Feeling Oh So Thirty

Sitting here past midnight and instilling my love for the internet as I use Stumble! to show me cool sites and listening to some cool hippy trippy Puffyamiyumi.... despite my stomach being in shambles, being overworked, overwhelmed, and overtired. 15 years ago I sat in the same bedroom, though a different color with different curtains, listening to a mix of grunge and punk, waiting for my life to "just begin". I wasn't lying in a bed that I share with my husband, instead, I was idealizing my future husband and his six figure salary with golden looks and promises to keep me safe, happy, and warm.

So different to be 15 years older and realize that all those dreams though didn't come true came to some realization at some point....

The restoration of my faith in humanity, the law, and the internet...sorta

"The man" somehow always finds a way to get things done. My friend and tenent downstairs, who is now looking to move and also being ex-military is ready to kill the guy and was done and through with handling things the legal way. The man thought that there had to be some way to do something legally. So by way of internet (Hallelujah and praise the Net!), we were advised to speak to a detective at the precinct, bring pictures of the injuries she sustained and document everything. All three of us went there Thursday night, ready to go. Of course, they initially gave us a hard time. In fact, we found out that night, that a harrassment charge wasn't even charged, that they arrested the guy because of his attempt to strike an officer and in the police report, it stated that he just had an argument with a local neighbor. SO THERE WAS ACTUALLY NOTHING!! At this point my friend had given up and upped her normal grumbly miserable attitude by a 100% and the man and I began arguing with the officer. The officer kept insisting that we speak to the original arresting officer (which we did to no avail) and we kept persisting. Finally, she took our information to the Sergeant and they took our complaint case, placed as an assault charge and a detective called my friend within a day. At this point they said they would arrest him again and charge him if there was a case and that if he came near her again, she could call the police and have arrested because she would have a temporary order of protection.

Yeah, so, I still see the guy practically every day - but he faces his back towards our direction and he rarely seems to stay out long anymore especially when the man comes home from work. And yes, my friend is still leaving despite having live with me for 4 years with really no problems. But part of me feels somewhat vindicated to an extent, let this guy have some fear. And trust me, with the help of the internet, life could get pretty bad for this guy....

The police suck!

My long time friend and tenent has been harrassed and assaulted by our drunk neighbor somewhat randomly. This is a guy who is constantly sitting outside drunk as a skunk, tries to be outgoing and friendly to all the neighbors in a obnoxious way, tries to be involved with every little event that occurs on the block and seems a bit too friendly with the kids in the neighborhood. This guy has approached me many times trying to strike up a chat and I’ve either nodded, smiled, and/or walked away. My friend, on the other hand, completely ignores him or finally tells him to fuck off.

Well three days ago, my friend’s car alarm was going off in our driveway. This asswhole drunk came banging on our door. My friend, startled, went to the door and he slurred that the alarm was going off (meanwhile, at this point it had stopped). Her attitude is aggressive but she goes and disables the alarm in her car. She even, in her gruff way, apologizes. The drunk says “Well sorry isn’t good enough” and actually gets into her face, pushing her with his chest. Now, my friend is not exactly the meek type - she used to be in the army, she doesn’t have a problem defending herself, so she pushed him back. She turned towards her car and the drunk grabbed her by the throat and threw her down to the ground. He called her all sorts of names and threaten to kill her and damage her car. A bit more of a tussle occured and when he realized she was reaching for the club in her car, he jetted up the block. She called the cops and they came within 3 minutes. She received a scratch and a bruise out of this deal. The cops determined the case as a harrassment charge because the drunk claimed he didn’t touch her and then also added a resisting arrest charge because he got aggressive during the arrest.

So, they take down my friend’s information and leave. When I hear of this, I immediately tell her we need to go to the precinct because they didn’t tell her anything. We didn’t even know what the charges were during the time - we were hoping assault. But they tell us that the assistant district attorney would call her that day to sign an affadavit and write a statement. Did anyone call? Nope. In fact, we called over and over both the D.A.’s office and the precinct and they don’t even have it on record. My friend went into the precinct and finally spoke to one of the arresting officers and they told her that it was a harrassment charge and that they could do nothing else unless he attacks her again. The guy was out the next day, smoking and drinking on his porch. The worst part of it all is that he’s only two doors away…we see him all the time, we have to pass by him….
Well now what? My friend has noticed a dent in her car and she’s moving out within the week. This is someone who after four years of living here has not had a problem with anyone in the neighborhood. I don’t blame her for wanting to go but I feel that this guy just won and screwed with our lives. I don’t understand why the police are not more sympathetic and why they are not protecting us. I don’t understand why they don’t have it on record. I don’t understand why this guy can have so much power and why he had to pick on her. I hate this and I’m so depressed. Even looked for answers on a public forum and most people just said to get a gun because the police wouldn’t do anything.

The last year of my 20's

I have disappeared from this blog, as I do from my many blogs I tend to keep on the good ole net. It is hard to keep going everything you want to keep going when you've just got too many things going. But I've got to say, I've tried livejournal, myspace, diaryland and about a billion and one other journal sites out there and Blogger (and of course designing my own site) has always been the ones I fell back on. Anywho, I've got throat infection number 5 right now and both sides of my neck are currently swollen and tender to the touch! Hooray for me! I work with germy little children.

I am in the last year of my 20's and I'm wondering what to do with myself. Although turning 30 hasn't really been on my mind much, it's actually all the things that go with me turning 30 - getting sicker easily, feeling like my body can't do the things it used to, feeling like time is going way too fast and I'm just moving way too slow... I remember feeling like turning 20 was taking forever and now, my 20's are nearly half over. It's strange to me to feel so distant from the younger generation. I don't know what or who is playing on the radio anymore and I don't get certain trends. My life has become completely absorbed in work, in school, and in my life with the man. I sometimes feel like I know no else. Yet I'm not quite upset about that. I just miss being youthful and innocent. I miss the uncertainty of deciding what I'm going to be when I grow up and coming to the conclusion that "Hell, I've got a few more years to decide."

Chinese Boys

I love these boys. I love the fact that they make fools out of themselves and do it well. I love the fact that their friend sits behind them in almost every single video they make playing some first person shooter game while these guys just lip sync right behind him. If I was a young girl, these would be the kind of Chinese boys I would wanna date. I like nerds, what can I say?

I have never dated a Chinese boy before - wait, not true, I dated one guy who was half Chinese and half Guyanese, so never a pure breed. Doing so would've only made me more Chinese and more accepted by my parents - and I certainly didn't want that when I was a teenager! But I always fantasized what it would be like to date someone who knew my language and understood the way my family runs. Someone who appreciated the "Sunday herbal soups that cures everything from zits to cancer" or the "Must have the number 8 in everything" - Address, Phone number, wedding date, license plate...and the list goes on. Being with someone of my own race and culture meant not having to calm my man down when he sees the black chicken-head and all, sitting pretty in the soup pot or explaining how important it is not to look disgusted when Mom and Dad burp loudly at the dinner table or telling him that he must eat the very unrecognizable and unappetizing piece of meat that my parents keep giggling about and are very secretive about until after he gulps it down or how it's important to be at every family event no matter how busy we are lest I'm looked at as an ungrateful, and unappreciative daughter. Sometimes its very hard to have to explain every bit of custom and thought process that goes on in my family, then afterwards, pray that the man got it, during. Even worse still, to have to persuade and push when the explanation just isn't enough.

Being in an interracial relationship came easy for me in the beginning. Being so against everything Chinese when I was young made me assimilate very easily into other cultures. It was also quite easy being accepted as an interracial couple here in New York. But as I got older and "the man" became heavily involved with my family - it wasn't as easy for me. Suddenly I was forced to discuss and debate about issues that just came automatically with me and my family. I mean, come on, there are so many other obstacles and issues you face in a relationship but now to have to explain the odds and ends about your culture? All in all I guess it isn't so bad and truly, "the man", tries his best and my parents love him! But it was a tedious time and sometimes continues to be:
"Yes, Chinese New Year is at the end of the month"
"Yes, we HAVE to be there for the first day and the last day"
"Yes, we HAVE to give out red pocket money now"
"Yes, you HAVE to kowtow to our ancestors and all the random and numerous Gods and Goddesses I can't name."
"Yes, you will HAVE to listen to her beg the Gods to not punish her anymore with her ungrateful daughter and son-in-law who still hasn't given her a grandson"

The 4 Meme

Lauren sent me a questionaire...

I had to dictionary.com "Meme" tho....I'm a little stoopid.

Ok...

4 Jobs I had
1. Volunteer at St. Mary's Hospital for Children at age 14 for children who were regular outpatients. They had various illnesses and disabilities. I was there to play with them, help them do homework, and help with dinner. This was the time when one of the kids ran around telling everyone I had chinese eyes and proceeded to stretch his eyes out. I felt very guilty for weeks for wanting to smack him -even though I didn't.
2. Volunteer at local YMCA for a Saturday program for developmentally disabled children and adults. This is when I realized not all programs geared for special needs individuals were necessarily great when the coordinators of the program barely showed up on time if at all. Also, I fell in love with the MR adults, whom one of which told me I was pretty every day. Oh yes, and finally, this was during the time I got introduced to the Autism population and my job.
3. Staff Trainer for afterschool autism program.
4. Program Coordinator for autism program for preschoolers.

Four places I lived
1. Somewhere in Manhattan - though I barely remember this...wait no, I don't remember it at all.
2. Flushing
3. Bayside
4. Astoria

Four Movies I'd watch again
1. Brain Candy -Gotta love the Kids in the Hall
2. Pirates in the Caribbean - LOVE THIS MOVIE!!
3. Willy Wonka - the old 70's Gene Wilder version
4. Kill Bill Volume 1 - I love Lucy Liu!!! "The price you pay for bringing up either my Chinese or American heritage as a negative is... I collect your fucking head. Just like this fucker here. Now, if any of you sons of bitches got anything else to say, now's the fucking time!"

Four TV shows I love to watch
1. Real World/Road Rules Challenges - I like seeing the old timers get old and still manage to score some more 15 minutes.
2. The Daily Show - when I get to catch it.
3. The Dog Whisperer - I LOVE HIM. I WANNA BE HIM. I'm the ALPHA MALE!!
4. Seinfield - never gets old.

Four of my favorite foods
1. Steak - drooool....
2. Macaroni and Cheese - the cheesier the better!
3. My dad's fried rice - there ain't nuthing like it!
4. Peaches - straight from the can!

Four places I'd rather be right now
1. Crete, Greece
2. Venice, Italy
3. St. Lucia
4. Vancouver

Is "the man" more Asian than me?

Like every good Asian, when Memoirs of a Geisha came out, I couldn't wait to head to my local theatre and see people that look like me on the big screen. Every Asian movie that makes it into mainstream Hollywood suddenly brings out my AZN Pride. So perhaps I was a bit biased when Memoirs came out, particularly with the all-star cast that it did - the all-star Chinese cast. I really didn't think much of the popular Chinese actresses being casted to play Japanese women. In fact, it has always been the norm for me to see an Asian role being played by any Asian, no matter where they hailed from. I didn't realize how much of an issue it was to the Asian community until I read about it. But, hey, I thought, they're just actors playing a role and if they do it well, well that's all that matters, right?

The cinematography was beautiful and I thought the actors did a fine job. It certainly wasn't spectacular but I thought it did a great job exposing Japanese culture and their customs. Though not worth all the anticipation spent waiting for the movie to come out, I wasn't disappointed. And yes, I continued to throw my fist in the air and chant "Azn Power! Azn Power!" (Ok, I didn't quite do that, but I thought it!)

But of course "the man" ruined it for me. He said "Japanese women don't act like that! They're subtle and quiet! I hated Memoirs!" I have to admit, the fact that "the man" was telling me that the movie was all wrong because they didn't portray Asians accurately, pissed me off. I mean HEL-LO, White Boy, you look nothing like me! And if they weren't accurate, well I would know that of all people, dammit! I mean that's just part of my being Asian default powers. But truth be told, I don't know how Japanese women act...hell, I think the last movie I watched with any sort of Japanese character in it was in Kill Bill volume 1. I knew there was a good possibility that he was right, but I played my "the-white-man-has-brought-us-Asians-down" card anyway and said "How do you know that's how Japanese women are?! How do you know that's just not the way white people portrayed the Japanese?"
"Well, either way, that's not how the book represented the geishas!"
Oh. Right, the book.
I did read the book - just sorta skimmed some parts.... Although, the author isn't Japanese, so I still may have a card to play yet....hmmm.

But "the man" follows up with: "Anyway, I think living in Chinatown, being married to a Chinese woman, and being assimilated into your Chinese family, gives me a bit more insight on Asian culture than most people, don't you think?"

Bah! I think I'm running out of cards to play....

My car is a killing machine...

I ran over a grounds dove bird yesterday.

It just wouldn't move - and I thought if I drove slow and kept him targeted for the middle of my car, everything would be fine. But nope it stood there.

And then...

I felt....

the bump....

and I looked in my rearview mirror and saw a flurry of brown and white feathers....

I was not happy.

Neither was my best friend who was listening to me freak out as a recorded message on her answering machine 20 minutes after the fact and thought that I was having some sort of mental breakdown.

I am a killer.

On being Asian

I was hard-assed, or so I thought I was in high school. Somehow I thought that wearing Doc Martens, flannel shirts, and sporting a punk hairdo made me tough, different and respected. But truthfully, I was already respected and widely accepted in a variety of groups in my high school – the geeks, the gangsters, the drama club, the rockers, the punks, the Whites, Blacks, Jamaicans, Hispanics, Jewish…all except Asians. My easy assimilation into my diverse group of friends had made me an outsider within my own. This was the group that didn’t require excessive primping in the mirror to get the black eye make up just right, or hiding the excess splotch of manic panic purple haze dye accidentally left on my forehead or getting the grunge look just grungy enough – I was already Chinese, I should’ve been accepted by default! But their rejection hurt me so much that it resulted in me being devoid of anything Asian except for the things I couldn’t erase; like my facial features and my family (despite how hard I wished them away).

One day, my drama club friends and I decided to risk the public bus ride home after school planning to stop by a store three stops further from our usual stop. We filed into it with what seemed like our entire junior class and were immediately shoved to the back. The bus was, as usual, rowdy and chaotic, and I, as usual, took on my typical silent, gruff, and despondent act and began muttering incoherently about the state of the government, the world, and my cheap parents whose weekly allowance had left me with only one jar of manic panic midnight blue. I mean, that would never be midnight blue enough with one jar! My friends stood alongside me, nodding every four to five seconds interspersed with “Yea, fuck that shit!” for nearly half the bus ride home.

It wasn’t until I was tired of my own innocuous ramblings that I looked up to survey the kids around me. There were 10 jocks in the front, 8 metal heads on either side, two heavy set black girls in front of me and just towards the side of me were 2 small and meek looking Asian girls overly accessorized in pink and all things cute, with a serious case of acne. Meek Asian girl number 1 (closest to me) had a walkman in her hands while meek Asian girl number 2 sat staring blankly into her folded hands. Suddenly, one of the heavy set black girls sitting next to meek Asian girl number 1 said to her:

“Yo, why ya face like dat?”
“Huh?” she asked in obvious confusion.
“I said, why ya face be all fucked up like dat? Too much pawk fried rice?”
Meek Asian girl number 1 removed her headset and a dark flush began forming under those zits while her friend shifted uncomfortably and continued to stare at her hands.
“Whatchoo don speakah no engleeesh? Didchoo eat too much pawk flied lice?”
The two fat black girls’ bodies began heaving spasmodically and began emitting shrill shrieks between wheezing which I took as laughter. A large lump began to slowly form in my throat.
“Girl, you should do sumfin ‘bout dat shit!”
The asian girl gave a weak smile and a shrug while her friend seemed to have successfully turned her folded hands into two very large patches of white skin.
“Yo, whatchoo listnin to?”
“Chinese music” The asian girl quietly replied.
“Lemme hear” The black girl said and grabbed the headset and walkman out of the girl’s hands and immediately began pumping her hands up in the air while squeezing her eyes shut and screaming;
“Ching Chong Chow!”
Her other friend continued spastically heaving between gasps of air.
“Awww shit girl, no you didn’t!”

The Asian girl began to pathetically plead for her walkman back adding that her stop was coming up. Coincidentally, it was my stop as well and I couldn’t wait to get off, vowing never to ride the bus home again.

“Aww, hey, I’ll give it back to you girl. Lemme borrow it – I like dis shit. I’ll meet you on the third floor tomorrow at fourth period and give it back, aiight?”
The Asian girl continued to plead and as the bus began rolling to a stop, both her friend and my friends began nudging us to leave. Her friend successfully began ushering her out despite her desperate attempts to grab for her walkman now being tossed between the two fat girls, while I stood there facing the fat black girl in a rage. Suddenly, I screamed;
“Yo, why ya body all fucked up like dat? Too much flied chicken!?”

I snatched the walkman out of her hands, and ran off the bus as quickly as I could, because I’m tough like that. Once the doors of the bus closed, I continued to scream at her through the window with all the possible racial slurs I could think of when I realized with utter horror that both my drama club friends were black. Unfortunately, my mouth just wouldn’t stop. When the bus finally rolled away, I turned and hastily shoved the walkman back into the meek Asian girl’s hands and faced my friends, still cursing under my breath. My two friends nodded their heads and said “Yeah, fuck that shit” and we walked to the store

C is for Crass...

I am biting off of Lauren from SketchLABC and using the alphabet to inspire the fucking creativity out of my brain and drawing hand... While Lauren creates images that are made of sugar and spice and everything nice, I, on the other hand, have a perverted and foul brain and create things that are made of frogs and snails and puppy dog tails. (Sometimes it even bothers me that I work with children) The only safe sketch I have so far is "C". I created this picture in honor of my sister's mother-in-law who absolutely repulses me - particularly during mealtimes. Somehow, this woman manages to fling food everywhere -left, right, up and down- while chewing. Not only does bits of masticated food surround her like a Jackson Pollock piece (though certainly not as aesthetic), it is plastered up and down her face, arms and hands - the very same hands she uses to fist a bowl full of shrimp cocktail sauce later. Before every huge family event, the man and I hatch complicated plans to secure our meal from the buffet table before she gets to it and thwart anyone's plan to have us sit anywhere near her. Oh yes, this one definitely goes out to her.

Like mother, like daughter...sorta.

In attempt to spark up the ole brain of mine, I have started to draw again, read a little more, practice the piano again, work on websites and web design again, take pictures again, think a little more...do I feel any smarter? No, not really. In fact, instead, I feel quite overwhelmed and stretched thin. I used to do all this at once but without work and without school. Enrolling in two programs (principal certification and behavior analyst certification) is no easy feat and work keeps me up at night, like tonight. I know what my potential is when I throw myself into one thing completely and I know when I start to fail when I start doing everything - the hair starts being pulled, I start running around in circles, I don't know where I begin and where I end and ultimately, I drop the ball somewhere. Something gets neglected and something suffers.

I am a lot like my mother who needs to be in constant movement, who always has an agenda. Only my mom was tyrannical about how her schedule was followed and we all had to follow it. My parents worked Monday through Saturday and when Sunday followed - boy, did I dread it. Come Sunday morning my mom would stand at my room door and shout at me at 8am with,
"Aiya, why you still sleeping? You so lazy! Get up! Get up!"

Literally 5 minutes later she'd follow with,
"What? You plan on sleeping all day, you lazy good for nothing! Get up! Get up!"

And 2 minutes later,
"Aiya!! Still sleeping!?! Get up! You have to vacumn, do the laundry, visit grandma, buy groceries, make breakfast, wash the floors, clean the bathroom, walk the dog, bathe the dog, fold and put away the clothes and mow the lawn! You so lazy! Aiya! Get up! Get up!"

She'd also follow all this with sucking her teeth, shaking her head and walking away with disgust. We knew we were in real trouble if she began performing the first task on her schedule by herself because she would start crying and muttering under her breath,
"Good for nothing daughters. Why am I so unlucky to have such ungrateful children? Why they treat me like this? Why they so lazy? All my fault...all my fault... I did something wrong in past life/to ancestors/to gods..."

If we got her to this state, well, that was the end of any kind of enjoyable Sunday for the rest of that day - and possible for the rest of the week.

Although I'm sure my mom had other things in mind while acting this way, I don't want to be someone who is in constant motion for the sake of being in motion. There has to be a functional and enjoyable purpose for me. So any type of cleaning activity is really out of the question for me. But I do feel like I have to do something productive with my time. I just wish sleeping would be a productive activity for me right now....sigh.

Beyond ABA,,,

Sometimes its hard to remember that working with children with autism is not just work. It's a child's life, more than just my desire to decrease/increase this or that behavior. A child's life, someone's baby...

Several years ago, after providing a single mother a tour of my school, I left off stating that her child would be placed on our waiting list for September and I would call her if we accept him. The child was a gorgeous two year old with the biggest grin on his face. However, mom still had him in a stroller and he could not and would not walk. Several weeks later, we were able to accept him to the school not only for September but I was able to push it for the summer term as well. The mom was ecstatic and later sent me a card thanking me for taking him in so early. Her gratitude was so sincere and warm and I was appreciative but never really gave it much thought. His first day of school was filled with so much tears that we could barely do anything with him - much less teach him to walk! But we were so determined and kept on with him for weeks with him crying like that. By my last year there, he did in fact learn to walk - run even! and learned to make a close approximation of the sign for "car" and learned to imitate the sound "Ah". I felt a great deal of pride in myself, my program, and my amazing and dedicated staff. Although I knew our hard work had helped send this little boy on a start to a better path in life, I wasn't thinking about him but at our success with him. It wasn't until the last day at my job, this mother pulled me aside and said to me with tears in her eyes, "Do you remember when you told me that you were able to take him in early? I was so happy, I cried. You've changed his life and I could never thank you enough for what you've done". Although that small action was no great feat, did not involve a complicated treatment plan filled with reinforcement schedules, shaping, extinction, or fading, nor twenty five hours a week repeating the same drills over and over, I was filled with a sense of humility. It struck me right there that this child was more than MY job, more than MY sense of pride, more than MY program and staff, this was someone's child, a little guy who was deeply loved, who holds, unknowingly, the dreams and hopes of his mother - with or without the ABA.

It's an uncomfortable feeling when I realize I have become too clinical, too administrative, and not humane enough. And every so often, when I truly do forget, something happens to just kinda smack me in the face and say "Hey stoopid, look at this child and not at the graphs!"

Festivus for the Rest of Us!

Yesterday night was our annual celebration of Festivus between my closest and dearest friends. Yes, I'm talking about Festivus as inspired by Frank Costanza on Seinfield. For Frank, it began as a struggle with a man over a doll they were both trying to purchase for their children; the doll in the end was destroyed and Frank realized that there must be a better way than all of this commercialization during the holidays. Thus was born, Festivus. The history of Festivus is actually true and was developed from one of Seinfield's writers whose father found it through researching ancient European holidays.

Our history with Festivus really began when we all realized we were dirt poor and couldn't afford gifts for each other. So we all made some excellent non traditional grub, slapped together a Festivus pole and drank to severe inebriation. Of course, along the lines of the traditional Festivus activities, we did have our "Airing of Grievances" - which involved mostly people we hate at work and family. Some choice grievances:
"To (boyfriend) who has taken seven years off my life!"
"To all the people who work for me - well except the fifteen year old, he's cool"
"To (friend at the table) who broke my (friend's boyfriend as mentioned above)"
"To (me!) who ruined my mother's meatball recipe!" - (well that was obviously from the man, apparently my meatballs should not have been fried first therefore making them too dry. Screw you, the man!)
"To my in-laws who drive me crazy" - wife
"To my in-laws who drive me crazy" - husband

We did however veer from traditions by playing Pictionary instead of the "Feats of Strength" which is certainly much easier on our backs but harder on our wrists! After all the high stress cooking I did for my family this year, ungrateful looks during gift exchanges, and the coolness of my family once feeding is over, well let's just say, I look forward to Festivus next year.