what i know about heartbreak

you can feel okay, like really okay, and then without any warning, and months later, and with no provocation, it can all come back. waves and waves of pain and grief and oh, look at that relationship fading away… the deep ache will take over, and at a certain point you just have to give in to the inexplicable, uncontrollable tears.

this being my first big heartbreak, and me being the sensitive and introspective person i am, i sometimes find myself marveling at it. “wow. this really hurts. my god, this really really hurts,” i will think to myself. “who knew this is what it would feel like? i literally feel like i’ve lost a part of me.” the tears can literally spring out of my eyes, from nowhere! without my courting them and not because i’m indulging the pain or wallowing.

but on the whole, and for long stretches in my day, it is okay. for so long i felt i was being eaten alive by questions and what if’s and if only’s. i was visited in my dreams by the scenarios i played out in my mind in the day; i could find no respite from the pain. but more and more, i can give my mind over to the rest of life, even mundane things: the new paint job on a building near my house, the chattering tourists on the cable car, what color nail polish i want to buy next. there is space in my mind, and a little quiet. i can accept the decisions i made. resignation, and i guess acceptance too.

ah, i don’t know what i know about heartbreak, and i hate misleading titles.

Filed under: 1, figuring it out, love

notes and bits from around the web

i put in a lot of energy to write catchy headlines at my job, so i think i am going to let myself off the hook for writing the lamest and most un-enticing headlines for my personal blog.

with that important editorial note out of the way… some collected notes and bits:

new year’s 2009

—-

coming to terms with my cultural identity will be a lifelong process.

What I’ve realized over the past couple of years, however, is that authenticity isn’t in the details. There’s no right way to be Taiwanese or Taiwanese American. When I looked for a sense of belonging, I was searching in the wrong places. One of the things I’ve realized while living in Taiwan and dealing with the identity issues it has brought up is that self-acceptance has to come from within. It sounds like a trite platitude, but accepting that helped me enjoy living here a lot more.

But even if depending on external criteria for a sense of belonging is merely an illusion, I’ll keep thinking about what it means to be authentic—and I’ll continue to wonder what I have to do to fit in. The search has been part of my life for so long that it has become like a worry stone, something to contemplate and meditate on without ever coming to a final resolution (but if it leads me to new desserts, all the better).

-catherine shu, who blogs at shu flies and hyphen

the particulars of our lives are different but really the journey sounds so much the same. after manymany years of torture and wounded introspection and many surely embarrassing xanga posts on the topic of cultural authenticity and “enough”-ness, i would say that i’m near that same kind of peace with myself and my identity as a fifth-generation chinese american gal growing up in sf. i would love to learn chinese now, but i don’t think it’s going to complete me the way i once thought knowing chinese would. i would like to know it because i think i need to learn another language. (well, and also so i can talk back to the vendors who are always jipping me out of pennies and nickels at AA bakery!!!! ok and be able to speak with my aunties. yeah, totally casual interest these days and i’ve totally resolved all my issues, as you can see.) anyway. i’m further along in acquiring a chinese vocabulary than, say, a spanish vocabulary.

—-

work and catchy headlines that matter

i wrote this headline and i’m pretty freakin proud of it.

most people don’t read the body text of anything anymore unless they’re already interested in the topic. and especially when we were reporting research findings that were so damning on their own, it had to go straight in the headline. i test headline clickability by imagining it in twitter, tucked amongst hundreds of other pithy one-liners and where there are no photos, no intro text to grab readers, no context to entice readers. does it punch you in the gut? i hope so!

—-

it’s 12:12am and i’m browsing news so i can be on top of shit for tomorrow morning when i need to hop into my seat and hit the ground running. all very new and unusual for me, as i am usually a staunch anti-after-work-hours-email checker (even though i do it at least once a night on weekdays) and i like to think i shut off my work brain after hours. also, i’m quite used to bitching about my work, as that is deeply embedded in the office culture… but i’ve got a new boss with an ambitious and brand new vision and i’m being the offered the opportunity to build skills that will always serve me well in life. i’m also being paid to be a reporter, i am a journalist in training. gigs like mine are rare these days. i get to go out, talk with folks, learn about things i would otherwise never sift through, and then i get to translate it for a popular audience!

i’m so far out of my comfort zone right now and flying high and wild and it’s exciting so far.

of course, i’m barely a week in…we’ll see once i’ve been pounding the pavement hard for a year doing a thankless job and the organization decides to move in a different direction. again.

—-

khalil fong helps me feel less stupid, more chinese. it’s true.

i understood 85% of this video!!!!!!!!!!! random youtube surfing landed me here. it still shocks me to hear him speak cantonese, i’m so used to just his mandarin and english. wow. what a triumphant moment. i mean, i couldn’t say any of what he says on my own, and it’s not like he’s talking geopolitics or astrophysics, but i understand what he’s saying. huge! wow. howsabout that!

—-

and now, the end.

that is enough for now. i am watching khalil fong music videos and will permit myself one more before bed.

Filed under: 1, chinese, work, writing

an exchange in the sewing room

me: have you thought about what you want to be when you grow up?

kk: a gorilla.

me: you want to be a professional gorilla?

kk: i’m just kidding. i want to be a superhero.

me: what kind of superhero?

kk: i want to be like the hulk.

me: you want to be able to turn green and rip off your shirt every time you get mad?

kk: yeah and stomp on people and kill the bad guys.

Filed under: 1, family, jobs, work

a list of lists, march 2010 edition

1. tonight’s reading material

• building a better teacher
• teen vogue, nov 2009 (i just subscribed! teen vogue is not afraid of women of color on their cover and in their pages and ads.)
• wajahat ali’s panorama article (a former student of my dad’s writes about how he taught himself bankruptcy and foreclosure law to help keep a family in their home.)
• marie claire, march 2010 (post-work subway station splurge. i loved the glitter type on the cover.)

2. my to-do list

• more purposeful living. so oprah, ugh.
• run (aka jog and walk and jog and walk) wednesday morning, friday morning, saturday morning
• cook once this week.

on sunday becca and i went for a morning jog. she ran from her house and i jogged (walked) from my house and we met in the middle and then ran to the park. i really love becca, my rock, a sister, older than me by 7 months, my best friend. i marvel at how long we’ve known each other, and also how little has changed. even though i feel myself continually changed by every life experience i’ve had in the last ten years, with becca i am still very much exactly who i was when we met at 12.

i remember in high school i got a B- in a chemistry honors class. i fought so hard to be in chemistry honors–i nearly transferred out of it, spent one day in a “regular” chemistry class and then transferred back to what was the most torturous and grueling science learning experience of my life. and my grades meant everything to me back then; my grades were a reflection of my self-worth. well i heard about the B- and it broke my heart. it cemented the fact that i was a faillure, that everything came easy to everyone but me, that i’d never get it, that i was never going to get anywhere with my sad brain. i remember running into becca, and sobbing on her shoulder when i was 15, in the open air courtyard of our elite public high school. over a B-! i don’t think i made sense to anyone then, barely even to myself, but becca loved me despite it, and never let me go through anything alone.

and nearly ten years later, my heart broken by wholly different circumstances, i cry again on her shoulder, sob and sob and sob in the passenger seat of her car, sitting in shock at the throbbing, gaping wound lodged in my chest. incredible, friends are. for helping make the days bearable, or for just riding out the awfulness with you.

anyway. sunday morning, we met up and jogged and walked. i think what’s tough about trying to jog together is that we talk so much, and i am not a enough shape that i can hold a conversation and run at the same time, so one thing’s always gotta give, and i certainly don’t want it to be the talking. so we walked, and then mostly talked. she walked me halfway home, and then we turned back around and i walked her back the few blocks we’d just walked up before saying our goodbyes.

on my way back home, the sun was shining out. it felt like a real spring day. i stopped and looked at a lot of the cool flowers in people’s gardens, and my mind was quiet enough that i could actually hear the eucalyptus trees rustling, they sounded so much like ocean waves. it was amazing. birds and flowers and trees and sunshine.

Filed under: 1, friends, run/walk/jog

and the big things too

the last two months have been hard. one step in front of the other, one day at a time, i don’t want to get out of bed, maybe i can just sleep away the pain kind of days. and even when i feel okay, it still hurts. but there is always mommy. and there are always aunties, and uncles, and there is always the steadfast love of family. and even when nothing else makes sense, i always have them.

Filed under: 1, family, love

the little things

the setup: celine dion on oprah’s show. and this group called the canadian tenors think they’re coming on the show to do a bit about up and coming acts. oh and did you know their idol is celine dion? this was awesome television. i love their expressions.

as i told sharon last night, it combines so many of my favorite things: oprah’s love of surprising people by making their dreams come true on live tv, soft guitar strumming, sweet music and excellent harmonizing.

yeah, i’m okay. getting through, but having a hard time letting go. it’s the little things that make the days easier.

Filed under: 1

an exchange in the house

//discussing this week’s episode of american idol//

daddy: i still can’t believe how skinny spice is!

me: did you just call her spice?

daddy: isn’t that her name?

me: there were 5 spices daddy. she’s posh spice.

daddy: oh.

//later//

daddy: so what’s the name of the woman in the black eyed peas?

Filed under: 1, family

notes on the journalism industry, and my small place within it

can you see this tweet?

this tweet was written by a writer i really respect. a writer who worked as a reporter for the LA times, a writer for LA weekly. he’s living in mexico city right now, writing a book on youth culture in mexico. he’s a brilliant writer. i think he’s so incredibly talented.

maybe his big break is coming soon (many would say he’s already had it), but this is his life. this is the life of freelancers.

i would say that roughly 80% of the nonfiction editorial content (essays, social criticism, and reporting) that’s produced online these days is produced by freelancers. that is a totally wild guess, but that’s just my estimate based on the writing and publishing field that i’ve had a glimpse of, where magazines and newspapers have only a handful of full-time low-paying editorial positions (one of which i currently occupy), but most content is produced for free, or for VERY low, might-as-well-be-a-donation writers’ fees. that is the marketplace. you have to love this stuff so much that you are willing to do it for free. you have to love this so much that you are willing to basically be a small business owner, constantly promoting yourself and constantly marketing your work.

this article from the LA Times, which sounds so scary and which my parents must NEVER ever read, is so much the truth for every (admittedly small and primarily independent) magazine or online publishing outlet i’ve worked with in the past two years. it is not exaggeration. it is exactly the truth.

and i don’t think i love it that much. i don’t think i love it that much for it to be my main gig. i have a life outside of media and writing, and from everything i’ve seen, that is an untenable relationship to be a successful media maker. i’m not saying i’m not good at it, or that i don’t have some potential. but the job market, even pre-recession, was abysmal. there is no ladder. if i stay with reporting and media, it’s fight fight fight the rest of my working life, just to stay in the game.

i have found recently in my conversations with folks that whenever i mention a career switch, people warn me about letting my writing talents go to waste. they warn me against giving up on my dreams. if a writing life means stringing together a series of assignments, some that i get paid for and most that i do not, i don’t want that life.

i’m totally freaked out. i have no idea what i’m going to do. i feel myself getting defensive, and i don’t want to be.

i can’t tell if what freaks me out more is the poor financial prospects of staying in this field or the idea of risking a lot for something i like to do. i think it’s both. but i can’t accept that journalism is the only thing i’m good at. no. nooo.

Filed under: 1

professional advice from miley cyrus

i kid you not. i find that every word in this song is true and so uplifting. i know. i know! talk about a fine place to look for career counseling. she’s even done the racist chink eye thing. (that guy in the back of that photo…i never noticed him till now. what the fuck is he doing, miming buck teeth with his fingers?? jesus christ what a jerk.) ok. so. i really like this song. i think. man. do i? i do. that kid in the back, though. NOT OKAY.

some days i feel so desensitized to asian racism and teasing that it’s hard to get mad. not only are we so bombarded with it all the time on tv and in movies, but the rest of american culture doesnt take it seriously either. on top of that, asian ams are seen as insignificant and invisible, so it can just feel like yelling into nothingness to get worked up about it. but the more i look at that photo the more angry i’m getting. if i saw that kid in person what would i do? hopefully i would have the guts to smack him across the face and give him a decent verbal lashing. ok or at least a good glare. god. i thought i liked this song. i still do! i still do! or maybe not. UGH RACISM RUINS EVERYTHING.

Filed under: 1

i am strong i am strong i am strong

we are here for a reason, we are here for a reason.

we are all still alive, nobody died. nobody died. we are all okay.

we are here for a reason, this had to happen.

i am strong i am strong we are all okay. he is okay. he did not die. he is still alive.

and when repeating these words to myself over and over doesn’t help, i clench my teeth. often the tears still come anyway. the sadness often comes in waves, catches me off guard, and will knock me over. i have to hold onto a wall or brace myself against a door as the heaving sadness passes through me.

i had been doing pretty well for a few weeks, the sadness kept at bay because we talked every once in a while, and it felt so comforting and so good. but sometimes it feels so real. it feels so final.

when i’ve the energy to look up and around at the faces walking down the street or waiting on the muni platform, i wonder how many people are walking around with broken hearts. how many people are mourning the loss of something or someone special while they struggle to get out of bed, while they struggle to keep it together long enough so people don’t see them crying inside, or running to the office bathrooms to sob in private.

there are so many things i want to share with him: tony bourdain went to brittany, france, this week. there was a giant seafood platter, they went to an oyster farm. my parents, they tried a brand new restaurant near westlake. jade garden or something, and came back with really great chinese fried chicken. drumsticks so big, eric swore they were genetically modified. becca suggested a new hot pot restaurant, called “the pot”–seriously!–on judah or some street. that woman rene has turned out to be truly crazy, remember when you teased me for saying yes to the project without asking her questions? you were right babe! but i’ve firm, and i told her i was not going to do anymore revisions, and that including everything she wanted me to in this tiny blog post and press release would be a “betrayal” of my writerly sensibilities. i actually said that to her, babe! my babe, my heart, my love…

i’m thankful for my family, my aunties, my mommy, becca, family who are holding me up and keeping me strong. i dont want to talk about it with people, unless i do. you know? don’t ask me “how was your weekend?” don’t ask me “how are you?” and look meaningfully into my eyes, wanting me to spill my guts to you unless you want to see my lips quiver and my eyes fill with tears as i try to find some socially acceptable way to say that i cried myself to sleep, and then slept, but otherwise spent most of my waking hours consumed by thoughts of him, and us, and possible explanations and workable solutions. i do see people, and occasionally i can hold it all at bay long enough to actually laugh and give my mind some rest.

occasionally, i have a sense of peace. and there are sparks of clarity: how much i love him. how i contributed to the weaknesses in our relationship. how at last, i know, without wondering or questioning anymore: this is what needs to happen right now. it wasn’t anything he could have changed, there was nothing else he needed to do differently, we both knew that much long ago. but there is so much i need to learn still, and quite a lot i could have done differently, so much i’d work on. i have to go see about this by myself.

And I thought of all the bad luck,
And all the struggles we went through
How I lost me and you lost you
What are these voices outside love’s open door
Make us throw off our contentment
And beg for something more?

i imagine, if jack and i lived in a musical, and were he to sing to a few lines to me, he’d sing these.

Filed under: 1, family, loss, love