Author Archives: Vicky

Learning Moments

When I was a kid, my parents realized rather quickly that I was a strong-willed, opinionated, obstinate child. I was not easy. And as I grew through the stages from child to adolescent to adult, my notoriety only got worse.

Remember that time in college when John and I first started dating, and my dad basically threw me under the bus, telling John I was a very bossy kind of person? Well, as we feminists like to say, “I’m assertive, not bossy.” But in addition to being assertive, I’ll admit I developed a reputation for being defiant, judgmental, and downright bellicose.

The other day, I was lamenting to my childhood friend that J and I were getting snippy with one another recently. I mean, it’s been a challenging year– running high on emotions between grief and loss, fear and worry, disappointment and frustration. While I do believe J and I have a very solid, supportive, and loving relationship, there are times when we face challenges. As with any couple, we encounter shared experiences but also have individual experiences that shape our separate attitudes, outlook, and mood.

Plus, with me being in real estate, I have particular sensitivities about being valued and respected for my work. This business is a weird one: unlike most salaried roles, I have a lot of upfront work and research where I provide information and services for free, and then I don’t get compensated until the very end. Sometimes, if the client doesn’t work with me, it’s just free labor. I don’t get jack.

When J was tasked with handling his parents’ estate, he fell on the client-end of things as it pertained to real estate matters for the family. I won’t go into the details, but there were instances where he interacted with agents on the East Coast in a manner that echoed the disappointments I had personally experienced in my business. And I found myself struggling to separate his actions with what that insinuated in terms of how he viewed my career. To be honest, it reminded me about that time many years ago when Michael and Juanita Jordan got divorced. She got half of everything, and J made some comment about the unfairness of it all– the money wasn’t her money. Say what? You see, our entire relationship, J has earned more than I have. Partly, this is bc he is in an industry that society values and compensates highly. The disparity of income always bothered me, but J would always tell me, it’s “our” money. And then, when the Jordan story broke, I felt a dissonance between what J had always verbalized to me and how he was interpreting the divorce. The same thing happened with his recent dealings with the Realtors.

While I was dealing with disappointment after disappointment, feeling used and discarded by potential clients, J had been giving me words of encouragement. He too agreed people were being disrespectful assholes in the way that they ghosted me or pumped me for information/resources only to go with someone else or never submit a legitimate offer.

This disconnect caused a big rift, and I was disturbed by the contradictions. We argued and discussed a few times, and then we moved on. Not bc I wanted to drop the issue, but bc belaboring the disagreement/misunderstanding about the scenarios didn’t serve us. And that’s where my friend N, who has known me since the 7th grade, commented that she has witnessed the maturity and growth and compromise. I’m an adult now, so I don’t have the time nor energy to debate something as an academic exercise. But goddamn, it’s hard to let shit go. My instinct is to rehash and to persist. I am a bulldog after all.

But I also remember that years ago, when we went to couples therapy: In the midst of some story where I was insisting that I was right and he was wrong, the counselor interrupted me and said, “Both of your perspectives–however divergent– are correct. You are on the same team.” And so… the bulldog has to let go.

In talking with my friend, I was reminded too that it’s really hard to know another person, to interpret their feelings/actions/intentions with full accuracy. Sure, J and I have been together for over 20 years, but there are still things we don’t fully understand about one another. So rather than react with insult and offense, we should consider the other perspective, and we should always assume good intent.

In addition, this recent tiff has exposed a weakness of mine: I have learned that I have to be confident and comfortable about what I do and the value I bring to my work. No one else is going to give that confidence and security to me. So, I must be more self reliant, and believing in my own value will invariably translate to how I ask for business and how I handle clients who choose another route. That part is on me.

And frankly, I’m getting there. In all my transactions, I know I go above and beyond. I am careful, organized, and prepared. And whether other people acknowledge that or not, I have to feel proud knowing from my own interactions and observations with other agents that I am more thorough and more persistent about advocating for my clients. Maybe I can do a better job of demonstrating and pointing out to clients how I go above and beyond, but fundamentally, it starts with self-love. I gotta do me: believe it, feel it, claim it.

Comeback Kid

Admittedly, I spent some amount of time this spring/summer wallowing– oh about my frustrating aging parents, my imploded listing, Bentley’s health woes, my aunt’s cancer, my slow business and empty pipeline…

Things finally turned around in July. Just as I decided to fly back to Taiwan to visit my sick aunt, I got my clients into contract. I’d met the hubby many years back, after I’d left the govvie job, through a job networking group. As soon as I earned my real estate license in late 2016, I started sending eblasts to my acquaintances and friends in that group. I saw G now and then, maybe every year or so since 2013. This March, he said he and the wife were looking to buy. We met for a buyer consult shortly after.

In the beginning, things were rather discouraging. They were adamant about a single family home (vs. townhouse/condo), but it was out of their budget in the area. As the year evolved, and rates came down, and the market shifted, and they grew open to areas farther out, a charming 1920s Craftsman an hour south came onto their radar. Competing with two other interested parties, we were able to swoop in and get into contract. Let’s just say that was the easiest part of this transaction. Over the next 30 days, it was a constant struggle with communication, responsiveness, and paperwork… When I was in Taiwan, I called the list agents daily at 3-4AM (15 hr time difference) to poke and prod with paperwork and negotiations. It all turned into a broken record really fast: plenty of promises and verbal assurances and then no deliverables. Deadlines just blown right through. Unanswered emails, unanswered texts. Full vm boxes. I’m telling you… how are they even in the business of real estate?

After I returned Stateside, more of the same. When I did manage to catch them via phone, lots of politeness and courtesies to my face, but in reality, zero consideration for me and my buyers having to drive 60 minutes to the home and no cares at all about the contract nor the schedule. In the final three days, there were lots of surprises: delays for the walk through, assurances that the house was cleared out only for me to find appliances missing, lots of personal property and trash left behind, no keys to the locked gates… The original Sunday walk through was first postponed to the morning of closing (Monday) even though when I contacted the agent on Saturday, she had said all was good to go. Then Monday morning, the day of closing, the washer and dryer went missing. On Tuesday morning, the rescheduled day of closing, the washer and dryer were back but then the fridge disappeared. And the water was already turned off, and there was a ton of stuff in the toilet. You have no idea. It was almost comical how shit unfolded in the final two days.

We did finally close on Tuesday, with repeated promises from the list agent that the fridge would be returned that afternoon and the keys all provided at that time. At 3:30pm, 5pm, and 6:30 pm, I’m still texting/calling the list agent asking where the hell the fridge is. Internally, I was losing my shit, but professional VG kept her fucking composure, I tell you. Fridge arrived at 7 pm. No goddamn keys and the seller was a resistant asshole, insisting to my buyer that the locks had already been cut. Flat out lied to her face, but she wasn’t about to escalate with a 6-ft plus linebacker-shaped dude. Two days later, still no keys for the gate locks. My people even purchased their own bolt cutter, but in the end, the locks were so darn heavy-duty, the pros were called.

As soon as my buyers told me about the professional locksmith, I ask the list agent to reimburse my clients to make this right. No response. The next day, I called/text again. No answer and vm box is fucking full. The thing about me, though: I am a goddamn bulldog. She finally calls me back and says her clients offered to cut the locks for my clients. No they didn’t. They insisted that the locks were already cut. Liars. OMFG, WTH are you talking about? We had already closed. Your sellers are legally required to provide the keys by 6pm. Fucking bullshit. She says the sellers don’t want to pay. I don’t give a fuck what your sellers say/do. At this point, you charged 6% commission for your services, not including staging costs and other separate pricey charges to your clients. My side only got 2.5%. This whole transaction, I had to ride ass… nearly the entire 30 days. On delivery day, the house STILL wasn’t cleared out, the fridge was gone, and the keys were not all provided. On top of that, your dickwad clients shut off the water and left tons of crap in the commode!!! You promised a resolution on the outstanding items by the afternoon on Tuesday. We were left with just the fridge and no gate keys at 7 pm. Come the fuck on. Step up to the plate and have some goddamn integrity. I started arguing with her, and I was fuming afterwards. I complained to J and he said, “Well what did you expect those agents/sellers to do? They’ve been sloppy and sketchy the whole damn time.” TouchĂ©, but still. Call me naive, but I expected some kind of conscientiousness.

The good news is that I have another transaction under my belt. I’ve worked things out with my buyers, and they are super pleased, so I’m very thrilled about that. But goddamn, I can’t help but have a bad taste in my mouth: I feel like an unspoken agent code was violated. I’m telling you: not all agents are the same. Be very selective when you choose your representative. For my part, I will be sharing my experience with the office, so others can be forewarned about these hooligan agents.

Being Unkind

My parents fucking drive me crazy. In brief, I explain it like this: whatever things need to happen or whatever task/project needs to get done, my parents will choose THE most complicated way of getting it accomplished. You know the garage door story, right?

So my parents live in a massive house with a 3-car garage. Since at least as far back as 2016, the damn door openers (circa 1986) have slowly started to deteriorate, meaning that they don’t respond reliably to the remote controls. When things first started getting wonky, John and I tried all sorts of small fixes like buy a new remote or program the car remote… we had varying success. At first, the issue was that you’d have to press the remote repeatedly or you’d have to hold the button down. Soon, the problem progressed to having to park the car at a very specific spot on the driveway and pointing the remote at a very specific spot on the garage door. Then, it turned into dad having to press the door button from inside the garage and runing out from under the closing door to my waiting car. When we’d arrive back home, we’d sit in the running car, parked one inch from the fucking garage door, and spend about 3 minutes fidgeting with the damn remote. Eventually, I would lose my shit and use the house key to go in the side door into the garage and press the door button. Around Christmas time, I noticed there was a dent on the garage door. Dad had pulled up a little too close to the door. When I was home again in June, the roof of the car had a scrape, bc dad didn’t pull out the car in time as the door was coming down. Fed up with this bullshit, I researched a garage door repair man, which my father claims he had done two years ago. My dad insisted that the problem was the new steel garage doors– they blocked the signal from the remote. Whatever. I don’t care the reason, I just want it fucking fixed!

So I call this repair guy that I researched, tell him the problem, and immediately, he says it’s all the other devices (wifi, microwave, first responder systems) with competing wavelengths that jam the signal. The fix is a new door opener at $350 each. I ordered two, scheduled the repair, and done two weeks later. The point is, my father could have easily spent $700 and fixed the damn issue years ago. Instead, either he was being cheap or lazy or whatever, so he damaged the garage door, damaged his car, and got me pissy every damn time I was home. See? The most complicated answer ever. God forbid, he use money to solve the problem and make life easier. SMH.

When I was in Taiwan, I realized that my parents were eating a lot of frozen foods and crap. My relatives would bring them fruit and veggies, but since my parents no longer cook, their diet has resorted to whatever foods the relatives brought but once that ran out, they were subsisting on a combo of frozen stuff, fast food, and or eating out/leftovers.

Part of the problem is, Taiwan is hotter than fuck. Like 90+ degrees with insane humidity which makes the heat sweltering. Their condo, while nice, is not conveniently located near walkable food options. And they aren’t in good shape anyway, so even walking a short distance is problematic. The other issue is that parking in the city is impossible. No parking and/or the garages are super complicated– not air conditioned, dark, hot, and just not good for old people.

So I keep telling them, they need to order delivery, and they make no progress. I mean, mind you, Chinese is not even my native language, and yet here I’m scrambling around in the dark searching for answers. The last time I was in Taiwan, I found some local food stalls/shops and asked if they delivered. Nope. Only do take out, so you have to pick it up. What? I refuse to believe the option of food delivery does not exist.

This time I was in Taiwan, I asked my cousins (who are my age) thinking they are modern professionals who should know about services. No fricking clue. Seriously, WTF. I’ve lived in China; in general, labor is dirt cheap in Asia. I will not accept that food delivery in the second largest city of Taiwan is not available!! Finally, as I was driving my parents around, I saw all these food delivery motorbikes buzzing around the city. The coolers on the back said Food Panda and Uber Eats. Done. Went home, downloaded the apps, added my credit card and shit and started ordering. Lots of options including boba, desserts, AND most importantly homestyle dishes– not too greasy or salty. I showed my cousins and even they were surprised by how cheap it all was. The dish prices were the same as in store $4-5 USD and delivery was 50 cents to $1 USD. For reals, I’m telling you: cheap labor is everything. So while I was there, we tried three different restaurants, the delivery people arrived, checked in at the front desk, the receptionist let them up the elevators, and bam, 20 minutes later, hot, fresh food at our doorstep. My dad enjoyed the fish (he always picks seafood over meats) and my mother tried a meatball dish that my grandmother used to make for us. All of it good– plus side vegetables and soup! And enough for left overs. Seriously, I was patting myself over the back for finding one of the best solutions ever.

Of course, now I’ve returned Stateside and a week later, how many times have they ordered lunch using UberEats, (which I even set up for them on the iPad so it’s large enough to read)??? Zero. I was lamenting to my friend G yesterday that I’m just so damn frustrated by my parents’ stagnation. If they have analysis paralysis from too many choices, all they have to do is press three buttons: Open UberEats >> Past Orders >> Reorder. But no. They are retarded. And it pisses me off to know end, bc once again, they have to pick THE most complicated way of living life.

G commented that I’m being unkind with my namecalling. She offered the perspective that they are really old, and we’ll be like that when we’re old too. Um, of course, anything’s possible. And I have a feeling I’m going to get Alzheimer’s and/or dementia like my grandmother and mother. But fuck: so long as I have my wits about me, I am not going to retire and turn into a helpless and hermetic blob.

I have met plenty of seniors who are even older than my parents, and they are still vibrant, sharp, energetic, and lively. My maternal grandparents even, until their 90s, attended activities daily– mahjong, dance, political debate/lectures at the Senior Center. People I met through my volunteering. People I met living in my mother-in-law’s community: crafting, singing, and laughing! Look at all the older than fuck Congresspeople having political debates and reading legal dockets and shit. I’m just asking my parents to press three buttons.

It’s about mindset. My parents CHOOSE the more complicated path. They CHOOSE to be miserable.

Here’s the deal: I get it. Life is full of disappointments. I know they had big dreams and huge hopes, and their kids disappointed them. They’re depressed and unhappy. Take the time you need to wallow. Been there, done that. In the end though, you gotta get back up. Use anti-depressants to help if needed. Look, unless you’re going to commit suicide, there’s no excuse for giving up and being lame. Obviously, I’m not talking about people who are terminally ill, too weak, or like my mother who has a cognitive disease… I’m just saying: not everyone has the advantage of resources. Use that advantage to help your damn self.

And don’t look to me for compassion or empathy. I grew up with both mom and dad as cray, cray tiger parents. Do better, goddamnit.

Sandwich Generation

So the shit’s been hitting the fan for many months now. I mean, I don’t know why I keep belaboring the fact that it’s been a crappy year—Hello, welcome to life and especially, welcome to The Sandwich Generation, right? Sometimes it just takes me some time to accept the muck and try to get over it.

In July, I got a call from my cousin about my youngest aunt. She’s 64 y/o, and earlier this year, she was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer– one of the most aggressive and deadliest types of cancers out there. My relatives in Taiwan all seemed rather incredulous bc just a few months prior in October, John and I had been in Taiwan for our annual visit, and my aunt was as energetic and as lively as she’d always been. We did that road trip together up north to Keelung, and it was such a great time despite the pouring rain (and my lame brother).

But after the new year, my aunt went to the hospital for abdominal pain, and that’s when it was revealed that she had a belly full of tumors– too many to count, and being that the cancer had metastasized, she was in Stage 4– the final stages, with a prognosis of living only another 3-6 months.

As the new year progressed, my dad was having more trouble with his eyesight (his two cataract surgeries in November and December didn’t go as planned), my mother was increasingly inconsistent with her cognition, John’s mother was declining, and then in April, Bentley got crazy ass sick. My work, which had been dead the earlier part of the year, suddenly got busy, my listing imploded, and I was feeling stressed way beyond belief.

Now it’s July, and my aunt has made it this far. She endured two rounds of chemo, plus Vitamin C treatments, among other things, but the tumors continue to grow. Three weeks ago, my cousin called and said she was near the end, so my parents (who were in Maryland) and I booked our flights.

I’ve been in Taiwan for almost a week now. My aunt appears much better than I had expected– she is still lively in voice and spirit, And she still goes for walks, but her body is a shadow of its former self. I’m not sure what to say, so we just talk about my parents and the usual family dysfunction. 🙂

My stupid listing continues to be a thorn in my side. In May, the buyer side got pissed about the very late discovery of the home having deed restrictions which prohibited its sale; they asked for money; I had to consult all the veteran agents plus the legal team on retainer at my brokerage… After nearly four months, the buyers finally agreed to cancel the transaction. But the co-listing agent and I are still helping our client navigate this complicated situation. Many calls, emails, and meetings with the housing authority and the city housing department… now we’re heading into August with two options: Sell the home now back to the City at a below-market rate, or wait for an alternative where the City considers selling the home at a higher price to a different housing agency. The latter plan would require that my clients wait another three months for that to get worked out. I’m trying my best to carry this through, but at times, I’m exhausted by the extra effort. Maybe if I didn’t have so many other things going on all at once…

Thankfully, Bentley is doing better. I mean, there have been several blips in the road to recovery, but for the most part, he is stronger and getting back to his old self. We took him on a short road trip in early July to celebrate his progress, my belated bday, and to take a short break, and then as life would have it, he developed that skin infection on his snout PLUS an infection inside his front leg joint. Ugh!!! Another round of vet visits, and he’s now on super strong antibiotics plus he needs to drop some pounds, as he has plumped up 20lbs on the prednisone. SMH.

In positive news, I’m currently in contract. Yeah, one of my clients with whom I had initially met in March, got back on the house hunt in June/July. I was very thankful to have some business brewing again. My clients found a real gem of a home in early July, and we got into contract a week before my flight to Taiwan. I’m so happy to be working with lovely, gracious people. That said, with my Taiwan travel, shepherding the transaction through has required a ton of calls and emails in the middle of the night. I’m hoping we are in the homestretch now, and closing is set for mid August.

My time in Taiwan is going ok. Lots of errands and elder care kind of things like finding activities for my parents, figuring out meals, cleaning, etc. The first three days, I visited with my aunt as well as my three grandparents. I cannot believe those grandparents are still going. It’s mind blowing, honestly. I’ve been shuttling my parents around, so the good news is that I’m becoming more familiar with the lay of the land here. I’ve also had quite a few opportunities to hang out one-on-one with some of my cousins. I’ve gone to the pool a few times too at the condo complex.

But I’m ready to get home. My brother came down from Taipei yesterday, and he’s on some 6-8 day fast to cleanse his gall bladder or whatever, so all he does is stay in his room. My dad still invites him to go walking or to go to the gym, and he always declines. In the middle of the night, he and my father were arguing and yelling again. I mean, I know my mother likes to see him, but really, his visits are so damn lame. He can never eat anything and then he’s so weak and fucked up from the fast, that he never does anything outside his room. What’s the fucking point. Honestly. I’m there prepping meals, finding activities, washing dishes, cutting fruit, cleaning the kitchen, doing laundry, and he sleeps in until noon and does his kooky bullshit. Yesterday, while I was re-heating food in the microwave, he told me microwaving food is really unhealthy and dangerous. I said, I was still going to do it. I mean, is it as unhealthy as having a shitty-ass, ungrateful, money mooching, entitled asshole son??? Fuck off. My ultimate wish with my brother is for him to be out of our lives. I know my parents fucked up with our childhood, but hello, this is real life. Get over it and move on. Nobody owes you anything. If you want to be a weird person living a fringe lifestyle, go ahead but leave us the hell alone. I do not need to be graced by your presence. Don’t do me any fucking favors. I get so annoyed that all these years later, we are still having to deal with his bullshit. If there is any silver lining to my mother’s condition, I hope that she can one day forget about Johnny so the rest of us can fucking live in peace.

Anyway, today is my last day with everybody. I’m going to be driving my dad to run errands and then we’re headed south to my grandparents’ and aunt’s house. After dinner, we’ll drive back to Kaohsuing and tomorrow I fly home. Thank goodness. I gotta get back to home base for realz.

Special Needs

At the end of June, Bentley was back at the specialist for his followup. Sedation, joint tap, blood work. Going to the vet is an ordeal, but the good news is that his numbers came back strong: no inflammation in the joints and good WBC count. The doctor allowed us to reduce his prednisone dose by 25%. After that, he started improving dramatically– getting stronger and more energetic, and I started seeing signs of the old Ben Ben. He was active around the house, he pranced a bit to the park and in the backyard, his bark was back… Honestly, I had forgotten what he was like before (It already feels like ages ago), so getting glimpses of his old self really made my heart sing.

He was looking so good that we decided a mid-week getaway was in order. I found a spot on Groupon, and we did a road trip to the Sonoma Coast at a place that took dogs. Initially, he had some anxiety when he got left in the car while we grabbed lunch. His leg, which still had a skin wound from the very first joint tap in late April, was finally healing and then he ripped it open during lunch in just 20 minutes. Next began a series of bandaging, antimicrobial/antifungal spray, and the donut collar. After a day at the lodge, he settled down and we took him on some trails. He was so happy to be in a chilly climate and back on an adventure. It was a pretty good trip.

But then after we got back, I noticed hair loss on his snout and some discoloration. I reached out to both his primary vet and the internal med specialist. I spent forever researching online and thought maybe it was demodex mites. Regardless, I worried that his anxiety from the trip further weakened his immune system and somehow he picked up a skin issue. Ugh!

The vet examined my pictures and said it didn’t seem to be demodex mites, and it also doesn’t seem to bother him, but another visit would be in order. Meanwhile, I’m having some reluctance about another visit bc if they do a skin scrape, it’s yet another wound that needs healing. I worry about his body fighting too many battles on too many fronts. So I just sprayed his snout and kept it clean.

One week after (this week), I found him limping on the front right leg. I groom him everyday and that day, I found two foxtails stuck in the webbing of his paw. After I removed those, the next day he was fine. Then, another day later, he started limping badly on the other front leg. This is exactly what happened in mid April. What started as a mild limp, switched to a limp on the other leg, followed by a day of him being fine, and then bam, by the end of that week, he was hospitalized. I am so scared now of a relapse.

I called and emailed the vet. Of course, she’s out. I called the front desk asking that someone else advise, bc I was fearful of a relapse… they agree to have another internal med team review and call me back. The whole day passes without a callback. Finally, I dial in and they say, tomorrow. Well, that was the whole point: my doctor wasn’t in until tomorrow and I wanted advice today. Fucking place. I HATE THAT PLACE. But for some goddamn reason, we’re in a veterinary internal medicine desert. Then I tried to take his temp thinking it would be a helpful data point. No success trying to hold him and poke him by myself. Fucking A. John is back East, coming home today.

I decided to try the light therapy on the limping leg and by the afternoon, he was better. There was still some sensitivity but the limping went away. John got home at dinner time, and now I’m flying out on the red eye to Taiwan. I swear, this year will be the death of me. I’m so tired and Bentley’s condition just stresses me out to no end. John dropped me off at SFO and when he got home, Bentley was limping again. ARGH!!!!

From the Beginning

John’s mom passed away earlier this month. Her condition had been up and down since the start of the year, but more recently, we noticed a gradual decline with increased confusion, physician weakness, and many hours of sleeping. The kids were all with her, and I have the deepest gratitude that she felt truly loved.

The days that followed were an a absolute blur– between making funeral arrangements and clearing out her apartment. It was a weird feeling thinking back to when this all started: she suffered a minor stroke five years ago and then everything just cascaded from there.

I will say, John’s parents never made things easy. They fought the changes every step of the way and even until the end, they denied what was so clear and apparent to everyone else. Then again, maybe none of that should come as a surprise: denial seems to be a common theme among the aged, even as they lose their capacities, mobility, and clarity.

A friend lamented how sad and tragic it was that the people who knew us “from the very beginning” are now gone. I had never really thought of it that way, but later, I read a similar statement.

Do my parents know me? I’ve never felt like my parents truly saw me. But maybe they do, and I can’t admit it bc what else could I use to explain the decades of conflict and fighting? I have always been amazed by the heart of John’s family. No matter the disagreements, the unkind words, the frustration, etc. there is a durability and enduring quality that everyone values. In the end, love and duty is unshakeable– it’s accepted without fuss or resistance.

Mom E’s passing was not completely void of discomfort through the final days, but her family was there, all on the same page about treatment and care. Whenever discomfort was observed, adjustments were made. And in the end, she was surrounded by love and she passed peacefully.

I’ve always been confused by the whole process that ensues following a death. I mean, who wants to make decisions and create programs and deliver speeches after losing someone they love? In so many ways, it seems like added stress during an already difficult time. But a friend of mine who grew up Catholic, offered this very interesting perspective: in a time a grief, the funeral and arrangements allow people to channel their sadness into doing something. And bc the services typically follow a set sequence or pattern, mourners have a way to go through the stages of grief. Her explanation actually made sense! Bc others had passed previously, many of the funeral home details were repeated. Then, the agenda and party afterwards brought people together to reflect and share their memories. True to my friend’s words, the send off was surprisingly consoling.

And if you think about it, every culture has some kind of ritual or tradition that celebrates and honors death.

Whenever I go home and witness how John and his siblings treat his parents, I fall into this pathetic pit, feeling sorry that my parents got the raw end of the stick.

But my friend N explained that the two families and relationships simply cannot be compared. Like I’ve written about before: everyone did their best with what they knew at the time. Certainly, the immigrant experience is powerful, as it brings in so many strong, cultural forces… and maybe she’s right. I feel like many of my ABC friends also struggle with their relationships with their parents. There’s an odd disconnect and distance that just can’t be bridged. And the way N explained it, some things I may never be able to verbalize and say to my parents. But that’s exactly where John comes in: bc he just doesn’t have the same history and baggage that’s so deeply ingrained, he can deliver the message. And she’s right.

For example, every time we make the case for my parents to move to California, I get so angry and annoyed by their resistance, which to me, is strictly based on money and the high cost of living. It conjures so many feelings about how they just hoard the money… and for what?

To me, the point of money is to make your life more comfortable and enjoyable. But no, every time I go home, dad gives a run down of all the places they eat and the cost of a Filet O’Fish at McDonald’s vs the rice bowl at Chipotle vs the chicken sandwich at Chick-Fil-A. Look, I’m all about the deals, but we’re talking about how you want to live the rest of your life! You already worked your butt off for decades. You did that to have security and stability. But now you’ve lost sight of the ultimate goal. You have security and stability. Now the focus should be about enjoyment. I dunno. I’m probably just imposing all my values and judgements onto them. I just can’t stand the constant obsession and discussion about money. Maybe that’s his success. That’s how he feels good about his life. Fine. But there were sacrifices and consequences to maintaining that level of focus… None of those are ever acknowledged or addressed. I just get the same bullshit story told over and over again about how when dad was a kid, he told his dad (my grandfather) money was not that important and no one needed that much money to live… but now, he sees that money can do a lot of things.

Yes. Yes, it can. But still, it’s not THE most important thing. And frankly, humans are ridiculously adaptable. You can still live and thrive while not being wealthy. Anyway, I can’t stand when he preaches that bullshit over and over. It’s like he’s re-validating his choices or wants us to say he’s right.

I’m telling you: this is just one example of the lifetime of nagging. It never fucking ends… Lily, blow your nose this way. Pick up your feet when you walk. Swing your arms wider to get bigger range of movement. Don’t eat the bread…

It is constant. Partly, dad just sees himself as a teacher and he’s sharing knowledge. But, the thing is, not everyone feels the need to learn something 24/7 and optimize every goddamn aspect of their life! Some people want to be left alone to enjoy shit the way they want to enjoy.

It just gets under my skin. No wonder there’s nothing to ever talk about. At this point, nearly all my energy goes into trying not to flip out. I could say so many things back but shit, who’s gonna argue with a 73 year old man? I just bite my tongue and shut up. After all, what’s the use in pointing out the shitty relationships with his kids, the awkward dynamics with friends and families when he always insists on paying for everything all the damn time…

I know his intention is good: he’s very generous, but at the end of the day, most people do not want to be a mooch or to be beholden. People want to contribute their portion bc they value fairness and equity. Anyway… I just don’t say anything and we try to do something else like go for a walk or play mahjong. In that sense, I try my best to be like John and his siblings. But goddam, it nearly kills me to bite my tongue.

May Shit Flowers

Well, I was hoping to be in better spirits given that we’re now into June, but what can I say, shit continued to hit the fan in May. On the bright side, Bentley went in for a 3-4 week checkup after his diagnosis, and he was sedated again for the blood work and joint taps. No inflammation in the joints and his WBC count went down from 50k to the high end of normal which I believe is around 20k. As a result, the vet tapered his steroid treatment. Those meds man, they make him so fricking ravenous and thirsty. One day, I was out for 5 hours– I came home and my office carpet was drenched. Poor baby. Thankfully, it was nearly all water and no urine. That’s how much he’s been drinking. Now I just open up the doggie door– John set up our garbage bins on the side of the house, to keep Bentley from harassing the mail people at the front door. I know, totally ghetto but what can we do.

So anyway, we’ve been on the tapered dose of prednisone now for almost three weeks. He still doesn’t run and patrol like he used to. I feel like the disease has aged him– Bentley walks like a lumbering old lion and our walks are pretty brief– only about 20 minutes. Also, the myositis caused muscle atrophy in his skull, so his face is leaner and sunken in. It makes me so sad, bc he had the most beautiful, full and smiling face. I was paranoid that maybe we were missing something else, like another disease or condition, but the doctor assured me that the pockets in his skull are purely cosmetic. And I mean, most importantly, the auto-immune disease is under control and he is not in pain.

Every day I palpate his body all over while I groom him. I’ve also been using the LED light therapy (aka low-level light therapy and photobiomodulation therapy). My friends all think it’s California kooky, but I read a few scientific papers about it and supposedly, the light stimulates the cells for muscle repair. The treatment is typically used for muscle and joint pain. He doesn’t really like it, bc Ben Ben tends to run hot, but he eventually gives in to his tiger mom. In the end, I think it’s helping him, so we’ll have to see.

In other news, my listing imploded. Long story short, the owner did not know there were deed restrictions tied to the home. In other words, she has to seek permission to sell it bc she acquired the home more than three decades ago as part of an affordable/subsidized housing program. Yup, that means, the transaction is going to be canceled. A bunch of other complications are tied to this whole thing, so I’ll just say, it’s a project.

Meanwhile, J’s mom has declined considerably. He is there now, with all her kids. I’ve reached out to a bunch of dog sitters today and no luck again. Hoping the one remaining sitter who hasn’t yet replied will be able to care for Bentley on short notice. I dunno, 2019 is turning out to be a major shit storm.

April Shit Showers

Well, what can I say, April turned out to be a shit month. It started off that my deal, which was slated to close four days in, had to get pushed back, bc the sellers had trouble getting their “occupant” out of the property. Yup, he just kept blowing through deadlines, insisting that he had no place to go and no where to store his stuff. On one hand, I really felt for the guy. It reminded me that there really are huge swaths of the population where people are falling through the cracks for various reasons— health issues, addiction, abuse, what have you… On the other hand, the sellers had been letting the guy live in their house rent free for a number of years, and they always told him that one day, they would need to sell to help out their own family. It seems that he had at least some months to hatch a plan…

As all of that was happening, I learned that my childhood friend T was on the verge of eviction and homelessness. It’s a long story and we go way back to the second grade. We had lost touch in the mid-2000s and then last Christmas I saw her again. Her story is one of life’s many tragedies and it also highlights what happens when parents are fucking irresponsible with planning their eldercare. Seriously, if you’re not going to put shit into place in terms of financial planning and instructions, you don’t deserve to be parents! And of course, her brother is like my brother. Not a care in the world. Basically, he said he’ll go back for the funeral but can’t be bothered until then. As all of this weighed in my mind, I encountered a third scenario where someone was scraping by and preparing to live out of his car.

In the end, the occupant did finally leave after we extended the deadline. My hope is that he will take action and use the resources that are available to turn things around. Needless to say, the transaction was difficult to celebrate.

Other parts of work started picking up. The list agent with whom I frequently collaborate began getting all kinds of activity in his pipeline, and he called on me to assist. I was thrilled.

Then, Bentley fell very, very ill. He was lethargic, stopped getting up, stopped eating, was panting and drooling crazy. In one week, we made four trips to the emergency room, ran a shit ton of tests (blood work, ultrasound, xrays, joint taps), and things continued to get so bad that he yelped in pain when touched and he couldn’t open his mouth all the way. WTF was happening? I mean, he went from walking slowly/gingerly at home on Saturday night to getting hospitalized by Wednesday. They couldn’t figure out what was wrong. All the while, he was declining, had crazy fevers, had to get IV fluids, anti-inflammatories, antibiotics, pain killers… he got put on a feeding tube and had an oxygen mask. I was losing my shit and then I had a seminar partnering with a financial advisor, and my parents were coming to town. It was the most stressful time of my life.

The day I gave my presentation/seminar, Bentley got hospitalized. For what we thought would just be overnight on fluids, turned into five days. Then two days after getting discharged and looking better, we were back in the ER– this time at the specialist bc our general vet told us they had gotten to the end of what they could do. Then, two more nights hospitalized with the specialist and all the while, “regular” appointments are booked weeks in advance so every trip is an emergency where the doctors are trauma/ER docs NOT internal medicine docs. Meanwhile, bc his situation spanned so many days, the doctors kept changing/swapping out every few days due to their work schedule.

By the time we got to the specialists, the general vet had already suspected IMPA (Immune-mediated polyarthritis). At the specialist, we did an MRI, spinal tap, and additional joint taps. Those results ruled out meningitis and confirmed IMPA but also, the imaging showed major inflammation in his head, face, and neck– the diagnosis with that was a SECOND auto-immune disease called immune-mediated polymyositis. Essentially, Bentley had two diseases where his body was attacking itself– in all the joints as well as in the muscles, which explains the level of pain he was in.

On one hand, what a relief to have some answers. The treatment in both instances is steroids + immunosuppressives. Of course, both those meds have crazy side-effects, but for now, we had to get this whole-body inflammation under control. Even after he was discharged from the specialists on a Friday AM, he had what seemed to be cyclical fevers and then face pain recurring over the weekend. Again, back to the ER on Sunday night for a fentanyl patch to tide us over until my internal medicine specialist returned to the office on Tuesday.

On Monday morning, I started calling the general vet AND the specialty center in despair, crying to have SOMEone advise on how to reduce his pain if it escalates again. My general called me back and said the concurrent auto-immune diseases is rare and very serious. She can only defer to the specialist at this point bc it’s such an unusual case. Then, after sobbing to a vet tech at the specialty group, a different internal med doctor on staff that day called to tell me she saw Bentley the week prior when he was hospitalized. She’s only seen a few cases with the double whammy, but for sure, the first week on treatment is very up and down bc the body is just so overwhelmed. I was a total mess with her on the phone. He’s just not getting better. But she said to give it more time. We are less than a week from starting the treatment. We’re “not there yet,” she said. When we get there, we will tell you.

On Tuesday, his doc called all annoyed that my general vet had emailed her and there were numerous voicemails while she was out. I mean, what do you expect. You discharge him Friday AM, you call Saturday and he looks good, and then shit goes down Sunday and he is crying in pain again. I’m going to call every goddamn lead I have to get some freaking medical attention. Needless to say, we saw her two days later on Thursday for follow up. That place is oftentimes a clusterfuck. The tech says they’ll take vitals and blood. I say I want to talk to the doctor first before the bloodwork. Tech says doctor wants to test blood. Fine. They take the blood. Then, we see her in the exam room and she says she might not need to take blood…. WTF? His WBC count is still high– higher than 10 days prior at the general vet. But symptom-wise he is better. She palpates and feels around. Joints seem ok. Still sensitivity with the neck and mouth. We decide to continue the current treatment plan and talk about options if he stagnates or if the situation worsens…

Mind Fuck

In this business, it’s a lot about the pipeline. The goal is to come into contact with as many people as possible in the hopes that ultimately, I will connect and do business with some subset of those I’ve met. The process of “getting out there,” as they term it, is both challenging, exciting, and exhausting. In November, I completed my second full year as a licensed agent. To date, I had tried all kinds of strategies for growing my book of contacts: door knocking, cold calling, mailings, homebuying classes, flyering, open houses, emails, referrals… Some stuck better than others. I found that open houses really helped me build relationships with listing agents and loan officers. As I hosted over 65 different properties, I started to get faster at reviewing disclosures and evaluating comps. I also grew my confidence of talking with strangers and discussing the market. I have learned so much in my second year. I’m much more familiar with the software, the digital forms, and my new brokerage (which I joined in July) is so damn organized. The office has systems and processes, and people really know what they’re doing.

It’s interesting bc I didn’t think I would like real estate as much as I do, but somehow, I find myself really enjoying what I’m learning and I am seeing now how starting my third year, there is something that compels me to get up every morning. I feel motivated to build my knowledge, skills, and mastery.

In February, I attended an intensive 3-day training in Southern California. What I realized is that my top motivation really is about finding a role that is compatible with my personality and skill set and then growing in that role to become the best that I can be. In some bizarre way, real estate brings out a feeling that I probably haven’t felt in many, many years: competition and striving for excellence. As a kid, I was super competitive. I excelled in various academic arenas– in school and in Chinese school. I did speech competitions, participated in activities and teams– math, science, Latin, mock trial. And then college crushed me. And after my dreams of being a physician were dashed, it seemed like my life was just going to be about settling for mediocrity. I went through a series of careers and jobs… I did well in them, but the long term wasn’t very clear. With real estate, I feel like there is a trajectory. I feel like there is a path to growing something in the future.

But there is still the daily grind. And I get frustrated. I was at a staff meeting yesterday, and an agent who has been in the business about 5 years described just how much this job messes with your mindset. Every day, she’s wondering if she’s good enough, if she should quit. Her emotional stance jumps day to day, week to week, feeling like she’s on top of the world and then plummeting to feeling just. not. good enough. It is seriously a crisis of confidence very fucking week, and that emotional instability really takes a toll. I could relate so much to what she shared. It’s a constant struggle and with the routine rejection, you really have to work at keeping your sanity. This job takes a lot of fucking resilience. Thankfully, I always get back up. It might take me a few days to recover, but I won’t be beaten down.

Goodbye Cash Cow

At the start of this year, I had set a goal to grow my dog sitting/boarding side gig. You see, from the time I started taking doggie clients, my business had doubled from year 1 to year 2. And I was thinking an extra several grand would come in handy for some expenses associated with my full time job. As it turns out, I started ramping up activities with my real estate business which meant I was not home to dog sit, esp new clients that had to be introduced and monitored with Bentley. Bubbey started getting annoyed having to coordinate schedules, and so I decided to just stick to existing clients. So things were going well with my cash cow doggie– a client from the very beginning who came regularly for both daycare and boarding– until a few months ago, she had diarrhea all over John’s office. We figured she was just randomly sick (no explanation as to why), so we told the owner and she paid for the steam cleaning. Well, a few weeks ago, the accident happened again. And since I wasn’t home to clean up the bodily fluids, John– who is queasy about that stuff– lost his shit.

I was in the middle of handling a bunch of things for work and that was the last straw. That’s right, I had to shut down the doggie biz. Bubs wasn’t about to babysit the critters while I was out, and he def wasn’t going to handle accidents inside the house. And just like that, I had to say goodbye to my cash cow.

I suppose the silver lining in all this is that now I can focus even more energy and attention on my real estate biz. Haha, I know, you didn’t think it was possible! I suppose in the grand scheme of things, picking up another buyer/seller will definitely yield higher results than picking up another doggie client. Sigh. Changes had to be made.