Category Archives: Travel

Back to the Charging Station

Despite my feelings of fatigue in late September, I continued to plug away for work: more open houses, more new approaches. I enjoy the challenge of figuring out ways to build my business. Sure, it’s frustrating and slow-going, but I enjoy having the autonomy and control over my work. I’m still working on cracking the open house code… you’d think after 58 different homes, I’d be a pro by now, but I’m still learning and still working hard to tweak interactions here and there to better connect with the personalities that come through. Of course, my flow got disrupted again with my trip to Taiwan… And to keep me even more on my toes, my dog sitter called the DAY BEFORE our trip to cancel our booking. Family emergency. Yup, pretty dang stressful scrambling around for Bentley care with less than 24 hours. Miraculously, we got it handled and he’s been in good hands. I’m telling you though: that dog care shit is nearly impossible. Sitters cancel or if you find a good one, she’s not available when you need her: At any given time, I have to have a roster of like five different options. SMH.

And then Taiwan. I mean, what can I say. It’s always an exhausting time… even without the drama of the past. This trip? Nine nights. Eight different beds. Thankfully, only one bedfellow. 🙂 Every year, I try to think of ways to make this trip easier, and I dunno: we have yet to crack the puzzle. Of course, it doesn’t help that the flight is a total beotch: 13 hours out, 11 hours back. Once we arrive in Taipei, it’s still not over: immigration takes time, then metro, then high speed train. It’s another three hours AFTER the flight to get to my parents’ house. Then we pretty much live out of a suitcase for the entire time. One night at my parents’ house. The next night at my grandparents’ house. They are all older and slower now but still kicking and doing well. Then, we went on the road trip (5 hours in a very comfy private shuttle to the north part of the island), so two nights at two different hotels. After that, a night at my grandparents’ again. Then my mother had her heart condition situation, which required the night before at my aunt’s house followed by two nights at the hospital accompanying my mom. The medical system in Taiwan, while modern, remains very inefficient. My mother was feeling heart/chest pains, so she went in for a procedure to inject a dye and see what was happening with her heart. In the US, this is a same-day procedure, but in Taiwan, they needed to admit her the night before. Then, she had the procedure on Tuesday morning. Thankfully, the conclusion was not a stent. She should have been discharged later that day, but they wanted to keep her another night. The good news is that she had a private room with a futon and a sofa, so John and I had some space. Overnight, the hospital was also very quiet (unlike the one my grandfather was in when he fell a few years ago in Maryland). But the doctor was pretty laconic and curt. Whatever though. Hopefully, the medicine will help her feel better. After she got discharged on Wednesday, John and I took the train north towards Taipei. Rather than rush from the south of the island to the airport the morning of our flight, we just decided to book a hotel by the airport and spend the last night there. As it turned out, the airport was mobbed with Chinese tour groups and getting to the gate took longer than we had anticipated, so it was a good call to get that hotel for the night before. In the future, I think we will book the same hotel for the first night after we fly in. It’s just too much to make the long trip after an already very long flight..

Reflections on Parenting

This one’s a long one… written on my flight back, so brace yourself.

I have to say, for someone who is childfree, I spend an inordinate amount of time thinking about parenting and child-rearing. Oddly enough, there is some explanation for this. You see, from a very young age, I’ve struggled with lots of familial strife. Not the usual tiff or disagreement here and there. Rather, full-on, war time, volcanic eruption familial fighting. The constant sparring can probably be attributed to a number of things: my parents being immigrants (I know, I’m a broken record, but this factor cannot be overstated!), my father having a strong, dominant personality, and me having a strong, dominant, judgey, defiant personality.

In my childhood, I observed favoritism from a very young age. This is probably nothing unusual… in fact, I would expect it to be a common thing for families with multiple kids. In my case, my mother and grandmother always coddled my brother. After all, the Chinese phrase “Little Emperor” didn’t just come out of thin air. Their obsession with him extended into adolescence and adulthood with them cooking, cleaning, and doing laundry pretty much on demand at any and all hours of the day. When he moved to Taiwan in his 30s, my aunts continued this ridiculous babying– staying up late, waiting for him to come home so they could cook him hot meals.

Admittedly, I also benefited from this lifestyle as a kid: I never really had chores. My dad always explained that my job was to do well in school, and my family would handle all other things– cooking, cleaning, laundry, expenses, etc. But even at six years of age, I was already annoyed with the level of their involvement. I didn’t like having other people do things ALL THE DAMN TIME. If they helped me get dressed or cut up my food or did other things I was perfectly capable of doing, I would say, in a cocky, know-it-all kind of way, “I can do it myself!” By the time I was a preteen, I already felt suffocated by the Asian tiger parenting: I would say in Chinese, “Stop managing me. Leave me alone.” By the time I was 16 and definitely by the time I was 18, going away to live just could not come soon enough.

It wasn’t just the incessant coddling though. It was everything. The preachiness, the lessons, the constant comparisons to other kids and their achievements. I was fighting with my parents CONSTANTLY for years before finally fleeing the roost. Despite the security and stability they provided, I just couldn’t stand being told what to do all the damn time. Looking back, I suspect that more than anything, these tensions were cultural than generational in nature. Chinese parents, I tell you. They can be really insufferable.

I mean, all the fucking nagging from my parents PLUS my grandmother and then shitty parenting with my brother…. I probably didn’t know enough to put two and two together back then, but their parenting style towards me and my brother definitely irked the crap out of me.

My mother always thought my rage and frustration stemmed from me being jealous of the apparent favoritism of her and grandmother towards my brother but honestly, that shit only bugged me in the very beginning. Once I started feeling more independent, I didn’t want to deal with the constant coddling. And in retrospect, having a favorite child actually seems quite natural to me. As my friend M has said, “The heart wants what the heart wants.” I think this is true in romantic love as well as parental love. I mean, the concept of fairness is really just bullshit anyway. And not just with parenting but with anything in life. And I’ll even go a step further in saying that trying to instill a sense of fairness only serves to misguide people later on in life. Life isn’t fair so why should we insist that it be that way? I mean, I was born in the USA. Immediately, I have a different kind of freedom and privilege than my cousins born in Taiwan, right? Is that fair? Or, say one child has abusive parents/alcoholic parents. Where’s the fairness in that? It’s just a bullshit construct, really.

I understand that parents want to be equally good to their kids. They want to give them opportunities to grow and thrive and flourish, but does that mean they have to connect and love them equally? I don’t think so, and children should develop the fortitude to deal with the reality that people will treat you differently and you will treat others differently due to whatever subtle factors/preferences..

I came across an article recently, labeling various parenting approaches: helicopter, tiger, lawn mower, free-range… Sometimes it’s an interesting academic exercise to give these things some thought. Ultimately, I always come to the same conclusion: I’m so glad I’m not a parent, bc even though I am strongly opinionated about the subject, I can see how challenging it can be. There are just so many damn moving parts. I mean, cultural influences, societal influences, peer pressure, trends and norms… Then on top of that, what is your child’s personality? gender? birth order? etc. See? Too many damn factors.

Obviously, I have a shit ton of feedback on how my parents raised my brother and me. I’ve already written about it numerous times over the years. You’d think I’d be totally talked out about it after four long decades. Yet every time the topic of my family comes up, my friends and relatives make comments like, “I just can’t believe how different you and your brother are, coming from the same parents.” It’s true: Johnny and I ARE dramatically different in many ways. For example: I move fast; he moves slow. I like to take action; he likes to think deeply and proceed cautiously. I hate anything abstract or philosophical. He can spend days debating things for the sake of mental exercise… But really what complicates things is that he’s not someone who you can immediately accuse of being off his rocker. In fact, every time I hear him speak in person, I’m always struck by his intelligence and articulation of various topics. He’s always been extremely well-read and scholarly. When he talks about teaching at the university, the passion for his work and for his students is apparent. And most things he says related to these topics makes sense, so how can you not get on board with that?

And yet, he’s also so far-fetched in other regards. It’s a bit of a conundrum, to be honest. He sounds so normal and yet, he is so freaking off the wall. Like the whole religious cult thing… he continues to be a part of that bullshit scam. I mean, any program where there’s one dominant force (aka “the master”), I am immediately distrustful and turned off… Think David Koresh or Bagwan or whatever that new LA cult was where people at the top raped young girls. Any kind of funnel/pyramid setup like that is super sketch… Yet, he’s a part of that cult where he talks trustingly about his master like the dude is infallible and omniscient. It’s super annoying. And the hypocrisy just drives me up the wall. All this bogus talk about loving one another “bc we are all human”. Meanwhile, my brother is a total disrespectful ass to my parents.

This time in Taiwan, my dad took eight of us on a private shuttle tour in northern Taiwan. My mother was supposed to go but she caught a cold and had to bail the the day before. Anyway, my brother was of course invited to join. My aunts tried to contact and coordinate with him many days in advance. No one could get a hold of him bc he doesn’t answer calls and messages. So he shows up and every time there’s a meeting time for the group, he’s the last one to show. If we met for breakfast or a group walk to the beach, he slept in instead. Also. he’s currently on some ketogenic diet or whatever: all he can eat is eggs and cheese. No carbs. I mean, WTF is wrong with you? And his whole argument is that on this diet, he has way more energy and no more lethargy. He claims that giving in to cravings and immediate pleasures is not worth the toll on his health. Wow, how disciplined of you. Um, ok. Kudos to you for demonstrating such self control. I mean, I was vegetarian for 7-8 years. If you have some reason to change your diet, fine. Go ahead. But if you now supposedly have all this energy, why are you sleeping in and not participating with the rest of the group?

And then, the weather was super shitty– pouring rain and windy. We went to a bunch of landmarks and tourist spots up in the mountains where there were a lot of steps and we had to use umbrellas to shield us from the wind and rain. While my cousin was holding his father’s hand to help him up the incline, my aunt asked my brother to do the same and help my dad. My brother’s reply? “Everyone should walk their own path.” Is that the kind of compassion the Master teaches you? You do nothing except show up for the trip and then you don’t even engage or participate. Well, fuck you. We could all do without your hypocritical proclamations. And for the record, you aren’t doing us any favors by showering us with your presence. Ugh.

At the start of this trip, I vowed to be civil to my brother. I’m sure no one is surprised that I CANNOT STAND my brother. Even though I can acknowledge his special kind of intelligence, everything about his person irks the living shit out of me– the fact that he’s so easily swayed by con men, the insistence that what he believes/claims is legit or real, the selfishness, the lack of responsiveness, punctuality, responsibility… but my family always gives me crap about not being nicer to him, not being sisterly. They have some stupid idea or wish that somehow I will be able to serve as a positive influence who will help him change his ways. I know, their wishful thinking is so damn unrealistic..

“You only have one brother,” they always say. Yeah, well I wish I had none. I know this sounds heartless and crass, but it is what it is. Let’s stop playing charades. Sure, we had some good times as kids. But pretty much from college and onward, he’s been a self-centered, unhelpful, immature shithead. It might not be kosher for parents to admit regret for having kids, but I sure as hell feel regret for myself AND my family about my brother. He’s really quite useless, and I have argued with my family for an entire lifetime about him. Seriously, it should be no fucking surprise that I am childfree precisely bc of what I have witnessed regarding my brother. So many arguments and fights with my parents.

And in true Chinese fashion, there is always someone and something to blame. Yes, my parents put a lot of pressure on him. He is the eldest son of the eldest son. That comes with a lot of baggage. My dad also worked a lot and wasn’t around much. His job was super stressful and he had anger issues that at times, he displaced onto us. My parents enabled my brother by coddling him to the point that he never needed to be responsible for anything. It’s a gigantic mess and at some point, even if we identify all the culprits, what then? I dunno really. But that is the Chinese way. And that is my family’s way. In my later adult years, I’ve tried to let it go: sourcing the blame doesn’t change the end result.

Before this trip to Taiwan, I told John that every time I see my brother, I can’t help but feel anger towards my parents for this predicament. I mean, yes, he’s a working, white-collar, 40-something professional. He’s great at teaching. But he’s still a total moron. He cannot be relied on for anything. He just lives for himself and his cult cronies. And whenever my family complains about him not getting married or not having kids, I just get so fucking irritated. Hello, open your goddamn eyes! Just bc you want a legacy doesn’t mean some woman should suffer by marrying a man-child or a child should suffer by having a lame, unreliable, irresponsible father. You know? Why are you hoping for the demise of two other people just so you can claim an heir to the family line? Whatever, I’m getting heated about all this shit all over again.

The point is, ahead of this trip, I was lamenting to John about how I still feel so much rage towards my parents about what my brother has become. And now, mom has Alzhimer’s. So what’s the point in feeling anger about this? Zippy. I dunno. I’ve said this before: I’m a flawed person. My propensity for accountability means that I blame people and things, and then I just don’t let go.

I admitted to this: I just keep punishing my parents for their parenting mistakes. And John replied, “But you’re not just punishing them: you’re punishing everyone, including yourself. And for how long?” So I vowed this trip to be civil towards my brother. Just bite my tongue and don’t start any fights. For whom? I don’t even know. Maybe just for my parents to save face. So other people don’t have to see our family drama. I dunno. As John explains, as adults we do all sorts of things we don’t want to do. You behave bc that is what your parents want– for their two kids to get along. Fine.

I don’t think anyone had any high hopes for my intent to stay calm. As you know, I’m a radical honesty kind of person. It’s not my natural way to keep quiet and to be non-confrontational, esp over things that really get under my skin. But I am also a person of control. And I am an adult in my 40s now. So I got it done. With the help of Bubbey the buffer, of course. Thankfully, my brother didn’t get into his pro-Trump MAGA bullshit that he so often posts on social media. And in the end, even if my interactions with him were forced and insincere, I suppose my family appreciated that the road trip was free of blowups. That was the best I could do… that’s right: Service withOUT a smile… VG style.

Moving forward, I don’t have any expectations for my brother. He will continue to be a brain-washed, self-absorbed person. For example, I went to see my grandmother. I fly back to Taiwan every year to see my grandparents. About two sentences in, she asks if I have seen my brother. He lives in Taipei– a few hours away by train. She hasn’t seen him in a long while. Then, my mother caught a cold and wasn’t able to go no the road trip. Did he call to see how she was doing? Nope. Didn’t care one iota that she couldn’t make the trip. She was the whole reason he was even invited!

She was also recently diagnosed with a heart problem. She was slated for a procedure at the hospital this week. It required her to stay in the hospital for two days. Where was my brother? No where. Just doing his own damn thing: no call, nothing. Meanwhile, my cousins, aunts, extended family, all went to the hospital to see her. That’s what I’m talking about.

I admit, the Chinese def go overboard with their whole Confucian concept of filial piety. It’s a term you hear a ton in Chinese families– I’ve been hearing this since I was a very young child. In essence, it translates as love/respect for your parents and elders. And in the pratical sense, it means not talking back, not raising your voice, not losing your temper, being thoughtful and considerate and in service, including bringing your dad slippers after a long day of work (my cousin used to do this for her father and my aunt advised me to do the same— I never did). I mean, Confucius is a bit cray. He takes it to an extreme where the hierarchy is also very sexist, but it’s a very very strong cultural force. It explains too why there is so much pressure in my family to have my brother marry. By not continuing the family line, this is seen as a failure on my father’s part to his own father (my grandfather), so the pressure and disappointment is definitely Level 10.

Anyway, I don’t want to drone on and on, but I do feel like expectations is the bane to all Chinese families. By many measures, I am a failure to my parents. I never became a physician despite the privilege and opportunity provided by my family. I didn’t have kids. I talk back. I cuss. I lose my temper. I raise my voice. I don’t connect with my parents that often. The irony is that John, despite being white, so much more effectively embodies this Confucian concept of filial piety– not in the outdated sexist sense but certainly in the modern sense. He keeps his cool. He is patient, caring, and kind. He does what is right– not out of obligation, but out of genuine respect and love. What can I say: I am limited and I have my weaknesses. Thankfully, Bubbey shows me the way, guiding by example and love.

Travel Fatigue

Some days, I can really feel my introverted side coming on strong. John and I have been doing a lot of traveling lately: he def has the travel bug and well, I promised to travel with him if I hit some goals. So in September, we headed to London with two of his sisters and brother-in-law. The trip went pretty seamlessly: J and his older sister did most of the planning– finding a conveniently located AirBnb and drafting up a rough itinerary for the week. London is a lot of fun, bc it’s a vibrant city with a lot of offer: art, music, food, shopping, plus a variety of tourist options. J always gets energized in a big city. He’s so great with directions and orientations and once you decide on a destination, he leads the way. But I travel in a manner where I like to go out and come back to the apartment throughout the day. After growing up with my father who always leads a jam packed itinerary, I enjoy sleeping in and lounging around the hotel in addition to checking out the sites. I like to rest when I’m on vacation bc I never feel rested at home. It was nice hanging out with his family in a setting different from the usual holidays and family dinners. And bc we had different interests, I actually got to see and do things I wouldn’t normally do– like scout out the Shakespeare Globe Theater and go on tours of the Tower of London and Westminster Abbey. But at the end, I was pretty pooped being in the company of people.

It was nothing about them– they didn’t irk me or anything. I just needed time later to re-energize, bc I’m an introvert. The last day, John and I branched off and checked out some cool spots– Regents Garden was beautiful: a grand, lush and colorful oasis in the city. We rented bikes and had fun zipping around. We got tickets to Lion King– a play I last saw probably 20 years ago in NYC. The story is kinda simplistic and not that compelling, but the music and costumes were as amazing as I remembered. Overall, a great time in a place that’s easily navigable and lots of fun to explore.

Two weeks later, I was on the plane again. Incidentally, my friend N needed a break/getaway from the East Coast. This was right around the time another hurricane barreled through. Thankfully, the trip was still on afterwards, and we met in Denver for a few days. Again, we had a nice time exploring the city. John actually found us a great hotel downtown, so she and I were able to walk everywhere. She is so much more active and mobile now than when she visited us in the Bay Area a few years ago. One day, we rented a car and drove out to Red Rocks Amphitheater and then farther out to Breckenridge– a lovely ski town. N’s had a pretty rough last couple of years, so it was nice to see her get some fresh air and to have a change of scenery.

She’s lived in Wilmington, NC now for a very long while: she went there for undergrad, went overseas and away for grad school, and then eventually settled back. But I think she’s outgrown Wilmington, so we’ll see if somewhere farther west will draw her as a next destination. We had a good time hanging out and exploring. Even though I’ve been to Denver many times, I still saw some new things. My fav attraction? The Denver Botanic Gardens. We also tried out the Lyft scooters for the first time: those were a TON of fun. I’m a huge fan and can’t wait to take Bubbey to ride them in San Jose. Overall, N and I had some good bonding time. It’s helpful to have a friend who goes way back– who knows the whole history and drama of the past. That said, the historical context also brings up a lot of baggage– not between her and me but you know, just discussions about our families and our mothers. That drama is never easy to talk or think about, and sometimes, I find that we get ourselves stuck with belaboring the past. But the good thing is, in the end, we always strive to help one another process the pains of our histories and move towards the future. Sometimes I wonder if the old wounds will ever heal. Is there a way to acknowledge the past without letting it hold us hostage?

After all the traveling, I sure am tired. You see, at my core, I am a person of habit. I like to be home where I have a schedule, a routine, and I know what I need to do. While I love traveling, my patience for it seems to grow more limited as I get older. I’m very good at researching and booking flights, cars, hotels, etc. I like laying out a rough idea of things to do. But beyond that, all the logistics and explorations once there requires a lot of energy for me. Unlike Bubs who grows more energized exploring a new city, the experience wears on me. I like new experiences and adventures just as I usually like meeting new people and making new friends, but those activities drain me… it’s like the explanation people give for extroverts vs. introverts. The difference lies in how they re-energize. If they gain energy from being with people, they are extroverts. If they need me time to recuperate, they are introverts. I’m a social and traveling introvert. I need the downtime to rest. That’s partly why we never travel for longer than ten days. I begin to fatigue by day 5 and then I need to get home to recharge.

Scared Straight Weekend

Well, I know I’ve been super inconsistent with blogging… It’s a very long story, but a lot has happened over the last several weeks. For one thing, the blog bit me in the ass again. You know me with my radical honesty agenda: my blog is my way of telling it like it is, you know? There’s just so much bullshit out there with social media and curated/manicured/sanitized content, and my blog is like my personal mission to be more honest about things than not. Well, it’s bitten me in the ass before, and it happened again.

Basically, a potential client did some digging on me just as he was signing on to work with me, and well, he had ghosted me twice before and he conveniently read about himself on my blog. I mean, I could have asked him, “How do you know that’s about you?” but it was pretty darn clear. And as J suggested, there’s nothing to say when something like that happens. My name has links to my blog and I mean, such is life. I stand by what I said. Obviously, the story is from my perspective. Maybe he had a great reason for ghosting me both times. Maybe not. Either way, the relationship was unsalvageable, so I just cut bait and moved on.

J and a few close friends of mine all had various discussions about it right after the incident. It REALLY bugged me bc in some weird way, this blog has been some sliver of a pipe dream for me… it’s something I have committed to doing since 2003 and there has always been some small piece of me that wished I were a professional blogger or writer. Who knows if that dream will ever come to fruition in the manner that I consider legit… for now though, the conclusion is that I’m now in a customer-facing role… more so than ever before. It’s probable to assume that clients commit to working with me under an unspoken assumption that what happens in Vegas stays in Vegas. And so while I may be free to talk a little bit about how their behavior and actions make me feel, perhaps I cannot be as radically honest with judging how their actions reflect on their character.

The challenge for me in this is that accountability for your actions ties back to my brother… I have personally witnessed how a lifetime of lack of accountability has caused so many problems… but that’s family and this is business. And actually, maybe there’s some irony in it all bc the client discovering my blog and declining to work with me is also a consequence of my own actions, right? The bottom line? People have reasons for behaving the way they do. And even if my blog doesn’t use names, maybe people don’t really want to know how their actions are interpreted by others, namely me. Needless to say, I lost a potential client who had a hefty budget. Sigh. Live and learn.

A few weeks after that incident, I had a relatively uneventful bday. But a few weeks after, we embarked on our Tiny House adventure in Leavenworth, WA. You know, this real estate business is funny. I spend months and months nixing vacations and holidays to put my nose to the grindstone. Of course, the ONE weekend I decide to plan a trip, I meet someone who wants to submit an offer on a property I host open. The timeline went something like this:

Sunday: I held the open house and followed up with this visitor that evening.
Monday: I followed up again bc the offer deadline was Tuesday. No reply.
Wednesday: The first offer deadline passed, and then the buyer decided he was interested in submitting.
Thursday: I worked on the file, reviewed the disclosures, plus discussed his proof of funds, drafted a letter to seller, talked loan options, contingency removal, pricing strategy… We were trying to get the offer in before that weekend of open house when the property would be exposed to another group of buyers, possibly increasing competition.
Friday: I fly to Seattle and all the while, I’m making calls, prepping the offer package, and struggling with spotty cell signal, no wifi reception, and problems with his esign.
Friday afternoon: Offer is submitted and accepted. List agent is super impressed and comments about how hard I worked to make this happen. Everyone is thrilled.
Saturday morning: Buyer changes his mind. I spend the rest of the day trying to figure out if there is a resolution to his issue.
Saturday afternoon: Transaction falls through. No fault of the property.

It might not sound so bad bc the timeline was uber condensed, but basically, I got no sleep and things were super urgent, super important, and super high stress. My three-day vacation got truncated to a 1.5 of enjoyment. Sigh. I was so very disappointed and bummed.

Nonetheless, the tiny home adventure was awesome. I loved the cluster of homes at the campground by the lake, with each house occupied by our friends. We cooked and picnicked around the campfire. It was lovely. J and I were the only child-free couple, and we dubbed this our “scared straight weekend.” Not only was our child-free choice reaffirmed but damnit, I kept bumping my head in my tiny home! You see, prior to this vacation, I was CERTAIN that I could live the tiny house lifestyle. OMG, I was so very wrong. No-siree. Cross that shit off the list. No f-ing way. Our Hanna house, as adorable as it was, that damn thing was like 170 sf. It was way too small. So we got scared straight a second way: no tiny house in our future. For glamping with the pals though? This arrangement was the bomb. And the kiddos had a blast too. I just wish I had taken more pictures. After we got home, the Houseboat felt especially spacious and luxurious. Muhahaha, everyone is happy now!

Restless in Italy

John and I were in Italy at the end of April to celebrate our 15th wedding anniversary. I know I’m a total anomaly, but to be honest, I was reluctant to spend 10 days away on a European jaunt. I don’t expect anyone to understand: when I’m in work mode, that’s just all that I want to do!

Needless to say, Bubbey is the sweetest hubs out there. Normally, I do all the travel planning from flights to hotels to arranging dog care… but this time, Bubs did EVERYTHING. I mean, it all started bc he’s had the travel bug (big time) for the last year. He’s always trying to maintain his United Premier Gold status. So he got wind of some super cheap flights to Rome and everything snowballed from there. Like I said, I’m a workaholic. Part of it is that I just like to work. The other driving force is that well, you know, I feel a lot of pressure (all self-imposed) like I am running out of time to demonstrate/achieve professional success. I know, my friends have told me that I am successful, and maybe in some masochistic way, I keep moving the target or changing the criteria. The bottom line is that I don’t feel like a success. I feel blessed and lucky, but not successful on my own accord. I mean, I’m not going to delve into it now, but it’s been a lifelong struggle that stems from my upbringing with my parents and my own mental state. But at some point, with John being so excited to travel, I did check myself. This life isn’t just about me. He’s on the journey with me, and I realized that I need to still nurture our relationship and water the flowers, bc I know that life is short.

Anyway, my point is, I acquiesced to an Italian vacation. I know, there was a ridiculous amount of arm-twisting and I’m not proud. But the trip was great. I mean, I think I’ve learned by now that any kind of European travel will never be restful. There is just too damn much to see, with all that history. Also, I’m a lazy-ass American, so all that walking really wore me out. We stayed in the same hotel the whole them to minimize fatigue (still didn’t work) and then planned a day trip to the Amalfi Coast. Beautiful, beautiful place but OMFG, the traffic and crowds are insane. Same deal with the Vatican. Supposedly, it is the world’s second most popular tourist destination (first is the Louvre), clocking in 35k visitors/day on average. In peak season? 55k people IN ONE DAY. I mean, it makes sense: everyone wants to hit up the key places, but goddamn, it just makes the experience kinda difficult, you know, like is the juice really worth the squeeze? I dunno: John and I are people of very low tolerance so…

Also, who the hell knew that I would get sick of pizza and pasta, like ever? I know, roll your eyes! I’m rolling them at myself. First world problems, SMH. I’m just sayin’.

Beyond the travel logistics, holy fuck: that Roman history and ingenuity is something else. How the hell were people back then so fricking smart? It seriously blows my mind. I mean, aqueduct systems, plumbing, construction, engineering… that shit is incredible. On the negative side, I suppose you can get a shit ton done with slave labor. Shrug.

[FAG id=7384]

The Feet Tell It All

So I treated myself to a pedicure today. I haven’t gotten one in a salon in probably a year. It’s one of those things, like getting my hair cut: whenever I think to do it, it’s in the middle of the night and the salons are closed. When the places are open, I don’t have a reservation and can’t be bothered to wait. I know, I’m that self important, right?

My job entails a lot of taking my shoes on and off, entering staged homes, decrepit homes, and everything in between. I really try to keep my toes somewhat presentable but some days, it’s just all about good enough. That means, yes, oftentimes I just repaint over my existing polish. So today the nail tech is like removing the old polish, and she’s uncovering multiple layers of old polish beneath bc they are all different colors… SMH. I know, it’s embarrassing. Hey though, be glad I’m not using Sharpie markers like I did before.

I started my session ordering the basic pedi. But bc I wear shoes without socks, my heels are literally rough and scratchy with flaking skin. I know, pretty darn nasty. The lady suggested callous removal. Her comment didn’t shame me or anything, but I quickly agreed to upgrade to a spa pedi. I mean, either she cleans me up or I gotta go home and put the foot filer gadget to that scratch pad, and at this point, just get ‘er done.

The thing is, my feet are like the canary in the coal mine. They are an indicator for something far worse. For example, in the last several months, my skin had continued on its rampage to hell, with humongous boils throbbing on my chin. That k-beauty stuff, as much as I had placed my faith into it, was not helping. I mean, yes, they softened the cheeks but it was fucking Mt. Fuji everywhere else on my face! I dunno what I was expecting: I had been eating a bunch of fried foods and frozen foods; I wasn’t getting any sleep; I was skipping meals left and right… I mean, I was basically neglecting and abusing my body (for MONTHS/years) and already, it wasn’t a strong system to start with…

After I went into contract on this latest real estate deal and the deposit went into escrow, my body finally crashed. I got a few days’ worth of sleep. And the damn boils finally started calming the fuck down. John and I have also recently started drinking a breakfast probiotic shake, something I’d read about via a fashion blogger I follow… it’s crazy but as soon as we started on the program, John’s has gone to the gym every damn day. And we seem to feel better. I even went back to the hot yoga studio, for the first time in probably two years. I mean, I dunno if probiotics get all the credit on that one. Like I always say, “nothing like an expiring Groupon to kick my ass into gear.” Haha.

In other news, Bentley seems to be settling in. I think the pheromone room plug-in that my friend suggested is helping him feel safe and more confident. He is also eating more regularly. Strangely enough, I don’t think he’ll ever be one of those dogs who scarfs down his food, (WTF?!?!?), but he is showing improvement. We are taking him on a road trip to Santa Barbara later this month before he has to get neutered. Fingers crossed that he’ll do ok going into a clinic environment again. Honestly, I’m a bit worried about it, and John has already suggested NOT getting him neutered at all but… this shit’s happening.

Ghosted

The weekend before I flew back East for the holidays, I managed to score an open house from an agent whose property I had hosted in the past. The open houses were super busy both days. For one thing, TONS of families came through, and OMFG, people let their fucking kids just run feral!!! Seriously, like three or four families, all with multiple kids ranging from 5-10 y/o, chasing the bejesus outta each other throughout the entire house. Upstairs, I heard shit being knocked over… I mean, FFS, the open house is not a goddamn playground. Please control your kids or leave them in the car.

Anyway, my loan officer and I were swamped the whole time, and there were two properties available side by side, so I was running back and forth to show both homes. I gathered lots of info but bc I am still lame about making the case for appointments, zero appointments.

The last hour of the last day, I met a couple who has been renting in my neighborhood just down the street from the open house. Long story short, they said they weren’t working with an agent and they asked me to rep them. I met them again Monday night after they got off work to tour the house again. Since we our initial meeting, I’d been corresponding via email and text with info I would need. After their second tour of the house, they had to rush off for an evening work call and told me they were getting their financing in order and wanted to proceed. Tuesday, I flew out to MD. As soon as I landed (noon their time), I texted that I had an agent covering me should they wish to see houses the week I was out. I also asked to debrief now that they had taken a night to sleep on it. I followed my text later in the night with a call. Went straight to voicemail. No reply for two days. Late Wednesday they finally replied to my texts and vm saying they went to see another house in my neighborhood, a comparable. Originally, they had told me they liked my house better than that one. So I text, do you want to submit an offer on that house. No reply. And then I was ghosted for a week until I returned to town the day after Christmas.

This is just one illustration of how little respect this job garners. People are fucking rude. If you change your mind or your status changes, no problem, but can you fucking let me know? Especially since I am working on my “vacation” from the the East Coast? Also, how old are you? Can you be a professional adult and at least have the decency to let me know rather than to ghost me?!? Who behaves like this?

After I got back to town, I reached out again. Finally, on Wednesday, they called and said they submitted an offer on the other house through the listing broker. No apology, nothing. I didn’t know how to express my disappointment. And then they had some more questions… this is the story with buyers these days: Use multiple agents to squeeze whatever info they can and then just do whatever the fuck they want without remorse. There was some complicated thing too where they didn’t get into contract with their offer. Then a few days later, they were advised by the seller to resubmit. But they were calling me for more information… I dunno. Clearly, the guy was ambiguous and indirect. And just like that, no deal for me. And these are my neighbors, you know what I mean? Whatever.

As for my trip home, it was frustrating as usual. I got along with parents but their indecision and slowness with downsizing is getting to me. Dad is visibly aged from being a caretaker and sole source of engagement and stimulation for mom. I’m exasperated bc things don’t have to be so freaking difficult since they have resources, and yet they make it this way due to stubbornness, resistance, and introversion, so that makes me resentful…

Incidentally, I met up with a childhood friend from 7th grade. Hadn’t seen her in more than ten years bc she just ghosted everyone. Turns out, she moved back in with her parents about seven years ago to work on writing a book and she discovered that both parents were basically living in squalor, unable to care for themselves. She immediately became their primary caregiver, taking them to medical appointments, researching elder care options, cooking meals, getting them dressed, cleaning, etc. She said she turned into a hermit after getting buried with all these responsibilities. Meanwhile, where’s her brother? He lives out of state and is totally useless. No help at all. Big surprise.

Last year, her dad– who has dementia– had a heart attack. Mom who has Alzheimer’s had a stroke. They got moved to a facility near my parents’ house. All prior to this, there were many opportunities to plan, to sign legal papers that would have made things easier. Nope. Refusal at every. Damn. Stage. Savings go fast for eldercare. Now she has to empty and sell the house. Not to mention, seven years of her life gone.

I feel so much anger for my friend. It didn’t have to be like this. Parents, fucking get your shit together. Make a plan. It’s not right that your kids get burdened with all this bc you are unable to take responsibility and provide guidance on where you want to be, what level/extent of treatment you wish to have, what you want for quality of life. This shit is really hitting a nerve with me, bc even though my parents were great at financial planning and growing wealth and whatever, they are now stuck, unable to commit to one place to live, unable to update their paperwork, unable to specify their medical directives and so on. Time is ticking. And wtf is the plan for when one passes and the other survives? There is zero guidance and it is stressing me out bc as with my friend T, my brother is going to be utterly useless.

So anyway, I haven’t been in the best of spirits lately. My MIL moves soon to an assisted living facility. Again, total denial about her diagnosis, her weakened condition, the level of care she needs, etc. And she is completely adamant about NOT moving from her independent living apartment. J and his siblings have been so stressed about making these decisions, they are sick to their stomachs. Honestly, he and his siblings always amaze me with how well they handle these stressful situations and difficult conversations. But goddamn, it didn’t have to be this difficult.

I know all of us will grow old. We will be faced with the inevitable cruelty of mental decline and physical atrophy and we will surely be stripped of independence and choice sooner than we would want to accept. But as much as the articles insist we will ultimately morph into our parents, I still hold out hope that we will learn the necessary lessons to make our transition less painful for those who love and care for us when that time comes. Please let that be true.

A Year in the Biz

So I’ve been intending all along to finish the year out strong by keeping up the pressure with building my biz. What that translates to, is that while many other agents have given up on hosting open houses during the winter, I’ve still been hustling for them every weekend that I’m around. Granted, I DID cut back to one day instead of two to accommodate holiday parties and such, but still.

Sadly, at the end of all this effort, the results in December have been extremely disappointing. In other words, shit traffic. For example, in areas where it’s typical to get 15-20 parties through per day, I’m seeing less than ten and of the ten, more than half are looky loos, aka nosy neighbors! Not a horrible thing, but def not hot leads.

It’s been really frustrating and then when I get down about it, I let everything slide… like I become less aggressive asking for visitor contact info and I’m less engaging while they are on site. The ripple effect from a demoralized mental state is real.

Looking forward though, I know what more I need to do. For instance, I def need to start making more calls to people I know: old acquaintances and friends. Talking to 25-30 people/week–mostly the open house folks– about real estate is not enough. That number needs to be closer to 100. And those calls… Of course, I’m aware of the awkwardness, the length of time that’s passed from when we last spoke, etc. But I read something by one of our seasoned top producers recently, and it was helpful to remind me of why these calls are necessary. Staying in contact is how this biz works. If you don’t stay top of mind, people conveniently forget that you’re in real estate and the next thing you know, your best friend is buying a house from someone else. Shiit. I gotta do it.

In related news, this new career is def changing my perspective on a lot of things. I have more respect and empathy now for salespeople, bc holy shit, this commission-only gig is a stressful grind and no matter how you slice it, that daily, constant rejection is hard. I haven’t personally altered my reaction to salespeople too drastically, but I do try now to hear them out a little more. And I just stay pleasant and polite. Not that I ever slammed the door/phone before, but now I just feel more understanding.

As for me in the sales role, I feel like I am constantly having to re-thicken my skin. Immediately after a round of door knocking or open houses, I’ll generally feel more confident talking to strangers but man, if I let up the following week, I recognized the immediate regression, bc those blows start to sting again. That constant desensitization is I think the only way to maintain some resiliency.

I also look at small businesses differently. I think about all the different facets that go into owners and shopkkeepers running a biz. Unlike with all my past salaried jobs, I no longer focus primarily on my job from that sole contributor vantage point. Now I have to think about medical insurance, taxes, marketing, business infrastructure, vendor expenses, the works! I mean, I LOVE having control over all those areas and I like seeing how it all integrates, BUT it’s also a lot of other stuff to think about and research and optimize. And now I am more aware of that for other business owners. They ARE very different than the big corporate multi-nationals. And in positions where I can, I try to support their businesses. Don’t get me wrong: I still love the selection, price, and convenience of those big boxers like Costco and Amazon, but I have also been buying little goodies or crafts or small things that I see that previously, I would have just passed by. There is something about seeing the enthusiasm and fire in their eyes and compensating them for their work and craft. Seriously, I wear some different lenses now as I move through life… it’s not always about getting the absolute best deal. Many times, yes, but not all the time like before.

Needless to say, as my first year comes to an end, I’m trying hardest to keep the mental clutter in check. Of course, outside of work, the holidays aren’t exactly the best time for me emotionally. I always feel overwhelmed ahead of seeing my family and plus, there’s just so much cultural pressure with you know, the gatherings having to be all festive and joyous. Also, I am still trying to figure out how to manage my daily annoyance re: my brother’s idiotic emails. More on that later.

To their credit, my parents really do try to be chill with me now, but like I’ve said before, my mind and body just have this habitual conditioned response. For instance, Dad keeps asking about my business. His intention I think is to comfort me for not having hit the milestones I’d originally set for myself for this first year… he acknowledges that I’m working hard and not seeing the results that I want, and he reiterates that building a biz takes time… I appreciate all of that but then he’ll say, “You’re not going to quit, right????” I think he just means I need to hang tight, BUT my brain just automatically gets pissy, reading that as some judgement he’s making about my past careers and how I’ve left them when I’ve grown frustrated or unhappy. I dunno how to explain this complex set of emotional bullshit other than that it really is hard for me to NOT take every thing my parents say so fucking literally or critically. Ugh, my sensitivity with them is always sky high.

It took some convincing but J advised that I take a break, so we’re in Scottsdale for a couple of days. I was reluctant at first, bc clearly I am very prone to tunnel vision and falling into that cyclone of despair. I don’t like to be bothered or distracted from focusing on my current problems.  But I’m glad I stepped away.

The break def helps me reset a bit. There’s a lot more to be done, but I know rest and fun are still essential. I’ve been reading recently about how work-life balance is a sham. Honestly, I think it’s mostly semantics, but I do understand this concept that focusing on one area will always detract from another… that’s how priorities work. I suppose the answer then is found somewhere along the lines of “Work hard, play hard.” Be focused on work while at work, but also make time for rest and play. And try to respect those boundaries whether they are delineated hour by hour or week by week or month by month. So I’m going to be more deliberate about adopting that mindset in the coming weeks and new year.

Tripping in Taiwan

We did actually have some fun on this trip to Taiwan. My relatives planned a couple of trip itineraries and we saw some new destinations.

One day we went up to the northern part of Tainan (the city where my eldest aunt and her family lives) and checked out Zengwen Reservoir, the largest in Taiwan. The day was hotter and muggier than hell, but seeing all the elderfolk manage the heat just fine, J and I obviously couldn’t complain. This is where we ate at the cafĂ© (where dad didn’t want to take in our fruit) and also took a boat ride to see feral pigs. The pig experience was kinda weird. As we approached the shore, the boat captain blasted Andreas Bocelli… it felt weirdly Godfather-ish or something, like we were soon to be fed to flesh-eating pigs. We shared the ferry ride with a huge group, like a tour group of old folks. They were probably the same age as my parents and aunts/uncle, and they were such a lively bunch. Sigh. Elder years done right, I think: Traveling with your friends, staying active. I know, tsk, tsk, tsk. I’m so judgey with my parents. What can I say, they’re doing it all wrong! Haha.

The other big destination was Taitung, the lower eastern shore of Taiwan. For this trip, my aunt booked a private shuttle bus, and man, that thing was comfy. Captains chairs plus a built-in big screen and karaoke system. It was fun, and my mom got into it. She was singing all her fav old Chinese songs (thankfully, my cousin is an old soul and knows all the songs from that era– 70s). My dad even chimed in and SANG. Remember last year when we booked that ktv room in their condo complex and dad refused to sing bc he’s an annoying perfectionist? Well, it seems he’s finally chilled out a bit and stopped taking himself so damn seriously. It was a cool change to witness from one year to the next.

All in all, we were in the shuttle like 4-5 hrs. John did comment that we seriously stopped for bathroom breaks like every half hour. Shrug. I mean, dad is a prostate cancer survivor and mom has always had bladder issues. Oh well. At least the 7 Elevens have good drinks and snacks. Of course, all along the way, we ate way too much food and fruit. I will say the food this time around was not as good as I remember. That said, we did find some super creamy custard in Taitung as well as the yummy cherimoya fruit, grown/harvested up that way. Maybe custard was the theme for us this trip. In the evening, we walked along a park, lined with paper lantern and craft tables set up by local artisans selling their work. Taiwan is famous for their night markets where vendors sell tons of goods on folding tables, but this venue was different bc instead of cheap, mass-produced plastic crap, they sold handmade goods. We saw some interesting leather goods (got some ideas for Bubbey) and artwork, etc. Of course being the anti-big suitcase people that we are, we only bought some postcards with a local artist’s watercolor prints. In the evening, we retired to our rooms at the Sheraton, a nice and swanky hotel. I made sure to get up early the next day to partake in the sauna/pools amenities. Yup, these were nude only facilities– separated for men and women. I was pretty sure no one was going to force me to go nude, so I went down there first thing with my swimsuit. But the lady at the door kept saying it was nude only. At first, the defiant me was going to just verbally agree and then do whatever I wanted once I got in. Then, I thought about how people generally hate Americans who travel abroad bc they don’t respect local customs and they just do whatever the hell they want. I didn’t want to be THAT kind of American. Ugh.

Thankfully, when I got into the locker room, I was the only one there. Yup, I had a cool pool, a warm pool, a wet and dry sauna, plus all the showering facilities all to myself. Fine. I mean, in the privacy of myself, that was not the time to break a rule and be a beotch. Man, I love using all the amenities. 🙂

Throughout our time in Taiwan, we struggled still with jetlag and I dunno. My body just shuts down/gets very tired from the stress of being around family. They didn’t do anything particularly annoying or unbearable… I’m just conditioned to feel stressed after all these years… I’m trying to free myself from my issues. Well, we’ll be seeing my family again Stateside next month so I guess I’ll have a chance to practice some new coping skills. It’s really not so bad anymore compared to the olden days. Time to let go a bit and chill the fuck out (as I’m always advising my parents to do…).

[FAG id=7391]

I Am Not Your Secretary

So as usual, leading up to my Taiwan trip, I had been dreading how I was going to manage my interactions with family, namely, I was worried about keeping my cool with my mother. As life would have it, I managed to stay relatively controlled with my mother this trip, but I ended up blowing up at my dad.

What can I say, I am full of flaws and no matter how much older I get, no matter how much more I learn and mature, there are deeply ingrained habits from my childhood that I just don’t handle well.

The odd thing is, my father and I are similar on so many levels— with our intensity, our workaholism, our tracking/managing styles, our independence, our judgement of others… and yet there are still distinct differences and powerful triggers.

From the start, my dad’s ridiculous adherence to rules was showing itself and irking me. From giving John driving directions and informing him of this and that not being allowed, to our group going to a scenic destination and wanting to eat our fruit and snacks at the upstairs cafe… I mean, yes, most food establishments in the US have some policy like “no outside food or drink”, but we could have just asked the cafe staff. No, he was adamant. He didn’t even want to ask and instead insisted that all of us eat on the lower park pavilion without as nice a view. Later, we decided to order lunch at the cafe and still he was all wound up about us eating fruit we had brought in. Mind you, no other guests were even there and to be honest, I doubt the teenybopper staff really gave a shit. He’s just unnecessarily uptight about that kind of stuff. John says it’s bc being an immigrant in America makes you fearful. You don’t ever want to give authorities any reason to give you a hard time. Yes, I agree, but still. People are on vacation to hang out with us. Chill the hell out.

Later, when I was visiting my grandparents, John and I wanted to give the two maids some extra money, bc well shit, they work a TON for my very large and demanding family and on top of that, all three grandparents still look amazing thanks to the maids’ 24/7 care. Now, remember, labor is fucking cheap in Asia. And these maids being migrant workers from Indonesia means their labor is even cheaper than for native workers. Still, by comparison with their impoverished hometown, they are making great money in Taiwan, which is why they are working overseas in the first place. So whatever. I just wanted to give them each the equivalent of 100 usd. Mind you, I’m not sure but they probably only earn a few hundred usd per month, so this is not chump change, but to me, it’s still totally worth it to show gratitude for their hard work. Anyway, Dad gets all in my business asking how much I’m giving them and then he says that amount is way out of line. His explanation is that if I give that much, when my aunt pays them, it throws off the system. There’s a system and I have to play by the rules. Omfg. I mean, are you for fucking real? Just him saying those words, triggered something. He told me to give them 33 instead. I was like, those rules have nothing to do with me. I’m a foreigner: I don’t have to abide by the local rules. And then it started to escalate.

Honestly, I’m not about to be told what to fucking do in this situation. I mean, I didn’t even need to tell him I was gifting them anything. Finally, I just say ok and left the room pissed off. I talked it over with John and he said to compromise with 66, but I was still irritated and annoyed.

A few minutes later, Dad says he needs my help with filling out the USPS form to hold his mail for the next week. Also, I need to contact his former office manager to see if she picked up his mail up until then. Also, what’s the update on the house since he didn’t set the alarm. So the gist is 1. Did she get the mail 2. Can she check on house.

It’s always a tad uncomfortable bc every time I reach out to this lady, my dad is just barking orders, so I’m trying to draft something that is friendlier. I’m drafting and then Dad wants to read my draft before it goes out. My point is, tell me the end goal and then I can decide how to get to the desired result. So even without realizing, I text her to the effect of, dad’s not sure if he asked you to get the mail but are you able to get it and blah, blah. So he’s like harping over me about what to say, like I’m a fucking secretary taking his dictation and I’m getting annoyed about having my work checked before it goes out. I read him the draft which is still in a progress and immediately, he’s like no. I am sure. I already asked her to get the mail blah blah, and then he provides all this other seemingly extraneous info. I edit and he says to read it to him again. Finally, I yell out: You’re not my boss and I’m not your secretary. I’m 40-some years old. I know how to write a text message.

And he’s kind of stunned by my blowup and says I know you’re not my secretary, you are just helping me out. I want to review it, bc you still didn’t get the message right. That angers me further and I counter back that I’m still drafting it! I edit again and read the revised again. Fast and totally pissed, glaring at him. Then he’s like whatever. Send it. I storm out.

I hate doing shit for him, bc he hovers and micromanages. It drives me nuts and then it just dredges up all the extra shit from the past where I do all this research for him and half the time that effort is wasted, with the results totally unused. Also, I realized I had gotten the detail wrong not bc I didn’t hear him, but bc subconsciously it was my way of making the request softer with the office manager…

Ultimately though, what I should have already understood is that he worked with her for almost 40 years. She knows his style already. I don’t need to censor or mute it for her, and he, as the physician, is supposed to be clear on the facts. So then I kind of understood why it mattered to him to set up the context correctly even if the end goal was the same.

Two days later, I was still bothered by my reaction to such a small request by my father. I could see that what I said and how I said it pained him. And the magnitude of my response was totally incommensurate with the situation. But like I said, there are powerful historical triggers at play. It was a culmination of things… but that didn’t make it right. And yet, for three days, I could not bring myself to apologize. My brain just kept trying to rationalize and justify even though I knew what I did was unwarranted.

I finally apologized the night before I left. I just said I was sorry for blowing up. I know he never asks me for much so I shouldn’t have lost my temper. Meanwhile, the office manager replied that she’d already gotten the mail and she would go by the house tomorrow to check on it. No problem!

That was another epiphany for me. She, having worked with him for so long, knew exactly what he meant. She always follows through on his requests and yet he still always asks her again and seeks confirmation. She didn’t take offense, bc she understands his directness and she understands that medicine is a lot about double checking the details. I’m ashamed that I didn’t already get this.