the grass is not greener on the other side

I am 31 and single. I have no savings (aside from my 401K), I have a huge pile of student loans from grad school, credit card debt and I do not own a home, I rent an apartment. I am the sole payer of my utility bills, cable and internet. I manage to pay all of my bills though I struggle through some of them, especially when I’ve had a lot of fun that month. At the age of 31 I still have conflicts about whether or not I should buy that plane ticket to visit my friends or use that money to pay down my credit cards. There are times when I’ve had to stretch out my last $20 until pay day because I just spent nearly all of my money on another music festival ticket. In my mid-twenties I thought life was easier for married people and I don’t mean socially but financially because married people had two incomes. Two incomes meant more doors were open: You can afford a home, share household expenses, receive tax breaks, and qualify to purchase a time share*, etc. I was certain that American society had been structured to go against single, young professionals like me. However, now that I am a whole 6 years older, my predilection is shifting in favor of the likes of me—debt and all.

The Grass is not Greener on the Other Side

I’ve engaged in countless conversations with married people enough to know without having been married myself or in their homes, is that one of the biggest causes of stress in their life is financial problems just like single people, so the score is Marrieds: 1 and Singles: 1. I don’t know the exact statistics because I am too lazy to look but I am pretty sure in the top ten reasons why people divorce, financial disagreements is somewhere on the top. I think poor communication is the number one reason and I bet you one of those is poor communication regarding matters of money and spending. From what I can surmise based on my conversations, the cause for tension are the following:

• One spouse is the sole financial provider while the other one stays at home and in some cases they don’t have kids. If the couple is financially struggling, I definitely notice—if it hasn’t been outright expressed to me—resentment towards the non-working spouse.

• One spouse makes more money than the other so that spouse can freely spend money however that person pleases. There is no system of checks and balances and the spending goes out of control.

• The couple differs on money philosophy, one likes to go out and spend money even on friends and other is much more frugal. I’ve seen this cause a huge tension in the relationship.

• There’s a lot of pressure on one spouse because the other has terrible credit and everything has to be in the other spouse’s name.

• One spouse feels guilty or inadequate for not having a job or not being able to contribute enough.

 
My conceptions about married people and finances have been demystified, thanks to all of my married friends, family, co-workers and random strangers I’ve talked to. I know you didn’t mean to, but you did.

Is Marriage for the Financially Irresponsible?

When I think about other people’s financial problems and my own problems, I can’t help but be happy I am not married to that financially irresponsible person or vice versa – that someone isn’t legally tied to me and my bad spending habits. I am an extremely selfish spender. If a dog depended on me for food while I stretched out that last $20 so I could go to Coachella that dog is out of luck. I am terrible at saving money for big things I want to buy or go to. I act impulsively. I can’t imagine what life would be like if I were considering another person. Would I be able to consider the other person and make better decisions? Or will I just resent my husband for keeping me from having fun? Financial responsibility is supposed to be tied to age right? Or maybe that’s what I’ve been led to believe my entire life. Perhaps in my 30s I will grow up and make wiser decisions, or maybe this is just my make. Married people do seem to have more than I do in terms of possessions but I also have freedom to spend my money (or lack of it) however I please, so again, Marrieds: 2 and Singles: 2. Still, I can’t help but wonder, is it better to be married if you have financial problems (the at-least-you’re-not-alone mentality)? Is it better to have someone else to share the blame or in some cases someone else to blame?


Note: This post excludes all of you wealthy people. Keep on living the dream. I’m single and willing to be the beard of wealthy gay man.

Another note: I hope it doesn’t come off as me complaining about my financial situation because I am very aware of the decisions I’ve made. I’ve had a sh*t load of fun making those bad decisions and I would argue my friends who’ve partaken in that have enjoyed it as well. I don’t regret it but be assured I certainly pay for it.

*I once was planning a trip with a friend to stay at one of those Time Share offers and we noticed on the fine print it said you had to be a couple (either married or living together). I mean, how ridiculous is that? What if I could afford the time share with a single income?

ripped jeans: in memoriam of my mom

I was a pre-teen and early teen at the peak of the Grunge Era so naturally I desperately wanted to own a pair of Levis with rips in the knee area. Everyone I looked up to on television (like the cast of 90210) wore ripped denim. I longed to be that 90s grunge girl –I wanted to be Alicia Silverstone in the Aerosmith music videos (Watch Cryin',  Crazy and Amazing. Yes, that's one of the London twins in the Amazing music video. I’m not sure if it’s the one in celebrity rehab, the one in Dazed and Confused or Party of Five—or are they all the same person?) I was resigned to my parents never going to spend the money to buy me a pair of Doc Martens or a pair of Levi’s 501s but I already owned a men’s flannel shirt and a pair of Lee brand jeans which is one level below Jordache and five levels below Levis. I was halfway to achieving my “look” all I needed to do was put the element of cool in my jeans. I mulled over cutting my jeans for days. I feared getting into trouble for cutting into my school clothes. The jeans already had a tiny hole in the shin area so I figured it was close enough to knee and so I cut. I felt so liberated and there was no turning back. I cut the other pant leg but this time in the actual knee area then snuck them into the washing machine (to get the frays on the cuts) since it was already running. I was so excited and nervous waiting for my jeans. I fantasized about how I’d style my old/new jeans: I’d wear my men’s flannel top of course, maybe a white tank top underneath and wear the top open. I was going to look badass just like Alicia Silverstone. When the washing machine stopped, my mom walked into the living room outraged waving around my old but now very cool jeans and yelled, “Who is in a gang in this house? Whose jeans are these? Who joined a gang?!” I never saw those jeans again. They vanished along with my dreams of ever being that girl who bungee jumps off an overpass and flips-off a two-timing Stephen Dorff (the end scene of the Cryin' music video).

This is one of my most fond memories of my mom. This past week was the anniversary of her birthday and her death and I never quite know how to commemorate this time of year. My parents were never big on putting symbolic value into things or traditions. Celebrating with some type of grand gesture would not have been her style so I celebrate my mom by sharing this memory. This particular event, though it was mostly about me, says a lot about her and what it was like for me to grow up in a religious and cross-cultural home. I still laugh when I think about how my mom associated ripped denim with gang bangers. I wouldn’t have convinced her to let me keep the jeans if I pleaded my case by saying all the cool kids on 90210 were wearing them since I wasn’t allowed to watch 90210. I know she really didn’t think I had joined a gang but she wanted to make a point that she did not want her kids to dress like a gang banger. It worked in a sense that I never actually joined a gang but I did develop a strange obsession with gang movies in my pre-teen/early teen years.

what's cereal? a life-changing event

As a single woman with no children, I can think of only two major events that have significantly changed the course of my life. In my thirty years on earth, events here and there have influenced decisions I’ve made but there are two that I am certain had they never occurred my life would be completely different in a way I can barely imagine. Perhaps these two events are different from say, getting married, having children or divorcing which are some of the most common events that change the course of one’s life, is that I had no say or control. I don’t often think about what life would have been like because that almost feels like saying, “if only” or “I wish” and those are sentiments of regret. I have a long-standing policy of trying not to live a life of regret. Every now and then though, particularly when life gets difficult—but in a sense that life is hard for a gainfully employed healthy American woman, so that means I can’t fit into some of my clothes, I have work troubles, social troubles and a feeling of something lacking, I ponder where I would be—who I would be. The two “life-changers” I speak of are the death of my mother when I was 17-years-old and the other I’d like to elaborate on goes back farther to the age of seven when my parents decided to pack up our comfortable lives in Manila to move us to the US.


I don’t know if I will ever fully understand my parents’ reason for immigrating to the US but I imagine it’s like any other immigrant family—they saw America as the land of opportunity. We had a fairly comfortable life in the Philippines. We lived in a two bedroom, two story apartment in the city, which is a decent size home for a middle class family. My brother and I both attended a Christian private school and we had two live-in nannies which was pretty common. My parents visited America often and brought us back boxes of toys and candy—life was good.

In 1988 I visited America for the first time for an entire month and my most vivid memory of it is not so much visual and what I did but how I felt. I remember I felt cold all the time (mainly in the California bay area), puking in the car a lot from car sickness and I especially remember how the eggs tasted; weird. They looked like the eggs I normally ate back home and were even prepared the same way but they had a funny indescribable taste to them as if to remind me that I was in a strange land. We also visited Hawaii which was a lot less like America but more like the Philippines. I enjoyed my visit to America though I did not want to stay but little did I know that less than two years later it would become my permanent home.

The only thing I remember about the day I moved was saying goodbye to my best-friend who lived next door, who I am still friends with and now lives in Hawaii, and posing for a lot of pictures. At the time, I couldn’t fully grasp how seminal for my life immigrating would be but all I knew was that things were going to be different. I don’t remember who was at the airport to say goodbye and I don’t remember who greeted us at the San Francisco Airport when we arrived because I have a terrible memory that way. I do remember exactly how I felt when I stepped off the plane; scared, nervous, excited and to sum it up, I felt like a stranger.

For a long time I kept track of how long I've lived here and less as I got older. This June will make it 23 years. As a kid I imagined a lot, and every now and then as an adult, what if my entire life here has been one long dream? What if I woke up one morning and I was still that seven-year old-girl waking up next to my parents in our apartment in Manila?


**************************************************

I thought it would be fun to list the things that were new to me, found strange and had to get used to:

1.) Russians, Indians, Mexicans, Vietnamese, Laotian and Hmong. I have never encountered any of these ethnicities in the Philippines and I didn’t even know Hmong was a race. I know for certain I would not be culturally sensitive and open had I stayed in a more ethnically homogeneous country.

2.) Cereal. I saw commercials of kids eating this thing (Cheerios) in a clear bowl with white under it and I thought to myself, what is that white stuff? Turns out it was milk and I couldn’t for the life of me grasp why anyone would eat anything with milk in that manner.

3.) Milk at the school cafeteria. I didn’t grow up drinking milk, I still don’t like milk and I hated that milk was my only option in school.

4.) Mustard on my burger. Mustard was a very odd taste to me and I didn’t eat burgers for a long time because of it. Now I love mustard.

5.) Pizza. Non-sweet tomato sauce was also another odd flavor for me.

6.) Potato chips, which I obviously started a love affair with.

7.) Rap/Hip-Hop culture.
8.) Halloween and Trick-or-Treating.

9.) Thanksgiving.

10.) Christmas without Santa. For some reason my parents stopped doing the whole Santa Claus thing when we moved even though I already knew it was them. It’s like they wanted to fool us into thinking that Santa doesn’t exist in America.

11.) Fourth of July.

12.) The schooling system particularly the student teacher dynamic. I was shocked that kids could address their teachers informally and even talk back to their teachers without fear of punishment.

13.) Winters in Sacramento. I remember my mom would dress us up in our layers of sweats that we would wear the next morning to school so we wouldn’t have to get undressed in the cold morning.

14.) Squirrels and all the different types of birds and animals that roam about.

15.) People who sleep in a tent outside for fun – camping.

vd week (posted a month late)

There really is no way to write a post (or more like a criticism) about Valentines Day without coming off like a bitter old maid, albeit that criticism is justified. But here are some thoughts--mostly questions regarding our favorite holiday to hate: 

1.) I'm pretty sure men and women when buying their Valentine a gift take into account whether or not the gift can be Instagrammed, Facebooked or Tweeted.

2. ) If you don't thank or wish your Valentine a Happy VD on a social network for your friends to see, does that mean you don't love them?

3.) If you don't get thanked on social network (for all to see) would you be offended?

4.) Why do people complain about not having a valentine? If you are an adult and you do this, slap yourself and stop acting like a 14-year-old.

With that said, here are photos from my Valentines Day week in SoCal where I was traveling for work. I saw friends, had some local craft beer, took a VD selfie, ordered room service and even got a kiss (from a dog). Overall it was a great week.

How to get your teacher to admire you – the easy way

The other day I watched “Freedom Writers,” you know that movie based on a true story about the white middle class high school teacher who was inspired by “Dangerous Minds” and helped her “hoodlum” students learn how to read and write?* Yes, that movie. Well, that movie reminded me of a time I was like a freedom writer (before they existed) and won over my teacher.

In high school I was a fairly good student, though I was not any of my teachers’ favorite. In fact, I don’t think my teachers thought much of me except that I was a “good student." That changed for one teacher in Freshman English class when we were assigned to write a poem. That's when my teacher saw me as the extraordinary girl, not because of my poetry writing, but the girl who had to battle poverty and violence on a daily basis. I was neither in poverty or witnessed violence in real life, unless you count the news. It all started in 6^th grade with a lie I wrote in the form of a poem. The assignment was to write a “sensory poem” (e.g. I see …, I feel …, I hear …, etc.) I don’t remember the entire poem nor have a copy of it but the jest of my poem went something like this: I see violence, I see death, I feel fear, I feel angry, I hear gunshots, I hear screams and so forth. I basically made it sound like I lived in the hood where drive bys, gang bangs, drug deals and theft were something I encountered every day. It was easy for me to write about what life would be like for a poor inner city kid because I was on a gang movie obsession. I watched on repeat: Menace to Society, Juice, Above the Rim and South Central. I watched these movies secretly from my parents of course because my extremely religious parents would have sent me back to the Philippines if they saw their 12 year old daughter watching movies where women were called bitches and hoes and every other word was “fuck” and the “N” word and not to mention the drugs, sex and violence. In 9^th grade I recycled the poem I wrote in 6^th grade due to laziness and the next day my teacher announced to the entire class how much she loved my “death poem” is what she called it and how it broke her heart and moved her to tears. In my defense, my teacher never asked me if it was real. She just assumed the poem was inspired by real life events not gang-themed movies. I don't know why she assumed it was true. Maybe because I attended a predominantly white school (for Sacramento) and there were very few minorities. I'm just going to throw it out there that perhaps she was stereotyping. Anyway, from that day on, she looked at me with admiration but with a hint of sadness and I was just fine with that.

I did not mean to lie when I initially wrote that poem. I think I was so captivated by the world portrayed in those movies I kind of wished I had experienced those things—as sick as that sounds. Only a sheltered kid living in the suburbs would wish for that kind of experience. It's why rap is so popular with suburban white kids. (If you’re reading this and you did grow up in that type of situation, I am very sorry if I have offended you in any way. I know, I am a terrible human being.)

My point is, make up a story that will gain the compassion of your teacher but do not make up a story so extreme (like your parents beat you) that your teacher is obligated to call the cops or the Child Protection Agency.

I’ve decided I’m going to blog more about bits of my life. I had an extremely ordinary life so my story is not stuff books are made of but stuff personal-blogs-read-by-three-people-at-most-are made of. I will tell parts of my story mostly for myself to serve as a journal I can look back on but hopefully you (all three of my readers) will find them entertaining-- even if it is only to laugh at the photos.

In my attempt to find a copy of my poem I stumbled upon old photos. This one was taken in 1994 about the time I wrote the poem. I was not ducking from drive-bys and feared death. I was staging photo shoots in my bedroom with my friends (note the poor framing, bad lighting and make shift backdrop).

*I don’t actually know if the teacher in the movie was inspired by Michelle Pfeifer’s character in Dangerous Minds but it seemed like she would have been just like the way Michelle Pfeifer's character was inspired by Edward James Olmos -- wait, I mean the real teacher Jaime Escalante. 

why i decided to stop Hatin'

I’ve decided I’m going to stop being a “Social Media People Hater.” That means I’m going to stop hating on what people post and write on Facebook, Instagram, Twitter, etc. Once upon a time I loved hating what people did on Facebook (read here, here and here). I was a Hater with a capital H. I even hate read people on the web for whatever unhealthy reason (like why is every single photo of you making a funny face? Why do you hashtag #every #single #word? Why are you always telling lies?). Unfortunately it has taken me a very long time to realize this: When I’m upset or annoyed with someone’s social media feed will my being annoyed stop that person from being annoying? No. Will my being annoyed affect that person in a way I hope it would (like as in make them feel ashamed of their posts)? No. That person will just go about his or her day constantly complaining about their life, update every hour on their activities and whereabouts, post a million photos of themselves in front of a mirror, write annoying motivational quotes and try to speak of politics when they don’t know what they are talking about. So, while these people are doing this—and having a great time doing it—I am sitting in front of my computer annoyed and having to control myself from writing rude comments. Well my friends, those days are over. Why give someone on the Internet of all places the power to annoy me? Also, it was kind of sobering when I realized that most of my complaints about people on the web were about people who complained all the time and that was the very thing I was doing except in real life. Anyway, as it turns out you can easily hide people from your newsfeed… now if it were only that easy to get rid of people we found annoying in real life…




People probably complain about me on Facebook….. Nah, who am I kidding. I’m sure everyone finds my posts about food and feet/shoe photos profound.

on friends: qualifications

Friends. Friendships. Finding Friends.

This topic has been on my mind for the last couple of months. I recently read this article from the Huffington Post titled, “Making Friends Post 20-Something Is Harder than Meeting a Mate.” The writer moved into a new town with her husband and found it difficult to find friends. Although, I am still living in the same town, I still very much relate to this article. I have close friends with whom I spent a lot of time move away and have found myself with more free time or seeking friendship with new people and it has been a little difficult. Once we graduate college, the harder it is to meet new friends. We are no longer surrounded by thousands of people our age all working towards the same goal. Also, when we get older we have a better sense of who we are and what we want out of life. We have less time (which means less time to spend on other people’s bullsh*t) and we are less willing to compromise. So, rather than just being friends with someone we sat next to in class, the type of person we want to spend our time with becomes more specific. I don’t know if this is a good thing or a bad thing, but when thinking about whom our good friends are or trying to meet new friends, maybe without even realizing it, we have created a “qualifications” list for our friendship. By the way, when I say “good friend,” I mean the type of friend that will stick—a friendship that is suppose to last a lifetime. I’m older now and deep meaningful friendships are the kind I want to have.


So, which brings me to my list (and you know I love lists) of the type of friends and friendships I seek (and it’s a lot like a list of guys I’d want to date).

1.) Someone who can make me laugh.

2.) Someone who I can have really good meaningful conversations with as well as ridiculous shallow conversations.

3.) Someone who is generous in all aspects of their life. I don’t want a friend who is all take and no give and this applies to both monetary and emotional. I don’t want a friend who always lets me pay for things and never offers in return. I don’t want a friend who constantly asks me for favors and does not understand there are limits because I would hope that I don't do the same. I don’t want a friend who unleashes all their emotional burden on me and doesn’t extend the same courtesy of putting up with me when I want to do so. In other words, not selfish. I'm also going to throw in that I don't want to be friends with someone who is only constantly talking about themselves and never asks how I'm doing.

4.) I want a friend who likes to do the same things I do. This doesn’t have to be exact, but it is nice to have a friend who you can hang out with.

5.) Someone who is thoughtful, considerate and is willing to do things out of their convenience to help me because I guarantee you I will do the same for you.

6.) Someone who is willing to tell me the truth about myself even if that’s a truth I don’t want to hear but need to hear. I certainly do not want to be friends with someone who I am afraid to have an opposing opinion around for fears of offending them or having them get angry with me. I want friends with whom I can disagree with. Besides, surrounding myself with people who don't always agree with me is good for me. It offers me persepective.

7.) Someone who will stage an intervention when I’m addicted to meth, heroin, bad men or bad clothes.

8.) Someone who I can fight with and have it all blow over in the end. I think there is something to be said about being angry or annoyed with someone but not having to worry about whether or not they will still love you in the end of your fit of rage. This is how I am with my family. I have the comfort of knowing that I can get so angry with them but I know they will still love me and accept me in the end. That is how I am with them. No grudges.

9.) Someone who will bail me out of jail or help me hide a body when the need arises.

10.) Someone I respect-- and I'm going to get cheesy-- someone who makes me want to be a good friend and overall a better person.

So, you see why it is difficult to find such friends? I've found that numbers 3, 6 and 8 are not particularly easy to find in a person. When I do find friendships that fit these qualifications, I feel like I've hit the jackpot and I willingly work at keeping those friendships because I want them to be lifelong. I’ve always believed that in order to have good people in your life and good friends, you yourself have to be a good friend. Life is too short to waste time on people who are not putting in the same effort into a friendship as you are. I’ve been fortunate enough to have people in my life who meet this list of qualifications and I only hope that I am as good of a friend to them as they have been to me.

the art of looking busy

Do you ever wonder how people at work are so much busier than you? You start to question your commitment to your job and worry that you aren’t putting in as much work as everyone else. My first real job out of college was as a low-paying bottom of the ladder Production Assistant at a local television news station, but I was eager and ready to do whatever I needed to do to move up. There’s a lot of hustle and bustle in a newsroom—everyone kept pretty busy, some more than others. This one particular guy I worked with always seemed to be unavailable and in some sort of hurry but I could never figure out what he did exactly. He had one of those prestigious “Executive Producer” titles but he didn’t work on a particular show or any segments. I was intrigued so I started to observe him. I kept an eye on where he went in the newsroom who he talked to and the amount of time he spent at his desk. As far as I could tell, all he did was go to every single producer, editor and director, harass them about something in their show and walk away. Did I mention he was also kind of an asshole? Well, he was (or maybe he still is. Is once an asshole always an asshole?) This guy had everyone fooled. He had mastered the art of looking busy AND looking important. This is what I picked up from him.


1.) Don’t sit at your desk for too long. If you’ve been glued to your desk and you work in an environment where people are constantly moving, chances are people will think you’re playing on the computer. Walk around and talk to some people.

In a typical office environment I would also suggest getting up once in a while. Take a trip to the printer or the fax machine to show you’ve been “working” on something.

2.) Walk around with coffee and a notepad in your hand. This will make it look like you’re going to some sort of meeting and you're not just chit chatting.

3.) Make sure you always have something up on your computer screen that is work related. This is an easy one.

4.) When someone asks you to do a favor on something that is not that important or urgent, say, "I’m kind of busy right now" and offer to help later.

5.) Every now and then let out a big sigh of relief as if you just finished something you’ve been laboring on for hours.

How do you try to look busy? And don’t give me that BS that you really are busy.

three problems we think we have but we really don't

“I’m sad [for no apparent reason]”

I am guilty of this one. You have a decent job, you have good friends, good family but yet you are sad because you have no one to hang out with on a day you feel like hanging out. This is me. I get sad when no one has taken me up on my offer to hang out and it sometimes leads to a domino effect of sadness. I’m sad because I have no friends, so I get sad because I feel lonely and don’t have a boyfriend or a husband or even a date and then I get sad because I feel like I don’t have those things because I’m ugly and fat. You see how this non-problem turns into a ridiculous first world problem?

“I’m angry [for no apparent reason]”

You have no reason to be angry unless you are living under an oppressive regime or mobsters have murdered your family or you’ve been a victim of a crime. Refer to “I’m sad” and replace the word “sad” with “angry” or even “frustrated.”

“I don’t have a choice”

I’m going to invoke a scene here from the movie, “Dangerous Minds.” In this scene, Michele Pfeiffer who plays the tough teacher at an inner-city gang dominated school tells her students they always have a choice. One of the gangster students replies that you don’t have a choice when someone is holding a gun to your head. Another student then says yes you do because you can either choose to scream or not scream when you die. Cue Music: Coolio’s “Gangsta’s Paradise.” That is profound—that’s right I said it. Even in the direst cases we have a choice. I’ve often found that when people (including myself) say they don’t have a choice it is used as an excuse to do something that could potentially cause a problem. It is true we cannot choose some of the people in our lives like our family and in some cases our co-workers, but we can choose how these people influence us. We can choose how much space we allow them in our life both physically and mentally and we can choose how to react to them. We can choose how we deal with tragedies and we can even choose how our enemies affect us. The point is 99% of the time we have a choice. It doesn’t matter what choice people make but just know that what people do is indeed a choice.

how to take a "mental day off"

You wake up one morning tired of whatever and you would rather have cigarette butts put out on your eyes than go to work, but the alternative of staying home sounds just as awful. If that's you, follow these steps:

Step 1
Ensure that no one will be looking for you unless it is an absolute emergency.
That means you call in sick to work-- not working from home-- sick as in you're in bed all day. You then tell your family members, children, spouse, partner or anyone who might look for you that you are heading out of town for a meeting so you will be unavailable most of the time. If you tell them you're out of town they will unlikely ask you to do something for them.

Step 2
Travel Somewhere
Whether by car, train, bike, etc., go to one of your favorite places that is at least one hour away from where you live.

Step 3
Music
This is essential for a mental day-off. The long distance travel will give you plenty of time for music. I highly recommend a playlist that will trigger a variety of emotions; anger, sadness, joy, nostalgia, etc. You are alone so this is the only chance you get to go through all of these emotions and get it out of your system without judgement from anyone around you and distractions from a t.v, phone or internet. This is also why mental days off should be done solo. Also, sing every song at the top of your lungs.

Step 4
Arrive at your destination and do your favorite things

Step 5
Go home just in time
Make sure you get home about around the time you would normally get home from work so it's like you've had a full day of work but you were really out doing some of your favorite things.

Here's some photos from my mental day off, which I spent in San Francisco.

Playing tourist and taking in the action

Having lunch outside with a view of stores you can't afford

Take your own self-portraits because it seems more awkward to ask the dude next to you smoking a bowl to take a photo of you. 

Maybe a mental day off is just what you need. Do it.

on turning 30: "sarah, your ovaries are drying up"

I recently reached a milestone -- the big three-oh. Thirty came quietly without too many bells and whistles. I looked forward to turning 30 and now that I have officially been 30-years-old for seven days I must say I feel different both physically and mentally. I am 5 lbs. heavier (ok, maybe that weight gain didn’t happen overnight but I’m going to blame age) and I suddenly feel a little more anxious that “time is ticking.” In my 20s (just a few days ago) I could use the excuse that I am young and could take my sweet time to figure out what to do with my life. I had all the time in the world to become financially responsible, make more money and find a man to shack up with and push out babies. While I am in no rush or feel this burning desire to bare children, I am bothered by the fact that my ovaries are drying up. I don’t know the exact age when a woman’s ovaries start to dry up but when I went to Google it, at the top of my search results was a YouTube video titled, “Sarah, Your Ovaries are Drying Up.” 

I think the Internet hates me. I am a little weirded out but I can’t help but be impressed. Watch the music video here.

Keeping with the “I’m-going-to-use-turning-30-as-an-excuse” for everything, I also semi signed up for match.com. I say semi because I didn’t actually create a profile. Perhaps it’s that feeling of time ticking or just a sick twisted desire to put myself in awkward situations, or maybe get a few good stories or the prospect of actually meeting some decent guys (who want to pamper and worship me of course), urged me to visit the website for the first time ever in my life. I wanted to see what it had to offer. Like all dating sites, you have to sign up to browse the goods, so I did. I signed up, I browsed and I must admit I liked some of what I saw. I think it will take plenty of beers on a self-loathing lonely night to get me to fork up the money to fully commit to a profile. I may have a few of those coming up, who knows, I'm 30 now!

If you recall, I tried online dating and that didn’t work out so well, as in I didn’t even make to physically talking to someone and it turns out that there are more weirdos (as in living in mom’s basement) than there are normal people on the Internet.

thoughts about a fictional t.v. character: why don't i like megan?

We are eight episodes into season five of Mad Men and I am still on the fence about Megan. I don't want to not like her because if I hate her, I am fostering the negative stereotype of women like myself, particularly, that we hate other women who are prettier than us because they get everything handed to them. Megan's character is good, genuine, kind, sexy and to top it off smart and she is actually good at her job. She is perfect -- too perfect and it’s annoying. It's like when super models are also Harvard graduates with great taste in music and movies. I mean, come on-- God, evolution, universe or whoever/however you think people came to exist--haven't they been given enough?

My indifferent feelings toward a fictional television character have loomed over my head since Mad Men aired.* Why do I not like Megan? I ask myself. She’s such a sweet person and she’s smart. I tell myself. Is it because I am that negative stereotype? Am I jealous of women like her? Maybe. Is it so wrong of me to find it annoying that Megan (in the most recent episode, #8) can now quit her job (which she didn’t earn, but turned out to be pretty good at) to pursue her dream of becoming an actress because she’s got married to a very rich man, who seems to actually really love her? Well, I will let you be the judge of that. If you are a man, you’re likely to say yes, I am wrong and my response is, of course you would think that you want to have sex with Megan.

By the way, my absolute favorite female character on Mad Men is Joan. I have a bit of a girl crush on her. She is gorgeous, she borders on overtly sexy and unapologetically a bit of an office slut and I love that about her. She is also so much smarter than she seems.

*Really, I have been thinking about this, which has got me thinking that maybe I’m too vested in a fictional t.v. show and clearly need to get a life.

gym time, later undone by butter cookie sandwiches

You might find it odd-- sadistic-- even to have a blog post about cookies and working out but I'm doin' it. I have been hitting the gym a lot lately (5 out of 6 days!) and I'm not saying that to brag about it (ok, maybe a little) but mostly to say that my lack of a busy social life and trying to be more frugal is driving me to go to the gym. The gym is a great way to kill 1-2 hours without having to spend any money and for days when none of your friends have taken you up on your offer for happy hour. The big bonus is you really do feel great afterwards and you never regret going to the gym. I can't believe I am starting to like the gym.  No, that doesn't mean I am "addicted" to going to the gym or working out. I would never say that, plus I think it's a fake addiction. I think people are addicted to feeling good about themselves.

Now about the cookies...

I initially wanted to make Martha Stewart's Lemon Cookie Sandwiches but I didn't actually have any lemons and I didn't feel like making the lemon cream filling. Instead, what I made was essentially butter cookie sandwhiches, with pink frosting filling. I totally used store bought fluffy white icing I colored pink. The cookies turned out great. I used the exact cookie recipe Martha Stew used sans the lemon rinds.

ten things i want to nail in my thirties

Nope, not nail as in sex (that would make me a Paraphilia), but nail as in execute well… duh.

1.) Money

I want to be really good at saving money and spending money. I know some people say you’re suppose to have this part already nailed by the time you’re 30-years-old, but those people can suck it. They probably didn’t enjoy living it up in during their twenties courtesy of the credit card.

2.) Relationships

I want to be good at having all types of relationships whether they are romantic relationships, friendships or business. As I approach my thirties I want to make good choices about the people I let in my life and keep around. I also I want to nail being a good friend, girlfriend/wife, and colleague. As I get older I find myself no longer needing a lot of people in my life, only a select few. All relationships require some work and I want to be great at determining what relationships are worth working to keep and which ones I am ok with letting go.

3.) Meeting new people

Because you know, it’s always good to meet new people. I don’t mean meet a lot of people (check #2), but it never hurts to have choices.

4.) Stop being sorry for things that are not actually my fault

I recently read an article that inspired this post called 30 things you should know or have done when you're 30 and I ripped this off that list because I like this one.

5.) Letting go of things you can’t control

Be nonchalant, c’est la vie and all that sh*t.

6.) Being healthy

Eat healthier, exercise more, take better care of my skin and all that jazz.

7.) Being comfortable in my own skin

This means not care if I'm wearing uncool sensible shoes at Coachella (also stop going to Coachella and other music festivals with sweaty twenty-somethings).

8.) Being witty

I don’t know if this is something you get better at or something you’re just born with but it doesn’t hurt to try. We’re setting high goals for ourselves in our thirties.

9.) Being chic

Forget the trendy twenties, I want to become good at being classic and chic when I’m in my thirties. If I add chic on top of numbers 1-8 and I figure I’m golden.

10.) Being a better human being overall… being awesome

Be more compassionate and act on it.

If you happen to like my list and you're in your thirties, let's nail this list together. 

how to avoid writing something mean on someone's facebook status update

I'm sure we all  have friends on Facebook whose status updates annoy us. Most of the time we have enough self-control to brush it off. We say UGH, roll our eyes and move on, but sometimes some people are just begging for a mean smart-ass comment and sometimes you're just in the right mood to be a bitch. Whoever it is that annoys you on your page (why they are your FB friends to begin with is a whole other topic), whether they post too many photos of themselves or their pets, post too many inspirational quotes, brag about exercising, brag about all the sex they're having, etc. In order to resist the urge to comment, call a friend instead and talk about the mean things you want to write like, "You should probably stop talking about how much you love going to the gym every day because people will start to wonder why it's not working" or "How do you get to travel so much without having a job?" Get it out of your system this way. I've been known to write a thing or two on people's page, delete, then have to apologize for it later. So, I've found the key is to have a buddy to call like a Sponsor if you will-- when the strings of smart-ass-ness and meanness start to tug at you.

How do you avoid making these comments?


Next on my series on Social Media: People We Love to Hate-Read

the consequence of social networking

We are at this stage in the history of the world where we are saturated with information like never before. We share a lot of information and we are bombarded with a lot of information about everything -- from breaking news in Sudan to what our friends are up to, who they are hanging out with and what music they're listening to. I fully participate in all of this. I am on Facebook, Twitter, Instagram and this blog and I use them all regularly. In the last couple of months I attempted to quit Facebook but failed at it. I have also written several blog posts about the perils of social networking. I am sure I am not the only person who wishes they could quit and to not “need to know” but information is alluring – it is addicting and so is the need to share. For me, 99.9% of the things I share via social network I want someone to read and comment because it makes me feel a little more important that someone has acknowledged me. Sadly, even that little thumbs up “like” button can be satisfying enough-- and that is what keeps me coming back for more. I like getting attention this way. I have enjoyed it for as long as I have had a Facebook account, which is about 4 years. It is crazy to think about what life was like without Facebook (or Youtube, twitter or blogs). However, just like with all types of attention or fame, there are consequences.

The lack of anonymity and mystery

What I mean by this is that everyone you know becomes your friend or follower you start to feel restrained because you begin to think about what your “friends” or followers might think about what you post. I’m sure I have talked about this before. Most—if not all—of us care about what others think of us. We care about what our real life friends, our family and our colleagues think of us and they all can see our social network profile. Every word we write will always be taken to mean more because they know about your life outside of the Internet. I do the same with other people. I would love it if I had a lot of readers of this blog, but only if they are people I don’t know—people who do not know anything about my past, what I’m currently doing or what I’m like in real life.

Mistaken meanings

We’ve all heard stories about Tweets of celebrity deaths that were not true. I’m not talking about miss-information here but more so tone and context. Everything we write on Facebook, Twitter or sometimes a blog is always part of a larger context and I think we forget that. We read something and we make assumptions about it. I do that all the time. I read someone’s post about how they’re having a bad day I assume that it must have something to do with what that person posted earlier about having a terrible boss. This is a fair assumption but I have to remember there is a good possibility I could be wrong. We only get a snippet of something much larger and at least for me, some of the things I write I’ve written in haste because of some emotional break down. This is a problem because we may not realize the affect that could have on other people and often times we don’t really mean what we say in the heat of the moment.

Obsessive behavior

This is pretty self-explanatory. I have become obsessed with sharing (checking in, taking photos, etc.) and I have become obsessed with knowing what other people are up to. This is partly due to the “living vicariously” aspect. We see normal people –not celebrities, whose lives are more exciting and we become obsessed with their lives. All I know is that any obsessive behavior can’t be good.

The Dilemma

I have an unhealthy co-dependent relationship with the social network. It needs me (and you) to survive and I have come to need it for some sort of fulfillment. I will always be an advocate for information and knowledge. To suggest we stop using social networks would be like asking people to go back to the Stone Age. Lately I have found myself more and more conflicted. I’m afraid that some of the things I write or have written may have been misinterpreted and vice versa. Is that something that I just need to accept because that is the risk we take when participating in social networking? Do I share less, blog less, blog less personal things? But I would really hate to be censored that way, although I already feel that way now. I don’t know. I don’t have an answer. 

my thoughts about the gym

I went to the gym for the first time in a very long time. I didn't plan on it since I am not even a member. I asked a friend to have a beer with me, but he was on his way to the gym so he asked me to come along and since I was restless and desperately needed to exercise, I went. I have only been to the gym a handful of times because the thought of exercising that hard with a bunch of other fit people sounds like the most awful thing I could do to myself.

I don't like the gym for the following reasons:

1.) It smells like sweat. I don't mind my own sweat but dozens of other people in close proximity sweating is gross.
2.) It's hot. All of that body heat and energy in the air causes you to sweat the minute you walk in.
3.) No matter what I do or how much money I spend on work out clothes, I will always look terrible in gym clothes unless I have the body of a Victoria Secret model.
4.) I look disgusting sweaty and breathing heavily.
5.) You're surrounded by people who are really into exercising and being fit so they're agile, coordinated, ripped and look great rolling on a ball, while you have a hard time standing on one leg.

I honestly don't know why people love going to the gym besides having access to a wide array of exercise machines and weights. Tonight I have a couple of theories why:

1.) They can be smug and tell their coworkers they went to the gym last night.
2.) They can check-in on various social networking sites to let everyone else know they care about being fit while everyone else reading their status is likely sitting on their asses watching t.v.
3.) They like people watching and they like being watched
4.) They like this overtly sexual exercise machine (which I discovered tonight) where you sit, spread your legs and the seat moves so your hips thrust back and forth as you close and open your legs. you repeat this motion until your butt and inner thighs burn.
5.) It's a good way to meet people. I don't have any personal experience with this but this is what I've heard and I don't understand it. I would imagine the gym would be the worst place to land a date but people must find sweating and breathing hard extremely attractive.

I ended up joining the gym because I am a sucker. I will work hard to go and get the most out of it at least for one month, since it is a monthly membership. The great thing about working out at home is I can watch t.v., I can work out in my PJs or naked and I don't have to smell anyone else's sweat but my own, so I am skeptical I will keep this membership. I have to say I do like going to the gym with a friend.

mad men and my shout out to faye miller

Mad Men is back and my life now has a little more purpose. To quickly recap, in Season 4, Don drank a lot and blacked out a couple of times (maybe almost even every night). Don was hooking up with a prostitute, got into a semi-relationship with Dr. Faye Miller (by "dr." I mean consumer researcher), then suddenly proposed to his secretary. Also in Season 4 just when you think you can't hate Betty anymore, she proves us wrong. Joan got knocked up by Roger and Sterling Cooper Draper Pryce lost their biggest account Lucky Strike putting them on the verge of closure. In a stroke of genius (or stupidity), Don took out a full page ad in the NYTimes stating why he “quit tobacco.”

In preparation for Season 5, I recently watched a couple of episodes from Season 4 and I’d like to dedicate this blog post to who I think is the most unfortunate of Don Draper’s women, Faye Miller. Faye Miller seemed to have done everything right but Don took her for granted. She is intelligent, beautiful, successful and great in bed. Faye is not very good with children but she genuinely tried to be and she took care of Don when he was at his worst. Faye’s biggest flaw was that she really liked Don. Faye seemed perfect for Don. She is his equal in the professional world and she is one of few people who truly knew his real identity and accepted him despite the lie. Faye even jeopardized her job for Don by crossing ethical bounds to help his career. In the end, Don dumped Faye for his younger secretary who he slept with once and babysat for him in California for a weekend. Perhaps I am more sympathetic to Faye out of all of Don’s women because I hate to see the Faye's in the world getting taken for granted. Faye is probably the type of woman who end up staying single because all of the men at her level will leave her for a HYPOA (hot young piece of ass). Megan is a nice girl, but once upon a time so was the young Betty.

In this new season, here’s what I’m hoping for and predicting:

1.) I hope we see more of creepy Glen and I’m predicting he’ll be a teenager with a driver’s license sneaking around with Sally.

2.) I hope we see Sal.

3.) I think Midge (Don’s former mistress, artist from the village) overdoses on smack.

4.) I think Peggy becomes a lesbian… wait did she already do that?

5.) I hope Carla gets her revenge on that bitch Betty for firing her.

pets: my thoughts (rant or reflection? you decide)

If you know me personally, you know that I am not an "animal person." I figure it is about time I defend -- more like explain myself. I don't know what it is, but there is something in my genetic make up that does not allow me to ooh and awww over pets like some people do, whether that is dogs, cats, birds, pigs, etc. I don't dislike animals. I would never hurt one and I do get sad when I see the Sarah MacLaughlin ASPCA commercial, but then I get annoyed because that "Arms of the Angel" song that plays throughout the commercial reminds me of that annoying movie City of Angels, which reminds me of Nicolas Cage. I also think baby animals are adorable, however, that does not mean I enjoy looking at photos of other people's pets. I only need to see two maybe three photos of pets. The first one is when the pet is a baby, then when the pet is older and the third is when the pet is doing something spectacular like attempting to play a piano or flush the toilet (also that is the only time I find people's pet videos interesting). I try to like animals because I worry that my lack of gushy affection towards animals means I am capable of being a serial killer. I may not love animals but I do detest people who equivocate their pets to people-- particularly children. Pets are not children.

Perhaps my feelings towards pets can be explained by my childhood. Growing up, my family had a dog named Trixie. I'm not sure of her breed but she looked like a Cavalier King Charles Spaniel with slightly smaller ears. She was a cute dog and died at the age of 14. She was very sick and I actually saw her die and to my surprise, cried. I was never that close to Trixie because she was really more my brother's pet. It took me a long time to get used to her because I was terrified of dogs. When I lived in the Philippines there was this dog that terrorized my neighborhood—or maybe it terrorized me and I've been sort of afraid of dogs since.* Trixie was the first dog I petted and held. I was eight-years-old. 

*I am more afraid of cats than dogs. I actually kind of like dogs now. Cats stare at you emotionless so they look like they are plotting to kill you.

i sold my soul

Remember just 5 days ago how I was like, "I quit Facebook?" As it turns out, I have sold my soul to Zuckerberg. I registered for StyleMint and JewelMint a while back (it's a website where you earn credits when you buy something and use your credits to buy more, etc.) and I apparently used my Facebook account to register. In order for me to redeem my credits, I had to use my Facebook login which activated my account. Yes, that seems like an excuse. I can redeem my points, cancel the subscription, deactivate and start all over again but that just seems like too much trouble.

I have seen this option a lot more lately where you can register with your Facebook account or you can sign up separately. I always chose the Facebook option because I don't want to bother with filling out the online form and wait for a confirmation email, etc. blah blah blah. Something just occurred to me that has been so obvious all along, is that this is how Facebook is rooting itself into my life like a weed. Those evil genius SOBs.


p.s. I deleted the Facebook app from my phone to save myself from myself. I have a feeling even Facebook will win that fight with myself eventually.