Tonight, we celebrated our friend’s 33rd birthday at Jeepney, a modern Filipino fusion restaurant in the city. Although we had both been there for dinner before and the food and drinks were very good, it’s quite expensive for what it is, and with the Kamayan-style traditional meal we had tonight, which is served completely on banana leaves and eaten with your hands, it was even more expensive than what the website said. The video on the website was also misleading because it showed a whole suckling pig, and when we arrived at our table already set up with the food, there was no suckling pig. When I asked the server where the pig was, she said that the pig would have cost extra and was not a part of their restaurant’s kamayan meal (this meal is already $50/person excluding drinks, tax, and tip… so how much would a pig cost as extra?!). If that is the case, then why would they have that on the video on the kamayan page on their restaurant’s website? Isn’t that false advertising? Either way, the food was extremely good, but I just wish that we knew there was no pig beforehand. I felt misled.
Monthly Archives: December 2017
Christmas window gazing
It’s been a small tradition to see the many Christmas windows that make up New York City this time of year, so today, we started with the Bergdorf Goodman windows, which have a theme of the major New York City museums this year. My favorite one was the one after the American Museum of Natural History, which depicted dinosaurs completely covered in sparkly rhinestones.
Christmas time in New York is a beautiful time of the year, even though in previous years, we’ve barely been here to enjoy it. The lights along Columbus Avenue and all the Christmas trees everywhere make the city so much fun to wander around. How done up all the buildings are along Fifth Avenue and in Herald Square are so impressive.
I wonder how much time and effort goes into creating and designing all these spectacular windows and displays… and also kind of feel sorry for the people who have to set these things up at wee hours of the morning and night for all of us to enjoy. So many people’s efforts go into all this for our enjoyment, and their efforts are often either forgotten or overlooked. I wonder if they consider Christmas time in New York to be that beautiful?
Christmas tree for Ed
Today, after lugging home a fake 5-foot Christmas tree this past Monday, we decorated our tree fully. The funniest thing about this is that this is the first tree I’ve had since 2008, and since then, I’ve still been collecting Christmas ornaments that I’ve bought and been given and storing them away in a sad plastic drawer. They’ve just been sadly sitting there, sadly hoping to one day adorn a Christmas tree. Since being with Chris, we never had our own tree because our apartment was so small, and each Christmas, we’d be in Melbourne anyway, so what’s the point of having a tree, real or fake, if we’d only be in December for one week of the entire month? This year, I insisted we get a tree of some sort, especially since we aren’t leaving for our trip until the 18th. A fake tree made the most sense given the mess that a real one would leave behind the two weeks we’d be gone. I suppose it’s also cheaper and better for the environment, anyway.
What makes me sad about our tree is that so many of these ornaments were given to me by Ed. This is the very first year that all of them have been able to be put up together. Ed always loved Christmas so much, and even though we never had a tree in our parents’ house after I was 12 since my mom started studying to be a Jehovah’s Witness, he still bought many Christmas ornaments during the after Christmas Macy’s sale, when all the ornaments, simple and ornate, would be on super sale. Some of the prettiest ones would only be $1-2 after all the sales and his employee discounts. He had hopes that I would have a tree again at some point, so he kept on buying them for me. And these aren’t the filler crappy ornaments you add on when you have none that are unique; these are all unique and have their own character and flair on the tree.
Every tree I have from now on, real or fake, will be for Ed, his memory, and his love of Christmas.
Company holiday parties
Tonight, for the first time since Chris started working at his company, we attended their New York holiday party together. It was held at a very swank venue on the Lower East Side, and they certainly made the entrance grand. There was an archway built covered in green vines and white roses, and the interior was quite similar, especially around the bar area.
The alcohol overfloweth, and the sheer variety of food was all over the place; a pasta table, a Chinese takeout table, a dim sum table, plus others that I didn’t even have a chance to take a bite of because I was already stuffed from the first couple tables. This is what the lavish life looks like, the one that people less privileged never even dream of seeing.
I went to drop off holiday gifts in the Bronx earlier this evening that my colleagues and I gathered, and I thought about the kids around this city who don’t even get a single Christmas gift, and the single one they do get, they relish for the rest of the year. The disparity between the haves and have nots always seems to be more striking to me around this time of year, and it was most apparently traveling to drop off those gifts in the Bronx earlier this evening to then travel to the holiday party tonight.
Steaming pho
I met with a friend tonight at Madame Vo, which is one of my favorite modern Vietnamese restaurants (next to Hanoi House) in Manhattan that I’ve discovered this year. We both made the mistake of getting our own pho bowls, which were so gigantic that neither of us fully finished all our noodles (and definitely not the broth). Broth this rich and flavorful has been elusive to me in New York City, where I’ve always felt that the pho broth was sub par or acceptable at best. Some places are watered down; others are greasy. Others satisfy the craving but don’t do much more than that. The pho broth at Madame Vo, like at Hanoi House, is rich, layered, complex, and brimming with star anise and charred onions. You can actually taste these flavors when you take time to sip and enjoy the beauty of the broth.
I was in broth heaven tonight. I wish I could have this every week.
balloon filled with flowers
My hair stylist was going off on bad parenting tonight. She recently had an extremely paranoid customer come in who was pregnant, and she hated being in the salon; she said it was bad for her baby, the fumes would harm her unborn child, and she constantly rushed my hair stylist, said if she spent an extra minute or two more than absolutely needed that her child was going to be at risk. My hair stylist wanted to strangle this woman. My hair stylist, who is actually my age, has a 5-year-old daughter. She worked in the salon until the week before she gave birth, and her child is just fine.
“There are too many stupid parents out there who just lose their shit and cannot handle life,” she said to me. She shared with me her most vivid memory as a child in Palermo: she was eight years old, at a festive street fair with her mother where so many of the children were getting helium balloons that were filled with flowers. Suddenly out of nowhere, a mother comes running with her child cradled in her arms with a blue face. Apparently, the child had bitten the balloon, and it exploded in her mouth and resulted in a huge part of the balloon getting stuck in the girl’s throat, so she was suffocating. The mom went ballistic and had no idea what to do… so she screamed over and over, “My girl is dying! My girl is dying! She’s suffocating to death!” My hair stylist’s mom went into action mode: she ran up to the mom with the blue-faced girl, opened the girl’s mouth and pulled the balloon out of her throat and mouth, and the girl immediately starts coughing… and is just fine.
“All she had to do was pull the balloon out of the girl’s mouth, but she couldn’t do it because she just immediately went into panic mode and didn’t allow herself to think,” my hair stylist said. “That’s too many parents today, everywhere. Just use your head and it will be fine!”
Do more, be more
Tonight, I was sitting at the Argo Tea at Broadway and 22nd Street, chatting with a Wellesley prospective at her admissions interview… with me. I honestly don’t give much money back to Wellesley, so I figure one small way I can give back is by being a Wellesley admissions representative and doing admissions interviews. My time is worth money, right?
She started out quite timid and awkward in both speech and body language. She began by making a lot of statements and not knowing how to back them up. I wasn’t quite clear on what she stood for until we got to the subject of public health, which is an area of passion for her. Her high school sounded very diverse and had a variety of classes that I would have loved to take when I was her age: public health, sociology, Latin American history, engineering (okay, I wouldn’t have loved to take that last one). But once we got to the topic of public health, of her awareness of the disparity merely across public schools in terms of educating on topics ranging from menstruation to birth control to STDs, of her anger that so many kids grow into adults and have no idea what a pap smear or gonorrhea are, she really shined and was her authentic self.
She talked about wanting to pursue public health as a career, and how her parents, typical Asian immigrant parents, told her it was a terrible idea, and why spend all this time and money going to school and then come out making nothing? “Other people pursue these careers and end up just fine,” she said to me. “I’ll be okay. I just want to do something I’m passionate about that can help others. I don’t want people to be unaware of things they should be aware of.”
The last week has made me think a lot about self-awareness and what we all stand for as individuals. What are we all passionate about and care about? And this led into the conversation I had at dinner at my apartment tonight with my friend, who lives just a few blocks away. He told me he doesn’t think there are enough people who are consciously thinking about how they can contribute to the world more and be better people. That’s… sadly probably true. Most people are so unaware that when you point out the most obvious things about them, they immediately go into denial and reject the idea before they’ve had even ten seconds to think about whether what we’ve said could be true. We’d be a better world if everyone consciously spent more time thinking about their own self-improvement and how to take action on that. He joked that it probably would be a great religion because there’s really no religion either of us could think of that focused on self-improvement.
The level of delusion that most people have is so ridiculous and depressing. I think the idea of a religion based on self-improvement would be offensive to them.
Out of the blue
An old colleague who I was friendly with randomly texted me out of the blue to let me know that his brother has recently talked about killing himself, and that his sister-in-law was worried and out of town and asked him to come stay the night at their place to make sure he didn’t do anything to harm himself. I don’t believe we’d seen each other for at least a year or two, though we were friendly when we worked together two jobs ago for me. He said he knew it was a lot to ask given we hadn’t really been in touch, but wanted to ask if we could chat.
I suppose I am a suicide prevention advocate. I fund raise to increase suicide prevention and mental illness and health awareness, so I’ve made myself the person to go to in a time of crisis. It’s almost like I have a moral obligation to agree to help. How can I say no? So we chatted for over an hour on the phone this evening and I tried to alleviate his concerns and provide some suggestions while listening to what he and his family have been going through.
The worst part about situations like these is that… it’s truly the blind leading the blind. Let’s face it: I was never successful in helping my brother help himself; otherwise, he’d be here now, right? So asking my advice, while I appreciate the thought… I’m not sure I am really capable of helping anyone. I can give my suggestions, say what they absolutely should NOT do, and then hope for the best. We can barely help the people in our lives now with their tunnel visions and chosen life outlooks. How can we help people we don’t even know?
Fire alarms all the time.
I spent this afternoon leisurely working on my scrapbooking project, which I’ve neglected since the summer time. While in my crafty mode, I was interrupted by my mom’s call. Her voice is grave, and I can tell she’s completely exhausted. In her words, “I have no juice left” (she likes to think she’s a battery). She’s been taking care of my dad’s every need since Friday when his cold started, and now, his cold has somehow blown into complete body aches and pains, as well as a fever of 101 F. She’s worrying, and of course, she thinks he’s going to die. “I need to share this with you because we’re immediate family, but no one else,” she says. Yeah, because the next thing I was going to do is email our entire family and extended family to let them know my dad has a fever.
Maybe a few years ago, I would have been a bit alarmed by this call, but this time around, I don’t really feel anything. My parents blow every situation out of proportion. It’s exactly like the cliche of “the boy who cried wolf.” If you cry all the time, no one will take you seriously. My mom makes herself worry so much that she gets sick. But she also does that just by babying my father and making him seem like he’s incapable of even getting a glass of water. “You just don’t understand how weak he is when he’s sick.” Actually, I do. Unless you’re cripple, you’re not too weak to get off the couch and get a glass of water in the kitchen which is just about 30 feet away. He acts like a baby. And she loves to enable it and try to make me feel sorry for her, which I don’t anymore in these situations. You can tell she’s probably going to get sick in the next couple of days in the same way she did back in January when my dad was sick when I came home, and she worried so much that she had to take medication for her ailments and came down with the worst cold. Sure, he might have a fever today, but maybe it could be gone tomorrow. I’m sure I’ve had a fever at some point when I was really ill in September, but I don’t immediately think I’m going to die because of it.
And who knows. Maybe every time I post something like this, I am just waiting for the worst to happen. And then I’d write about that. I’m just so done with listening to all this worry for the sake of worry. And I’m sick of witnessing their vicious cycles of babying and whining.
Flying home again
It’s my fifth time on a plane in the last two weeks, and I’m tired. I don’t want to fly anymore. I just want to be home. I always want to travel, but there’s always a point of time when I am away from home when I just want to go back home now. I don’t think I have felt this way almost ever until the past year: during one or two moments in Taiwan in July, likely when I was sweating buckets in that God-awful humidity I thought, I would really love to be back in New York now. During moments in New Zealand where I was vomiting, I would have preferred to be vomiting in my own toilet. And this past Friday in San Francisco, I just wanted to go home and be in my own bed. San Francisco no longer feels like true home to me. I feel like a visitor when I go there. I don’t really feel like I belong.
And within hours of going back to my apartment in Manhattan, what did I end up doing? After unpacking, eating dinner, seeing a show, and coming back to the apartment, I ended up in my happy place: my kitchen — to prepare breakfast for the next day for our visiting guests. My kitchen in my apartment is my happy place. It feels good to be home and to have my luggage put away.