Planning the next vacation with my parents probably isn’t the best thing when my dad is calling me now, nitpicking at all the little things that happened during the last trip that he didn’t like. The one that is one of the most ridiculous is the black car service that was parked outside our hotel, and my dad walked up to him to ask how much a trip to the airport would be. $27, the guy responds. Obviously, it’s not going to be a deal; it’s a black car service! The trip we ended up taking via a regular yellow cab was $15. I’ve heard this about ten times since it happened, and will very likely hear about it again in the next week. “Remember when…” Yes, I remember. Now, can we stop rehashing something so pointless?

Was this a highlight of our trip? Of course not. But it’s something he wants to complain about as much as possible.

I think I am going through one of those phases again when I feel disconnected from the world. It doesn’t help that the day started out gloomy, and I’ve been waking up to a persisting soreness on the left side of my jaw. This is what happens when you grind your teeth, even with a mouth guard.

Then my friend sent me this article about the crossroads of “should” and “must.” Then I felt even worse. What if your job = your career = your calling? Is my calling to work in ad technology? Was it my calling to have spent over four years working at a digital agency, or nine months at a technology company before that? Maybe most of my life has been spent doing “should” and only very recently I’ve really started on the “must” – as in traveling or photographing because I love those things. Or maybe I don’t really know what my “must” is that could be my career.

I came back to work today feeling sluggish and in withdrawal. I tend to get like this when I have traveled somewhere I really enjoyed and realize that I have to return to my daily grind at work, which is never anywhere as exciting. I only told two people on my team I was going to the Grand Canyon with my parents prior to leaving. When we had our Monday morning team meeting, I told the rest of them I went. They seemed more excited that my fellow colleague saw Captain America than the fact that I traveled to one of the greatest wonders of the world. This is my world five days a week.

So my friend’s birthday was yesterday, and I decided to surprise her by having a cheery spring bouquet of ranunculus flowers sent to her office as a belated birthday gift using this awesome flower delivery tech startup I found out about through Chris (via a flower delivery he had arranged for me, which produced the freshest, longest lasting flowers I’ve ever had). Me being me, I wanted it to be a surprise, so instead of double checking what her office address was, I looked it up online and chose the second address I found and had it sent there.

Then I found out that Amazon.com, her employer, has numerous office buildings all over Seattle – not just on the Amazon campus. And well, the address I chose was NOT on the Amazon campus. Actually, it ended up being a 20-minute drive away from her actual building!

The flowers eventually did get to her (and still looked quite fresh), as someone had the package redirected to her building after I told her what had happened. I was intently tracking the delivery, and as soon as I got the FedEx notification it was delivered, I was waiting for her to message me. But she never did. And my gut told me something was wrong.

It’s funny how a delivery like this didn’t work out the way I had hoped, but when I had a birthday cake delivered to another friend in Singapore – halfway across the world – that worked out perfectly.

Who gets on a plane and listens to a book about all the sky jackings that have happened in the history of the U.S.? I do.

I finally finished reading Winter of the World, which I was experiencing withdrawal symptoms for (that may be my masochistic side since I learned a lot of horrible details about World War II that I certainly did not learn in my U.S. history courses throughout school. Boy, is our U.S. education system crappy and too pro-American), and I just started listening to Brendan Koerner’s The Skies Belong to Us: Love and Terror in the Golden Age of Hijacking. The book discusses the history of hijacking planes in the U.S. and in other parts of the world, the stupidity of the U.S. government in their reactions (or lack thereof) in trying to regulate this, and the even deeper stupidity of the airlines in not wanting to deal with it even after people had gotten murdered. One example: most of these hijackers just wanted the pilot to transport them to some other city (the favorite example is Havana, Cuba). All of them were carrying bombs, firearms, or both. The airlines didn’t believe these people would actually kill anyone. Really? Then, people start dying, and it suddenly dawns on them that people dying is a possibility from the sky jacking.

After the Malaysia Airlines plane went missing (and today, we still have no clue where it really is), a slight paranoia went through my head about a potential plane hijacking that could have happened here. Then, I started reading hypotheses from former pilots about possible disasters and how the pilot would’ve most likely reacted, and it started to make more sense to me.

However, I’m not sure what I should be more paranoid about – a potential hijacking on a plane a loved one or I may be on, or a freak accident like this one seems to be with the plane going on fire, and then the plane going into cruise control and crashing into the South Indian Ocean.

Tonight, we went to see the Samuel Beckett play Waiting for Godot on Broadway. I read this play (and watched the movie alongside) in my senior year Advanced Placement English course….and I was not a fan. The play’s main themes are around existentialism, loneliness, questioning religion (waiting for God(ot)? According to this play, you may be waiting a long, long time….for him to never come), and questioning why we even exist and what are we as individuals really about? Patrick Stewart and Ian McKellen made the play more enjoyable than what I remember from high school.

One question that the character Estragon raises made me laugh out loud. He says during the first act, “We are happy.” Long, thick pause. “What do we do now, now that we are happy?”

It reminded me of my friends, my family, the world around me in their quest for purpose and “happiness” in life. Sometimes, it’s like we are spending so much time chasing lofty ambitions or doing things because they claim to make us calmer or closer to “enlightenment” or peace that it just becomes a laughable charade. Like if you think that having a stable job, getting married, having two kids, and owning a house all equal “happiness,” what do you do once you get all those things? Is your life complete? Could you die happy that way? What do you then live your life for once all those things are checked off the list? Do you just…exist at that point?

Happiness is a state of mind, a way of seeing the world around you. I don’t really think it’s about “If I have X, then I will be happy.” That just seems so superficial. But that seems to be what our society has become.

So while I am at work this morning, I find out on the news that around 9:30am, two neighboring buildings in East Harlem blew up from a gas leak. Many people were injured, and by the end of the day, six people were confirmed to have died from the explosion. Metro North stopped running for hours, and all I could hear outside the window were sirens.

This is the second devastation that has happened in the last several days that has a lot of unanswered questions. The Malaysia Airlines plane is still missing, and apparently no one on this earth (who is still living, presumably) knows where the freaking plane is, and now these two buildings north from where I live have become a great big pile of ash.

One woman who died in one of these buildings had taken a much needed day off from work. She apparently never really took time off for herself. And then on this day she finally does take a one day vacation to rest at home and ends up getting killed in this freak explosion. I have no words. Life really isn’t fair.

One of my goals this year is to learn and read more history, and One Billion Customers: Lessons from the Front Lines of Doing Business in China, is on my reading list. I just picked it up at the library yesterday and began reading it today. It’s reminded me of a number Chinese proverbs and sayings I learned while studying Mandarin Chinese in college (chi ku, or “eating bitterness,” is a very common one), as well as how Chinese philosophy is probably one of the most obvious reasons for a lot of the stupid beliefs my family has had – e.g., “emotions damage your body” (therefore, don’t show them!), “too much happiness hurts your spleen” (well, wouldn’t this explain a lot), and “suppress, suppress, suppress” (this should go without explanation). It’s almost like these philosophies pave the way to a miserable life. Or, maybe that’s just my white-washed American side speaking.

Last night when we came home, Chris was reading the news online and informed me that a Malaysia Airlines flight completely lost connection. The plane was flying from Kuala Lumpur to Beijing, and all signal was lost somewhere over Vietnam. The news said that 239 people were on this flight, including the flight crew. I immediately felt this sick sinking sensation in my stomach. And since then, whenever I can, I am refreshing BBC and Google News to see if there are any updates.

The news has already reported that about 80% of the passengers’ “next of kin” have been contacted. Family and friends have even gone to both locations’ airports to congregate for support and the latest news. It reminded me of when my mom told me that Ed was missing and how scared and helpless I felt. All of these people on that plane have people who love them but can’t do anything to help. And it’s just a matter of time that we find out whether they are still alive (doubtful at this point) or dead in some ocean, body of water, or forest. The pain they are feeling is something I am acutely aware of. The worst thing is when the only thing you can really do is wait – wait for news of an outcome that you have absolutely zero control over.

Your parents will likely be the most honest people you will ever know – at least, honest when it comes to what they think of and how they perceive you. Sometimes, you will love it, and other times (maybe most times) even hate it, but let’s face it – they’re probably doing it because they know that no one else has the guts to be as blunt. When you have crappy grades, they will remind you to work harder. You, in turn, will resent them and curse under your breath. When the guy you love dumps you and they tell you that they saw it coming ages ago, you will cry and want to hate them. And when they tell you that you are getting older and can see the age on your face, you will give them a look like, “great, I already knew that, but I was hoping no one else could see it!” That was me last week.

My mom was reminding me that I am 28, and I will turn 29 next year (yes, I know how to count, Mommy). You’re not getting any younger, she said (I don’t believe anyone is?). And then comes the very hated yet anticipated “when are you getting engaged/married” discussion, where she basically tells me that as I am getting older and my face shows it, men won’t want to marry me once I get past 30. So much for Sex and the City changing the genuine perspectives of this world.

I don’t look that bad, do I?