The Wreckage: A Quiet Season

It's been seven days. And I've come to the conclusion that I'm going to need some more time to recover from this one.

The thing that's different this time around is that I really did give this one my all, maybe even more than I knew I had previously. And despite the hurt feelings and disappointment, I don't regret having done so... because I now have no doubts in my abilities to take this kind of risk.

I'm sad, and I'll be sad for a bit longer. I'll cry and replay every incident from the past year wondering if I could've done things differently. But I'll know in my heart of hearts, that there was nothing. I gave it my all. I let down my guard. I opened myself up and was honest about my feelings.

But not all things are meant to be. I'll be woman enough to accept it.

I'm going to give myself a "quiet season" where I go under the radar for a bit to heal and regroup. And hopefully, I'll reemerge a better, stronger version of myself.

America's Next Top Roommate

My roommate is moving out in a few weeks - so now I have the privilege of finding a new co-inhabitant in my fancy San Francisco digs. Given I have found a place to live my fair share of times on Craigslist, I've become some sort of elitist when it comes to posting publicly.

J: Did you post on Craigslist?
Me: Oh, God, no.
J: Why not?
Me: I could not be bothered to filter out crackheads and perverts.
J: Where are you posting, then?
Me: Through Google and other tech internal forums. At least they do the prelim background searches for you, and if shit hits the fan, you can start some office gossip to ruin their lives.
J: Really thought this through.
Me: Yup.

Through both my roommate and my networks, we managed to find four viable candidates. The choice will be made by the end of today. Exciting, I know.

1 - The Young Blood: (6/10)
You know those kids on Silicon Valley who look like they're 18-years-old, but write intense code on some platform we don't even know how to pronounce? Yea, that's this girl. She looks young, but I know with certainty that she is part of the Engineering team somewhere. And you know how they are - they won't even share the free yogurt in their special fridge.

YB: Is there a nightlife around here?
Me: No, we're in SoMa.
YB: Where do you hang out?
Me: It embarrasses me how I don't know how to answer your question.
YB: What do you do at Google?
Me: Sales operations.
YB: Oh... (super judgmentally)

2 - Aussie Cat Lady (8/10)
She didn't bother to tell me anything about herself, but sent me about a dozen pictures of her two cats. She gets major points for being pretty, though, and also, given she's an Aussie, I'm hoping I can learn how to imitate the Aussie accent without offending her too much.

3 - Golden Retriever Girl (9/10)
She introduced herself by sending me her blog and let me just say, it's FANTASTIC. She's a UX/UI designer, which means after she decorates this apartment, I'll feel like I died and woke up in Room&Board heaven. I'm sort of looking forward to that.

Me: I'm leaning towards the girl with the Golden Retriever.
Temm: You can't pick a roommate based on their pet.
Me: But it's been my dream to have a roommate with a dog!

4 - Fobby Korean (9/10)
I got this referral through church. Background story, I had a roommate back in college I met through church and she ended up stealing my identify AND my favorite pair of jeans. I've been scarred. But this girl just gave up her return offer to McK and went to Stanford GSB. That speaks monuments about her character - in a good way, for those who are unclear.

FK: I'm joining a start-up so I'll be working really late nights.
Me: I watch Korean dramas so I have really late nights too.
FK: Oh, I can watch Korean dramas with you.
Me: This... might work.

We'll see what happens. I'm sad to lose my roommate to the Marina (seriously, who moves from SoMa to the Marina - that's like taking a pay cut to go from McK to Google... oh, wait). But I'm also thankful that I have some great people who are actually interested in living with me. They have no idea how weird I can get.

Goodbye to an old friend

Ten years and ten months. It's the longest relationship I've ever been in, and quite frankly, the most drama-free, functional, reliable one I've been in thus far. Today, that relationship came to an end, and all I keep thinking is...

I ain't shedding a tear!

Goodbye, TicTac. You were a wonderful car and you've followed me from Berkeley, Los Angeles, Chicago, back to Los Angeles, and to your final resting place in San Francisco. Sorry for leaving you outside when it was hailing, for spilling boba on your seats, and for ignoring that weird faucet light that supposedly warned me about something engine-related. You were a good friend, but I won't miss you. Because you were a ddong cha (poop car).

On December 21, 2003, I bought my very first car. From the entire experience, I realized my decision-making is a simple model driven mostly by how easily I'm able to be manipulated by my dad.

Flashback to December 2003...
Me: Dad, I need a car.
Dad: Okay, what car do you want?
Me: I want a superfly BMW 3-series.
Dad: I'll double whatever you have for the down payment, and pay for your monthly payments until the day you graduate. After that, the rest of the payments are on you. So choose wisely.
Me: ... Okay, I'll get an Acura RSX.

Flashback to May 2005...
Dad: Give me back my credit card and car payments start now.
Me: I don't even get a grace period?!
Dad: No. You had plenty of time.

Flashback to May 2007...
Mom: I'm sorry.
Me: For what?
Mom: I drove your car today.
Me: And?
Mom: And I realized you have a really crappy car.
Dad: Don't tell her that, she'll believe you. Connie, you have a nice car.

Flashback to September 2009...
Me: I want a new car.
Dad: Whatever new car you get is not going on my insurance. You can keep your current car on my insurance for as long as you have it, though.
Me: Huh.
Dad: Do you still want a new car?
Me: Nope.

Flashback to June 2011...
Me: I want a new car.
Dad: Whatever new car you get is not going on my insurance.
Me: Why is this still working on me?!?

Flashback to June 2014...
Me: I want a new car.
Dad: Whatever new car you get is not going on my insurance.
Me: I don't care! I don't care! It's embarrassing to drive this ddong cha!

Flashback to July 2014...
Me: Dad, I got into a car accident.
Dad: Congratulations!
Me: What?
Dad: Wait, are you hurt?
Me: No.
Dad: Was it your fault?
Me: No.
Dad: Congratulations! You said you wanted a new car. This is great!
Me: I... guess...
Dad: Oh, and I'm going to cancel your insurance.

To my dad on his birthday...

Dear Dad,

Happy 65th Birthday! I know I may not have turned out exactly how you thought I would, but thanks for always making me think I did. Now, in honor of your birthday... a list of thoughts!

Top 10 reasons I am thankful that you're my dad...

1. You laugh at your own jokes - you taught me that it's important to never take yourself so seriously. And the hamburger joke will live on... forever.

2. You do my laundry - you always try to find ways to help me, and if it's midnight, I have a flight to catch the next morning, and realize I don't have any clean running shorts for my trip, you're the one who stays up to make sure my laundry is ready and in my bag by the time I wake up. And only when I unpack my bags do I notice what you did for me.

3. You never do a half-ass job - you told me that no one forces you to do anything and that if you don't want to do something, don't do it. But if you decide to spend time and energy dedicated to one thing, do it with a smile and a whole heart. Or don't do it at all.

4. You always let me eat ice cream - never have you ever denied me ice cream. Treats before piano lessons. Snacks after tennis practice. On the way home from work. That's all I need to say about that.

5. You think everything I do is the best - when I didn't get into my first choice for college, you never once told me I failed. Instead, you told me that Berkeley had all of a sudden turned into the best college in the universe. And that they were lucky to have me. And still, everything I do seems to be the best something in the universe. And it's in the moments of my lowest self-esteem, I believe you.

6. You trust me - when I needed to pay off my school loans because they were killing me, you gave me your life's savings. Didn't blink. Didn't flinch. Didn't even ask for anything in return. Because you knew I wouldn't let you down or do you wrong.

7. You tell me you love me - Korean dads are notorious for never saying 'I love you'. But you are never afraid to show your emotions. And I know you mean it every time you say it.

8. You love Mom even when she's crazy - you make it impossible to find someone to love me the way you love Mom. But you also make me believe that the kind of love that feels new and fresh and forever does exist.... even when Mom pretends like she doesn't know how to put gas in the car and you do it for her without having to be asked.

9. You always take my side - when a boy breaks my heart, I've never seen anyone as unforgiving as you. It's endearing how well you wish harm upon someone whom you claimed you liked moments before he broke my heart. That's loyalty.

10. You're not perfect - you told me that you know you have flaws, that you could be better to Mom, that you could have tried harder in life and been more successful, but that when you realized your greatest accomplishments were your kids, you knew that God gives gifts to the imperfect as motivation to always try to be better. And I've tried my whole life to live up to that title.

If I find someone who loves me half as much as you do, I think I'll be alright.

Your mangneh,
Connie

A Girl Growing Up

I think I have masochistic tendencies.

After waking up for the trillionth time with anxiety, that's the conclusion I came to.

N: I kind of hate SF so far. Is that normal?
Me: Oh, that's totally normal. I'm six months in and I've just started not to hate it.
N: I can't imagine not hating it at this point.
Me: It gets better.

Let me be clear. I don't hate San Francisco. It just makes me feel very uncomfortable to be here.

Rewind to the beginning of the year. I had this bright idea to surround myself with challenges in order to become a stronger, more grounded person.

Back in LA, I fell into a routine with friends and family that made me feel like complacency was settling in. As a youth, I thought being complacent meant you weren't driven to reach higher.

I didn't realize I might be tired of reaching.

What happened was unanticipated.

It's like being thrown into an ocean and told to swim. You have no idea which direction you're supposed to be swimming in, but you know that you need to keep going. And all you really need is that one buoy. It doesn't have to be grounded to anything or be all that sturdy. It just has to exist so that even though you find yourself in an ocean, at least you know you can hold onto something. And figure shit out.

I guess for me, I need to figure out what that buoy is. Before I drown.

When did SF housing turn into such an asshole?

I always told myself that there'd be a point in my life where I'd earn the right not to worry about certain things.

These things include but are not limited to...
- how to find food when I'm hungry
- how to find clothes when I'm cold
- how to find a reasonable place to live
- how to stab a bitch if she's crazy

Surprisingly, the one that I currently find myself worrying about still - despite following all the rules of getting educated, getting a job, and avoiding jail - is finding a reasonable place to live.

Me: Hi, I was interested in a studio. What is your current rent?

Let me pause here for a moment. A studio? Are you fucking kidding me? When did that turn into a legitimate option?

Me: I told myself I'd never live in a studio.
Sister: Well, you also said you'd never live in San Francisco.

Burn. Okay, back to the story.

Leasing Manager: We have a studio open for $2500.
Me: What's the square footage on that?
LM: 380.
Me: You must be shitting me.
LM: It's a nice unit.
Me: Does it come with gold-plated appliances and a man servant?
LM: We do have nice appliances.
Me: And the man servant?
LM: No.

I thought I must be crazy. This can't be right. So of course, I had to find a second data point.

Me: Hi, do you have any studios available?
LM: We have a studio for $2550 and a one-bdrm for $2900.
Me: What are the square footages?
LM: Around 450 and 800.
Me: Oh, that one-bdrm is totally worth it.
LM: Yea, it really is.

Wait, did I just get trapped in a sales pitch? Did I really just say out loud that $2900 for a one-bdrm was a deal?!? Shit. I did.

LM: Do you want to take a look today?
Me: I can't today. It's a Thursday and I work.
LM: Oh, well, we can't guarantee that it'll still be available tomorrow.
Me: Well, if the only people who look at your units don't work on Thursday, then I'd like to meet them to learn how to earn enough income to pay this rent.
LM: Will you come by tomorrow?
Me: Yes.

All I know is that if I'm going to pay that kinda rent, it better come with a man servant.

Parental Guidance

One of the things I've come to appreciate more so lately than in my earlier years is the fact that my parents are in a loving and happy marriage. We've all heard of ACODs (Adult Children of Divorce) and how there's no point in defining a club around it because most of the adult population fall into that bucket - so I find it a privilege to have parents who act like they're still in the dating/honeymoon phase of their relationship.

As a side note, this also makes it very important for me to be able to joke around, be silly, and be completely myself around my significant other - and I have... to those who really spend real time with me... a very particular sense of humor.

Anyway, every time I spend time with my parents, 90% of it is spent laughing. Here are a few snippets from the weekend - I didn't include the adventures my mom and I had at the Korean spa. Let's just say from now on, every visit to LA will include a trip to the Korean spa.

Dad: Your mom put gas in the car.
Me: WHAT?! YOU DID??
Mom: Why is that so surprising?
Me: Because you NEVER put gas in the car.
Mom: It's not like I don't know how. I'm normally too busy.
Me: That's not true!
Mom: Your dad just puts gas in the car before I have a chance.
Me: Mmhmm.
Mom: And this one time I had people in the car. And the light turned on. And they pressured me to get gas.
Me: Well, Mom. It's been about 20 years so good for you.

Dad: Guys know right away whether or not he wants to marry a girl or just date her.
Mom: That's not true. Sometimes he needs to be shaken into it.
Dad: Have you even ever dated anyone? How do you know?
Mom: Sure, I have.
Dad: WHAT?!? You told me you never dated anyone before me!
Mom: You really think I entered into a marriage without ever having dated anyone before?
Dad: I've been deceived for over thirty years...
Mom: You're the one who almost married someone else before me.
Dad: I won't deny that, but at least I was honest about it!
Mom: Every girl understates how many guys she's dated to the guy she's going to marry.
Dad: Connie, my point is, I knew I was going to marry your mom immediately.
Me: Both of you have just blown my mind with these confessions...

Mom: We're not supposed to eat bread.
Me: What? Why not?
Mom: Because it has a bacteria that slowly kills us.
Me: Well, we can't survive without bread.
Mom: Normal people can't. But I'm special so I have to be careful what I eat.
Me: That's what we call a first world problem.
Dad: What does that mean?
Me: You know, third world is like Africa. First world is more developed.
Dad: What's second world?
Mom: We must live in the second world.
Me: NO, Mom. We do NOT live in the second world.

Mom: You want to eat this sweet potato?
Me: Okay. Wait, why did you boil it? It tastes better baked.
Mom: It's bad for you if it's baked.
Me: Isn't it the same thing??
Dad: Your Mom will do anything if someone says its healthier.
Me: If you give me a thousand dollars everyday, it'll make you healthier.
Dad: Oh, because that'll make us happy. And happiness releases endorphins?
Me: Sure. Let's go with that.
Mom: Fine, I'll bake your sweet potato. You and your strong opinion.

Me: I'm going to blog about you, Mom.
Mom: WHAT? On the Internet?!?
Me: Yes.
Mom: NO!
Me: But you're so funny.
Mom: What if my friends read it and make fun of me.
Me: Mom, I doubt your friends read my blog.
Mom: Honey! Connie's going to blog about me. About how I don't know how to put gas in the car.
Dad: I'm proud of you. You put gas in the car and made it onto Connie's blog.
Mom: [whisper] Actually, I didn't do it. Someone else in the car put gas in my car.
Me: OMG. You lied to Dad.
Mom: HAHAHAHAHAHA!

Let the Vegas countdown begin...

I spent the beginning of my morning writing emails to syndicate upcoming plans with my girlfriends - because when you know you have an insane work month ahead of you, it helps to know you're going to Vegas soon.

Here is the email I sent about aforementioned trip to Vegas.

---

LADIES -

Shit is getting real. And I hope you have a juice cleanse scheduled at some point during the next 3 weeks because we're going to be practically naked for the entire weekend. It's a rule, not a suggestion.

FLIGHTS: C and I are flying in on Friday night and out early on Sunday - if we make our flights, which we have an 80% chance of doing...

RIDES FROM LA: The LA girls are orchestrating cars from LA so I put T in charge of that lead. I saw some emails back-n-forth so I'm assuming it's under control.

HOTELS: [J - ACTION REQUIRED] - update us on if this is taken care of; otherwise, I will delegate to the next in command (aka C)

CLUBS: [L - ACTION REQUIRED] - hope your husband doesn't disappoint. I request XS and EBC - I am okay with paying money for either, just as long as it's not a ton because I'm poor now that I work at a start-up.

MONEY: If you all pay for stuff along the way, don't be shy and let me know so that I can make sure we collect and evenly distribute. This is so that no one gets mad when I eat all the cheetos - someone buy cheetos.

Confirm that you're coming because at this point, I'm assuming all of you are.

P.S. This weekend is also S's XXX birthday celebration. Dare I say... CHIPPENDALES!??!? YES!!!

---

Here are some of the responses I got:

D: I LOVE FLAMING HOT CHEETOS

S: You're not poor.

The Bullshit of San Francisco

Let me tell you the myth that is presumed about San Francisco. You know, the one about how all the single ladies in the world should flock to San Francisco because the men are o'plenty. I'll tell you right now. It's complete bullshit.

T: Are you single?
Me: Yea.
T: You're going to love San Francisco. There are so many dudes.

A: Are you single?
Me: Yea.
A: You're going to hate San Francisco. There are so many dudes.

Two months in and I'm now able to say with certainty, all that they say about this city, no matter what you hear, is a lie.

I've never believed in the statistics game. So when people told me the boy:girl ratio would work in my favor, I wasn't interested. After all, there might be more fish in the sea, but who cares if they're all guppies? I'm looking for a whale shark.

But what people fail to realize is that once you whittle down to the real players in the game, it's actually a pretty level playing field.

I'll break it down for you.

STEP 1 - Determining the female players 
Pretty straight forward. If you're dumb, ugly, or unemployed (in order of importance), you are automatically disqualified. You can be the only girl in San Francisco. You will still remain single. All qualifying females, welcome to the Hunger Games.

STEP 2 - Determining the male players
A bit of a filter. There are three types of guys in San Francisco.

Type: Tech Nerd
You will actually never encounter this type. The last interaction he had with a female was when his mom cut off the umbilical cord. And this probably happened much too late after birth.

Type: Stage 5 Clinger
He spotted you as soon as you made your debut in the city. He immediately tried to monopolize all your time and cockblock every potential male headed in your direction. He might be an okay guy, but the fact that he won't leave you the fuck alone makes you want to throw dead kittens at him. Run, don't walk, to your nearest exit.

Type: The Douchebag
He's refreshingly clever, sarcastically charming, and probably one of those assholes who contributed to the increased rent prices in this overly inflated city. You want to hate him, but you can't because he's already given you multiple examples of how he just may be the male version of you. And God forbid you ever end up hating yourself.

Not surprisingly, the Douchebag is the only real candidate. But as I mentioned before, after all is said and done, you might be facing an equal ratio. Or, dare I say, be at a disadvantage. And given how good these guys are at doing back-of-the-envelope math, I think they've already figured this out.

Which brings me to my point. These whale sharks aren't hungry. and they're not going to bite unless the bait is good. I've spent a lot of time with these resident douchebags and it's helped me realized the truth to my theory.

Me: Nowadays, guys think they're being really forward when they send a girl a FB message.
J: I used to do that. But then I realized it's not that hard for me to get girls.

The alcohol dilemma

I was going to write a post about my move to San Francisco, but the only parts of it that were worth mentioning led to what this post is really about. Just know that I'm alive and appreciate the efforts of a certain few to make me less suicidal.

Anyway, as I was riding the bus to work today (I know, they make you ride buses in San Francisco; they assure you it's a privilege versus evidence that you should've tried harder in school.), I thought back to a story I heard over the weekend.

A few weeks ago, I went to a party and met a bunch of new people. That's literally all I could say about the night because I vaguely recall anything specific minus some bombass Korean food at 2am.

The story I heard was that I had carried these lengthy conversations, had been slightly confrontational, and at times, a bit shamelessly forward. (I'm leaving it vague intentionally.) I was shocked. I don't remember any of that. And sadly, I couldn't deny that it could've happened.

Then I thought back to another night where again, nothing. Can't remember a thing. I remember eating a bunch of red velvet cake pops and that's about it. I couldn't tell you who I met and what I said. Nope.

Why? When did this start happening? I'm pretty sure this is new.

Then it clicked.

Whiskey.

The thing is, my whiskey drinking is recent. I believe that just like the brands you transition into over time, alcohol is the same way. You know, Kate Spade in high school, LV in college, Gucci post-college, Chanel post-business school, Hermes post-business school job. Right? Yes.

So to remind myself of what happens to me when I drink, here is a cheat sheet. It may be different for each person, so give it a thought yourself.

Tequila (21-23)
Newfound courage to dance like a Korean popstar and party till 5am. Taking shots of this is your rite of passage into alcoholism. It's a gateway drink. Clean buzz, no hangover, but once you fight with this bitch, you guys will never be friends again.

Rum and other weird shit (24)
A warp into a land where you're always on vacation, and everyone is your friend so you come home with a bunch of pictures with random people. Super sweet, high calorie sugar bombs. It's okay though because you're young and have the metabolism of a 6-year-old and have this firm belief that you'll always be skinny.

Vodka (25-29)
Three things can happen: (1) aggro-angry, will fight you and your dumbass boyfriend, crazy, (2) super emotional, life is so hard, ugly cry, or (3) really chill, in tact memory, and a good time. It's a risky gamble, but you always start the night hoping for the best. Easy to drink, low calorie. After awhile, your high tolerance and the fact that it tastes like nothing makes the whole experience boring.

Whiskey (30+)
Non-stop verbal diarrhea with this uncanny ability to shamelessly say things that may be true, but you have no idea because you can't remember what you said. Black out, or brown out if you had someone drink half your drinks for you. As you drink more of it, you learn that the good stuff actually taste much different than the mediocre stuff - which encourages you to keep drinking, and thus this has less chance of getting boring.

Dilemma, my friends. I'm starting to only want to drink whiskey. So what do I do? Hope that blacked out Connie will be responsible enough to not thoroughly embarrass herself so that sober Connie doesn't have to sit and wonder if she should shutdown her Facebook?

To be determined.

Because I hate Valentine's Day

In honor of the impending holiday for stupid people in love, I'll write a few notes on what I've learned over the past year on how you know you're probably with the wrong person. These are all anecdotal so don't get all pissy if it applies to you. I probably wouldn't date you anyway.

---

He's skinnier than you
Unless you're a total gigantoid whale-sized of a girl, at which point you probably shouldn't have a list at all. But anyway, without going into too much detail, there will be a time and place when this matters - mostly in situations where lifting you will be beneficial. That's all I'll say about that.

---

He doesn't appreciate a good cat gif
Here's my favorite one.

No rhyme or reason. It always makes me laugh.

---

He doesn't know who Nelson Mandela was
T: Yea, and he didn't seem that bright.
Me: How could you tell?
T: He didn't know who Nelson Mandela was?
Me: Stop.
T: I said, "You know, the 'I have a dream' guy"... just to be funny. And he said, "Oh, that sounds familiar."
Me: STOP.
T: So he didn't seem that bright.
Me: T, he was retarded.

---

He doesn't drink whiskey
At a certain point in my life, I became a whiskey drinker. And with that habit came an undeniable pretentiousness that I actually appreciate in fellow whiskey drinkers.

Two years ago...
C: I drink whiskey neat.
Me: ... the fuck?
C: What's wrong with that?
Me: Nothing... if you're an old white Republican.

Last weekend...
C: What do you want me to bring?
Me: A bottle of whiskey.
C: Seriously?
Me: Bring the good stuff. I'm not fucking around.

---

He doesn't drink
I don't trust people who don't drink. I feel like they're afraid the truth might come out when they're drunk. Which means they're constantly lying. Which means they can go ahead and leave my life.

---

There are a whole bunch more, but I didn't want to start sounding preachy. Oh, and I disliked Valentine's Day even when I was in a relationship. So this has nothing to do with that. That's the story and I'm sticking to it.

A fish out of water...

C: Have a good Day 2 tomorrow.
Me: Thanks.
C: Try not to terrify those tech nerds.
Me: I don't terrify anybody.
C: Yes, you do.

Yesterday was my first day at my new gig. To be honest, it felt like college all over again. Except unlike college, I cared very little about taking notes. I was also the old kid in class. And I was very familiar with how to bend rules.

Kid: You got a PC? I didn't know that was an option.
Me: It wasn't. I wrote in the comment box that I wanted a PC.
Kid: Is that okay?
Me: I learned at an early age that you should get what you want.

I was in a room full of freshly graduated software programmers and engineers. They were all toting around these TimBuk2 satchels and wearing fleece vests - which apparently is the uniform for geeks. I brought my LV bag because I was trying to be more conservative, but that backfired pretty quickly. 

Teacher: Does anyone have any questions?
Me: I can't connect to the wireless internet.
Seatmate: Did you click on the wireless switch?
Me: Do I have a "retard" sticker on my forehead?
 SM: Did you click on anything?
Me: This is not a user error. Your questions are offensive.

I had my computer confiscated only a few hours after I received it. Let's just leave it at that. The point is, I didn't have a computer.

Me: I need a computer.
Tech: Which one do you have now?
Me: I don't have one.
Tech: Okay, which one do you want?
Me: What is the sexiest PC you have available?
Tech: Hmm... the X1 Carbon, but people don't normally get those.
Me: That's the one I want.

I convinced the Tech guy to add an "extremely urgent" sticker on my purchase order so hopefully I'll get my new toy today. I also figured out how to order my own stuff. Despite the constant slew of confirmation emails, something tells me that I'm not following normal protocol. Let's see how many of the tablets I just ordered actually arrive.

Teacher: Click on additional skills you'd like to build.
Me: What are some examples?
Teacher: The page will show you some that cater to your needs.
Me: Mine says, "Diversity Awareness."
Seatmate: Mine doesn't.
Me: My page is being an asshole. I have great diversity awareness.
SM: Maybe you should add "Self Awareness."
Me: Maybe you should add "Ability to keep your opinion to yourself."

I also have to say that I've impressed myself with my abilities to be social over the past two days by trekking my ass to SF at night... though at this point, I'm pretty sure my seatmate is tired of waking me up every ten minutes. It just solidified the fact that living in SF is the right choice for me. Special thanks to Willis for responding to be desperate cries for help.

Still alive and moving the rest of the way to the Bay in 30 days! Congratulate me.

Everything comes to an end...

This was my farewell email to my colleagues. Who says I'm not sentimental?
_____________________________

I was going to write this heartfelt message that talked about how much I learned at McK and how I will always treasure these past years as some of the most spectacular in my life...

... but I read an article on Buzzfeed on how no one wants to hear that stuff.

Instead, I'll say this.

The past 2.5 years were some of the hardest in my career. I was physically sick much of the time and fell asleep curled up in a ball at so many airport gates to the point where the ding of the boarding signal is like a dog whistle to me now. I ordered way too much for dinner, and learned how to scarf down an entire sandwich in 5 minutes at my desk. I also became so severely addicted to coffee that I almost had to go to rehab, except my team kept insisting coffee was a good kind of bad habit. I spent way too much time talking to my SPG ambassador, and used the phrase "but I'm not just Platinum... I'm ultra Platinum" way too many times. And I was given nicknames that included "Slide Ninja" and "The Tiger" in reference to my abilities to shame new BAs who I insisted should be better at using PowerPoint given how it's dinosaur technology compared to the apps they should've coded themselves in college.

But despite all that pain, agony, and palm-to-face nights waiting at Kinko's for our workshop booklets to print, I can admit without a doubt that I love the Firm. And I'm thankful to have been given the opportunity to learn from the smartest people I have ever worked with in my life.

If I'm lucky, I will have the pleasure of working with you again in the future...

Special thanks to N. K. and P. R. for giving me honest advice and for helping me become a better person.

Till next time,

Connie

Worth the effort

The other night, I babysat my nephews while my sister and brother-in-law went on a date. Occasionally, I witness the life my sister lives, and I feel this urge to help. And oddly enough, I thought helping was to remind her of what an awesome person she is to hang out with, and the reason my brother-in-law is lucky to have her.

Sis: Dinner was so much fun!
Me: I'm so glad!
Sis: [30 minute description of dinner]
Me: Oh good, you tried all the good stuff.

Next morning...

Sis: Dinner was so much fun!

Next afternoon...

Sis: Dinner was so much fun!

That's when I knew that she really must've had fun.

I have this unwavering belief that every relationship requires effort. I'm not talking about the relationship my sister has with her husband. That's beyond my juridiction. No. I'm talking about the relationship I have with my sister.

As the saying goes, every person has a different way of showing love. Words. Actions. Whatever else is in that book.

But the way I show love is to adapt to how that person receives it.

For my sister, the way to show her that I love her is to think from her point of view, recognize what she would appreciate, and do those things without her having to ask. And lucky for me, I can do this fairly easily, mostly because I've known her for 30 years.

I think my sister misses the person she was before kids. Not that she doesn't love her kids, I've never seen another human love her kids as much as she loves hers. But before she had kids, my sister was a fun-loving, outgoing LA girl who tried the best restaurants and had great adventures with her husband. But two kids, a full-time job, a mortgage, and endless responsibilities can take its toll.

I just wanted to remind her that she's still that girl. And that girl came home from dinner on Friday night.

As 2014 moves forward, I am continuing to add new goals to my list. One of those goals is to show those around me that I love them, to invest in the relationships I have with my family and friends. And to take the time to learn how that person receives love. Because honestly, it's worth it.

2014: to be a better version of 2013

I was spoiled by 2013.

I finally got my shit together with work. I shared amazing new experiences with my equally amazing friends. I made great new friends and built promising relationships with them. My family is healthy, happy, and very close. And after the turbulence that 2012 left me in, I found inner peace and a rhythm in life that made me feel very comfortable.

Not to mention all the Gucci, Chanel, Louboutin, and Hermes. But we all know that all that shit is just frosting.

As the confetti fell abundantly all over the carpet in our quaint Little Tokyo apartment last night, I started to reflect on my expectations and goals for 2014.

A risky business.

I was always one of the doubting Thomases when it came to expectations. Why set yourself up for disappointment?

But I think the key is to surround yourself with the right people, and most importantly, to have the right perspective and attitude.

One of the key things that I learned from the Firm is that the minute you're too comfortable, you're no longer developing and challenging yourself. Therefore, you should always feel slightly scared, slightly unfamiliar, and eager to learn more. Only then will you become a better version of yourself.

So 2014 starts with one of the most surprising decisions that has shocked many of my closest friends and family.

I am moving to San Francisco.

I have no idea what this adventure will bring - how I will adapt, the people I will meet, the life I will assume. But not knowing is the best part.

The attitude I have going into 2014 is absolute positivity. I will embrace all things with an open mind. I will do my best to always look on the bright side of things, to assume the good in people, and be a kinder, warmer person to those around me. And in the process, I hope to try new things, explore countries I've never been to before, and learn my ass off.

I know that some people may think that I'm this aggressively caustic person who uses the F-word too much (true, I do use the F-word too much). But if you get to know me, I'm actually extremely soft. And though I used to think it was a weakness to let this side out, I find that it makes me happier to show people that I have feelings and that I give a shit about you.

I have no idea what 2014 will bring, but I'm dedicated to making everyday count for something.