So my father came to town last Thursday. Poor guy. His flight into SFO was delayed FOUR hours. On the plus side, he was upgraded to first class with free drinks and meals, so you know homeboy maxed out on the amenities. Like father, like daughter. Unlike past visits (last one to Mountain View was September 2013 after I left my previous job) where I had him and mom stay in my bedroom with the Westin bed and bigger master bath, I set him up in my office. He came solo this visit and I figured with just one person, the air mattress would work better holding him than holding both John and me. His bed setup involved my CB2 Lubi as a base, then a 2-ft thick air mattress, then a 2-in foam mattress pad, then a heated mattress topper. Yeah, I forgot to share that a few months ago, my heated mattress topper stopped working. I assumed it was on a 1-yr warranty, so I just reordered a replacement. Well turns out that topper carries a 5-yr warranty!! So after the fact, I requested a free replacement to use on my dad’s bed. Yup, I can never have enough heated surfaces in my house. Even Marty has two heated beds. Anyway, my point is that my home office is working out great for dad, bc he set up his laptop at my desk along with his blood pressure monitor (daily), and a stack of books. Yeah, who knew he was reading so much. He lugged a pile of Chinese novels that he loaned from the library!! It’s pretty cool to see him find things to watch (tons of Taiwan politics– the elections are happening this week) and read and learn. Piquing that curiosity and all.
I went to work on Friday, and then we did a bunch of stuff over the weekend. We did a combo of dining out and eating in. He insisted that he didn’t have to have seafood, so we branched out and ate Korean bulgogi, Italian, Burmese… And I threw in a few NuWave meals, of course. Yup, roast duck, lamb chops, roasted veggies, and yesterday, I mastered Chilean sea bass. I am on a freaking roll with that appliance. I also made porridge, steamed squash, and oatmeal in my second fav appliance, the pressure cooker. My dad was def being a good sport about eating outside of his comfort zone, but man, as soon as he had that fish and rice, you could see that that will forever be his sweet spot. I’m telling you: we’re from different worlds with our food preferences. Funny thing, for the first meal I made at home, my father was like wandering around the kitchen for five minutes, and then finally he asked, “Where are your chopsticks???” Oops. They’re hidden away in a secondary drawer, bc we never use them! I’m so unAsian!
What else. On Sunday, we went to Vasona Park in Los Gatos. After a nice stroll (clocking steps on his FitBit), we took him to Campo di Bocce, a restaurant (where my division had this year’s holiday party) with indoor and outdoor bocce ball courts. My father never played before, but as I anticipated, he enjoyed it. I always feel like activities requiring precision and hand control are good for him: bowling, ping pong, etc. Those surgeon hands have so much strength and control and are highly attuned to making small adjustments. For example, we were comparing the weights of the iPad Pro tablet and the Surface. John and I held each one individually, and we were certain they were the same weight. My father, who was known for extreme accuracy calling baby weights straight out of the womb, said the Surface was lighter. Yup, about 5 oz lighter!
I know it’s the new year and I need to look forward more than look backward, but heck, I need substance for my blog posts! No seriously, reflecting back reminds me of my latest progress!
So, let’s take it back to “Doomsday December” and/or “Disappointing December.” The week before Christmas, the interim AVP finally cleared the “high ambiguity” office air regarding working over the holiday break. For the whole month prior, she had been threatening to make us work during the break. Finally, she said she was NOT going to require non-website staff to work. Oh my, how generous and gracious of you!! Instead, she asked us to consider volunteering to help copyedit various sections of the new website, set to launch in mid January.
First off, the inter-holiday break is an annual thing. People actually travel far away and book flights in advance for that shit; you can’t just wait until the very last-minute to tell us yes or no the week before. Way to be a planner AND way to be considerate. As for the volunteering, yes, I’m a dumb ass sucker so I offered to help copyedit. Nevermind that I repeatedly give the institution extra hours from being a stupid workaholic. For some reason, at the time, I empathized with the web staff: I remembered how stressed I used to be near launch deadlines for new web features/tools… The very next day, we volunteers received an email containing the assignments. Only a handful of people were dumb enough to volunteer, and most people got 1-3 sections. Granted, some sections were massive units, like the School of Engineering or School of Business, with TONS of pages. Me? I got assigned 10 sections, the most sections out of anyone. Maybe the same number of pages? Still. WTF? The lesson here? You give an inch; they take a yard. Whatever. I considered it escape from my family (a la Taiwan).
The next day, my manager came into my office with “feedback” from the interim AVP’s recent Trustees’ meeting. Earlier in December, a bunch of teams in the department scrambled like crazy assembling data and metrics for fancy charts she wanted. She purported that these data compilations were aimed to demonstrate just how much work the department cranks out with very limited resources. She said this would strengthen her case for more staff and more resources. But here’s the thing: Our department produces a shit ton of deliverables. By quantifying all of it, aren’t you just showing the execs how much juice they can squeeze out of these lemons? If the institution is paying, say $2 for a shit ton of productivity, showing the higher-ups all that they are getting for that value is NOT going to make them want to pay $10, unless they get 5x the amount of work. You’re better off arguing for more staff and resources by pointing to HR records, showing them that 10 people out of a department of 25 have left in the last 15 months. Hello, maybe we need to better compensate our staff, or reduce the demands and expectations. Hmm, maybe that’s a compelling argument!
Whatever, she insisted on her pet project, so we busted ass to generate all the damn charts. The next day, she emailed a big thank you and “you guys rock.” Blah, blah, fake gratitude. A few days later, my manager was in my office with the marked-up copy of my social media dashboard. This comment was written on it: “Data is too rudimentary. Information does not reflect best practices.” Uh, what???
The original bare-bones instructions I received from the AVP? All the data had to fit on ONE sheet. So, I picked key metrics I thought were helpful. I asked other social media managers. I poured through sample metrics reports to see what others typically reported. I looked at what other schools reported. I ran the parameters by the AVP, and she approved them. Turns out, the data isn’t what the Board wants. What then do they want? I asked my boss, who in turn went to ask the interim AVP. Down the hall, I heard some raised voices and a few minutes later, my boss returned saying, “She says for us to figure it out.” Wow, thanks for the feedback. I mean, I wasn’t at the meeting but the AVP was. Thanks for sharing what you observed.
Later that day, two coworkers at my table during the Christmas party started talking about a heated exchange they witnessed that morning between the AVP and my boss. The AVP was in a hurry, walking to the kitchen. My boss was trying to ask her something alongside. She asked and the response was, “She needs to do her fucking research!! I am not an encyclopedia!” Upon hearing this, I immediately put two and two together. Is she for real??? Did my boss seek more specific feedback for the social media dashboard, and was this how the AVP reacted? Who the fuck is this person???
I was livid. After I got home from the party, I relayed what I’d learned to K. She insisted that the conversation couldn’t possibly be about me. I texted the other coworker to confirm the dialog he had heard outside the kitchen. He suggested that maybe it was about someone else, or perhaps my boss just caught the AVP at the wrong time. Sure, it’s possible they were talking about someone else, but given the timing and how exasperated my boss looked after she returned to my office saying to “figure it out,” the chain of events seemed highly plausible. So I was pissed. Enraged. On one hand, why did it matter? I have never claimed to be an expert, and I don’t care about people recognizing me as such. Especially with social media, I’m a work in progress, learning new things along the way. But dang, that attitude just grinds my nerves, rearing its ugly ass head over and over again. She doesn’t thank people for their effort, for their hard work, for accommodating her requests, no matter how ridiculous or last-minute. She preaches a bunch of leadership/change agent buzzwords, and then when you ask for clarification or more information bc you want to learn or understand more, she says “this is a high-ambiguity environment so get used to it” and clearly, can’t even be bothered. But when she asks you questions in front of the group after every department meeting, “how do you feel?”, you aren’t allowed to deflect. I’ve also noticed this: if you do your own research to produce something she wants (for example, a strategy, plan, or report), your independent research doesn’t count unless you reference a book, article, or website that she specifically endorses. Only her recommendations are “best practices.” All others are amateur. So whatdya know, now we’re into January and another dashboard is due. Since she couldn’t be bothered to give me constructive feedback, she’s gonna get an exact repeat of last month’s format. If she doesn’t like it, she can go fly a fucking kite. Yeah, bite me. That was the incident before break.
As it turned out, during the break, J and I were worked to nubs by our families day in and day out, dealing with the chores and cleanouts and visits. After I returned from Maryland, I started attacking the website edits. Holy fuck, the writing for some of these sections is appalling– yet another example of the university skimping on hiring/compensating for experienced/skilled people for these comm jobs. Long story short, I contributed over eight hours on edits for three sections, plus additional hours for my usual social media crap. Then, after the new year on Sunday, we received yet another email (on top of the one on Christmas Day and others throughout the break, containing shit to read and stuff to do). It basically read like this: You volunteered to copyedit these webpages. I need to report on the status of these pages at my staff meeting tomorrow, and the spreadsheet needs to be updated. Come to the meeting prepared.
Uh, say what?? Happy new year to you too, beotch! Yes, thank you so much for volunteering your personal time off at ZERO COMPENSATION to help with the web project. You were only given two sentences of guidance/direction on what needed to be done, but heck, fill out the goddamn spreadsheet and be prepared for a meeting I’ve never mentioned before ever!
Jesus fucking Christ. Consistently tactless. Why am I even surprised by these astonishingly tone-deaf communications?!? It’s a new standard.
A few hours later, I submitted my resignation letter. Dad’s coming to town: Surprise! I’m taking most of next week off, so last day is January 22. Buh bye, ingrate!
On hearing my news, a former coworker sent me a link to this classic:
After flying into DC on Monday, I spent the two days leading up to Christmas hanging with my dad. Honestly, I’d been dreading this trip home for a long while. In the past year, every time I’ve spoken to dad on the phone, he has not sounded well. About a week ago, he asked me to research a few things, and I gave him pushback, telling him that he ought to be Googling these things on his own before asking me for help. My reluctance to help upset him. In my defense, my point was that he’s a smart, resourceful person: he is entirely capable of typing something into Google to locate initial info. He responded, explaining that he’s not in a good state mentally… I, of all people, understand how a shitty mental state can be debilitating and paralyzing. But fuck man, how long is this going to continue without him trying to change the situation? He’s given up on life, but you know what? Life is not over yet, so unless death is coming very soon, figure out a different approach to change the result. Sure, maybe all these tasks are actually ways for him to create some kind of conversational topic with me. That’s certainly very possible considering we don’t really have engaging talks. Still, something’s gotta give.
For my visit, I set a few goals in my head to 1) try and get him out of the house to do new things and explore new places 2) get him exercising again 3) discuss reaching out to his old friends to refresh his old networks. In the two days, we got along pretty well and got a lot done. We handled my grandfather’s car– getting it towed, serviced, and then driven back to Frederick in the pouring rain, tried some new restaurants, walked around the neighborhood, and did some Chinese calligraphy together. I realized that my father is actually a very solitary person: he enjoys introverted activities like reading Chinese history and philosophy, playing Sudoku and Chinese crosswords, watching Chinese soaps, and following Taiwan politics.
In true conflict-seeking fashion, we did talk a bit about his unhappiness. As I suspected, it’s related to failed/unmet life expectations. It always blows my mind how potent the desire is to have a family and grandkids. I know that this wish is not limited to my dad. I think in both cultures, it’s a really strong force. On one hand, the defiant part of me is quick to dismiss this high value being placed on something that is overly controlling and unfair, but the truth is: dad’s not unhappy bc he wants to upset me or blame me. He just truly values family, and the thought that neither child will continue a legacy strips meaning from his life, bc that was so much of what motivated him to accomplish and succeed in the first place. For me, in some overly simplistic view, I acknowledge being directly responsible for thwarting his dream. It’s a burden that I just have to bear. Sure, I feel frustration and anger that his happiness depends on my and Johnny’s actions. And yet, if I reflect on my own issues this entire past year, similarly, I have chosen to let external factors (say, my shitty job) dictate my mood and happiness. If I chastise him for choosing misery, I must blame myself for doing the same.
The other day, we were out in downtown Frederick, where I saw all these people walking their dogs. I so wanted to touch and pet all these cute fur balls. Seeing these sprightly pups made me miss my Marty and also think about future doggies I might adopt. When I see kids, I don’t really have that same instant affinity. Sure, sometimes those kiddos (esp the interracial ones) are fucking adorable and cute, but generally, I don’t gush about kids. I realized that my reaction to seeing/having dogs is probably just as strong and natural and instinctive as my parents’ (and most people’s) feelings about kids. Likewise, my (non) reaction to kids is like my parents’ disinterest with dogs.
When I was a child, I never planned on being child-free. I do think witnessing how my parents raised my brother and seeing other very complicated parent-child relationships in my family, I just got really turned off. As an adult, the allure of kids simply doesn’t exist. With my parents, they don’t understand why anyone would invest the time, energy, and money into raising pets– esp since they live such short lives. Frankly, I don’t understand why people commit to kids– they are such a gamble and then the whole situation lasts a lifetime AND is totally irreversible!!
It’s hard to see my father unhappy. He probably thinks that having a grandchild would cure him of his misery, just like when I was a kid, I thought all would be right in the world once I got a dog. If only life were so easy. I’m sure that if he had a grandchild, something else would be unfulfilled or worth complaining about. That’s the thing about unhappy people: they fail to really appreciate all the good things in their lives; rather, they just obsess over everything that is wrong. I feel sad that I have disappointed my parents and my family, but what can be done: I don’t want children, and this has been true since my early 20s.
All I can do now is try to change my own actions and outlook to improve my own happiness. I am hopeful for 2016.
Among my many flaws, I am not good with old people. I’m sure none of you are surprised by this confession, given my long history of being an impatient beotch ass. This past year though, between my maternal grandparents, my in-laws, my own parents, and my aging Marty, I realize that I really am awful at taking care of fragile people and animals.
I mean, it’s a known fact that my parents are neurotic and paranoid, that my father is an efficiency/accomplishment-obsessed control freak and my mother is a slow and illogical fearful person paralyzed by catastrophic thinking. Still, despite my knowledge of all this and our lifelong history together, every interaction with my parents remains a major struggle and test of my patience. My parents just always feel so damn preachy and naggy and micro-managey! Sadly, rather than our connection easing over time, the opposite seems to be happening. And now that my dad sighs and moans and groans all the fucking time, I grow even more frustrated. Was he this unhappy before? If so, he certainly had work to distract him for his misery. Now he stays somewhat busy, but he has more free time than before to wallow in self pity. Then my mother, being in a new place (Kaohsiung), could have used this opportunity to learn new things and become more empowered. But no. It makes me uncomfortable to see how much she relies on others for help.
My bud K recently offered to drive Bubs and me to the airport. I mean, a tremendously thoughtful gesture, but we live 20 minutes from her, and our house is another 40 minutes to SFO. Doing the math, we’re talking a min of one hour each way, not to mention an early morning drive (leaving the house before 7) AND awful rush hour traffic on her way back south. To me, this is a huge inconvenience that’s easily avoided by grabbing a cab or self-parking. But maybe in big/close families, inconveniences just don’t deter you from seeking, offering, or receiving help?? In the past, I always felt like my family in Taiwan was way too involved, too intwined with each other’s lives. For example, before my parents got a place in Taipei, whenever they’d travel to the capital, they would stay with my cousin and her family in her small 2 BR house. In my mind, why not just get a damn hotel room so people aren’t squished? But no, my cousin insisted on having my parents stay with them for like weeks; Similarly, my parents preferred that level of accommodation. I always thought it was rather inappropriate and disruptive. And definitely, whenever they’d visit us in California, they would NEVER ever consider renting a car/taking a cab or staying at a hotel (no matter how small our space). I dunno: maybe it’s a cultural difference with respect to personal space? I find their self-imposed (artificial) lack of choice strange.
So, what happens now is my aunts in Taiwan buy meats and produce from the farmers’ markets and deliver them to my mother. They have been doing this for months, and they live at least 30 min away. I mean, maybe I’m just being a Bay Area yuppie, but shit, isn’t there a grocery buying/delivery service for this? I dunno. Just seems excessive and personally, I would like to see my mother leave the house (I think my grandparents can be alone unchaperoned for a few hours) and run her own damn errands. Partly, all this help only reduces her own capability bc it enables her to be overly reliant. Anyway. Clearly, I have issues about “help.”
Another example? Poor Marty. He is slowing down considerably. The appetite is definitely getting less consistent, and his sundown syndrome comes on super strong at night. I often awake from him scratching his bed obsessively, or I’ll notice him just standing there in the dark, zoned out, with his back end sloping severely (kidney discomfort?). Last year, finding him doggie care over the holidays was a mad scramble. Finally, I got our neighbor’s pet sitter to do it, but in the end, I think she lied to me and didn’t really sleep over. This year, due to the elevated level of care Martin requires (doggie door access, meds, subq fluids, homemade food, etc.), I tried Rover. I must have asked 7 people, including my students who in turn, asked their friends. Nothing. Fucking A. Argh!! Finally, I asked J&J. Even though we’re super close friends with them, I was so reluctant to ask, bc they have the kid and both are working and then they have Helix… It just seemed like too much to pile onto a sleep-deprived family. But John argued that they are super observant, have a doggie door, are familiar with geriatric dogs, and Jess has medical training… Plus, with the kid, they spend more time hanging out at home now. Thankfully, they agreed, and they keep saying it’s no big deal. We’re so relieved, but I’m also wondering now if maybe I need to ask for and accept help from friends more often.
On December 1, I informed my boss that I wanted to start transitioning out. Yup, after trying to force a connection that’s been missing since the very beginning, I finally had the guts to hit eject. For me, there are so many factors that come into play when assessing a job, but ultimately, what made this move so damn difficult was my sense of duty/responsibility AND my loyalty to relationships, in this case, my boss. Sure, like all of us, she has her flaws and quirks but in the end, she supported me and championed my work. For someone who chronically feels “not good enough,” her opinion of my job performance means something. Interestingly, it doesn’t erase my own assessment of how I could be better or how someone else might do this job better, but that’s a different issue.
Anyway, she immediately tried to offer alternatives: part-time work, project specific consultancy, etc. I told her I didn’t have anything lined up, and I wasn’t leaving tomorrow or anything, but I wanted her to know this was where the path was leading. Yes, there was some crying involved. Fuck man, I dunno why I treat such things with so much goddamn gravity. Ridic. That said, as soon as I told her, I felt so much lighter. It’s that damn radical honesty: when I have to keep things secret, it requires tremendous energy. I’m so much more at ease after I can just tell all. Haha. Our meeting concluded with this: you consider whether there’s any capacity where you might continue to work here, and let me know.
After I got home, Bubs and I ran through the scenarios. Part-time was nixed almost immediately. As it is, I can’t seem to limit myself to 40 hrs/wk, so part-time would most likely end up being me working full-time at half-time pay. As for the consultant opps, the big project coming up is the 24-hr day of giving. Having worked that massive project last year, I’m not impressed with the team nor the university’s continual insistence on cheaping out (without downgrading their expectations). Since last year’s campaign, we’ve had multiple meetings for this year’s event, and despite the university expressing SOME interest in new tools, it seems the decision makers are leaning cheap and conservative this year yet again. No thank you.
The strongest impetus for leaving is my strong distaste for the current interim AVP. Yes, I have a history of becoming disillusioned with leaders. Leadership is something I require, and even though my track record is shitty (asshole managers and execs are everywhere!), I know good ones are out there. I can’t even begin to express how disappointed I am with the current situation. I wrote about it before, where she came in via a very sketchy, conflict-of-interest scenario. She immediately proposed a drastic plan to whip our department into shape. We all knew the department was dysfunctional and messed up. But her approach and more than that, her attitude… I don’t want to go into all the details here, but basically, she comes in, shows no appreciation for what has been accomplished (in spite of the dysfunction and lack of resources), insists on throwing around buzzwords that she can’t seem to adequately explain, drags ass implementing the changes, and then does a half-ass job in executing the vague plan, blaming executive indecision and lack of resources all along the way. Sure, maybe she took on the job not expecting so may problems and roadblocks. Fine, but the answer isn’t to just continue plowing through, answering people’s concerns with “this is a high ambiguity situation, and it will be like that for a while.” People are ok with change if you earn their confidence, create incentives, and/or if you show them a timeline and a path. When pressed for a timeline, no answer. When she talks about the department ultimately reaching its peak performance status though, the words that emerge are “years.” Here’s the thing: your pay is shit, your org is highly dysfunctional, your leaders are hypocritical and uninspiring, and now you are demanding major structural change plus new work in addition to the existing massive pile of responsibilities? Hello, Change Management 101: what is the employees’ incentive to put up with all this? Throughout the whole process, she keeps touting her high tech background, saying she’s running this place like a tech startup– with “best practices.” Uh, do you have any concept of where the fuck you are? Startups offer cool culture, opportunities for advancement, reward for strong performance, and the chance for a payout. Please. Know your client; know your audience.
The thing is, in the beginning, I wanted to like this woman. While rumors swirled that she was being brought in to oust our AVP, I thought those people were just overreacting and being paranoid. To our one-on-one meeting, I came with an open mind and with honest answers. She hardly even paid attention to my responses to her questions. I thought maybe she had had a long day and was just tired.
The sad truth is, a woman in leadership is such a goddamn rarity. So when I see it, I want it to succeed. But I’m not about to be used and abused and disrespected. She’s not even sincere about anything she says. Whatever. Ultimately, her tactic of dangling a “you get to keep your job” over our heads just isn’t going to work for me. Fuck you. I am someone who, as a preteen, chose welts and bruises and lashings with a leather belt over a simple verbal apology to my mother. If I feel you’re in the wrong, you won’t get an apology out of me. In some cases with people I love, I make exceptions, but I don’t dole that shit out like hot cakes. I would rather work at See’s Candies and sell most of my creature comforts than be handcuffed to a shitty job dictated by someone I strongly dislike. Yeah, I actually value my freedom to choose where I work and how I spend my time. So, I’m out. And yes, that message is also accompanied by a hand gesture or two. Like I said, defiance with a capital daddy-fuckin’ (why do we always say “mother-fucking”) D.
I was thinking the other day about how my whole life can be summed up in one term: misfit. I mean, how many times do I use “my parents are immigrants” as a way to explain my eccentricities? If you think about it though, being American-born Chinese really has put me in this odd space. For example, growing up in Frederick, there were less than 10 Asians in my high school (close to 1000 students?). I was always harassed for being Asian, small, and scrawny. People made fun of my parents. People bullied me. Then whenever I went back to Taiwan as a child, I never fit in there either: my skin was too tanned; I was too big-boned compared to my cousins; I didn’t speak the Taiwanese dialect; my Mandarin was too basic or whatever; I was too unruly and defiant. When I went to Duke, there were more Asians but I was the underachieving one with my mediocre grades. In Shanghai, my “yellow face” prevented me from getting teaching jobs despite my training and experience. My relatives there described my Mandarin as elementary or awkward. When they heard me speak English, they insisted that my American accent wasn’t the same as John’s. Meanwhile J would say a few words in Mandarin and suddenly, he was super advanced.
Now, in Silicon Valley, I’m either the “soft” engineer (civil) with the social skills at a tech startup, or I’m the comm person with the engineer’s social awkwardness at the non-tech workplace. Everywhere I turn, there is some part of me that isn’t quite right. I think of my friend J who grew up moving to a different state every two years. She has incredible awareness and social/emotional intelligence. She credits her ability to read people and adapt quickly to this upbringing. I suppose I can credit my resiliency to my history of being an eternal misfit. On good days, I think I’m pretty adaptable: I have a high tolerance for discomfort, and I’m not afraid to push myself despite the natural fears of rejection or exclusion. But on my bad days, I feel tired. Tired of trying. Tired of pushing. Tired of not having the ease of being immediately accepted and welcomed. In these moments of self pity, I remind myself that these struggles are minor compared to “real” troubles people without privilege face. I try not to complain. So instead, I have days and maybe weeks where I feel overwhelmed by the constancy of being a lifelong misfit. I wonder what is wrong with me. Why are certain conditions so absolutely unbearable for me while for others, it’s simply no big deal.
Yesterday morning, I received an email from my Duke roommate. She is a successful, high ranking OB/GYN in the military. In the last two years, she met the love of her life, got married, bought a house, got a dog, had a kid… anyway, she was in town for a friend’s wedding and wanted to know if I was free for lunch. It had been a long time since we’d hung out one-on-one, and I was kind of looking forward to catching up. As we hit all the key topics, she asked about my job and I admitted that I hated it. She agreed that she thought social media was a weird fit for me, and then she made this comment like, “What job number is this for you?” I shrugged my shoulders and replied, “Everyone’s got a puzzle they’re trying to solve. Not everything lines up at the same time.” We went onto other topics and then her friend joined us. Then it was all about child-rearing and that person’s soap opera drama (seriously, she was dating her best friend’s soon-to-be-ex). On my drive home, I just kept replaying my friend’s comment. I get so disappointed when people say the most insensitive things. I’m a sarcastic person, so sure, I get that not everything is so goddamn literal, but fuck man, words also matter.
I mean, she was unlucky at love for almost 20 years: failed relationship after failed relationship. Did I EVER say to her, “what relationship number is this now?” When I was at Duke, I had nervous breakdowns bc of my grades. To make matters worse, I had my parents calling every damn week harassing me about my test scores, giving me advice on how to study harder or better… The transition from high school valedictorian with all my awards and extra-curriculars and Chinese school accomplishments to sub-par undergrad was a difficult period for me– a paralyzing culmination of expectation, pressure, privilege, and disappointment. I remember once when I didn’t agree with her strategy for taking classes just for the “easy A” as she described it, she said, “well, unlike you, I’m not trying to get the lowest GPA possible.” It’s weird bc I’ve always had so much loyalty for that friendship, and now reflecting on the last few encounters, I really don’t know why. To be honest, things have never really been the same since graduation, and maybe that’s my own damn naive fault. Through the years, she was awful at keeping in touch. I wasn’t even sure about going to her wedding in September 2014. Ultimately, I was glad I went bc I really wanted to celebrate her milestones, but maybe now I can just let things go. After my visit with her, I drove home, stepped in the door, and just started to cry.
J keeps saying that 2015 has been a shitty year for me. Aside from the work dissatisfaction, he always points to the shifts in my friendships as playing a key factor: the openspace people moving away, changing jobs, or retiring, G& J being in Seattle, J&J having a kid… I always rejected his theory. Then, over Thanksgiving, I felt like I couldn’t really have a conversation with J&J without them being distracted by the baby. And we’ve certainly seen less of them now that weekends get filled with playdates and kiddie camping trips. I don’t begrude them of cute lil’ H, but for some reason, I had an epiphany.
A long time ago, I read an interesting essay about friendships: the article likened them to catalysts and enzymatic reactions. You need proximity, attraction (through common interests), and frequency. In the past, when I had lost touch with S from grad school, I chalked it up to just us not having things in common anymore, bc she was a housewife living in the South. She had had two kids and that life was exhausting, and we had fewer and fewer things in common. Maybe that’s what’s happening now. Slowly and esp bc the kids are in their needy years. I dunno.
J has suggested that we focus on getting more child-free friends AND maybe we need to move to the city where there is a higher concentration of like-minded people and things to do. The thing is, I rather like my Houseboat. But I also agree, life in suburbia is rather boring and everything is really centered around kids. This makes me think about my single friends. God, it must be so frustrating for them to hang around homebody couples!
Sigh, these are the things that keep me up late. Turns out, I don’t just need a job overhaul, I need to overhaul so many other areas: family, location, friends… Now I’m suddenly tired and ready for bed!
We had a pretty small gathering this year for Thanksgiving. Partly, I was scrambling around very last minute following a restless week prior in Taiwan. My god that visit was trying. Honestly, I don’t know why after all these years, I’m still so surprised by how frustrating my family is. ANYway, I guess I’m mostly recovered now, at least I’m back on the Pacific time zone. Truthfully, I was pretty annoyed by how little empathy I got from Bubbey while I was dealing with my daily family drama. Given he was exhausted back at home hustling with the new job and long commute and Marty’s health situation, but basically every time I talked to him, he just said I needed to learn to control my response to my mother. Never mind that she was annoying as fuck and def stepped over the line with her accusations, but fine. Chock it up to mental illness or whatever. After I returned, she called and thanked me for all the stuff I did. Yes, I’m still irritated that she makes helping her so goddamn frustrating, but in the end, I guess I’m supposed to just forget and forgive.
The good news is that I made my turkey in the NuWave oven, and it came out great in less than four hours. Except that the only size turkey they had left at the store was an 18 pounder, and our three other guests were vegetarian. Meanwhile, Marty’s appetite is fluctuating daily like the wind. He doesn’t like chicken anymore, so we cooked up pork. That lasted for a day or two, and then he puked that up. Now, he seems to be eating the turkey off and on, coupled with getting the sub q fluids every few days. Yes, we’re back on that wagon again. I try to be all easy going and laid back about it: he’s probably 16 y/o now, so I no longer have the wool pulled over my eyes, but it’s still a stressor. We know the drill, and these are the few factors we’re willing to adjust until the end, but I can’t help but feel some kind of impending doom. Yup, clearly, New Attitude November was a burning success!! Haha. One more day, and then it’s December Doom. Shrug.
Overall, Thanksgiving was good: J&J came over with the baby and then S joined later on. I have to say, things are different now that my close friends are parents. You can’t have real, in depth conversations anymore, bc they’re always distracted. I mean, that’s the thing about kids. They really are nonstop- there isn’t a moments’ rest. I don’t know how these people do it. As for S, she appears to be doing well. I guess it’s hard to ever really know. These days, more than ever, I feel like everyone is living behind a veil. We’re just too damn busy to peer into the troubles of others. Maybe I’m projecting. Regardless, work keeps her immensely busy, and Thanksgiving weekend is always one of her busiest times of the year, working in retail and all. She had work calls every four hours for status updates on the web traffic and mobile app. Yeah, maybe my job isn’t so bad. Sigh. (Throwing up my hands).
The next day, K invited us over to her family’s annual day-after dinner party. Man, the Brady Bunch for realz. Serious party hosts: they had two super long tables plus table trays set up for every spot on the living room couch. I mean, there were a LOT of people: maybe 40? J and I had a good time: mostly we chatted with K and D. I brought a box of pineapple cakes from Taiwan, which her father promptly set out on the dessert table. Funny thing: who were the first people to eat up the cakes? None other than K’s brother-in-law and his fam– who are Chinese (maybe Taiwanese)!?! I mean, precisely the people who are already familiar with pineapple cakes. SMH. In the end, K’s parents didn’t even get to try them! My people, man. It still just blows my mind that K has dinner with her fam every single week. I have to say, it is so weird for me to observe joyous and interactive families. My family is so much the opposite. Sigh. It is what it is.
Just thirty more minutes until boarding. I called my father to report that I had gotten to the aiport fine and was gearing up to board. I told him I had gotten here way early, and he replied that it’s a good time for me to do my “homework.” See what I mean? Never a moment’s rest with that one. Thankfully for my own salvation, I checked my laptop with my bag, bc I’ll be damned if I do MORE fucking work.
Interestingly, his response reminds me so much of college. Goddamn, every time I spoke to him, he would advise that I follow his process for academic success: 1) read the chapters before they are covered in class 2) focus during class 3) read the notes and chapters again after class. I swear, every fucking free moment was to be spent studying and preparing and getting ahead (which I was never able to do). In retrospect, I really wish I had just fucked off during college. All the stress and nervous breakdowns and obsessions and disappointment over my grades… those years are lost forever and in the end, they only reinforced awful, painful feelings of failure. Lost time. Almost 40 and I’m still losing time. I don’t know how to learn from these mistakes. Ah well, thoughts and regrets for another day.
I’m thankful the return flight is only 11 hrs (instead of 14 hrs). That said, when I checked in, the seating chart looked damn packed. I’m crammed in the back, but hopefully, the middle seat will remain empty. Sigh. I’m so glad to be going home. Blue skies and a peaceful home with my babies.
Btw, I gotta give a shout out to TPE Terminal 2. Wifi throughout plus a library, galleries, and lots of opps for window shopping. Well done, Taipei, well done. A def step up flying on China Airlines vs. United. T1 is pretty rundown and ghetto.
For my last day in Taiwan, it seems befitting that I have arrived at the airport SIX hours ahead of my departure time. Yes, I let the nagger win, bc I was too damn exhausted to fight.
Yesterday (Day 6) was actually a decent day: my aunts came over, and surprisingly, my mother agreed to leave the house and let the caretaker cook, clean, and chaperone my grandparents. We all rode the metro to the Cicao Sugar Fields, a touristy, historic preservation spot that used to be sugar plantations. The temps have been unusally hot lately even for this time of the year in Taiwan, but we managed to clock a few thousand steps walking around on some easy trails. Thank goodness for my youngest aunt: she’s the only one out of all my father’s siblings who appreciates the simple pleasures of life. She knows how to stay active plus maintain perspective and have some fucking fun. Everyone else is all about the struggle and suffering.
After our short outing, we hit up Hansin department store, bc my father tasked my oldest aunt with buying a portable heater for my grandparents. I think it’s total overkill, but my father “over-cares” for his elders, and then his siblings are always ready to help him when he asks so it will just be done.
Sometimes chores here seem so damn laborious though. I don’t know if it’s bc my aunts are low-tech or if Taiwan is inefficient. For example, dad wants to buy a heater similar to the one he bought my brother last year. I guess no one knows the brand, so we go to the store. They see what they want, but then they want to price check. Normally, I would just snap a pic of the model/brand and either 1) research online and maybe even buy/ship from online or 2) call around the area stores to see if the item is in stock and how much. Well, the way they do it here, they call their kids and ask them to go to the stores nearby to price check. WTF?!! Do you really need like four people to work on this task? And why can’t they just call the department store? I really don’t understand. I ask about the other methods of doing this research, but people just want to stick with their tried and true. So fine, buy the appliance the hard way. As it turns out, I called my oldest aunt twice today already, and both times she was out looking for this portable heater. Ridic. Then again, if everyone is retired, maybe this is the only way to get them out of the house? Who knows.
In other news, my face is breaking out again. A big boil on my nose. Ugh, I really need to get home ASAP.
That said, I did have a nice visit today with two of my younger cousins. They took us out to an Italian spot. It was tasty, and it was really nice to see them. Both cousins (they’re sisters) have young kids, and they are always so calm and patient. They drive like 4-5 hrs every other weekend to go home and visit their parents. Mind blown. And no one seems to mind sitting and hanging around with family. Sometimes I really wonder what the hell is wrong with me. Why do I have to get so angry and irritable, esp around my family? I dunno. I have issues.
OMFG, it’s only 8p. I have so much time to kill. I am so tired. I guess I’ll go to the bathroom now and layer up for the flight. Maybe I’ll take off all the makeup and just get ready for bed. I’m pretty dang beat.
I swear to god, I cannot take one more day of this bullshit Howard Hughes living. Last night for dinner we went to a shrimp restaurant in a more rural part of town. We sat outside, and I got two mosquito bites. When I get bitten by mosquitoes (which happens a lot), I get a lot of swelling and puffiness–almost like an allergic reaction. As it turns out, Taiwan is in the middle of a dengue fever situation, so my mother starts freaking out. Mind you, the restaurant immediately gave me some bug bite lotion to reduce the itching and swelling, but yeah I basically got a huge bump on my arm and one on my forehead. Well from the time I got home through the middle of the night through this morning (it’s 9a now), my mother has harassed and told me to put iodine on the bite like FIVE times. I don’t like iodine so I used neosporin instead, which I told her. No joke, I woke up at 4a in the morning to use the bathroom, and she’s on my case about it again. On her call with dad this morning, she tells him the bump on my forehead is the size of a pigeon egg. WTF??? Are you blind and dumb? So dad gets on the phone and starts telling me to put iodine on. Jesus fucking Christ. I’m almost 40 years old. Please fuck off, ok? I send him a goddamn selfie to further reiterate that the swelling has gone down, and I’m fine. ARGH!!!
Meanwhile, my aunts are coming over today to take us out and about in KHH. They were even going to bring my paternal grandfather’s caretaker to watch my grandparents, so mom could come out with. Well, she doesn’t want to go. That’s what I’m saying: my parents have no earthly clue what it means to relax and have fun. Pretty much, she doesn’t want to leave the house for fear of dengue fever. In her defense, my father says the situation is actually endemic, and not some joke. Whatever. Put on some bug spray then.
Seriously, it’s 9a on Day 6, and I have already lost my shit. Fuck man, is she retarded? Yesterday, on the drive to the veterans home, I swear she asked me five times where we were going. To the goddamn veterans home!!! Are you listening to my response to your questions or are these just rhetorical? I hypothesize this: bc of her decades of extreme catastrophic thinking, it has fried her brain! She is driving me nuts. My father keeps telling me to pipe down. Why are you overreacting and getting so angry? Uh, bc she fucking drives me insane, that’s why! She doesn’t listen, and she nags me to death. Am I supposed to enjoy repeating myself a gabillion times? First time or two, I’m able to keep my cool. I have even tried just pretending that I don’t hear her. The thing is, it’s ok to get confused. I’m not saying she has to be a genius, but fucking listen to the response. And then honor what we have decided or what people are telling you. I don’t want to use iodine on my face for the bug bite. I already used neosporin. Why do I have to keep fielding the same concerns?
Before my trip, I read this NPR piece about culture clashing with immigrant parents. I read it thinking on this trip, I would try to handle things differently, more calmly. Uh, massive fail. Honestly, my relationship with my parents, particularly my mother, is THE most utterly frustrating experience I have ever encountered. And you KNOW I have a history of shitty dysfunctional job experiences that rank pretty damn high in terms of irritation.
As for the article, I dunno. I mean, how many times do I tell my nagging parents, “It’s not your business.” I’ve probably said it three times on this trip alone. Some frustrations, like the overwhelming catastrophic thinking, are specific to my mother. But other things, like the marriage and kids obsession, really are cultural. Even yesterday as I sat in the salon chair, the hairdresser said I should have kids bc who will care for me when I’m old? Whenever I calm the hell down and retire to my room, I always wish our relationship were different: that I were better, more patient, more compassionate, and more forgiving; that they were less obsessive/perfectionist and more balanced. I wish they would just stop being neurotic and be relaxed and happy and adventurous. John says they will never change, but how can I be the only one expected to change? I try very hard to do right by them, but I dunno, somehow our visits always run a very similar course, ending in a major crash and burn. Sigh. I’m exhausted. I guess some things are just meant to be broken and irreparable forever.