Tonight, we went to the Women’s Project Theater in the Upper West side to see the show Hatefuck… or Hatef**k, or Hatefk, depending on how able you are to digest profane language. The show tells the story of a very intense and opinionated literature professor who accuses a best-selling novelist of trading in anti-Muslim stereotypes in exchange for fame and fortune. They are both Muslim of varying degrees, but despite their initial clashing, they end up finding themselves attracted to each other. The play begs the question of… how much are you willing to do in order to have your voice heard? How far are you willing to go in order to be paid well and “respected,” even if that means portraying your own people in a way that is not actually true?

There’s a very powerful scene where the professor and the novelist are yelling at each other, and the novelist says to her that people of their color do not have the right to complain about things like sexual harassment or mistreatment, that that is what only white people have the luxury and privilege of doing. They have to take every chance they get and suck up everything else because they have no choices, and that given that white people have the majority of the power in the world we live in, sometimes you have to accommodate and pander to what they want in order to have your voices heard, because otherwise, who will give you the chance? Your own people don’t have the power to give you that chance, but the white people do, so are you really going to pass that rare opportunity up?

That was probably one of the most depressing scenes I’ve seen in theater in a long time… Because it is so true.

Luke’s Lobster has become itself a mini chain not just here in New York City since I’ve moved here, but has expanded even beyond New York. You can now find a Luke’s Lobster that is walking distance of my company’s office in the financial district/South of Market area in San Francisco. It is no longer unique, and in fact, now, it is ubiquitous. So when colleagues at work say that they are doing a group order for Luke’s Lobster on Fridays, most Fridays, I opt out, but today, I decided to include myself… and was partially in regret at the end.

The rolls are small and a bit sad, even if the bun is quite tasty and well buttered and toasted. And while the lobster is coming from Maine, it never feels as exciting to have a lobster or a crab roll in a place where the lobster or crab isn’t actually from. Having them in places like Maine, Nova Scotia, and Prince Edward Island actually felt special because you knew that these little crustaceans were caught and cooked locally. They were cheaper because of it, too. Here in New York, you’d never trust any fish or crab from the water around here.

And then, as I thought this, I had a pang of guilt given my privilege for having traveled to all these lobster and crab destinations. But then that begged the question of: why should I feel guilty at all about this when I’m surrounded by a bunch of other privileged people in tech at the same lunch table who earn good money, have solid jobs, and have even more insane benefits? Is that guilt even warranted at this table?

I was one of the very last people hired on my team about two years ago who just had to do 1:1 interviews as part of my interview process, so no mock business reviews or presentations were required of me. Instead, after I started and had to go through product certifications, the final round of my onboarding was a mock business review meeting with fellow colleagues on my team, who would critique my presentation, discovery, and mock interaction with them as though this was a real customer meeting.

I’m pretty grateful for the fact that I didn’t have to do that because now, as someone who is interviewing potential candidates, I am truly pained watching prospective employees do mock business presentations. Thinking about the amount of prep work, Powerpoint finagling, and practice in public speaking makes me want to crawl into a ball and hide under my sheets. It’s not like I have an issue with presenting or speaking in meetings; it’s rather that the idea of a “simulated” or “mock” meeting drives me crazy. There are so many hypotheticals that go into the evaluation that you could easily get rated poorly when you actually did a great job, and vice versa.

Also, there’s a lot of randomness on our side, too, as the people who are evaluating. We have to make up “facts” on the spot to actually make this a meeting where conversations happen. This is when I have to catch myself from laughing or smiling too much because we’re literally lying as we go.

I met my friend for dinner tonight at the Canal Street Market, where we shared steamed rice noodle rolls, ceviche, and shaved ice. While I am not completely a fan of food markets for the sake of food markets, especially when a lot of food markets nowadays tend to be extremely expensive, Canal Street Market does a pretty good job of having reasonable price points and a varied selection of food. It’s not just Asian food here — they even have a token salad stall and a ceviche stall.

I thought about Joe’s Steamed Rice Roll, which I shared two of with my friend tonight, and which I just had a couple weeks ago in their original location in Flushing. It makes me happy to think about these small food businesses that started so small and humble in Flushing, and having made it and attracted endless lines and waits, have moved into Manhattan and even have their own branding. That reminded me of how big Xi’an Famous Foods has become, as well, also having started in a tiny food stall in a nondescript basement in Flushing. When there’s nothing else, there is still hope for good and delicious food.

Our friends in Sacramento came to visit this week and came over for brunch today. Even though it’s been a year since we last saw them, not a lot has changed for us. We’re still doing the things we always do: living in the same apartment, experimenting with different recipes in the kitchen, eating out, theater, work, work travel, and fun travel. On their end, while they’re fully settled into their new home they bought in Sacramento, it’s been a lot of family life for them given they have family nearby, and not as many friends. They haven’t spent as much time looking for new friends because most of their out-of-work time is either spent with each other after work or with family on weekends. Family time really is their social time now.

For myself, I don’t really mind not being that close to any family. I guess I have one cousin in New York, but he’s not a desirable person to spend social time with. I kind of like that when we visit our family in San Francisco and Melbourne that it feels like a special time because we’re not always there. You’re no longer special and prioritized when you live in the same place with someone, right?

A couple friend of ours who relocated to northern California last year are in town this week for work, and so they invited themselves (well, they knew we’d agree if we were also in town) over for Sunday brunch. I got excited since we haven’t seen them in about a year since they relocated to Sacramento, but I also got excited because it meant I’d have another opportunity to try out some new recipes. Since I got my Instant Pot, I knew I wanted to test out the “yogurt” incubator mode to make dosa/idli batter. Dosa and idli are made from the exact same fermented batter; the only difference is that the idli batter is the fermented batter as it is once it’s finished rising, while the dosa batter is idli batter that is thinned out with water. This helps with getting it nice and crispy when you fry it on a pan to make a super thin crepe. Dosa batter, traditionally, doesn’t use any real learners like yeast or baking soda; it relies completely on the fermentation coming from the urad dal lentils, rice, and methi seeds. This failed the last time I tried it last year, and the batter never rose, and I had thick crappy pancakes to eat for a whole week because I didn’t want to throw out the batter (wasted food is the enemy in my house). So, I don’t know if it’s the problem of the air in this apartment or what, but I’m hoping the Instant Pot incubating mode can resolve my worries.

I took one of my customers out to lunch today, and one of the members of the team is planning a two-week-long vacation to Japan, visiting multiple cities both urban and in the countryside. I asked him where he was going, and given his interests, I suggested he add Hiroshima to the list. It’s strange to me to hear about Americans visiting Japan, some multiple times, and never expressing any desire to go to Hiroshima, the city that this country decided to flatten and decimate within seconds at the end of World War II. I don’t want to be openly judgmental about it, but I try to be effusive when I recommend it from a historical and empathetic perspective. Don’t we as Americans have a responsibility to know what we did to this group of innocent people during one of the major world wars? And aside from that, Hiroshima is a beautiful city with Miyajima Island, a beautiful half- or full-day trip away, as well as the delicious local oysters and okonomiyaki. To me, it’s a win-win to add this city to one’s Japan itinerary.

I gave him my 2-minute pitch, and at the end of it, he said, “I’m sold. Send me all your recommendations there, and I’ll retinker my itinerary.”

That’s what I can sell without even trying: food and and travel.

I went out to Forest Hills today to attend a friend’s housewarming party/baby shower. Since Chris is traveling internationally, I went on my own. And I’d never really felt more unattached than when I showed up at this party, where literally everyone, with the exception of the host’s two single friends, his mother, and his grandmother, were all paired up. I’m generally a social and outgoing person, but at this party, pretty much no one wanted to talk to me because everyone seemed to be glued at the hip to their plus-one/boyfriend/girlfriend/husband/wife. The people who ended up talking to me were 1) the host obviously and 2) the two single male friends who came. One of the friends was familiar to me since I met him the last time I came to this friend’s house for a dinner, and so he ended up latching onto me, for better or for worse. We clearly had very little in common, so it was a nice break when the second male friend arrived and could change up the conversation topics. I got asked a few times where my husband was… not because anyone knew Chris, but because they saw the wedding band/engagement rings on my left hand. Go figure that everyone is going to want to size me up to some degree.

I don’t really think about being married that often in a social context because…. I suppose I’ve never really had to think about it. Chris and I are not the couple who attends an event and cannot be separated. In fact, we tend to break off pretty often, and sometimes it seems like he’s just more social when I am not there. But I could tell that the host’s friend who latched onto me was very cognizant of being single in a party where pretty much everyone was paired off. And I’m sure it made him feel self-conscious and perhaps even made him question his self-worth.

We don’t really live in a society that’s progressive enough to not judge people who are single by their early- to mid-30s sadly. I wish it didn’t have to be this way. But we live in a judgmental world. Just because someone is dating someone or married to someone doesn’t necessarily mean that he’s a better person or more “put together” than someone who is not paired off. I don’t think I will live to see the day when this is not a measure we have to hold ourselves against.

My dad is not the kind of person who shows his emotions. He’s the stereotypical Asian male, the one who is usually stoic, sticks with the facts and the tasks at hand and never tries to enter the realm of feelings and inner thoughts.

I sent him this article from the New York Times about a successful woman who experienced her own stroke quite young, the same article I wrote about last week. I said to him over email, hey, sometimes, even when you think you are healthy and are doing the right thing, things happen, and you need to treat them with urgency.

He replied back with something along the lines of, “Luke Perry’s situation was probably more complicated than that. He was likely on drugs!”

I responded, eh. Should we really be that quick to assume drugs were responsible for this? I’m not fully sure?

My dad’s last response to me on this via email: Even if you think you are healthy because you’re eating relatively healthily and exercising regularly, if you work in an office full of politics and have a stressful work life, then you aren’t healthy!

I stared at that short and sweet email for a while. He’s basically saying to me… that that is my life. That’s probably Chris’s life.

Then, I thought about all those times my dad has always said that working for someone else is always going to be terrible because you are at the beck and call of someone else. You are constantly serving someone else and not yourself, that the best way to live is to work for oneself because you can run your life the way you want it and don’t have to answer to anyone.

Before I left to go back to New York on this last trip home, he said, “Remember to take care of yourself,” with a stern voice. My dad worries about me. I know he does because my mom always tells me that he wonders if I am getting enough sleep or am stressed out from work… because they know I would never tell them if it was bad.

My dad is right, though. Working for someone else really does suck… especially when you have officially gotten recognized for being a top performer and are not rewarded proportionally for it.

It’s a small world we live in, but this small world certainly has a lot of people… a lot who are smart, and even more who are dumber than dumb. The worst people, to me, are the ones who feel entitled to whatever they get or want.

I had a pretty sour end to the last company I was employed at. To this day, I only actively keep in touch and spend time with one person from there. Everyone else… I truly could care less about. But when I left, only a very small handful of people reached out to me to be cordial. Outside of those people, I really could care less. So it was amusing to me when one of the people who totally ignored me when I left sent me a message that started with “Hi friend!”, then asking me how I like my current company because she’s considering applying (she’s still at said last shitty company), and would appreciate a referral.

Wow. Really?

I deleted it and will not respond, but if I did, this is what I would have said: “If you think you are going to get any favors from me when you never reached out to me and ignored me upon my departure, you can keep dreaming, you entitled loser.”

What goes around comes around. If you are kind to me, I will likely remember it forever and go out of my way for you. But if you aren’t…. you can expect absolutely nothing from me. Ever.