So thrilled my camera captured this in the darkness!

On Friday morning, I realized that the Reno Balloon Race was this weekend. Ever since our amazing trip to ABQ a few Octobers ago, I just have a thing for hot air balloons. Not to go up in one (I’m scared of heights), but just to watch them glow and ascend at dawn. It’s such a peaceful and beautiful experience. So at dinner on Friday night, John and I had a conversation about life and “making it count.” Every time we see our parents, the visit makes us re-evaluate our own lives. I’ve mentioned it before about how my father was obsessed with working, learning, optimizing, improving… A few years ago, I asked him about life regrets. He replied that he wished he had started investing in stocks and understanding the financial markets sooner rather than beginning at 40 years old. Really dad? Your regret is about not building more wealth? Yes, I judged his reply. But looking back, I don’t want to make it seem like my father is superficial. He grew up extremely poor as a child of farmers. First to go to college. First to go to med school. First to leave the island. On the contrary, I am someone who grew up with the privilege that my parents created for me, so I don’t want to dismiss how transformative and impactful money can be. After all, even as I pursue opportunities in philanthropy and nonprofit, I am seeing that influence and change ultimately boil down to money– having the resources to build capacity. And my father to this day, continues to use his resources to benefit his immediate family, his extended family, and causes important to him. I get that. The interesting thing though, is that even though my father’s response was monetary, I feel like there an unspoken answer that’s equally front-of-mind: his shitty relationships with his kids. He never verbalizes this, but I feel it myself: a sadness over the loss of something that just cannot be found again. Some people ask if it’s a lost childhood, because he missed so many activities and school events due to work… I sense that parenting is different now with parents attending ALL the games and recitals and whatever. For me, I never really expected him to be there. I suppose I was independent in that sense. But surely, those absences played a role in creating a rather detached and unengaged relationship. It just is what it is.

I’m a strong believer in cultivating relationships and in self-nourishment through doing activities that you love. And yet, I keep applying to jobs… in areas that I believe in, yes, but also I’m trying so hard to fit my square peg into a round hole. I am gaining more traction on the job hunt, but still, there is no cigar!! And I feel tired. Tired to tweaking and re-tweaking myself and my materials to make my candidacy more appealing, more in line with what people are seeking. Goddamn, sometimes I feel like I’m participating in modern-day dating or something!!

Over dinner last Friday, John put it to me straight. Money is not an issue for us. We are lucky that way. And without kids, we really do have flexibility, so what is the life we really want? This is our opportunity. How do we NOT squander it?

I always say that in my dreams, I would be a writer. I say it like it’s some lofty, unattainable thing. Like when kids say they want to be Batman or something. I never give myself legitimacy as a real writer. Yet, the truth is, I AM a writer in reality. Right now.  I have been writing since childhood. Summer jobs, real jobs, jobs for my parents… I have always written. Even when I think about my current job hustle, I have actually been hustling since high school and college. I used to mail hundreds of letters and resumes out to companies just to convince them to give me a summer internship. In my adult life, I have used my writing to talk about cool engineering innovations, to craft advocacy messages, to tell entertaining stories, to engage others. I carry around in my head that one day I’ll work as a pro-blogger. But John pointed out: how will that happen if you never make your writing/blogging your central focus? If I really want to be a writer, why not just do that and commit to that?

Turns out, this highlights another conflict I have with myself. I’m an idealist, but I’m also a pragmatist. I can’t possibly be a writer/pro-blogger; after all, that idea feels even more far-fetched than me securing a job in philanthropy and corporate social responsibility and I feel like I have the credentials and skills for the latter!! Who is a writer? I don’t even know any writers among my friends, and how would I earn a living? No one pays for content anymore. Look at all those journalism school grads unable to find work. It’s just too much of a stretch.

At the same time, I hear what John is saying. Why am I chasing all these other things? For whom am I chasing? Money is not an issue for survival, and yet money to me means: 1) independence/freedom 2) accomplishment 3) legitimacy. This whole struggle I have had with shame from being unemployed… turns out, I actually give a shit about what other people think! I hate to admit this, and I probably only just realized it now. So many thoughts are going through my head. I still want to work in philanthropy. Getting my nonprofit management certificate really energized me about working in that sector. I still like to solve problems and get things done. But if no one will hire me, how do I create an avenue for myself? I think about how much I’ve been hustling… just to get a job to work for someone else. What if I hustle for myself, for my own business, or for my blog? I dunno. I’m overwhelmed, but I want to take heed. Somehow, I just really want to make this life count.

Needless to say, the dinner conversation touched off a ton of reflection. I want to do better. The question is how. Incidentally, in a moment of distraction, I told John about the Reno Balloon Race. Immediately, he suggested that we go. Mind you, by that time, it was about 9p on Friday night, and Reno is like 4 hours away. No matter. He got the idea in his head, and we mobilized. Packed our things, Martin, and off we went. I booked a hotel in the car. We were feeling pretty proud of ourselves for being all spontaneous and decisive and shit. And then Martin started getting super anxious in the car: panting, trembling…. wtf? It got so bad that we stopped at a random gas station in the middle of the night outside Sacramento (with lots of cop cars pulling in and out). I dunno what was going on. I got out of the car to let Martin out. I had taken off my shoes, and I stepped right onto a pavement littered with dry bird shit. Argh. We walked him and sat with him until he calmed down. But shit, we almost took him to an emergency vet that night.

He has definitely become more skittish since Remy died, but I never coddled Martin about it. And then, he seemed worse after the Napa earthquake. I just took him to the vet last Wednesday, and she gave him a total clean bill of health! I had mentioned the anxiety but I thought it was due to the earthquake, and I actually didn’t think of it as a new condition… Well, clearly now this is a new condition. So the rest of the drive was super touch and go. By the time we arrived at the hotel, it was past 2a. The receptionist suggested not even going to bed, because the balloon events were slated to start at 5a and she said we would need to leave the house at 3:30a because of traffic. Say what?? We didn’t listen to her. We went to bed and then when the alarm woke us at 3:30a, we decided to sleep in and catch the morning activities on Sunday instead. All three of us slept like rocks, and boy did it feel good. That stressful drive really tuckered us out.

Aside from Martin, the weekend was a lovely getaway. I know, no decisions on my job/writing/blogging/consulting paths forward, but heck, we had a fun time watching balloons! Full Flickr album here. Video playlist here.

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