in the city, at night. Having hot cocoa and snuggling with someone you like or love. Bundled up in a great jacket, wrapped in a scarf, wearing gloves and earmuffs.

I was tickled to see people sledding and even skiing in a park by my parents’ house the day after the most recent snowfall. What a reward to enjoy the snow with your family and friends after a dreadful commute the day before.

I dread winter, I worry about driving in the snow, but I love winter in Chicago. I love that a little snow doesn’t stop us. I love how my snot freezes up when its below zero. I love sweaters and my puffy jackets and my wool coats. I love the feeling of turning off my car after driving through snowfall. I love snowmen and snowladies and snowpants.

So, let it snow, Chicago. Let it snow. Just try to snow on days or times when I don’t absolutely need to drive. And be kind to Lake Michigan and Lake Shore Drive.

Fruition

I am a dreamer. I am an observer. My heart races when I consider the possibilities; when I imagine what it would be like to be a part of it all. Swimming provides a perfect metaphor. First of all, I’m never comfortable in swimwear, no matter what the circumstances are. Secondly, I don’t know how to swim. So, even after I have worked up the courage to go from dipping my toes in to immersing my entire body underwater, I am never really swimming. I’m just in the water, never going to the deep end, fearing for my life  if I find myself there anyway, almost jealously resenting those who are able to swim.

It’s weird: I think I’m as scared of success as I am of failure. Furthermore, I don’t particularly enjoy being the center of attention, which makes me the antithesis to my fellow Leos. Here’s the thing, though… I have been delighted lately. By my friends, by trying things I have never tried before, by letting loose and having fun, by learning that someone I already thought was interesting was so, so much more than I could have ever imagined them to be. All this delight has changed me. I want to stand out. I want to succeed.

We all have goals, but everything that is great or exciting in my life are things that I never sought to have. That says a lot, because I truly have crazy hopes, dreams, and fantasies that I keep close to my heart. So I’m learning to inch closer to the deep end. To trust someone who is a great swimmer instead of clinging to someone else who can’t swim, either. There’s a lot of positive energy with the swimmers and a lot to lean.

There’s a quote attributed to Neil Gaiman that I’m using as my mantra right now:

“If you dare nothing, then when the day is over, nothing is all you will have gained.”

I don’t want to watch anymore. I want to be a part of it. I want to see something I want and go after it. Yes, the best things in my life have been surprises. But I’m ready to start swimming, both literally and figuratively. Okay, maybe not literally. I REALLY don’t like swimwear.

On friendship

All my friends are smart, beautiful, and kindhearted. It’s true. I didn’t pick them. They picked me. Sometimes, I can’t help but feel like an oddball: what’s this short Asian chick who looks like she dressed in the dark doing with the beautiful goddess? I know that seems self-deprecating and idiotic, but I do feel that way sometimes. It’s like on Gilmore Girls, where Rory’s best friend is a Korean girl named Lane. Lane is an awesome chick, but she is raised by a strict and god-fearing mother. Therefore, Lane lives vicariously through Rory in some ways. When I think about my friends, I often remember this moment in Season 1 of Gilmore Girls, right after Rory is kissed for the first time. Click here to watch the moment (can’t embed the video, dammit).

Lane: “I’m so jealous. That’s it, I need to get some dumb, ugly friends!”

I can relate to this in a way, but do I really want dumb, ugly friends? Uh… not really! Does that make ME the dumb, ugly friend? Who cares? My friends are the best. They motivate me and support me and want me to be the best I can be. I learn so much from them. I can only hope that they learn from me, too.

If I am who my friends are, then I must be doing something right. I’m so grateful to have found (or, really, been found by) true kindred spirits and soul-friends. All it took was opening my mind, opening my heart, reaching out to people with whom I want to be friends (no matter how intimidated I may feel), and being myself. Yes, kids. Listen to your teachers and parents and mentors when they tell you to be yourself. Let your freak flag fly!

So… thank you to my friends. You know who you are. I love you guys.

Lucky

I used to journal a lot as a young girl (wait, I’m NOT 17 anymore?) and, taking a cue from Oprah, I would come up with three things I was grateful for each day. It was a nice exercise, but almost frustrating on the days when I would need to reach for something to be grateful for.

Um… I am grateful for sunshine, um, for, uh, scrunchies, and, uh…. contact lenses.

I have my stop-and-smell-the-roses days where I step back and take in how lucky I am. I also have my everyone-sucks-and-what-did-I-do-to-deserve-such-crap days. Lately, though, I’ve felt so enormously grateful. Despite my hardships, which really are minor even though they are a big deal to me, my heart has managed to be warmed by something everyday. Did I really just write that? How cheesy! My point is, nothing extraordinary has happened to me lately. I whine and rant all the time. But the “ordinary” things in my life are so good that it’s almost shocking.

I started writing a post recently that was going to be a wish list of sorts: a post about the things in my life that I felt I was lacking. And then I realized that the greatest things in my life are things I never wished for. They just happened. I’m grateful! And I feel so lucky.

Lucky to be close to my family.

Lucky to have genuine friends who challenge me to be a better person but love me just as I am.

Lucky to be around people who make me laugh.

Lucky that I’m able to make other people laugh.

Lucky for little nieces and a baby nephew.

Lucky for my health even though I’m not so great at taking care of myself.

Lucky to have a job that I like.

Do I have everything I want? No. No, I don’t. But, I’m lucky to have the things that I have. Now… if only I could get lucky, things would be nearly perfect…. ahem. Bye!

Swing Dancing and Kindred Spirits

As you may or may not already know, I was forced persuaded to take a swing dancing class when I visited uberfriend Janesse in Toronto over the summer. I was nervous about it for a handful of reasons: I’m an awful dancer, I was in a strange town, it was hot and humid, and I had no idea what to expect. Oh, and did I mention that I’m an awful dancer?

Janesse was gracious enough to say she would learn as a leader so that I wouldn’t be paired with a stranger. That blew up in our faces pretty quickly when it became clear that we would be rotating partners. How fun! Not only would I get to dance with a stranger, I would get to dance with ALL of the strangers!

The strangers came in many different varieties. Young, old, short, tall, different races and accents. They varied in dance experience. Some were very serious, others very carefree. One was a serious spaz—-I was selfishly grateful to dance with him. Anyway, what began as a simple intro to Swing Dancing turned into an interesting study of varying personalities in an instructive setting for an activity that requires partnership.

First, let’s talk about me: the girl who has a tendency to avoid situations like this, who worries about being a laughingstock when trying something new, who lets frustration get the best of her, who vows before she even begins something that she will not have a good time. Gosh, I guess (or hope) that that’s the old version of me. It must be, because I promised myself to try my best, connect with others in the class, laugh off my mistakes while working to correct them, and to have fun no matter what. I remained open, much like I did when I took that skiing class last New Years Eve: maybe taking this beginners class would unlock a natural talent that I hadn’t discovered yet. (I can officially report that I am neither a naturally gifted swing dancer nor skiier.)

Now, onto the guys in the class. Allow me to put them into three buckets:

  • Strictly (Serious) Ballroom!
  • Are You There, Dude? It’s Me, Melissa.
  • You Make Me Feel Like A Natural… Dancer

The Strictly (Serious) Ballroom! guys are exactly what you would expect. No smiles. Ready with a towel to wipe the sweat off their faces. No exchanging of pleasantries. This was clearly not their first dance class. But, it was my first dance class. So, imagine my disappointment when I missed a step—-with my second partner of the night (and we rotated about every two minutes)—-and was scolded for it. “You’re supposed to step on 4, not 5!” Geez, grandpa, excuse me for living! Another guy tried to physically force me into being in the correct position. What jackasses! It was a relief when I got to dance with…

…Are You There, Dude? It’s Me, Melissa. Most of the guys were polite. They would introduce themselves, ask how I was doing, wouldn’t give me a hard time if I messed up. They just went through the motions until our moment of dancing together was over. They were there and they were dancing. They were kind and forgiving. They just didn’t seem to be having any fun. They were probably dragged their by their girlfriends or whomever.

Finally, my favorite guys in the class: You Make Me Feel Like A Natural… Dancer! What separates this group of guys from the previous group is that they danced with a smile on their face, whether they were good at it or not. When one of us (usually me) would mess up, we would laugh and keep on dancing until we got back on track. They would change up the dance moves. They came up with creative ways to help me correct my mistakes. And they would thank me for dancing with them. How nice! The best thing about this group: they made eye contact. You guys! Eye contact! There were a lot of other people in the room, probably someone else that they had come to the class with. But when we were paired together, it was about ME. Sure, eye contact can be creepy, but in a setting like this, when everyone is (supposedly) a beginner who is there to have some fun, and your success depends on both your skill/attitude and that of your partner’s, eye contact is so important. Keep that in mind, fellas.

What’s my point here? Oh, yes. I was thinking about this dance class and how I got to get a glimpse into several strangers’ personalities simply by dancing with them for a short moment. Furthermore, I got some insight on myself. I don’t ever want to be around those strict guys ever again. I don’t particularly care about the guys who didn’t particularly care about getting to know me. But I would love to hang out with the guys with whom I found myself having a genuinely good time. Applied to everyday life, it makes sense. I want to be around people who want to be around me, who motivate me to be better, who make me smile. And I want to be that person for my friends. Even if the moments are few and far between, I know after making that connection with someone that I have found a kindred spirit.

I feel like the past couple of years have been an exercise in opening myself to people with whom I never thought I could be friends. I have done things that I never imagined I would do. It all comes down to a single idea: Seize the opportunity to become a smarter, more creative, and more interesting person. And, while I already knew this before the swing dancing class, this add-on to the idea was enforced: Surround yourself with people who want you to be smarter, more creative, and more interesting. Just don’t forget to be that person for your friends.