Contemporary Media - friend or foe

Remember as a child, you'd play an innocent game of telephone with friends and by the time the message reached the last person, something was missed, misconstrued or blatently changed.  In our digital age, where news, sound bites, and images are shared at lightning speed, how are we to know what to believe as fact or to know what hasn't been edited or mis-communicated?

The dissemination of news is corrupt.

I started university as an English major.  During my freshman year, I took an GenEd class called Intro to Journalism - we studied the history of journalism and its effect on the general public and popular culture as well as overall societal views and acceptance. One particular discussion about the impact of news reports covering the Vietnam war always stuck with me.  Some reports pushed the "U.S. is winning" message in order to boost national morale and proactively support a war overseas that the majority of the country would never see firsthand.  On the flipside, was it not objective reporting to disregard the tens of thousands of innocent children being massacred at the hands of U.S. soldiers?  What message is the media obligated, and expected, to report? 

This got me thinking, how can anything communicated through any media outlet be considered unbiased?  Later that semester, I quickly changed my major to Print Journalism. I truly believed there HAS to be objective reporting in the world, and I was destined to make sure of it!

(side bar: after a semester in Print, I changed my major again to Public Relations because at the suggestion of my mom, print journalists rarely find jobs and don't make a lot of money. Thanks for that insightful guidance, mother.)

In the 80s with the onset of USA Today, newspapers became water-downed; this newly formatted daily provided quick snapshots of top stories; possibly a preclude of our need for instant gratification in the busyness of our lives. The paper itself was more enticing with its 4-colour spreads and pictures littered across its pages, our news was becoming more visual. And although more appealing and easier to read, we were only getting a quick blurb of news that probably deserved, if not warranted, more detail.

Around the same time, the dawn of a 24/7 news cycle hit our TVs with CNN, an entire channel devoted to news and world reporting.  Along with presenting the day's top stories, they needed filler to draw in viewers with interesting content, so they then would bring in commentators to talk and share their opinions about said news story. Objective news reporting was officially dead.

I stopped watching national broadcast news a few years ago - I became vexed by the lack of objectiveness - reporter's inflection, the use of insinuating questions and tone of voice, putting words into interviewee's mouths...then sound bites and comments taken out of context to create some sort of narrative or attention grabbing headline.  How many times have you read an article where someone is quoted yet it's only a portion of what was actually said in entirety?  Or have seen/heard an edited sound bite accompanied by a caption or commentary that falsely describes the scene. Media manipulation is a fascinating thing as they know most people will focus mainly on the headline or photo and not always bother to read the entire content.

Sensationalized news is nothing new.  But now, our online attention is monetized for the almighty dollar and it's become a financial race to keep our attention. News outlets are intentionally throwing out click bait for us to feed upon. How many times has a headline lured you in or inferred an untruth, only to be refuted by actual facts, buried somewhere in the body of the article.

I'm going to leave this right here:

https://www.buzzfeednews.com/article/janelytvynenko/hoax-misleading-claims-george-floyd-protests

TL;DR? It's a number of recent articles that went viral and were completely false or manipulated. That should speak for itself. And for the record, fake news travels 6 times faster than real news.

Today we have an abundance of networks, channels, social media pages, to obtain our news.  But who is credible, who is going to report facts without opinions or bias, or hidden agendas?  With so many options, we can literally pick and choose our news source, and usually we'll select the one that supports whatever narrative we want to follow. Any person can turn on MSNBC and switch to FOX and get two totally different reports on the same story.  We can actually determine for ourselves, what we want to be "factual" news.

But it gets worse.  With the velocity of Posts, Shares, Likes, reTweets, which often spread without fact checking, information with the slightest amount of truth or lack of accuracy, could go viral to millions of others within minutes. The idea of conspiracy spreading is frightening, especially if it's untrue.  And just because something is repeated more than once, doesn't give it validity, something I believe some people fail to understand. 

At what point is everything fake news?

So let's talk about social media specifically.  It has become its own corrupted monster on news dissemination.  I watched the Social Dilemma this week (which I HIGHLY recommend) and although what they discussed was nothing really novel, it did explain the flaws of the algorithms they've built and how it has unsympathetically, and quite subconsciously, changed how we think, purchase, live, and conclusively vote.

Now, I love my social media - it allows me to keep in touch with distant friends and family, watch endless animal videos and I'll admit, sometimes I do want it to recommend other types of facial moisturizers and non-plastic household cleaners. But where's the line on suggestive interests?  The documentary describes how the AI/ML (artificial intelligence/ machine learning) technology will gradually learn your activity and continue to push related ads, stories, news articles related to past views and searches. 

I'd like to think that I wasn't naive to this - Google has been watching me for years, I am completely cognizant of this yet continue to use it as my main search engine out of convenience.  But what is the disadvantage of this saturation of "customized" information?

Perfect example - I had not heard of this conspiracy called "pizzagate" (even as I type that word, my skin cringes at what might appear in my social feed when I log in again) until a few months ago.  Once I started going down the rabbit hole trying to educate myself on it, additional stories started popping up on my social feeds, new links connecting me to other articles. Without even trying, I learned about QAnon and all the conspiracies (or truths, as they see it) they promote.  What the Social Dilemma contends is that the embedded algorithm is taught to continue to direct you to similar information, to the point where even I was pondering, "well, there's tons of information out there, how do I know it's not true?" 

The same can be applied to political affiliation - if I start reading about the Republican party or "Like" a meme or share something that might lean slightly to the right, more and more content will eventually start flooding my social media feeds with similar ideologies, therefore reinforcing those beliefs and affirm any right-winged supported philosophy.  So, is it informative or propaganda? 

Our views become distorted, and ultimately one-sided, as we are continually being fed what the AI thinks we want to see.

I can write an entire other commentary on the effects of social media but I think the documentary successfully illustrates all that is wrong with our addiction to social media. Go watch it.

(P.S. I have no desire to delete my FB or IG accounts - I can't live without dog videos)

Along with the sensationalism of news, negative stories will get more attention because it causes more conversation controversy, more people will be talking about it and engaging with it.  Let's face it, the truth is often boring. In the case of recent reports during the BLM movement, who got more news coverage - the looters or the protesters? How often did you see reports of the peaceful protests or the positive stories that came from it?  How many times did you read accounts of "violent protesters", when in fact, they were actually looters taking advantage of the situation and had nothing to do with protests? It goes without saying that there were bad apples among both groups, but you were more likely to hear about them than the good ones.

How about The Onion? I've always enjoyed this channel of humor, but how many people (living under a rock) know it's satire?  And I know there are a handful of similar satirical sites where I'm sure people have read something and taken it for truth...and then spread it along to others.  I have seen too many FB shares of satirical articles wherein the person posting legitimately thinks it's true.  It contributes to the 'Well, it's on the internet! It must be true!' mindset. Are there restrictions are in place to limit this channel, and those alike, to offset the proliferation of their satirical "truths" which originate as comedic in intent, but possibly turn into heresy and can undoubtedly become unverified viral, unsubstantiated "facts"? Would that be considered censorship, especially if it's not true?

These past seven months, we've been inundated with statistics, numbers, facts backed by science, opinions, viewpoints, more information that's been adjusted because of new research, recommendations, etc about COVID-19.  It's a clusterf*ck of information from doctors, scientists, homeopaths, and a little orange man.  Like the game of telephone, facts get miscommunicated or misinterpreted; 2% or .02% are vastly different numbers as it relates to infection rates. And among all these numbers, data is being continually manipulated to fit whatever narrative they want to impart.  

But at the rate that information is transmitted, how are we to know what to believe as truth anymore?  Who do we trust?  Who can we trust?

The other day I saw a meme with a picture of an Amish man and it read, "Why aren't you worried about COVID?" with a reply "We don't have a TV." 

It's so hard to stay online these days or watch the evening news - it's become is too depressing and disheartening.  I asked my friend today, "is it better to be stuck in my little naive bubble or become completely disillusioned by what is really going in in the world?"

I leave you with this: think before you post, fact check before you share, and stop spreading hate, negativity and false propaganda.  Journalists, go into a story with an open mind and don't decide what the story is before you write it. Social Media, you have a responsibility to monitor the disease of false news spreading across your channel.

 

Advice for my 25-year old self

I turned 45 years old last October. Is that considered a milestone year?  Is that officially middle-aged?  Maybe it's time for some botox and lip fillers in dire hope to sustain my youth? Am I supposed to have a mid-life crisis, question my life and wonder if I should have made different choices when I was younger?

I always enjoy reading articles of folks reflecting on their lives and pose the "if I knew then, what I know now" scenario and what would they do differently.  Most of the time, it's very heartwarming and inspiring.

When I think back 20 years ago, I never would have imagined this is where I would be today - living in the middle of the Pacific, child-free with someone who wasn't my husband, away from my immediate family, friends, and USC football.  During my senior year in high school, we had a class project where we had to create a timeline of our future life - what we had envisioned for ourselves over the next few years.  I distinctively remember mine: I would graduate from UCLA (the horror!) with a degree in English Lit and Graphic Design, married by 24, working as a magazine editor, three kids by the time I was 30, and a summer house in Santa Cruz.

It's funny how things turn out.  Most of the time, for the better.

A few weeks ago, I had this one-sided conversation with Randy:
Me: Did you ever imagine that you'd fall in love with a beautiful girl and move to Hawaii?
Randy: No.
Me: It's like all your dreams you never had came true. 😉

I posted this as my Facebook profile pic last week but was hesitant  before I hit Save.  I gazed at this photo with immediate judgement; all I could see was how I had aged, the wrinkles that had formed around my eyes; the sun spots that were new; my hair was thinner than what I remembered; had I gained weight, my face was fuller; my brows were not as lush, my teeth were crooked....  The self-discernment had become my modus operandi for 40+ years; my internal critic was on auto-pilot.


But then I shut down that voice and saw the real me. Someone who had gone through some shit over the years but finally found genuine happiness and vitality. I knew behind the smile were tears, some very recent, some decades old, but that smile was a reflection of inner strength born from those tears.  I saw the wrinkles around my eyes and mouth as a by-product of years of laughter. The chubbier cheeks meant I was fortunate enough to feed my face. The added sun spots were a cherished memento after blissful hours spent under the Hawaiian sun.

I saw someone who was self-secure and didn't need validation from anyone nor any thing; someone who saw past materialistic bullshit and didn't feel the need to impress anyone anymore. I saw a woman who was finally comfortable in her own skin and felt beautiful makeup-free, someone who understands enjoying a good meal and glass of wine are more important than being a Size 2.

I saw someone who is strong and tenacious, yet a soul who laughs too much at the most inappropriate times and always cries while watching The Notebook. I saw a little girl who just wants to be loved.  I saw someone who wants to surround herself with those who accept her regardless of all her faults, not expecting her to be someone else. I saw an inner light that had learned to shine through all the storms. I saw someone who was living a life without regrets. I saw someone who was finally living for herself.

So, as I reflect on my life, what would I change?  How would I act differently? 

I would change nothing.

The choices I made in my past have formed the person I am today.  I'm grateful for the mistakes I made - those became lessons.  I'm grateful for those who broke my heart - you cannot appreciate the rainbow without the rain. I'm grateful for the countless jobs after college (10, to be exact) before I turned 25 as it taught me how to be frugal and humble.  I'm grateful for the people who stuck with me through my roller coaster 20s and 30s - you learn who your real friends are very quickly.

So if I were to say anything to my 25-year old self, I would cut through the bullshit, no warm and fuzzies:

"It's going to really suck at times.  You're going to doubt yourself, you're going to be scared, you're going to feel all alone.  You're going to want to quit - and a few times, you do give up and run away.  You're going to lose hope.  You're going to end up in hours and hours of therapy with several different therapists. You're going to find genuine love, several times, sometimes when you least expect it. And in some cases, you're going to lose these loved ones; some people and things are not meant to stay in your life. You're going to get your heart broken to shreds.  It will break you.  But no matter what, after many tears and several years, you'll get through it.  I promise. You're stronger than you know. God has a plan for you. Oh, and have fun. Don't let people tell you how to live your life - be true to yourself. Laugh as loud as you want.  Life is too short to be unhappy.  PS: Eat the pasta. And always order dessert."

You're going to be OK, 25-year old JoJo.

Living on a rock in the middle of the Pacific

On the days when we remember that we live near the beach, we go outside and this is our view:

Not too shabby right?  When people ask us how we like living here, it's hard to be humble about living in paradise.  We drive down the coast or quietly sit and watch the sun set over the water, I ask Randy, "can you believe this is where we live?"

But don't be fooled by the pretty colors.

Life on a tropical rock has it's share of problems, too. Yes, it is like being on vacation every day and I realize I don't have room to complain.  But there are some unique things that make life here, life.

Nature:

A) "RAAANDYYY!!!"

That usually means one thing: I just found a cockroach.

Cockroaches are the norm here.  Randy has a hat with a cartoon picture of a cockroach with the caption, "Hawaii's state bird."  And it doesn't matter how Spic & Span clean your house may be... they will make cameo appearances no matter what.

Now, the louder I yell, typically indicates the status of its well-being.  "Randy, there's a friend over here" simply means, there's a dead cockroach on its back.  "RAAANDY!!!" is code for he needs to come deal with the small pterodactyl.  For Randy's last birthday, I gave him a Critter Catcher which we found only works in this first scenario because if it's still alive:

• there's a possibility that it will FLY away (just the other day, I thought a small bat had flown into the house)
• the cockroaches here are too big and won't fit in this little contraption

Also, because they're so big, we don't really kill them because dead cockroach guts make a huge ugly mess that no one wants to clean up.  So if possible, we'll Randy will trap it in a cup and carry it outside, usually squirming and yelling (Randy, not the cockroach.)

B) Mosquitos

These little buggers LOVE me. We went to an outdoor function a few weeks ago.  By the time we left, I had about 14 bites; 6 were in the first five minutes.

This past winter, we had unusually long stretches of rain which made for perfect breeding conditions for these little f*ckers.  If I heard one buzzing around at night while in bed, I would hide under the sheet, choosing the uncomfortableness of sleeping in my own sweat rather than relinquishing my blood as sacrifice.

I can't leave the house without sunscreen and bug spray. So I'm usually a greasy, sunscreened, DEET-smelling hot mess.  Attractive, I know.

C) Geckos

Cockroaches are aren't the only critter variety that we share space with on the daily.  I see no less than three geckos in my house every day; one fell on me while watching TV.  I've never moved off a couch so quickly in my life.  Now if they would just EAT said mozzies, that would make them more welcome.  But they don't seem to listen when I yell "go do your job!" as they scurry across my ceiling.

D) Random wildlife

• Chickens: they're everywhere - the parking lot of the market/ Costco, side of the road, walking to the gym. 
• Squirrels: they're not cute and furry here.  I call them eel squirrels because they look like eels with small little legs
• Cats: like the chickens, there are feral cats all over the Turtle Bay property.  Randy feared that we almost had a new pet a few weeks ago when one showed up at our door.  

E) Birds

Ok, how can birds be annoying, you ask.  Well at 6:13 on a Sunday morning, they are definitely a pain in my arse.  Especially these birds, which I refer to as the CP-30 and R2-D2 birds, who have a daily conversation outside my open bedroom window in this odd, tech-tronic chirping manner.  And for those who know me, disrupting my slumber is never a good idea. 

F)  Other random bug-related issues:

• the snails here are huge; I think they're on steroids
• frogs come out at night on the golf course next to us and we almost stepped on them walking home
• last week after the rain, when there were no trade winds, we had to walk through a cloud of gnats.  Randy was wearing about 50 dead gnats on his shirt while walking to the beach
• I have been thinking of wearing ear plugs at night, in fear that one of the 5 random bugs that live in my house will crawl in my ear while sleeping.  I was told at our local urgent care that is way more common than you would imagine. #NOPE

Proximity to anywhere:

We live in what is considered the country, about an hour or so outside of Honolulu.  We've learned that even though we live on a small-ish island, everything is "far." Granted, where we live on the North Shore, there is only a 2-lane highway to get in/out.  Add the visitors in their rented minivans, convertible Mustangs, Jeeps and the countless tour buses to the equation, and that makes for a mess of a commute anywhere you go, at any time of day.

There is a stretch of highway near Laniakea Beach, aka Turtle Beach, where tourists will stop to park and cross the highway to the beach, which in turn, backs up traffic for sometimes miles.  When this happens, it can take about 40 mins to drive the 9 miles off the North Shore. #damnturtles

I mentioned in my previous post that I have family here on the island who I was very excited to spend more time with...I think we've been there twice to visit in the last 8 months.  And they know they're always welcome to visit us, too.  But they will say, it's far. I get it.

Miscellaneous first world island problems:

Humidity:

• I'm always sweating. I've gotten used to taking two (usually cold) showers per day.  And on those occasional three-shower days, you get used to the damp towel waiting for you.
• When it's really humid, our hardwood floors become damp and slippery.

Grocery shopping:

• I miss Trader Joe's.  Randy laughs at this but I think I simply miss the convenience of it. And the variety of snacks.   
• I had visions of grandeur that I'd cook for Randy all the time once we moved.  Costco is an hour away, shopping is expensive at the local market and good luck finding everything you need there.
• One market is closed on Sundays.  And they don't sell alcohol.

All in all, these are hardly things to complain about - but on those days, after your third cold shower, and you're doused in bug spray and you just sat in turtle traffic for an hour... you often miss the 10 different types of restaurants within a mile of an air conditioned house with a pantry full of Trader Joe's snacks.

Aloha nui loa

04Dec 2016
El Ranchito Restaurant
Corona del Mar, CA

This was the last time I had an anxiety attack.

And what brought me to where I am now.

I had just returned to Orange County after a few days in Hawaii with my mom; we had gone to Oahu to pay our respects to my grandmother's brother who had recently passed away.  Although it was under dire circumstances for our visit, it allowed me the chance to meet my extended family, now going into a 4th generation growing up on the island.  I was enveloped by my new family who welcomed me with open arms, warm hugs and little ones who smiled and called me Auntie.

I came back to CA feeling a whole mess of different emotions: sad, from having to say goodbye to my uncle, but also excited knowing I now had a LOT of "new" cousins; tired from the travel; happy to see Randy after being gone all week; hangry because well, that's the norm; but mostly uneasy, as I was feeling a bit lost.

Randy picked me up to go to lunch and we headed towards Corona del Mar. Halfway en route, I remembered it was the day of the annual Christmas Walk, which in the past, has always been a festive time.  But due to my volatile mix of moods, I didn't have the patience to hassle with the crowds and holiday drivel.

(I know, bah-humbug.  I was being a scrooge for sure.)

But we were almost there so Randy suggested we check it out, if we're not feeling it, we'll go somewhere else.  So we park and walk towards the center of the storm but the moment I turned the corner onto PCH, the jubilant atmosphere could not brighten the ominous clouds in my head.

Before we left, I walked into El Ranchito to use the restroom and after a few seconds while standing in line, I could feel the anxiety attack quickly creep on.  Blurred vision ensued and my peripheral started closing in on me.  And then I started sweating.  I ran out of there, blindly yelled to Randy, "WE NEED TO GO!  WE NEED TO GO NOW!" He looked at me confused but followed me as I frantically scoured through the sea of white, between the saloned blonds with their Louis Vuitton bags and David Yurman jewelry, past the paisley shirts worn by well-groomed douche-baggery natives, and beyond the countless Land Rovers and Maseratis, back to my car.*

As I paced along Avocado Street ranting, "I can't do this anymore!  I can't!" waving my arms about like a crazed person, Randy asks what just happened.  And I said, "HAIR!! BOOBS!! LIPS!!  They all just exploded in there! Everything in there was FAKE!  I can't live around this anymore!"

Two months later, we were on a plane to visit Oahu and the Big Island in the hopes that I could convince Randy that we should move to Hawaii.

Randy and I had previously talked about moving out of Orange County but our conversations were mostly hypothetical.  Nothing was wrong with OC; we both had comfortable lives and it was what we knew.  I had been living there for almost 23 years and Randy had grown up in Huntington Beach and spent most of his adult life in Newport and HB. We had a tight social circle of friends, my nephews were only an hour away, and I was happily content with my 7 gym memberships and close accessibility to two of the best malls in the country.

But I knew deep down that Orange County wasn't truly home for me and there was something else missing, somewhere else, I needed to be.

Although I had only visited a few times - twice with my parents when I was younger and twice as an adult -  Hawaii has always held a special place in my heart.  I attribute that to my beloved Grandma Cruz who always considered the islands her home.  As a child, I joyously sat next to her watching old episodes of Hawaii Five-O and Magnum PI, listen to her point out Hawaiian landmarks while sharing her memories of living there.  For several years I danced hulu through my ballet troupe (I know, truly authentic, eh?) and thought, "duh, I'm a natural, after all, I'm Hawaiian, aren't I?"  And my favorite times were when my unkos and aunties would visit from HI, they'd all sit around the kitchen table, laughing and talk story all day.  And so I grew up loving all 'tings Hawaiian.

I pondered a move to Hawaii in 2005; I had just gotten divorced and wanted a fresh start.  I flew out with my mom and by the time I left the island, I had three job offers and an open invitation from my uncle to stay with them temporarily until I found my own place.

But in the end, I was only running away and I knew my problems would simply follow me across the Pacific.

So thankfully, I decided to stay put in CA.

Fast forward 12 years, I felt knew the timing was better. I was in a healthy relationship, I had a stable job that afforded me a comfortable lifestyle, I wasn't running away from anything anymore.

Instead, I was running towards something.

19Jan 2018: A huge change was in store for Randy and I as we boarded our flight to Honolulu with our one-way tickets.  We jointly signed a mortgage on a condo, packed up my entire life in a crate and shipped it over with my car.  We were going to be working from home a mere two feet away from each other, EVERY. DAY., and we had never lived together. Yeah, what could go wrong?  #wemustbecrazy

These days, after our work day ends, we still have plenty of daylight to go enjoy our island life.  Spare time is spent outside or at the (ONE, yes, one) gym.  And most of our stress comes from coordinating dinner around the sunset, remembering to put on mosquito repellent, and what day should we make the hour drive to Costco.

Don't get me wrong - it's still life. We still need to work, pay bills, and figure out how to feed my face every day.  But it's not too shabby when the crashing waves are a quick 7 minute, carefree walk away.

No more Newport mommies running around in their athleisure Lululemons, no one asking what diet you're on this week, no one humble bragging about their new LV bag (#blessed bullshit), no overheard conversations of recent rejuvenation surgeries, no one asking what car you drive, no more suggestions of where to get hair and eye lash extensions. * No more nonsense.

My life has become blissfully simple.  I'm home.

Aloha nui loa.

------------------

* My over exaggeration of stereotypical Orange County is written in jest and I'm only making a distinction to the complete opposite of the life I wanted to live.  Everyone chooses happiness in their own way and I choose to live mine in shorts with sandy toes and salty, wind-blown hair.

Kindness doesn't cost a thing... spread that sh*t everywhere

I think when you've been in any profession for a long time, you naturally become a creature of habit, especially if you're doing the same thing, day in and day out.  I've been a recruiter for 17 years and have a pretty standard routine of questions with most candidates - why are you looking for a new job, what is your salary, etc, etc.  Once I have my needed information, I'm usually pretty quick to get off the phone.  

Today I was speaking with a potential candidate and after a few minutes, I began getting impatient with his questions and how he was going “off script” from my normal dialogue. He was asking very specific questions about the location of the job and the train/bus availability.  And he was also incessant in telling me he needed relocation assistance.  I quickly explained that relocation wasn’t always readily available but I'd check for him, yet he continued to say how much he needed it.  Just as I was about to try to wrap up the call, I stopped. And listened.

And I was quickly reminded: Everyone carries a burden. 

It turns out that he was a brain cancer survivor. And although he is in remission, he still suffers from occasional seizures.  He is required to be five-years, seizure-free and cleared by a doctor before he could get his driver's license back. So he needed to know the exact job location to research the bus or train schedule in that part of town.  And in regard to the relocation assistance, he had to recently bury his father who left him with a mountain of debt so he was unable to afford moving costs for a new job but was willing to relocate anywhere in the US.

Who knows if his story is 100% true as I've had my share of doozy stories in my career… or perhaps it was only the tip of the ice burg of obstacles he has to deal with every day.  But he had vigor in his voice and a grateful attitude to be alive.  He just wanted to get back to work.

So remember, we all have a back story, we all carry around something that affects who we are today.  Be kind to one another, listen to one another, and never be quick to judge.

Kindness doesn’t cost a thing. Spread that sh*t everywhere.

Expectations

When it comes to expectations of others, especially those we love, we count on a certain level of love and respect in exchange for the loving and caring things we do for them.  Love and expectations go hand in hand.  You can't love someone without expecting a little of the same in return; what we do ourselves, we would expect from others. However, the biggest disappointments in our lives are the result of misplaced expectations.

Hollywood has created unrealistic and false expectations on how we perceive relationships.  There is that whole Jerry Mcguire "you complete me" bullshit; looking for happiness and some sort of fulfillment in someone else when you should be creating your happiness within yourself first. That's a lot of pressure to put on one person, including yourself, setting the premise that you're not complete until you find "the one."  What a bunch of loaded crap. 

Romantic-comedies conjure up these stories that there's supposed to be some definitive progression of how a relationship should start, have its ups and downs but still end up happy in the end.  And every movie ends the same because that's how it's supposed to be, right?

Disney and most fairy tales play their part in creating these misconceptions, too.  We grow up waiting to find our Prince Charming, that knight in shining armor to come rescue us and live happily ever after.  We believe the whole narrative of our relationships should follow this magical story line.

[sidenote: does it bother anyone that in the story of Cinderella, the Prince falls madly in love with her in one night, yet can't remember what she looks like and has to go all over town with her shoe to find her?]

Every day I read various relationship "advice" columns and self-help newsletters; I love blogs/websites like mindbodygreen and Mark and Angel Hack Life.  Even the Huffington Post will have a few goods ones every so often.  But I just read one tonight which reiterates my exact point - the article is entitled "9 Reasons he's the One."  Articles like this perpetuate a check list that people think they need to adhere to in order to know whether or not their S.O. is a keeper. It's setting expectations that no ONE person is ever going to fulfill.  So if your boyfriend/fiance is missing two of these, you better break up with him?  Sure, these articles are good barometers to use but it sets certain impractical expectations for people. 

We also tend to let the influence of family and friends alter our expectations -  "is he the one?", "how did he propose?", "when are you getting married?", "when are you having kids?" - was it the fairy tale you were expecting?  We continually project these standards on one another of how a relationship should look and progress as if it should follow a certain step-by-step calendar of events and emotions. Why do we do this to one another?

Many people have unconsciously carried and embellished this picture in their head of that perfect relationship, sometimes since childhood.  Creating images of finding the "one" and hoping that it is going to be that fantasy we always dreamed it being. But I think people get so caught up in constructing these story lines not realizing that the second something looks askew, and that person doesn't live up to your expectations or something happens that wasn't supposed to, we become frustrated, let down, and disappointed.  

Now that my expectations haven't been met, I'm unhappy and unsatisfied and I want to jump ship. So who's to blame?  I've led to believe that this is often the sole root for most break-ups; someone went "off-script" and the other person is unwilling to see how the new story ends.

What I've learned about expectations:

1.  It's unrealistic.  

2.  Life is unpredictable and unconditional.  Just because it didn't turn out how you expected or wanted, doesn't mean it isn't going to turn out even better than you imagined.

3.  We're all individuals with different stories, different pasts on different paths with different desires.  No one can have the same expectations nor ever live up to your own. 

4.  Once you let go of expectations, acceptance of others settles in.  Loving someone means allowing them to be themselves.  And the moment you allow them to be themselves, you can appreciate them even more.  The sooner you accept someone for everything they are, the sooner you will be happy. If you know what to expect, you'll never be disappointed.  

5.  People don't change.  As soon as I learned to accept someone for who they are, we begin to love them even more with all their flaws and imperfections.  Learn to appreciate each other's idiosyncrasies and individual quirks.  People are perfectly imperfect.

6.  It's often a reflection of expectations of ourselves.  We expect so much of ourselves that we often project it unfairly onto others.    

7.  Expectations for relationships shouldn't follow a map or directions.  How your relationship starts and flourishes should be whatever and however works for you.  Sometimes a great relationship is just two idiots who don't know a damn thing except they are trying to figure it out together. It should never be measured by the amount of butterflies in your stomach or how you met - but based on honesty, respect and friendship.

8.  Relationships aren't perfect ALL the time.  Don't expect it to be.  

9.  Things/situations turn out as they're supposed to, not always as to how you expected.  But that's God's will and the sooner we learn to accept that, the happier we'll be, trusting it's in His hands.

My (un)healthy obsession

I've been working out since I was 12 years old. And I mean, actually going to the gym and working out on cardio machines, lifting weights, and the like. I guess I didn't mind as it has always been sort of social activity to go work out with friends, see and be seen.  But it is also partially due to my moronic father who would always remind me "you were a fat baby, you're going to be a fat adult!" and every night would ask me whether I had worked out that day.  

My freshman year in college, I came home for Thanksgiving break and one night at dinner, I could feel my dad's eyes searing into me and finally he says, "Wow.  You've gained a lot of weight."  My brother stuck up for me and said all freshmen gain weight but the asshat argued, "yeah, but look at her!" as if I were some grotesque monster eating rather than studying for the previous three months.  I think I weighed 115 lbs at that time.  Not exactly obese for my 5'4" frame.

Another joyous memory comes to mind.... I'm 19 years old and just returned from an overseas trip to Europe.  Upon my arrival, after a big hug from my mother in the airport terminal, the first words from the man standing next to her were, "Gee, you've gotten fat."  Thanks, dad.  Great to see you too after being gone for almost an entire month.  I'm so glad to be home <insert sarcasm>.  For weeks thereafter, he (and I) would consciously watch what I ate, monitored my workouts and continued to berate my weight.  Even when I did lose all the weight plus more, I was never good enough, never thin enough.

For many years following these events, I suffered from hypergymnasia; in the gym often 2 times per day, 2 hours each time, 6 days per week, only once on the 7th day.  Excessive and obsessive? Uh, just a little.

Once I realized how insane I was being and after years of therapy dealing with my daddy-issues, I have continued to maintain a more sane healthy and active routine. In hindsight (and trying to see the positive), I can be thankful that he instilled my desire to want to stay thin.  I continued to exercise 4-6 times per week and attempted to eat well.  For the most part, I've been satisfied with my lifestyle and my body dismorphia hasn't been too out of control.

However, I've noticed that as I've gotten older, it's definitely become much harder to lose or even maintain my ideal weight.  And as I approached 40 last year, I knew I had to really up my game and increase my workout routines again; I had become lax and it was physically showing.  

For the last few months, this has been my weekly workout schedule:

Monday: 4pm private Pilates session / 5:30pm Zumba
Tuesday: 4:30pm interval training / 5:30pm yoga
Wednesday: 4:30pm strength training / 5:30pm Zumba
Thursday: 4pm private Pilates session
Friday: I will often take this day off but sometimes will go to a morning interval training class
Saturday: morning walk/hike
And recently, I've added U-Jam to my Sunday routine

Every day, I go to the office, go workout, come home, have dinner, shower, go to bed.  Wash, rinse, repeat the next day.  I've started to revolve my life around my workout schedule.  I've avoided social outings with friends during the weekdays as I knew it would interfere with my workout schedule.  Months have literally flown by and I see my fellow gym rats more than my immediate friends.

And I would finish the week and still feel like I should have worked out more.  More?  When?  How?  I would need to buy more workout gear!

<<The upside is that I have updated my workout wardrobe and I get to wear all my fun new outfits >>

Sorry, I got distracted by an email coupon I just received from Lucy.com....

They say you should visualize your goals - it helps if you have a mental image of what you want.  The body follows where the mind goes.  So in addition to my physical workouts, I started my visual conditioning and began following a few people on Instagram; folks who shared their before/after pics, workout regimens, diet plans, anything and everything related to fitness. I would look through pics and videos everyday hoping to preserve my motivation and keep my momentum going.  

But was it motivation or simply more reasons to look at my own body in dismay?  I would scroll through hundreds of selfies of these girls with their sharp hipbones, toned, stacked abs and firm, high butts and then look at myself and think, "why don't I look like that? I work out almost every day and I'll never have those abs. 

My (un)healthy neuroses was getting the best of me again.  I would hear my father in my head again, almost laughing and saying "I told you that you'd get fat!"  I've been extremely hard on myself and feel as though I haven't made much progress this last year.  I continually judge myself and feel unaccomplished; "I should have worked out longer, I should be stronger, I should be thinner."

Why am I so mean to myself?  Would I talk to my best friend like that?  Would I go to my friend and say "Yeah, you work out a lot. Shouldn't you be skinnier?" 

Of course, I wouldn't.  So why do I think it's ok for me to talk to myself like that?

What I've learned these last few weeks: sure I may have a few extra pounds on me but I'm ok with that, I'm NOT 22 anymore. I shouldn't feel guilty about getting older. (I'd like to think that) I am comfortable in my own skin and shouldn't let others, physical or imaginary, get to my psyche and dissuade me, or my progress, in any way.  

I'm grateful for my overall health.  I am embracing my body for what it is and try to nourish it as best possible. I'm grateful for the people who help me stay fit and motivate me to be the best physical version of myself.  I feel great for 40. Can I improve things, sure. I know I can adjust certain things here and there - perhaps increase my cardio, fine-tune my eating habits to cut out sugars - but at the end of the day, I'm happy for what and who I am and know that I can't compare my physical journey to anyone else.  The only person I need to be better than is the one I was yesterday.

I now need to go pack my gym bag.  Again.

I'm not 40 ~ I'm 29 with 11 years of experience

I am officially 40 years, 5 months and 2 weeks and 5 days old today.

<Cripes>

I think turning 39 was harder than 40.  You reach 39 and it's like "holy shit, I'm in my late 30s!"  But I have to say, turning 40 was pretty great.  I ended up spending my last days of my 30s in Costa Rica; and on the anniversary of my birth, am proud to admit that for only the second time in my life, went surfing and even got up a few times.  So, yeah, the actual day of turning 40, not too shabby!

The next 5 months and 19 days, well, that's a different story.

Tonight, a friend of mine emailed a photo of me that was taken about 6 years ago - I about fell off the couch when I saw how young I looked!  Only 6 years ago, I thought? Wow, I was 34.  I don't even remember 34, it seems so insignificant now? (although I did remember the outfit I was wearing, where I bought it and what shoes I had paired with it the day the photo was taken).

Where did that time go?  And where did that body go?

My motto for this year has been "New year, Old me!" meaning, I'm going to work hard again at work, make a sh*t load of money, workout like crazy and get my old body back.  Just like the good ol' days.  Damn, those good ol' days.  They always make you grateful for what you had before.... including a lithe, limber 30yr old body.

Last week, I had a riveting Friday night which included a text conversation with my best friend.  Topic: the excess amount of skin that has created a home around my waist and stomach.  She empathized and said "when I was younger, I could skip breakfast and it would go away!" Yeah, I remember when I could do a sit-up and mine would disappear.  These days, I'm at the gym for hours on end, 4-5 times per week... and yep... still there.

I was chatting with a couple of 20-something year olds in the kitchen at work last week and they were discussing their weekend plans of visiting various bars in Huntington and Newport Beach - the mere thought of day drinking well into the night made my body cringe.  But then I thought.. that used to be me, I would go out 5-6 nights a week!  I was the cool kid, too..... 15 years ago. Now, I just want to sit at home, enjoy a glass bottle of wine, away from the people.

When did I start noticing the wrinkles on my hands?  On my toes? When did my skin become so crinkly?  Is the skin on my neck sagging?  I also noticed that I'm much more concerned about doctor's appointments - annual exams, mammograms, dentist, optometrist, dermatologist - why all of a sudden am I so worried about my health?  Did turning 40 give me some weird sixth sense that made me more conscious about my aging body?

I've also been re-evaluating my wardrobe.  I did a purge in my closet this past weekend because I "accidentally" went to the mall and a few things randomly jumped into my arms (but that's for a different post as I want to tell you about my fun purchases). So I came home and realized it was a good time to discard some oldies.  It was wistfully easy to throw out a few items because 1) some shirts were aggressively gripping aforementioned unwanted skin 2) who wears turtle-necks anymore and 3) I finally caved to throw out items I've been holding onto for far too long (as if holding onto my youth).  For those of you who read my previous post (Catholicschoolitis), this was a daunting task in itself. 

The sad conclusion being that some of these clothes were simply not age appropriate for my body anymore.  The cutey sundresses, the short shorts, the mini skirts.  Not only do they not fit (!) but I look just plain silly trying to pull off some of these outfits now. 

I'm not saying that I'm only going to shop at Chico's (yes, you did get that reference) but this is a weird wardrobe age.  As funny as that sounds, I'm too young for mumus, too old for minis. Where do I belong?

I know I should be grateful for how I am aging - I'm Asian, we don't technically age until about 62 - but I guess I've become more humble to the fact that certain body parts aren't going to look the same from here on out....

So no, 40 is not the new 20.  I wouldn't redo one minute of the last 20 years.  And age is but a number, right? So, I am embracing 40, proud to be here and excited to see what the decade has in store for me.

Catholicschoolitis

I have suffered from a disease for the last several decades.  It is time that I come clean and admit to my sickness; I suffer from a major disorder called catholicschoolitis - this is a serious malady brought on by years and years of having to wear a Catholic school uniform or confined to a strict dress code.  Major symptoms include compulsive shopping, anxiety to shop and petting or hugging of clothes once in one's closet.


From Kindergarten through 8th grade, I was stuck in a typical catholic school uniform - white Peter Pan collared shirt, cardigan sweater and plaid skirt. Since most of my day was spent in school, my mother felt it unnecessary to have any "play" clothes and I think I may have had two pairs of pants, maybe 3 shirts and a few sweaters for the winter.  Probably enough for a small child but I would often get jealous of my school mates who would flaunt their Guess jeans and Esprit outfits on "free dress" days.

For four years in high school, I was imprisoned in a dress code that required a collared, solid shirt, tucked into solid pants or skirt and we had to wear socks and closed-toed shoes.  A little more room for creative expression, but let's be honest, we all still looked like one another because we all shopped at the same stores in the small town in which I grew up.

So by the time I had my own money, car and access to some of the largest malls in the country... it was all over.  I wanted and needed everything.  No more was I going to limit myself to only one pair of pants when I can have it in every color.  Why shouldn't I have skirts in various textures and patterns?  Who knew that jackets are an accessory and not just for warmth?  Why have only one pair of shoes, when the options were limitless - heels, flats, leather, suede, boots, sandals, t-strap, open-toe, peep-toe, mule, chunk heel, stiletto.  Why had my mother been keeping me from all these goodies all these years?  (Ok, probably fine that she kept me away from the stilettos at the time, but you get my point)

Funny enough, my mother actually knows cities by their malls - Union Square /San Francisco, Stanford Shopping Center / Palo Alto, Stoneridge Mall / Pleasanton, Arden Fair / Sacramento.  Of course she'd drive me there and just tease me with all the shoppes and rarely actually buy me anything.  To which I think only contributed to my ailment and initial onset of catholicschoolitis.  And a few years ago, my mother did take me on a trip to see the mall of all malls.... The Mall of America in Minnesota.  Yes, we actually flew to Minnesota just to go to the mall, that's it.

Ironically, since living on my own, I have always lived within walking distance to a major mall - Century City Mall / Century City, South Coast Plaza /Costa Mesa, Fashion Island / Newport Beach, Tustin Marketplace / Tustin.  I'm not sure if I was drawn to the convenience or I just needed to be near a mother ship in order to sustain life.  

So now as an adult, I question why I have this constant desire to have so many clothes, accessories and shoes.  Growing up in a small town, I was not exposed to fashion or trends and yes living in Southern California has socialized me to be more fashionably inclined - but honestly, I think it comes down to the fact that I couldn't have anything as a child and now I want EVERYTHING.  

Signs that you suffer from catholicschoolitis:
*  You have been shopping for too long in one day that when you arrive home with all your packages and realize you have bought two scarves in the same exact color.
*  You ask the sales person to keep the clothes on the hanger, rip off receipts in the car and tell your significant other that you just picked up dry cleaning.
*  You shop in boutiques, befriend the owner, then feel obligated to make a purchase.
*  You often play in your closet trying on clothes and putting together outfits.... for fun.
*  You lay in bed at night wondering why you haven't seen a certain shirt in awhile and actually get up to go find it... then don't wear it for another 7 months
*  Window shopping is not an option.
*  Aforementioned boutique owner not only knows your name but your style, your phone number and will often hold items just for you or text you when something new has arrived. 
*  Buyer's remorse.  You are not familiar with this expression.
*  Anxiety sets in when you can't wait to wear something.
*  You have bought at least 300 fabric hangers from Costco... and still don't have enough for all your clothes.
*  Purchasing jackets and sweaters in the middle of summer is common.
*  Sometimes you just go hang out in your closet and hug your clothes.
*  You wear unique or recognizable items only once a year.
*  When purging clothes, you come across items that have not seen the light of day in months, maybe years, but you hug it and squeal, "I LOVE this skirt!" then think of ways you can incorporate it in your outfits that week.
*  You will conjure up events of when you'll be able to wear a piece of clothing in order to justify keeping it.  For example, "I can wear this the next time I'm invited to a Sunday tea in July."  Or "This will be perfect for when I attend a dinner party with friends."
*  You dry clean everything except lingerie, pajamas and workout gear.

I'm not saying that these are things that have actually happened to me... but let's just say that I'm sitting here and four new pairs of shoes are staring at me waiting to be worn.  Or at least taken out of the box to be petted.

I don't know, maybe I'm just a girl and love clothes.  Maybe I am just bored and have nothing else to do with my time on the weekends.  But I like to think being restricted in what I could wear as a child has led me to suffer from this condition as an adult.  So to my fellow friends also plagued by this affliction, I say embrace your Catholicschoolitis and...

First World Problems

I've heard from a few friends recently regarding my last post (Conversations With God) and I felt compelled to write a follow-up because I think the message was misconstrued.  Nothing is wrong, nothing catastrophic has happened in my life, nor have I lost faith and hope in everything.  Yes, my head has been in a dense, gray fog but mainly by my own choice.

The fact of the matter is this:  I have become so overwhelmed with the notion that I have an open window of opportunity in front of me.  I am actually "struggling" with fact that I can do ANYTHING with my life right now.  Anything.  

Pretty incredible problem to have, right?

What has troubled me the most though is that several people have misinterpreted my frustration lately with unhappiness - and this couldn't be farther from the truth.  People would say "try to find joy in every day" or "I just want you to happy!"  So it was really disheartening to hear that I was somehow exuding this disposition of unhappiness or desperation when, in fact, I wake up every morning grateful to be here, in this particular predicament.  I think "wow, how lucky am I to have this type of problem?"

So it's not happiness that I seek - I've already been fortunate enough to find that.  But more so, it's about finding peace within this storm I've brewed for myself.  My frustration, not unhappiness, is rooted in my own impatience and learning to accept that everything will happen in its own time.

When I first started this blog, I was lost, trying to find this path I'm supposed to be on.  And recently, with the encouragement, help and inspiration from a few select people, (ironically, all of whom I've met since this journey began a few short months ago), I have found myself in this vortex of endless possibilities.  Knowing that my options are unlimited and hoping to have the courage to pursue even one of them has left me completely freaked out.  In a good way, though.  And I'm beyond excited, anxious, nervous and frankly, scared shitless about my next steps.

I'm not going to go into the specifics of all that I'm pondering for my path (I'll share more once the plan in put into action) but on top of all these other life changing decisions swirling in my head, I had a separate wrench thrown into my heart at the same time.  

Earlier this year, I met someone with whom I finally felt comfortable letting my guard down and allowed myself to become vulnerable again. Meeting Matt was a simple but complex gift.  His mere presence in my life reminded me that not only are there other wonderful and amazing people out there but that I could learn to give up my heart to someone unconditionally again; I discovered that I wasn't broken anymore.  

But just as I'm feeling comfortable caring about someone else again.... he tells me he's moving out of the country, indefinitely. I had just spent the last two years salvaging the broken pieces of my heart after the breakup with Julian, and God sent me someone so I could learn how to love again, only for it to be taken away much too soon.  I know Matt was sent to me for so many reasons, for which I'm so grateful, as my life IS changing because of him; he's the reason behind starting this blog, he's the reason I've been pushed on this self-discovering journey, he's the reason I'm so motivated to make some major changes for myself.  

For these reasons and more, the thought of him exiting my life after only this brief time, wrecked me. It's so rare to meet someone who can create such an astounding impact on your life and I wanted to hold onto that inspiration as long as possible. But I've learned that not everyone stays in your life forever; just long enough to teach a lesson that we needed to learn.

And because my mind was already trying to digest everything else, this threw me over the edge to the point of complete emotional numbness these last few weeks.  So yes, I was sad, frustrated, defeated and disappointed... but still lucky to know that I had been blessed with an amazing gift as a result.

So perhaps my last blog post was a bit over-dramatic and something I should have just kept to myself (or simply discussed with my therapist) but I'm fine, I'm not losing my head or utterly depressed beyond repair. I'm good.  I more than good.  I'm awesome :)  I just suffer from First World Problems.