Category Archives: Getting Shit Done

Deluge of Tears

Last week, on the same day that I had gone to visit the kids at Camp Wonder, I learned of Buddy’s passing on Facebook. He was the hyperspaz yellow lab whom we dogsat last year while his family welcomed their third child. The FB posting was frantic, something like “Please pray for Buddy. The vet is doing CPR on him right now,” followed later by a post saying that he was gone. WTF???

I so wanted to contact D to ask what the hell happened? I mean, he’s only four years old, hardly the age for death! I wanted to know and I was annoyed by the “info but no info” kind of social media post that seems all too prevalent these days. But after pausing and letting the truth sink in, I realized that the details didn’t even matter. I was just dumbfounded (he was such a strong boy) and sad. He had only stayed with us for ten days but he’d grown on me. I suddenly felt so regretful that the day they came to take him back home was the last day we saw him. I thought there would be later opportunities, but I suppose bc of the human relationships (and our personal aversion to hanging out with a gaggle of kids), that never happened. And now he’s gone. The one with ears even more velvety than Martin’s. He’s gone.

[FAG id=7459]

A few days later, after a bunch of people on FB kept asking what happened, D finally shared the details. Buddy had just finished an ordinary play session, and then he suffered from heat stroke. My mind just kept imagining that happening… And escalating so quickly. It’s amazing they even got him to the vet. Ugh.

Years ago, when I worked at the environmental agency, every summer, the rangers would ask us to put out warnings and signs reminding people about heat stroke, esp for dogs. People would go up a steep trail with their dog on a hot day, and come back down carrying their dying dogs in their arms.

I thought about how much we anthropomorphize our animals. They are so much a part of us, that we forget they are completely different animals with different DNA. To be honest, until this news about Buddy, I had forgotten that dogs don’t sweat. I mean, I knew this fact, but somehow it was buried deep inside and it had left my consciousness. And I thought about how much Buddy panted and breathed so loudly when we had him… The vet did say that he thought Buddy had a condition that compromised his ability to self-cool… Anyway, whenever we took him to the park, he ALWAYS went after the ball. He would appear physically exhausted but his face and body was always ready for more. Back then, I stopped playing with him bc I didn’t want him to over exert or bc I wanted to get going, but it was never about heat stroke. This could very well have happened on our watch, and that scared me even more. This was a devastating but powerful reminder.

Of course, that evening I started scrolling through our pictures of Buddy. So heartbreaking. And then I saw my old pics of Remy and Ramona… People always say you have to tell the people you love that you love them. Do dogs know? I was petting Marty today, wondering does he know I love him? I tell him but we speak different languages. Does he know from my actions? Is loyalty a kind of love? Clearly, I’ve got insomnia tonight, and the brain is just all over the damn place.

Needless to say, I’ve been crying a lot lately. That said, I am still trying to make the most of my life, so that means I kicked my studying into high gear. Today, I even tried something new: I got my butt to Starbucks, downed a chai latte, and then hunkered down from 11-4:30p. Government-backed loans, the law of agency, and real estate appraising. I was doing pretty well until I got into Fannie Mae and Ginne Mae and Freddie Mac. WTF. Thoroughly confusing. And then the fucking mortgage-backed securities and insurance and guarantees and… Argh!!! Why is his shit so goddamn complicated? I got really frustrated bc isn’t that what the movie The Big Short is all about? This intentionally complex system that then screws people over?!?! Thankfully, Bubs explained it to me after he got home. It’s still confusing but less so. I’m gonna sleep on it.

On the Move

As I type, my parents are enroute to Maryland (from Taiwan). Yup, seems like I’ve been getting flight updates all damn day. I mean, it is a very long haul. Sure sucks to be them!

So I’ve been crunching down on the studying this week. And thankfully, the material is finally starting to sink in. I mean, with enough repetition from note taking plus reading plus lectures plus chapter tests, I should hope so. That said, I’m not gonna lie: things started out pretty fricking dry (kinda how I imagined law school to be…). Sure, I was able to connect the content to my real-life experiences, but I wasn’t really feeling the jazz. Now, I’m actually digging the pragmatism of it all, like just having a clearer understanding of how things work: processes, contracts, loans. I know, you’re not convinced. That’s why you aren’t transitioning into real estate. 😛

So far, one of the biggest takeaways for me has been this: Dad was right about so many damn things! WTF?!? From obsessively reviewing tenant applications to prohibiting pets in rentals to fearing the difficulty and complexity of evictions… So many times when handling our own rental in Virginia as well as my father’s properties, I thought Dad was being needlessly hypervigilent. But shit, according to the real estate professor on my podcast, Dad had it right all along. Shit man, credit where credit is due. Maybe when I visit my parents next month, I’ll finally reveal that I’m studying real estate. It’s too bad the timing doesn’t allow me to save my parents some dough… Nonetheless, I’m sure being involved in a few more transactions while I’m still learning will help everyone.

The weather has been bloody hot the last few days. Every night Bubbey comes home and tells me our bedroom AC unit is “the best money ever spent.” Haha. Of course, now that we have a permanent and reliable means of cooling the room, I’m itching to sell our older window/standup unit on Craigslist. We bought that mofo many years ago when my parents visited during a heat wave. And my dad is SUPER sensitive to heat. After a day or two of full-on dripping, J and I bought whatever unit they had at Costco. As soon as we set it up at home, my dad just sat in front of that thing for hours, exclaiming “It was REALLY hot!” Since then though, J and I have rarely used the thing. It takes up a shit ton of space on our already crammed houseboat and then it’s super fucking loud and inefficient. Like we can’t even have a conversation with it on. But like a legit seller, I wanted to double check everything before posting for sale. So I set it up in my office. Yup, still works but wow, what a huge difference from our mini split. Indeed, the Fujitsu is the best money ever spent!!

Meanwhile, the new Casper mattress and slatted bed frame are continuing to deliver. Who expected that I could ever sleep through the night? A goddamn miracle.

Tomorrow I’m headed out to Livermore. My friend S, whom I befriended at the Duke Nonprofit program a few years ago, is a camp counselor at Camp Wonder, a week-long adventure for kids with skin diseases. I’ve visited S and her girls (she’s in charge of 8!!) the last two years. S doesn’t always get the same group, but there are definitely repeat campers. And despite my general aversion to kids, I learn so much about fortitude, courage, kindness, and joy from these girls– some as young as six. They blow my mind every damn time. And my friend S… She is so young in age (mid 20s) and yet, she carries so much weight on her shoulders, from being the primary caretaker for her mother who has cancer, to serving as a nanny for her nephew, to herself battling a painful and debilitating skin disease… Hands down, she has one of the purest, most selfless hearts I’ve ever encountered. And she is AMAZING with the kids– so attentive and energetic and fun. She always inspires me to do better.

Channeling Anger

Last week, I met up with M, the lady who replaced me at the university. I headed out to Los Gatos to check out her big side hustle operation spiffing up free/old/beat-up furniture and then reselling it. Yes, I am drawn to scrappy people! Her house is super charming, filled with many of these treasures. It was a damn hot day, but that didn’t stop us from first venturing out on a hike. I’m super out of shape, so I barely kept up between the trail elevation changes and the fricking high heat. Of course, I’m sure it didn’t help that my blood was boiling during our walk since we gossiped about our former workplace. By the end of the hike, I was physically exhausted but emotionally agitated. The rest of our visit was nice though. We hung out in the shade, drank wine, and ate snacks. She showed me her elaborate workshop and supplies.

Still, when I got home, I just couldn’t shake my annoyance about my former employer. Trying to find a way to channel my anger, I hopped onto Glassdoor. And I drafted an entire review. But before posting, I just kept hearing John’s voice: “Why are you dwelling on the past? It’s time to move on. You need to focus your energy on what’s ahead.” I paused. Then I did some research. Unsurprisingly, the consensus from job experts pretty much aligns with John’s stance: shut up and move on. The primary reasoning behind that advice seems to be that you don’t want to stir the muck and create trouble for yourself, like you don’t want to be blacklisted or whatever. You left that toxic place for you. If other people don’t leave, it’s not that bad for them, and why should you be their advocate?

To be honest, I feel like it’s such shitty advice to tell people who know something and who could share the real scoop about a workplace, to just be quiet and pretend everything was fine. Isn’t that partly how all the violence and harassment and abuse in this world just keeps happening unfettered? People see something and know something and yet, they remain silent. I mean, sure, we’re talking a different level of severity but still. There are parallels.

And you know me: I like to consider expert advice. Ultimately, I make my own decision, but I don’t make it in a vacuum. On one forum, a commenter basically asked someone else who was considering writing a negative employer review, “What are you wanting to get out of your public review?” Good question. And now I don’t even remember his reply. But for me, I have always valued the truth. It’s some kind of compass that’s just deeply ingrained in my person. Like when people pose questions about infidelity or whatever. “What you don’t know won’t kill you,” or whatever bullshit people say. Well, I don’t want to continue in blissful, pain-free ignorance… at least not when it comes to the most important relationship in my life. I WANT TO KNOW THE TRUTH, however damaging and heartbreaking. Even if the indiscretion were short-lived or over or whatever. I want to know, and I will choose the truth every. damn. time. Otherwise, I’m just stupidly living in a foolish fantasy. So tying it back together: I guess I feel a similar stance with these asshole employers. Like, hey you’re not going to behave like jackasses and not get called out on it. Maybe I struggle with this notion that bad people are “getting away” with things. Sure, I might feel differently in cases where my personal safety or the safety of my family is in real danger, but with an employer, is it really THAT bad to burn the bridge? Why do I feel so strongly one way and most other people feel strongly the complete opposite way?

Then I researched how Glassdoor handles negative reviews… there were a ton of claims that people’s negative reviews got removed or shoved to the bottom or manipulated in some other way to have less of an impact. WTF? Is every fucking thing in this world rigged??? In the end, I saved a copy of my review and just closed everything down. Enough negativity for the day. I mean, in the past, there have certainly been plenty of times when I DID speak out and say something and in the end, not a damn thing happened. Just like with my exit interview at the public agency. Just like my exit interview at the university. Both instances of inaction suggest that it’s not that people (at least internally) don’t know the truth, it’s that they don’t give enough of a shit to do anything about it. So then, which is worse? That said, there are still the prospective employees. I use Glassdoor when researching companies, and has it swayed my decisions before? Yes.

Anyway, in other news, Bubbey’s back pain has been getting progressively worse. I am both annoyed and frustrated that at 40, he is having these kinds of debilitating issues. That said, annoyance and frustration doesn’t serve anybody, so I’ve decided to focus on measures to lessen his discomfort. For the last year, Bubbey has been talking about those new foam mattresses that are recommended by his podcasters, so after I finally realized this purchase would be different from his usual impulsive buys, we ordered the Casper. The mattress arrived and we set it on our “arrangement.” You see, since moving back Stateside in 2006, we’ve always put our mattress on top of a grid of big Rubbermaid storage bins. In the beginning, it was due to space constraints: we didn’t have storage, so we put our crap in the bins and then did a double duty, using them to also support the bed. But then I was reading about how the foundation for the mattress is just as important as the mattress itself. Probably just a sales ploy, but at this point, his back pain is so bad, we just need to pull out all the stops. So I ordered a slatted frame. And last night, I went through the bins. Most were empty but I did uncover my high school prom dress (a tight squeeze but it still fits– then again, I wore shit looser when I was younger) and my red wedding dress (Fucking A, it no longer fits in the bust… really?!?!). I was thinking to get rid of both, but Bubs says I should keep the wedding dress. Back to the mattress. I don’t know that I feel a difference between the frame and the tubs as the foundation, but we’ve had the new mattress a few weeks longer. Even though I’ve been getting to bed super late, after I fall asleep, I do think I am sleeping more soundly. We’ll continue to evaluate the product. Maybe quality sleep will help me better manage my negativity.

Budding Business

Surprise, surprise, I’m feeling pretty good today. Marty is on the upswing again (See? Despite my earlier reservations, he made it past my bday! Who can ever know when the real end is near?), and I’m getting some decent bites on Rover. Yesterday, I met a 7-y/o corgi named Cody. I had received an inquiry from the owner last Friday night while I was at the HOPR, and of course, like a true internet junkie, I had to reply right then and there. I scored a meetup yesterday, and bam! The client booked ten days in July. Yup, first time ever getting an inquiry for a month in advance. And the lady showed up with her son. Their fam just moved from Singapore a few months ago, so we had the Asian connection going. She was super nice, and honestly, I haven’t met a cleaner dog. Cody’s coat was super luxe. The owner said she wipes him down twice a day with some lemongrass spray.

I am so excited about picking up business on Rover. I mean, Cody’s going to be with us for another ten days, so you know what that means: I’m gonna be an emotional wreck again when it’s time for him to go home. But seriously, this side hustle is working out great! Partly, I feel like my fast response time serves me well. Often when people are already looking for care last minute, they’re blasting a ton of sitters and I’m sure getting back to them faster moves me up in the queue. Also, I think the meetups at my house are a great selling point. For one thing, they meet Marty. Old but super sweet and chill. And as soon as I tell them he’s 16, it’s all over. I mean, pretty much EVERYONE is impressed. Why? Bc I MUST take amazing care of him for him to make it this far, right? Yes, I know. I can’t take all the credit (genetics, blah, blah), but I’m just saying, these factors influence dog owner decisions… Then, they see his homemade food (set on top of a mini table even), and now they know that I’m not afraid of high maintenance. Finally, my frickin yard sells itself, man. The doggies that come over immediately hit up the backyard, and their owners also love that we aren’t apartment dwellers. Oh and being two houses down from the park is totally money. It’s a pretty sweet deal for the pooches!

In other entrerpenuerial news, I sold the iPad. It didn’t sell for as much as I had wanted, but eBay is doing this interesting thing where if you set the initial price based on their recommendation, they will guarantee that your item sells for a certain minimum amount. If the item doesn’t sell for the guaranteed price, they’ll issue an eBay credit. Cool idea, so I tried it out. Maybe bc WWDC was yesterday but my item sold way low, and I got a $90 credit which I promptly used to score a new with tags Tacori cuff bracelet I’ve been eyeing for years. Yup. Not that you care, but shit, I gotta share the deets: Bracelet retails for $990. I saw it posted for $400 OBO, and after seeing all the other stuff for sale by that seller, I figured I would negotiate the price. Frankly, would a busy high-volume seller really care about one lowball sale if he had a gabillion other items to offload? So I went in at $300. He countered with $350. I countered with $315. Offer accepted this morning. Woot, woot! Score, baby!! Kinda a “non-delicate” style, as Bubbey said. He’s not a fan. But whatever. I’m gonna try and rock it!

In other deal news, I’m continuing to tear it up on my Upromise account. Sometimes they’re a bit flaky with issuing the cash back, but thanks to my detailed tracking and record keeping, I will call them out on that shit. Back in January, when my dad was visiting, he asked me to research a new laptop for my brother. I recommended he buy the SurfacePro. Months later, Upromise kept giving me the runaround about my missing cash back. Little do they know, I am a tenacious mother fucker. Today, they finally emailed that I will get $65 cash back. I mean, sure, it takes multiple emails and phone calls. Some people say it’s just $65, but fuck man, that shit adds up (I have earned $800 to date), and I’m not above hustling for it.

Falling Fast and Hard

Last Saturday, after 11 days together, Ramona went home. No, this certainly wasn’t my first rodeo. That said, I haven’t cried about a pooch leaving in a very long while. The last time this happened, we dog sat Buddy, also for about ten or 11 days. Comparatively, Buddy was way more high maintenance due to his youth and boundless energy but still, I felt an overwhelming emptiness and sadness that took me several days to shake. And now it’s happened again with Ramona. Maybe ten days is the dangerous threshold. After that, I fall hard and fast. I dunno. I hope I’ll see Ramona again, but I’ll never really know. She was so damn soft and cute. 🙁

Thankfully, on Saturday afternoon I was scheduled to meet with a new Rover client, Lily. Her human had contacted me about a month ago, seeking care for his Border terrier. Last time our plans fell through bc I had appointments mid-day, and he said she really couldn’t be left alone. Like even for a couple hours? No. Like ever. Wow.

I was a little apprehensive, but the guy sounded like he was in a real bind. So I agreed to meet, and actually, Lily seemed fine– much better than expected. And now after spending the entire day with her, I feel like she’s not bad at all. Usually dogs with separation anxiety exhibit general neuroses, but Lily’s super mellow. He dropped her off this morning way early, like before 6am, and he came back for her at 11:30pm. She’s a smart little cookie, too. He didn’t think she’d know how to use the doggie door, and I dunno if maybe she learned in her earlier life (she’s a rescued show dog) or what, but today she watched Marty go in and out one time. The next thing I know, she’s jumping in and out of that thing all day to explore the backyard. These doggies… they are all so unique. I’m really enjoying hanging out with them during the day. I mean, it’s not all candy and roses: she did sneak a few bites of Martin’s food and then later proceeded to puke it all up on a towel, but other than that, pretty manageable. And in the future, I actually think she’ll be ok so long as Marty is home with her, bc in the afternoon I went to talk to the neighbors for ten minutes, and she didn’t freak out while I was out of sight! Lily’s dad also seems super nice. During the day, he texted to check in on her, he was clearly worried about her, and then he gave me a huge tip when he picked her up! You KNOW I’m loving my additional Bubbey bucks!

Overall, I’m feeling re-energized by my side hustles. Earlier today, I posted Bubbey’s iPad Air 2 on Ebay. I also posted my friend K’s fancy dress. I still need to post Bubbey’s old Mac Pro and wireless earbuds. Stepping up the Ebay store!

This afternoon, I was very excited to receive my second Schoola shipment. Almost every item worked out except for a striped blazer which felt a little too boxy/stuffy/conservative. Not gonna match my side shave, you know what I mean? Tomorrow I have a dental cleaning (one of only two annual ones– now that I’m on Bubbey’s cheapie dental coverage) and then lunch with K. I’m gonna wear my fancy Schoola shoes and aim to recreate this badass look. Yeah sadly, I’m no Charlize but heck, that doesn’t not gonna stop me from trying hard to be a wannabe. I did this combo the other day when M came over for the Warriors game. The Houseboat was hotter than hell that day, so I only showcased the outfit for like five sweaty minutes. Still, it turned out okay– an easy casual outfit for a cooler day. Note to self.

I’m starting to feel better about things. The Rover business def gets me excited and lifts my mood. Also, my parents are back in Taiwan so for now, no more daily OnStar calls. I spoke to dad yesterday and everyone in Taiwan is doing well. I’m going to aim for another trip to Asia in November.

Real estate wise, I (finally) took my class exam last week… the open book one. I didn’t do so hot– honestly, I ran out of time and had to skip a shit ton of questions– BUT I still passed, so the class certificate is mine! Muhahaha. Now, two more class certificates to go and then the license exam. It’s too bad none of my friends are transitioning to real estate; it sure would be fun to have a study buddy. Ok time to hit the sack. I’m tired!

Kidney Bean

Last week felt like a busy one. On Tuesday, I started my very first Rover stint. Yes, for a very long while, I was strongly prejudiced against little dogs (they can be so fucking yippy!), but after dog sitting Helix and Joey, I’ve been warming up to the idea of these compact and portable pups. So we’re about a week in now, and truth be told, Ramona has very quickly melted my heart. She’s so independent and sassy (like my Bembo), and despite being 13 y/o, she still likes to play. Even J was commenting that Ramona really has been quite the ideal Rover. She’ll well-behaved, doesn’t bark/yip, has excellent bladder control, and is just so darn cute without being overly demanding. Her pudgy body is so tiny too, I call her a little kidney bean, esp when she sleeps in fetal position (and snores like a mo fo!). I’m already feeling sad that she’ll have to go home next Saturday. As for Marty, he is doing better again: eating well, tracking me around the house, and he gets so happy about going to the park… The two pups don’t interact much, but I’ve noticed that for Marty, simply being in the presence of other dogs seems to lift his spirits.

In work-related news, as you know, I started applying for jobs at real estate offices and property management firms. I heard back from the one commercial outfit regarding their entry-level position. We had a good phone interview, but last Tuesday they decided to proceed with others. I was ok with it: after all, I did feel like being a receptionist/front desk person was not exactly my speed, even if only for a short period. Interestingly, I also heard back from a local realtor’s membership organization for their education coordinator gig. I interviewed with the head of PR and Comm on Friday afternoon. She was a very impressive lady, super well-connected and active in the community; we had a great conversation, but by Saturday, I decided joining a realtor’s association would only delay my entry into practice after earning my license. She was very kind, and responded immediately with a very personable reply, saying she had arrived at the same conclusion. She also noted that she was really impressed by my level of research and prep for the interview. Hee, hee. If only she knew: research is practically my middle name. Ha! Regardless, it was cool to get these two interviews under my belt. I will say, I’ve been pleased with the response to my applications. Initially, I was attributing the interest to my re-vamped resume (chronological now instead of functional format), but Bubbey suggested that since real estate is offentimes an industry for encore careers, the hiring people are much more curious and open to people with different backgrounds. Makes sense. I’ll take it!

In other news, I am making progress with the townhouse in MD that I’m planning to get on the market in mid-late July. I had a call Friday with the selling agent, who’s proposing some minor renovations to get things ready. I’m going to move forward on those to see if they’ll get us a higher sales price. I’ll be checking in on the project in person in July. At the same time, I’ll be helping my parents with posting/selling their furniture/possessions/furnishings and cleaning out their primary residence. I’ve booked 7 days back home around the July 4 holiday, and frankly, I’m dreading the trip…  John will stay back on Marty duty so it’ll be yet another unbuffered session with the parentals… I know, apparently the Volcano likes to play with fucking fire.[FAG id=7457]

Project Me

Martin had a good day today: he ate some food (without meds); he didn’t vomit; and he went on an extended walk. A few days ago though, my neighbor had emailed me a list of things regarding the City’s On Call Plus service, yard waste, pet sitting, and how Marty was doing. I replied that things weren’t good and I was thinking maybe we were a month away. The next day, she replied that she and her husband hadn’t said anything to their daughter E about this. She suggested that I might start preparing E so she isn’t fully taken off guard when shit goes down. I mean, sure, I know E in that I have paid her to walk Marty during the week for the last year, but she’s 10, and I have no idea how adults communicate topics like death to kids. To be honest, I had been thinking about it, and all along, I’ve been verbalizing that he’s a lot weaker and older and not feeling well, but I dunno, isn’t the deterioration and death of a dog something the parents are supposed to interpret for her? I replied asking for her suggestion. She said E is mature for her age, and I should just “repeat over and over again that Marty is dying.” Really?

A sidebar about my neighbor. She’s a French lady. Very nice, very organized (she’s a project manager), extremely active and disciplined (just turned 50 and started competing in marathons and Iron Woman shit). Now that I think of it, she’s pretty dang direct too in her communication style. Is it a French thing or just her thing? I don’t really know. But an example of her bluntness:

Before we headed to Europe in April, I had “refreshed” my side shave. You see, my initial foray into the side shave was just a teaser. In February, I had shaved a small section from my face back to the front of my left ear. As I had mentioned in my Instagram back then, the move wasn’t nearly as dramatic as I had anticipated. So in mid April, I decided to take the shave a bit closer (number 2) and shave it farther back towards the back of my skull. Maybe by then I had already been desensitized, bc even though it was a lot more noticeable, it still didn’t feel like a huge deal. Then again, when I sent a pic to Bubbey complaining about the vertical demarcation from the old shave, he replied, “Forget the vertical line, how come the shaved area got way bigger?!?!… It’s a little extreme.” Whatever though. What does Bubbey know. So off we went on our European jaunt with my expanded shave debuting in London and Paris. When I got back, the neighbor came over with E to walk Marty. She looked at me with great horror and gasped:

F: Oh my god, what happened to your hair?!?!?!?

Me: Haha. Oh, I just shaved it.

(She was practically speechless.)

F: What did John say???

Me: He said it was a little extreme. (Shrug)

F: Well, it will grow back.

Me: Yeah it will… And then I’ll just do it again.

I always chuckle a bit when I think of that exchange. I really can’t see any of my American friends or acquaintances reacting in such a manner. But yeah, back to the Martin death thing. WTH? Weird, right? Is she tying to give E like unadulterated exposure so the girl isn’t coddled? I dunno. I don’t exactly understand it, but heck, if you want me to play the radical honesty card with a child, I’m game.

So beyond the stressful Marty doggie care these last couple weeks, I’ve been doing my very own version of GTL (S/O to Bubbey’s show Jersey Shore), except my version is Gym, Tanning, Learning. You see, when I was obsessing big time about my physical imperfections a couple months ago, I came to this realization after watching a ton of makeup and skincare tutorials on YouTube: looking good takes a lot of fucking effort. All the makeup people I follow on YouTube? Absolutely stunning and gorgeous. I mean, they’re already naturally pretty even with nothing on, but holy crap, there’s a HUGE difference in before and after. The “enhanced” version is super gorgeous. And these ladies can whip themselves ready in a flash (under 8 minutes). That said, let’s be real. They use a gazillion products AND there’s so much maintenance even beyond the makeup. Seriously, from teeth whitening gels to permed lashes to tattooed brows to shaving their faces to special shampoo… A shit ton of work and effort. So of course, that got thinking: here I am moaning and groaning about how ugly I am, and am I doing all that work? Nope. Just complaining while sitting on my ass. THE worst. So fine, time to step up my game. I have switched up my foundation to give more even, less splotchy coverage. Added bronzer for some healthy glow. And I think I’ve been over-stripping my skin, bc homegirl does a lot of skincare prep to get her acne-prone skin plump and ready before putting on any color. So now I am trying to hydrate my skin more often to see if that will help me achieve her smooth and flawless finish. I’m telling you: that shit is an art, and she is a master. I’m fascinated.

I also did some additional reading on the dermaroller, and I might be giving that up. I haven’t noticed a difference in skin texture after three uses and some papers are claiming that extended use causes serious damage. I might do it a few more times, but I won’t be re-ordering.

On Mothers’ Day, I ordered my evaluation kit from SmileDirectClub. Yes, it’s over 50% cheaper than the regular ortho and that def plays a factor with cheapie old me, but honestly, more than anything, I can’t help but be intrigued with the concept of mail-order ortho treatment. So I’m going to create the molds and see what treatment plan is proposed and then go from there on deciding whether or not to really go forward.

Fitness-wise, I’ve been going to the JCC pretty consistently. The gym just got some new ellipticals too that are making me sweat my brains out. Then I sweat some more in the sauna and steam room. I got my shower routine down. Yesterday, I changed up my exercise activity and hit up the pool (where I befriended a very outgoing 9 y/o Latina girl… Why are kids approaching me?!?). Oh and I am back on the self-tanning wagon. I still had some St. Tropez left (given to me by my gal K), so I figured I had to use it up, even though I’m sure K will insist that shit is expired. Whatdya know. Maybe the gym sauna/shower routine is working some kind of magic: No application mitt or anything, and the color is deep, uniform, and streak-free!! Yeehaw.

Yup, still studying my real estate books. Shit is finally starting to sink in. And the info is coming in handy for duties back East. I think I’m finally back on a roll! Just in time for our upcoming weekend getaway. Thank fucking goodness!

Hunger

On Friday, I met with another realtor for an info interview. We’d formally met years ago while I was at the government agency, where she had been a long time volunteer. Prior to real estate, her background was in social work then corporate finance. I anticipated a brief meetup over coffee to discuss her experiences, but holy crap, she was such a fount of information! We talked for two hours!

I felt so inspired and motivated by her discipline, organization, and drive. Since my own “decision” months ago to pursue real estate, I’d been feeling reluctant and non-committal. Talking to K though, I related to her story of wanting to work in nonprofit but realizing it didn’t pay enough to make a decent living, then later becoming disillusioned with shit leadership in her corporate job… Interestingly, she came to see real estate as a way for her to help people (through a scary process) while also personally growing and thriving. As she detailed her preparation and steps before and during the transition, she very candidly admitted that her biggest motivation was fear. As someone who didn’t/doesn’t have a spouse to rely on, she HAD to make this work. She studied really hard, sacrificed dinners out with friends, hobbies, etc., and buckled down hard. Her advice? Learn the shit, take the tests, get the license, interview with tons of real estate offices, and hit the ground running, taking every opportunity possible to keep learning on the job. I mean, I consider myself pretty damn obsessed with learning/classes/professional development, but this lady kept a regular schedule of studying at the library, plus she read every book out there on succeeding during your first year in real estate. She took every training class, paid for a mentor even. We’re talking full. on. Her initial goal was to match her corporate salary the very first year out. Then, double her salary in year two. I mean, we’re talking aggressive, right? She met both goals.

Now five years out, she is incredibly successful and she’s finally taking some time to re-balance her life. She admits that real estate isn’t rocket science, but it does take sacrifice and hard work. And for people who think it’s easy and flex schedule… It isn’t: If you want to excel, you’re working evenings and weekends bc that’s when your clients are NOT at their jobs. For me, the takeaways from our conversation were multifold. I like this concept of controlling the pace. I like that there is tremendous potential for reward. I like that the role is very much about clients entrusting you with something important, not necessarily a life or death scenario, but still important. And I like the opportunities for training and leadership development. She also said there are a lot of women in real estate, which I think I would enjoy.

But the kicker realization I had from our conversation? I need to be hungry. Not that I’m a slacker, but goddamn, I need to step up my hustle, and put some real skin in the game. Immediately, my father comes to mind. And this lady… She had such a methodical approach: she stayed with the secure corporate job, did a shit ton of research, studied on the side, and THEN made the jump. If I’m honest, my privilege and past failures make me well, less methodical, less careful, and less conservative.

No doubt, my father is THE biggest hustler I know. And I’ve mentioned before that his drive and ambition was largely tied to his family’s mounting debts and dire financial situation. Sink or swim, baby! When I was younger (through college), I hustled hard, juggling a gabillion things: school, Chinese school, clubs, music, sports, volunteering, internships. When my hard work resulted in achievements, I grew obsessed with the hustle. But in college, all of it fell apart. The hard work stopped yielding those results, and I really felt like at 20, I had ruined the great life that I had originally planned. I know, it sounds overly dramatic, but it felt incredibly serious and paralyzing. Fast forward through all the years of family drama, expectations, my disfiguring acne… Somewhere I lost my shine and just dropped out of the “rat race.” Tired of being compared to my parents’ friends’ kids who were infinitely more accomplished, I convinced myself that I didn’t want to chase “success.”

Yet now, I’m coming to realize that despite my outward rejection, I will never be satisfied with myself until I attain some form of my idea of “success.” Sure, my concept is nebulous and non-specific: Is it a number? Maybe it’s just a feeling, a feeling where I am exceptional at something and that something requires learning and expertise. I work hard for it, but ultimately, there is appreciation and compensation for that effort. Perhaps real estate is the arena where all these elements can come together. Maybe.

Friday’s meeting sparked something else inside me. Even as I have been studying the books and listening to real estate podcasts, I’ve been feeling increasingly anxious about the class tests and the license exam. (Can you tell how much college destroyed me?) People say real estate has a super low barrier of entry, but I still worry about mastering the material and passing the license exam, which is why I think I’ve been so damn noncommittal when talking about real estate. I need to be more decisive with this new path. Stop wavering or dilly dallying bc of my fears of the academics (among other things). I have to learn it. I will learn it. There is no other option. I have to be hungry.

OnStar

J has many nicknames for me, but the latest one (after “volcano”) is “OnStar,” bc doing shit for my my parents is a 24/7 kinda thing. They are relying on me more and more for everything and anything, from researching vendors and contractors to tech troubleshooting to reviewing contracts to finding things to do for out of town guests. This afternoon, I called them back and I swear, every time I speak with my mother, it’s like talking to a wall. She can’t process a damn word that I say. I mean we might as well just do FaceTime and play charades, bc clearly sharing TWO languages in common doesn’t help one bit. Five minutes today just to explain “I just returned from lunch with a friend.” Seriously. You did what? Did you host a party? What did you cook? How many people came over? WTF???? Lunch. With ONE friend. Please fucking LISTEN.

Once we got beyond the basics, I learned that they have finally started clearning out some junk. Nevermind that I’ve been telling them to do this for YEARS. My dad had his realtor (the one who sold grandma’s house) tour the house, and she said you have way too much stuff in here: get rid of the clutter and definitely clear out the furniture. Now, my parents have really nice, expensive, quality furniture and furnishings. Like solid cherry and mahagony and whatever. Legit Persian rugs and shit. Sadly, what they originally paid for stuff is irrelevant. In fact, I’ve read several articles about the baby boomers downsizing and how that process takes them way longer than expected, bc they think people will want to readily buy their quality shit and their kids will want the family heirlooms. But the truth is, lifestyles are different now. People move around; people don’t even have formal dinning rooms anymore, so there’s no use for a big ass dining room set, not to mention formal china and silver and cabinets to store and display all that crap. Still, these realities take a long time to sink in for the generations who acquired them. For example, my mother-in-law is simply sick with worry about what will happen to all the Civil War era (and other) things that got passed down to her, like the wedding china/silver from her ancestors… It IS sad, bc stuff back then was of great quality and craftsmanship. But styles change, and people don’t value old things like they used to. So yes, the stuff that was once prized is basically now just junk.

In many ways, it’s an environmentalist’s nightmare, right? The insane success of the IKEA movement: Stuff made fast and cheaply, serving a fickle generation that craves changing looks, changing designs, disposable things. Even when I was a kid though, formal dinnerware never made sense to me. Beautiful, gorgeous bone china or porcelain just taken out once a year and otherwise left to gather dust? I looked up their Noritake Barrymore collection on EBay. A huge 4-person set sells for like $150 max, and then you gotta ship that shit. Mom kept asking if I wanted to fly back. Um, no. What, so I can clean your house? I mean, it wasn’t the nicest thing to say, but I dunno, sometimes it’s annoying that I get tasked with all the shit and chores and dirty work, and then what the fuck does my brother have to do? Not a damn. thing. She insisted it was to see what I might want. I mean, other than one Scandanavian lounger that J and I are storing there and a silk rug, there’s pretty much nothing else. Now sure, I have my own shit from childhood and from Reston there. I will have to clear the rest of it out eventually. But I just can’t imagine going through everything while dealing with my mother. She claims that since I never want her clothes (minor jab), she gave all kinds of clothes to the realtor’s daughters and granddaughters. Um, I have no idea what young people would want with outdated and/or old people clothes but whatever. She insists that the realtor took the items happily. Fine. Let’s see if the youngins actually take it from the realtor. Whatever. Maybe I will go over when they are overseas and just spend a week there selling shit.

Ugh, then there’s the whole realtor thing. I’m handling the sale of one of the townhouses. As I discussed with dad, the point was to try out my realtor and if he did well, have him sell the family home. Well now it seems like they are going to go with the Chinese lady who sold my grandparents’ house. Why didn’t you just say you wanted to go with her from the start? Then, the townhouse was supposed to be empty by end of May. Moved back to mid June bc the tenants asked to finish out the school year. Now, it’s end of June. I mean, stop moving the fucking target date!! Either shit is getting done, or shit is dragging out.

Meanwhile, there is still no resolution on what to do with my maternal grandparents. They are currently living with my dad’s dad so all the oldies are in one place. But my mother says when she and dad go back to Taiwan for a month in May, her parents will be moved back to my parents’ house in Kaohsiung to live with them, and then what, the oldies move back to my dad’s dad’s place after my parents come back to the US in June? That’s what I’m saying. Fucking make a decision and go! And mom makes some comment like dad is not of strong enough health to be schelpping things and movin things. Um, yeah you’re just realizing this now? You are the one who worked him to a fucking nub!! Needless to say, I’m stressed again.

And Martin is not eating today. I went to Costco and picked up a whole case of fluids. Gave him 350 ml, so he’s conked out. Even if we tweak things to help his kidneys out, his back legs are wobbly. I hate to say it, but I think we’re down to the last month. I mean, I have been wrong before, but that’s what I’m thinking today.

Long Night, New Day

I had an awful night’s rest yesterday. Marty was appearing visibly weaker (even the neighbors agreed), and his appetite was not coming back. J and I started talking about how this setback was seemingly different… In the past, it just took fluids and/or a quarter pill of mirtazipine, and his appetite would come back with a vengeance. Not. this. time. He is also starting to sleep even more soundly than before, something I remember Remy started to do towards the end. Some sign like the body is shutting down. I couldn’t sleep. I tried to distract my mind by studying my real estate book, by reading about the Bernie sham (I support Clinton), by reading about the ethics and legality of password sharing (As much as I’m into deals and saving money, I’m not comfortable with this), by thinking about all the things I need to do (should I order Marty’s fluids by the case?). Yeah, I was up late.

Eventually, I did fall asleep, but then I woke up in the middle of the night in a cold sweat. I dreamed that my grandmother had died. In my dream, the entire cascade of shit communication with my family (immediate and extended) began, rife with confusion and misunderstanding and paralysis.

This morning, we had an appointment with a contractor to talk about the heating/cooling unit for the master bedroom. I know, that project is dragging ass– mainly bc the vendors are so vague with their estimates and also, the estimates are all over the fucking place. This was my final quote though. $5500. Comparable to another quote, but $2k more than a third one. We will likely proceed soon, bc Bubbey needs his AC this summer. 

After the contractor left, Marty woke up and to my pleasant surprise, he ate his food. What a fucking relief. Is he coming around again? Too early to tell. Now to see if he’ll go to the bathroom. I haven’t seen solids for two days. I was relieved with this latest bit of good news though, and then I went back to bed.

I awoke again past noon. I haven’t slept in this late in a long, long time. I still feel tired, but I gotta get moving. Gremlin juice (Diet Coke) is in order and then back to the gym. I’ve been doing the elliptical now, bc I can listen to my real estate podcasts and well, to be honest, I’m yearning for my Shanghai days of fitness when I could do cardio for 45 min easy.