When I was young, I got bored a lot. Depending on the time of my childhood, I would read books, do chores, play with my toys, and then be done with them, and then I’d have nothing to do. So the words “I’m bored” came out of my mouth a lot then. Once middle school started, though, it was as though the word “boredom” was no longer part of my vocabulary. There was always something new to learn, to study, more homework to be finished, yet another test to prepare for. I started reading even more voraciously in my teen years, and there was always something new to crack open. Since then, I haven’t spent any period of time really thinking that I am bored… except in random moments, such as in pointless work meetings or being stuck in awful, mind-numbing conversations with people who are either too busy bullshitting or who are extremely high in their self-orientation. And now, in my adult life, I’ve always felt like there are endless things I need to get done or want to do, and that there is never enough time for any of them. Even on the weekends, even on periods I’ve had off from work… it all seems to go by too quickly, and while a lot of my “to-do” list may have been completed, there was still a half dozen or so more things I wish I could have gotten done “if I had more time.” As I’ve gotten older, the to-do list only seems to be growing longer and longer. The endless cycle of news also doesn’t really help with that, either. My reading list for books is officially out of control (though I am way ahead of my reading goal this year, having read 17 books in full, and we’re not even halfway through October yet! 12 was the original goal for each year).

So it was weird for me to hear someone tell me as an adult that she is bored all the time and that she oftentimes finds herself with nothing to do. Nothing to do as a grown adult — this idea is so puzzling to me and in some ways, maddening. There are always current events to keep up with (as insane as it has been in recent years with politics), new topics to explore, new places to visit and see, new neighborhoods and foods to experience. There are people you could be donating your time and energy to via countless nonprofit organizations in New York. Where is one’s intellectual curiosity if you are bored? If you have no curiosity, there will no creativity to create and do new things that will ultimately benefit others and the world around you. And you won’t be fulfilled.

There are lots of people out there in the world who would kill for the privilege of being us, living in a rich country with extremely comfortable, cushy jobs in the tech industry, which not only afford us benefits and perks, but also flexibility to allow us to come and go to the office as we need to. We have no clue as to what it would be like to be poor, to be an immigrant at the border stuck in squalor, to have some life-threatening illness. Especially since Ed died, I’ve intentionally thought about my life’s privileges often, pretty much every single day. I am thankful every day for what I have and think about it every morning and every night before bed. Even though I’ve certainly encountered my fair share of discrimination, lack of equity, and horrifying experiences, I’ve lived a very comfortable and privilege life, and I’m fully cognizant that most people in this world have not had even a fraction of the level of comfort I’ve been afforded. But it’s people like me who have these privileges who shouldn’t be wasting our lives on frivolous pursuits like filling our free time with endless shopping and video games, and should be focusing on what we’re passionate about, what will help the world be better. Ed’s death pushed me to think about how precarious life can be and how quickly it can all end. I don’t want to waste my life away, and I’ve intentionally thought since his death that I want to prove to him that life is worth living through the way I will live my life as long as I am here.

The world would be better off with people who choose to live their lives intentionally, meaningfully, instead of watching each day pass by, blankly wondering what the next day will have in store for them.

Space is limited in New York City, and when it’s limited, it means that it’s expensive. And so when it was my cousin’s son’s 7th birthday party today, it meant only a two-hour block of time at a children’s bounce castle play house — exactly 2:55 to 4:55, no more, no less. I genuinely thought it was a typo on the e-vite my cousin sent out. But let’s note that “two hours” really meant one hour in the bouncy house and one hour in a windowless, gymnasium/cafeteria style room with brightly painted walls that screamed of a terrible middle or high school life once again.

And because we got there late since we decided to get banh mi from Sunset Park in Brooklyn, we missed the kids’ play time in the bouncy castle and got stuck only experiencing the miserable room where there was no natural light, and kids and adults alike ate cheese and pepperoni pizza, drank soda and water, and ate generic ice cream cake.

I came for my cousin’s son, who barely took any notice of me and didn’t really seem to like any of his “friends” who were invited, either, other than two young girls. At least I didn’t have to watch him open gifts; that is always the worst part to me.

I’ve been struggling to get the light the way I really want it in my kitchen for filming cooking videos. The ideal light is always sometime between late morning and early afternoon; after that, all these shadows start forming and it becomes very unflattering to do video. But then our handyman friend suggested tilting the living room ceiling lights to face into the kitchen and tilted some. As I was shooting chicken enchiladas today, I realized that there is still a bright yellow tint after the sun sets… and I wasn’t really thrilled with the close up shots of my enchiladas. They look too yellow and warm, which means I’ll need to figure out how much color editing I’d be able to do to correct this.

Chris then proceeded to move a few more of the living room ceiling lights into the kitchen, which is actually a good thing because we never want the living room that bright anyway. Now, the kitchen looks like a studio for shooting! And the light would be accurate to show the color of the enchiladas or anything else.

Given that our Seamless app has converted into Grubhub for our corporate accounts where we get a daily $20 credit to use, the number of options has increased exponentially since this switch; I can’t even count how many new places I now have access to at work that I didn’t even know I could order from! So today, I tried a Georgian place not too far away from the office. For $11, I ordered khinkali, which are Georgian dumplings with a thick, handmade skin, normally filled with a ground meat mixture. I rarely get to eat Georgian food; the last time I had it was in July, when I was in Rego Park seeing off my friend moving to Hong Kong, and we had a delicious Georgian feast together. I excitedly waited for my dumplings to arrive.

And, arrive they did. A teeny tiny box of… three dumplings. That’s three dumplings for $11. Really? That’s all I get?! While they were quite delicious, they weren’t particularly large, and it was just sad to see these three little blobs in my box alone. “Is that all you got?” my colleague said, looking over with a wrinkled brow at my box.

Welp. That was the first and last time I’m ordering from there. Delicious? Yes. Good value? Absolutely, heck no.

Autumn officially started a couple of weeks ago, but the temperatures didn’t really start dipping into the “I need to wear a jacket in the morning” feeling until this week. I resisted it on Monday, when it was definitely jacket weather, but I rebelled and left the house only wearing a thin cotton cardigan on top… and then really regretted it and wear my office hoodie home. I go through this same phase every year when summer has ended and autumn is pushing its way into my life: I resist, resist, resist, and then cave in.

The only things keeping me going are what’s keeping me productive: autumn baking and cooking, as well as video editing and my channel. Autumn is a great time for baking with all the squash and spices, so it is a good time to experiment again.

If you know me at all, you will know I absolutely hate picky eaters. As a child of a certain age, it’s passable because you’re a child and your taste buds are still developing, but an adult, it is not. You maybe get 3-5 different things you’re allowed to hate and can refuse to eat, and then after that, your tastes in food are pretty much just dead to me; I could never take you seriously for any food advice, opinions, or recommendations. Because as an adult, it is a choice to be picky. It is a choice to be close minded to new things, new ideas, new foods, new cultures’ foods that you’ve never had before. Unless you have serious food allergies or a disease that prevents you from trying new things, it’s just a childish choice to me.

So I was sitting at the lunch table today, listening to a new colleague go on and on about how picky of an eater he is, that picky eating is a “personality trait” and that he can’t stand ground meat, but he’d happily eat a burger or a meatball “because in one, it’s all put together, and in the other, it’s just all crumbled all over the place.” I could feel my blood pressure go up. He was literally sitting there, thriving on all this attention he was getting, this grown white man, having nearly every person around the lunch table poke and prod, ask him “what about this?” and “will you eat that?” His face was truly priceless. I don’t know what made him more excited: the attention he was getting from his pickiness or his actual pickiness not being completely shat on by someone like me.

I’m an adult. And part of being an adult is remembering to think before we speak. So, instead of saying anything, I chose to simply leave the lunch table. I can’t be around ignorant talk, nor can I be around reinforcement of ignorance. This is the exact kind of person I really do not want to spend any time around at all.