I’ve never lived in a place without working plumbing. Isn’t that supposed to be part of the guaranteed glory of living in America, that your home should have working plumbing? This is partly why I was slightly taken aback when I was reading Jeannette Walls’s memoir Glass Castle to find out that pretty much her entire childhood, she lived in homes without toilets across this country. She and her siblings lived in rural areas where they’d literally just drop their pants and pee in grass, or dig holes in fields and take a dump.

I thought about this when I came to our new office location today. It’s our first day in the new office space. The office space is beautiful and modern, and it’s clear that a lot of work was put into renovating the space and building it exactly as our company wanted it: lots of natural light in every section of the floor, huge windows, high ceilings, a beautiful and brand new open kitchen space complete with three refrigerators, a double sink, and a massive kitchen island. The conference rooms all have glass doors and walls, and every room is hooked up with the latest and greatest for video and phone conferencing. Our desks are all adjustable via a button for sitting, standing, or half-sitting on stools. The one thing that was lacking? Working toilets. The toilets would not flush. And the plumbers were delayed in getting to us.

What were the alternatives? 1) Take the freight elevator to the basement where a haunted-house-like bathroom exists. 2) Walk two blocks north along Fifth Avenue to the old office space, where our badges can still scan us in and we can still use those bathrooms. Yay!

This is definitely a New York City thing when everything seems perfect during a move except one, big glaring issue. Classic New York.

Tonight, we had an early celebration of Chris’s dad’s birthday at one of New York’s top rated “romantic” restaurants, One If By Land, Two If By Sea. The food and the service were phenomenal; the portion were actually fairly large for a tasting menu, and although some dishes like the chocolate souffle were quite simple, the comforting flavors did not disappoint, proving that sometimes the best dishes really can be the simplest.

The funny thing about restaurants rated as “romantic” is that even in today’s day and age that welcomes the eclectic and the modern, the term “romantic” still seems to conjure the same images and notions that were thought of decades ago, things like long and lit candles, white or red roses, white linen table clothes, and dimly lit dining rooms. When I sat down at our table and took a look around the dining room, the top-top tables were what was most comical to me; they had long white table cloths topped with a little bouquet of white roses, with long white candles lit and flickering. It was just like an image out of those “romantic” dates that Jack Tripper used to do in the popular 80’s comedy TV series Three’s Company. I felt like we were in a very traditional dining room from the 80s tonight.

Tonight, we took Chris’s parents to see Arthur Miller’s play The Price on Broadway. Since Obama and his daughter went to see it months ago, the ticket prices have skyrocketed, but we got these tickets for Chris’s parents as a late birthday gift for his mom. The show didn’t disappoint either from a performance standpoint or a cast standpoint; Mark Ruffalo and Danny DeVito star in it, and their performances were extremely strong and convincing.

Arthur Miller has a special place in my heart as a playwright, as two of my favorite plays I studied, read, and watched in high school are by him. Death of a Salesman was his play that resonated the most with me, as so many of the family delusions and quest for the American dream painfully reminded me of my own family at a vulnerable and self-seeking time in my life. The Crucible, a favorite among many as a reminder of the Salem witch trials  of the 17th century, spoke to me in how it brings up the theme of perception and reputation. What truly creates the reputations that we may be proud (or not) of, the name that we seek to have and have remembered about us regardless of whether we are living or have passed, and in general, what is our “place” in society?

In conjuring all these themes, Miller oftentimes uses family dysfunction as the mechanism to make us think about these tough questions. So I suppose if you think about constantly seeing family dysfunction on stage, you’d understand why I like him so much. It’s like he’s speaking directly to me about all the familial insanities that are possible.

Tonight, we went to Hao Noodle and Tea by Madam Zhu’s Kitchen for dinner. Madam Zhu’s is a Sichuanese-influenced Chinese restaurant that started in mainland China and has locations in Shanghai, Beijing, and Hangzhou, and they’ve expanded to the U.S. with this New York City location. I knew that it would be a more upscale representation of Chinese food, but I wasn’t quite prepared for how modern not only the decor but the dishes would be in terms of the spin they’ve taken with the flavors and presentation. Not only that, another thing that was interesting was that the staff was very diverse; it was not all Chinese hosts and servers and bus boys, but a variety of colors. In fact, I think that only one of the wait staff who helped us was actually ethnically Chinese. It’s exciting to see this, as it means that more people are becoming open-minded to Chinese food and how incredible it can be. It’s not just the stereotypical Americanized corn-starch goop and sweet and sour pork that is so often generically on menus. This is real, beautiful, and tasty food.

You know you’ve been in New York City way too long when you go to a “fine dining” restaurant and marvel at how “inexpensive” the dishes are when the highest price points are $20-22. That’s what happened to me tonight when we took Chris’s parents, who just arrived from their multi-destination trip, to Tastings Social Presents Mountain Bird in Spanish Harlem. Maybe the lower prices are due to its location. Maybe it’s because the chef and owners are over the idea that quality food and presentation need to be so stuffy and overpriced. Whatever it is, the focus of the menu is around poultry, and the chef did an amazing job with all forms of the duck he used. This is probably one of the best and most reasonably priced meals we’ve had in a long time in the city. We really should be spending more time in Spanish Harlem, especially given how close it is to our apartment.

Here are the signs that you either grew up with half-glass-empty parents or you’ve spent too much time in New York: when a person approaches you on the street for directions, and you slowly start backing away because you wonder in the back of your mind whether this person is trying to con you into something or potentially steal your wallet without you knowing. That happened to me during a lunchtime walk today. This guy just wanted to know how to get to a certain area via the subway, and I really thought he was getting too close into my personal space, so I started backing away, even as he kept moving closer to me.

In New York, we get cramped on subway trains and platforms, and we’re used to being in massive crowds with little breathing room or “personal space.” Yet, as New Yorkers, we also develop defense mechanisms and forms of self-protection, and one of them is to never let anyone get too physically close to you unless it’s absolutely necessary (e.g. subway car during rush hour). I wonder if I’ll never get rid of this mentality once I leave New York… if I ever leave New York?

Today, for the first time in the longest time I can remember, I arrived at the gym at 6:45am. I’ve been going to the Upper East Side Crunch for the last several months, but I haven’t gone this early until now. With my new job, I want to get to the office earlier (yes, this is what I do now that I actually care about my job), which means I need to get to the gym earlier.

So, you can imagine my absolute horror when, for the first time in almost eight years of having a New York City gym membership, I arrived to the cardio area to find that every single cardio machine was occupied. The entire row of treadmills was full of people running; even the ellipticals and rowing machines were all taken. I went to fill my water bottle and came back, and lucky for me, two ellipticals were freed up, so I grabbed one of them immediately. It wasn’t ideal, as I’d prefer to use a treadmill, but this was better than waiting in the mini line that started to form for the treadmills in the next few minutes. There was no way I was going to wait in a line for a treadmill this morning — or any morning, for that matter.

Upper East Side residents… total over-achievers. What time did these people arrive at the gym, 6 or 6:30am?!!!!!! I really need to get my butt there earlier now.

I came back to see my hair stylist this evening after work to have some additional highlights done, and as she’s adding toner to my hair, she is gazing lovingly at my face (she always has this look of love on her face. I swear it’s true).

“I have something I’ve been wanting to ask you, but I don’t want you to get offended,” she began. “So I’m just going to ask you straight. Do you get lip injections, and if you do, can you refer me to the doctor who does it for you?”

I immediately started laughing and told her I had never had any lip-plumping injections in my life, that my lips are naturally like this. Yes, I wear lip gloss or lip balm, but that’s all I ever really do. I don’t use any of those fancy Sephora lip plumping products, nor do I take any of the crazy pills on the market that are supposed to fatten your lips.

“Your lips are naturally like that? Who do you get this from – your mom or your dad? And you’re Chinese? Chinese people have lips that are so plump and luscious LIKE YOURS?”

I guess so. 🙂

Over 3.5 years ago, I started a new job at a social media SaaS company. That day was about 2.5 weeks after my brother died, so I wasn’t feeling the greatest. That day was also pretty terrible because it was obvious I was not wanted.

Why would I say this? Well, let’s see. Only a handful of people knew I was starting, including HR, and when I walked in at the 10am time I was asked to come in, the two guys sitting around me both exchanged a very obvious and not subtle in any way, “Who the hell is this girl?” look as I sat down and got settled in with my computer. Two women from HR took me to lunch because they felt sorry no one on my “team” (I had no one on my team other than my then-boss, who was supposedly busy, as I was the first person hired to be on this new team) was taking me out. No one introduced me to anyone. Maybe one or two people came to introduce themselves to me. Other than that, I was pretty much ignored. I came in late and left at around 5. It was a pretty boring and uneventful first day. I should have known that day that this was going to be a really crappy ride, but I stuck to my guns and rode it out.

Today, I’ve started a new job, one with a company that I can actually say I am proud to be a part of. Before I even began, a welcome email was sent to all relevant teams announcing that I would be joining. I got a massive influx of email to my personal email address to welcome me, over a dozen LinkedIn connection requests, and many schedules detailing my daily events of what to expect. When I arrived today, a number of people came up to introduce themselves, saying they were greatly anticipating my arrival, and the folks who interviewed me bear-hugged me nearly to death. Several people sat down to have lunch with me, and we chatted about random things from CrossFit to slowing metabolisms to genetics to chocolate and cookies.

It is so basic, but it feels really good to feel wanted.