I had a dream last night that I was in my parents’ house sitting in the living room with my mom, discussing the invitation list for the wedding and who would be likely to come and who would not. I knew this was a dream immediately because I would never be sitting down to have any formal conversation about wedding planning with my parents. My mom just wants to know the date and location and little else, and the one time I’ve mentioned wedding venue research planning to my dad, he said, “Oh,” and then immediately changed the subject. The two of them never had a real wedding; they had the equivalent of a city hall wedding in Quy Nhon, and then my dad sent my mom on a plane to San Francisco while my dad finished his service in Vietnam. These were all practical decisions — no fuss, no flowers, nothing exciting or even remotely elaborate out of practical reasons (being in war-torn Vietnam) and financial reasons (both my parents were obviously broke and had no money, and neither did either set of their parents). So from their perspective, weddings aren’t really a necessity. If we had to be cynical about it, weddings are just an ostentatious way of showing off to the world how much you have to potentially spend, as well as a way to be materialistic and get more gifts and money from family and friends.

So in the dream, we’re sitting and discussing, and we’re going over family lists, friend lists, and Chris’s side. My mom suddenly breaks down and starts crying, and when I ask her what’s wrong, she says that Ed isn’t on this list, and that Ed won’t be coming to the wedding no matter what, but he should be on the list and he should be coming. I immediately feel awful and get a sick feeling in my throat, and then I start crying, too.

Then I wake up, and I am moaning and crying without realizing I have woken up.

I knew this was going to be difficult for me — going through this big process and stage in my life without my brother’s presence. In reality, Ed probably would not have been involved much at all in the wedding planning. He might have given his two cents here and there on things like location, venue, or even wedding favors, but the most exciting thing for him would have been the wedding day. But this is my reality now — an earthly world without him. Every small and big step I take in my life from the point of his death onward will be without him, his annoying comments, his little smiles and pats of affection. This is my reality now.

As a birthday gift, my friend got me a Valentine’s day card making workshop at the Paper Source on the Upper West Side. It’s probably one of the most thoughtful gifts I’ve been given since I love arts and crafts, particularly card making, and I’ve always wanted to try heat embossing but have been scared to do it by myself.

During the workshop, I was chatting with the woman sitting across from me and the class instructor, who is actually a volunteer at Paper Source who teaches classes for fun. She has a day job that she finds un-stimulating, so she does these classes and crafts in her free time as her source of creativity. We were all talking about how much we loved handmade things and homemade cards, but we knew few other people who are as obsessed or passionate.

The sad thing about that is that it’s the most exciting thing not just to give a card you spent so much time on, but to know that the person who received it knows how much effort you put into it and loves it just as much, if not more. But how often do we meet people like this in the busy times that we live now? If I add a heat embossed stamp image to each envelope of my wedding invitations, which of my guests is actually going to notice the raised design on the outside and even call it out?

After three years of having first level status on two different airlines, I was tired of just having the equivalent of “silver” or “gold” status. I wanted platinum status on airlines. I was sick of always going to the airport and knowing I’d only get lounge access because of Chris’s Qantas club membership or because of his oneworld sapphire status. And then this past year, from both work and fun travel, I gained my own platinum status. And my platinum status card arrived in the mail today! I’d finally get into lounges in my own right!

Wrong. The pamphlet that accompanied my platinum card said I would get oneworld partner airline access — only if flying abroad on either American Airlines or partner airlines. And unfortunately, Canada, Mexico, Bermuda, and anywhere in the Caribbean do not count as “international” destinations. When I am flying my cross country flights from New York City to San Francisco, I will get no lounge access. When I take flights for work to Atlanta or Fort Lauderdale, no lounge access for me.

I called an AA Platinum representative and lectured her about how little logic there was in granting American Airlines platinum members access to partner lounges on international flights but no lounge access too American Airline platinum members on domestic flights. The domestic flights will be the majority of the flights I will be taking — I live in this country, and that’s why I’m loyal to this domestic airline! Why can’t you people understand this? She gave a sympathetic sigh and said there was nothing she could do since it also didn’t make much sense to her, but she couldn’t change or make the rules. And then she asked if I wanted to purchase lounge access for $450 this year (discounted from $500 for non-status members) or pay 65,000 miles.

They are getting no more of my money. They get enough as is.

Yesterday, I redeemed my Sephora coupon for a complimentary makeover. It was set to expire next month, and I had no idea when else I’d want to have my makeup professionally done. The makeup artist who was working on me asked what kind of look I was going for. I told her I was going out to celebrate my birthday last night, so I wanted a birthday look that maybe would play up my eyes. Can we go for the “smoky eye” look? And so she proceeded to spend the next 90 minutes working on my face. The request for “light” skin coverage apparently wasn’t heard or was just ignored.

When she was done and gave me the mirror, I looked at my reflection in complete shock. I could barely recognize myself. I think those are my eyes, and that’s my nose, but now my nose looks a bit distorted because of all the foundation. I looked like a vampy, exotic Asian, with eyes that were almost made to look slanted up. I had to ask her to tone that down, so she altered it slightly.

My friend told me last night that she thought I looked amazing, that the only reason I didn’t like it was because I just wasn’t used to seeing myself made up like this. Now I know what I do not want as a wedding look, or any look ever again.

Since the engagement, I’ve been subscribing to different wedding websites and their daily/weekly updates. They’re supposed to be giving me ideas for what to do for my “big day.” While it has certainly done this, it’s also clogged my inbox full of a lot of ideas, thoughts, and sayings that really are either not helpful at all or are so obvious that I’d have to think that the majority of people who read this must be stupid to otherwise not know this stuff.

The latest “cool” email I’ve received is titled, “We’re calling the best wedding songs of 2015 now.” Why would anyone want to choose a wedding song that is supposed to be an “it” song of the year? I thought that the first dance wedding song was supposed to be a song that was special and meant something to that particular couple? If you have been together for at least two years, wouldn’t your song… be a bit older than the year you are getting married? Why would you want your wedding song to be something that is just “in” for the moment or the year? I’d hope it isn’t a reflection of your union..

Now I know why a lot of people just suck it up and pay the per person head count for the venue they choose. I just found out how painful it can be to source an external caterer.

One place I am looking at has a “preferred external caterer” list. If you do not use one of these preferred vendors, you will be charged an extra $1,000 AUD just for them to be vetted to ensure that they have their food license and follow proper sanitation and food guidelines.

Some of these caterers do not offer alcohol. Some offer just beer and wine. What does that mean — I have to source my own alcohol? Oh, and then some don’t offer dessert table spreads and just do plated desserts (of course, this usually costs more). And if you choose external catering, the actual venue just charges you an insanely high “venue hire” fee, and all they will do is literally give you the space, tables, and cutlery (and the paper towels in the bathroom… yes, it’s that explicit and noted in the “what’s included?” section of the form. They won’t cut your cake. They certainly won’t serve it. And they will charge you a per-hour fee for added security. I guess hiring an external caterer increases the chance of crime?!

One of the reasons I like the fact that I grew up in an urban area where people both drive and take relatively reliable public transit is that I grew up knowing the streets of the city I grew up in. I knew how to take the bus or train to places, and once I started driving, I knew what routes to take where. The fear I’ve had of having children in a suburban environment is that they would not be street smart. They’d inevitably be sheltered, not know what life was like outside their own neighborhood, and when brought into an urban area, feel lost and not know where the hell they are going.

Well today, I interviewed a prospective Wellesley student who commuted into Manhattan to meet me, and she waited for me at the wrong cafe location, even though I gave her a link which clearly noted the correct address with cross streets. When she realized she was at the wrong location after I texted her, she called me again to ask me which direction was uptown and downtown on the avenue she was standing at. When we finally met and sat down for her interview, she said that her parents had insisted on coming with her in case she would get lost, and she scoffed at them and said, “I’m 17 years old — I can get around New York City!”

Oh well.

I used to get told all the time that if I waited until I got a little bit older (say, late twenties, early thirties) to get married that I wouldn’t have to worry so much about my friends being able to afford coming to my wedding. The logic here is that we’d all have paid off most of our college debt if we had any, and if we work, we’d have climbed the ladder a bit by now and have higher salaries. Inevitably no matter where the wedding was, a decent handful of people would need to travel, and that of course would affect my friends, who are all around my age.

Well, why am I at that stage of life now and I don’t feel any relief in this area, and instead I feel more guilt?

Two out of my three bridesmaids do not have stable, “career” type jobs. One even said to me after I got engaged and asked her to be my bridesmaid, “Please don’t make me go all over the world for your wedding activities.” I know how stressful it can be to be a maid-of-honor since I was one a few years ago, but I looked at the travel opportunities for the weddings and parties as more excuses for me to travel and see more places of the world. The other thing is that I know I have sacrificed and done a lot for my close friends so that they wouldn’t see it as such a “weight” on them to have to travel or do anything for my wedding. Aren’t they supposed to be happy and excited for me for this occasion? Or is everything even remotely out of their comfort zone just seen as a massive inconvenience or over-expense?

I haven’t remembered my dreams that vividly in the last few weeks, so I guess last night was a whole stream of them. I can’t seem to remember any of them now except for just one.

I am in some big dark room playing paintball with Chris and his cousins. Mind you, I don’t even know what paintball looks like and have only heard of it. I see all these different colors everywhere, and suddenly something knocks my left hand, and the diamond in my engagement ring cracks. An entire piece of it falls off. I hold my hand close to my eyes to examine it. Yep – it’s shattered. Too bad we didn’t get it insured.

Chris’s cousin comes over to inspect and has a worried look on his face. After a few moments of looking at it, he pats Chris on the back and says, “It’s okay. it won’t be that difficult to replace!”

Ouch.

The title of this post is misleading because no, I didn’t go to my 10-year high school reunion, but I do have friends and acquaintances who did attend and either sent me photos or posted photos from the event on Facebook. To any and all photos and mentions of the event, I am completely indifferent and have zero regrets that I did not attend and was not in town to attend.

I’m not sure where this indifference really came from. I look back apathetically at all areas of my schooling except for middle school, which I found to be the period of my life where I not only became the most confident (and perhaps the most stubborn), but actually realized I didn’t want to be like everyone else. I look back fondly on Lowell and Wellesley for its academics, but for social areas, I feel apathy to disdain. When I look back at Lowell, I just think of a lot of conformity, a lot of “everyone’s doing it, so we should do it, too!”, and a lot of pressure to try to outdo everyone else. Lowell, being over 60% Asian by the numbers (but probably more accurately 90% in a sea of black-haired people), was not at all representative of the real world and probably skewed my vision of what the “real world” could look like. Wellesley, with all its high achieving “I can conquer the world” women also skewed my vision of how competitive the world is. I’m not very competitive by personality, and I felt the weight of the world on me there. And I felt like I was failing.

While it would be nice to see some people I haven’t seen in over ten years now, I think that Facebook has allowed me to electronically “keep in touch” with those I somewhat cared about but didn’t feel the need to reach out to and vice versa. Maybe if Facebook didn’t exist, I would have a stronger inclination to care that such an event just passed me by.