The characters that give life to my story

Growing up I was, lets say, a little challenging. Anything and everything I wasn't supposed to do I probably did. I drank, I smoked,I partied, I dated older boys and hated school. I had one goal and one goal only, piss my mother off, I did an amazing job at that , by the way. I swore to myself that I would never be like her, that I would be different, that I would be better...

Boy, how things change!! Not only did I start looking just like her, but with each passing day I started acting more and more like her. As the years passed I started understanding and listening to my mother a little more, of course I never let her know I was listening, but I was. I am. And today, I believe that I would be the luckiest girl alive if I turn out to be HALF the woman my mother is.

Truth is that I come from a long line of amazing, remarkable women. My grandmother is a fighter, a survivor and the most gentle soul you will ever encounter. I truthfully cant remember ever seeing her angry or loosing her temper, except when grandpa insists on messing with her garden! Ha! Grandma raised her daughters right and in turn my aunt and my mother raised us right. I am very fortunate to have a tight group of women in my life that shape who I am and who I will become as time progresses.

I can only hope to inherit my grandmother's kind heart, her compassion, her faith in God and in people. From my aunt, her disarming smile, her perseverance, her honesty and her sense of style. And from my mother, well, what can I say, you are a true survivor, an inspiration. You never put your head down, you continue walking. No matter what life has thrown at you, you always come out on top, no matter the sacrifice, you always make it happen. Thank you for making me eat my pancakes and blow my nose. Thank you for all the birthdays, for all the recitals, for all the dreams you made come true.

To all the women in my life, the angels in my life, mothers, grandmothers, aunts, sister, friends. Thank you because even though I might not say it, sometimes not even show it, you are and will always be the characters that give life to my story and without you life would definitely be, well, life less.

Rehab

I don't know why I put myself through this, every month, to be honest it's more like every week. I salivate and my hands get clammy when I am in the presence of a new fashion magazine. I buy them like it's my job, my religion. I bet my husband would prefer I'd develop a drug habit in place of my magazine habit, it would be quite possibly cheaper. I sit in complete silence, fan the pages on my face, smell it, inhale it, salivate again. Then I devour it. I first look at every page with the voracious desperation of a child opening presents on Christmas morning. Then I start over again and read each article meticulously. Then something awful happens. Just what I imagine happens to a junkie after a fix, that wave of self hatred, self loathing, that deep, deep sense of helplessness. And I ask myself this question: Why the fuck can't I be rich so I can buy all this shit???!!!! It happens EVERY TIME.

Some people might think this is silly and a tad overly dramatic. But I urge you to stop and think about this. Where do you think women get their ideals on beauty, life, relationships and even parenthood? Ok, so probably 50% is from Oprah, but the other 50% is from what? The media, in the form of glossy, bright, beautifully overpriced magazines. How else can you explain that something like "gaucho" pants are fashionable and the fact that Kate Gosselin is still on TV. Magazines. Oh! the lies they tell! Like the fact that Jennifer Aniston's secret is Smart Water, that simple, water. Bullfuckingshit, how about the fact that she is a bizillionaire, has a personal chef, a trainer,a stylist and virtually zero stress. Not to mention that she will forever have images of her naked ex Brad Pitt embedded into her brain. I'm guessing, THAT! is her secret.

I read through the pages like I'm looking for the meaning of life, which I'm sure is somewhere between relationships and the horoscope. I love how they tell you everything, ranging from simple things like "what to do to look super cute" to "how to know when your man is cheating" and validate your life with columns like "don't worry, it ok...". If only it was that easy, if only all the answers could be contained in 194 full color pages. Us, as a society have given so much importance to celebrity that we have lost track of what's real, what's important. Do you even know how many houses I have decorated in my head while reading the latest issue of Harper's Bazaar, or how many fabulous parties have I attended in haute couture while reading Vogue? At this point I am basically best friends with Lauren Conrad and we can not wait till that annoying girl Heidi goes away, ewww, she is totally gross and totally jealous of us.

It's a little ridiculous how far my celebrity knowledge goes. But please don't ask me what's going on in the middle east because I have no idea, after all, no good gossip comes from those parts. I remember the days when I would read the paper cover to cover and knew everything about current events and politics. I really wonder what happened? Did reality become too painful to bear, did it become so real that I needed to escape? Maybe I escape inside frivolous publications because I want to be lied to, I want someone to tell me to my face that if I but a pair of Christian Louboutins my life will be better, that I'll be happier. That the worst tragedy happening in this world is that Jessie cheated on Sandra, not that millions of children are dying because they have nothing to eat. That is too depressing. I think about wanting to make a difference in the world, do something that matters, but right now I don't have enough money, no, it'll have to wait. I don't allow myself to think too much about it because it brings me back to reality, to my reality. Where I want to do so much to make a difference but don't have the means to do it, where I want to start a change but I'm too lazy to take action. I use the cheap almost mundane excuse that "one person can't make a difference".This is why I escape, because right now I need to, any other option will be too painful. So I turn to the next page. Maybe I need help, maybe I need life rehab. It worked for Britney and Lindsay, and as the thought enters my mind I immediately wonder if the Betty Ford Clinic allows magazines....

Women of a certain age

I've been thinking about friendship lately. Is it me or does it really get more difficult to make friends as you get older? It would make sense for it to get more difficult since your interests shift and you expect different thing from people. I remember being 17 at a bathroom in a club (underage drinking and partying was my sport!) and some random girl came up to me and told me how much she loved my top, we have been friends ever since. I gave her that top and she still has it.


I find it really challenging to make friends these days and quite franky most of the time I just don't want to be bothered with it. Is it that I am too demanding? Too jaded? Maybe even scared to get hurt. Could it be that I am comfortable knowing that regardless of friendships being married means I am not alone? Fuck! Just the thought of that is really disturbing because I swore to myself that I would never turn into "that married girl that doesn't need friends cause she married her best friend", I hate that girl! No, I am not that girl. I love my husband and we have a great relationship but I don't necessarily want to discuss with him the things I talk to my girlfriends about, besides, he would be bored to tears or completely uninterested when I start talking about Tomkat, Brangelina and Speidi and if he wasn't I would be afraid, very afraid.



I don't understand women that say they want a man that likes fashion designers, pop music, trips to the spa and never ending shopping trips...umm do you want a gay friend? Or do you want to get laid? Cause' you cant have both from the same man!! (I mean, physically you could but ewww!) Just like you cant get everything from one girlfriend.



I consider myself quite promiscuous when it comes to friendships, I have many friends, all very different and I think they all represent different aspects of who I am, all my different personalities..ha! And even though this is fun and all, most of the time we share the laughter but hide the tears. You are who you want to be, share what you want to share, never get too close this way you wont be judged or hurt. In part because lets be honest, few friendships are without self interest. I have found myself craving a core, those people who not only are there when your world catches on fire but remain when the smoke clears and help you pick up the pieces. This is the type of friendship that is the hardest to find, the ultimate goal, the hallmark card inspiring , lifetime made for tv movie of friendships. The friend that'll force you to examine and encourage you to grow. That doesn't tell you what you want to hear, tells you the truth and nothing but the truth, unadulterated, pure, clean and concise. I don't have time for anything less, after all I am not 17 anymore.

Can I please have my happy ending?

And I am not referring to the Asian kind. I mean the utopically perfect life I was promised if I went to school, then college, got a job and found a man to marry. Granted, I took a couple shortcuts along the way, drove drunk and deviated from the route quite a bit but at the end I got to my destination. I graduated college, got a career and conned a decent man into marring me and yet I feel like so much is missing. I am looking for a purpose, a motivation, something to believe in, something to lean on. And if you tell me to have a child I might just punch you in the face. Seriously.

Lately I can't seem to shake this feeling, this incredibly aggravating voice in my head telling me all that is wrong with me and all that I am not doing to make a difference and create a legacy. Go green, exercise more, eat less, quit smoking, save money, take your fucking vitamins, get some sleep... I have tried everything to shut the bitch up but nothing seems to work, no vodka, no beer, no fatty food or designer purchase. Nothing, the bitch is resilient. So I guess I have to shut up and listen. Listen to myself, really listen. Something I haven't done in quite some time for one reason or another. Mainly because sometimes its painful, it is painful to take a deep, hard look inside yourself and realize you left your dreams on hold, on hold for the "better" things that came along. Came along and are now gone. The way I see it, I have 2 options. Either I sit on my couch and let life happen (which I do quite often) or I take charge, stop making excuses and do me, do me and mine. Create my own happy ending, Asian kind and all.

Quarter Life Crisis

For most people, I am a well adjusted, rational, responsible young woman with a promising career, a great marriage and a fabulous life. In all actuality, I am just a great actress who missed her calling (as my mother so accurately puts it). I am, in fact completely chaotic, neurotic, judgemental, bitter and most of the time irresponsible. I do believe I am great at what I do but at the same time sulk in self loathing because I hate every minute of it. I am in the food and beverage industry and have been for what seems like an eternity and no, I am not one of the lucky ones that are working on a degree while waiting tables to pay my rent, tuition and drug habit, I actually went to college and have a degree in this shit. I'm completely invested in it, I even married a Chef, THAT invested. They say it takes a certain type of personality to make it big in this industry, I say yes, it takes having SEVERAL personalities AND an alter ego to make it, not to mention a tough skin and an endless supply of vodka to put up with the emotional and physical abuse that you have to endure. I also have passion for writing and I never shut the fuck up, which often gets me in trouble. I curse like a sailor, although I have never met a sailor so I can't accurately confirm this fact. I think I am a good friend but let's face it, who doesn't think they are? I am great at giving advice but I believe I need a life coach, and I cant swim even thought I am from an Island. I have two dogs who I believe are the dog versions of my husband and I, the female is jaded, opportunistic and uninterested and the male is overly excited, sweet and clueless. The beach makes me happy and I believe there are few better things than a really cold beer. My husband insists that I have body dysmorphia and that I am not fat but his job consists of making people eat pornographic amounts of calories and be happy about it, even pay for it so I don't know if I should trust him. And I am convinced that I am going through a quarter life crisis. So I have decided to write this blog as a more economical option to therapy. But I have to warn you that due to the graphic nature of my life some content might not be suitable for all readers. Please be advised that nudity, rude and crude language, violence and brutally honest content will be present...