Tonight’s family chat felt particularly depressing. We haven’t seen Chris’s family since last Christmas, and who the hell knows when we will ever be able to see them again. They asked about our mediocre Thanksgiving at home, which was likely the worst Thanksgiving I’ve ever had as pathetic as that sounds. We asked them about their plans for Chris’s parents to go to Sydney this Christmas to spend time with Chris’s brother. Chris’s family, even those in Melbourne, will not all be getting together for Christmas this year, either, as people are spending time with their immediate families or just trying to stay away from large gatherings. 2020 is truly a sad and divided year where we are all apart.

I was icing my elbows for some of the time that we were on the Hangout, and Chris’s mom asked about what I was doing. I reminded them that I’ve been going to physical therapy to treat my condition, which apparently has been diagnosed as cubital tunnel syndrome. Chris’s mom, being a doctor, was puzzled initially, and started explaining what cubital tunnel syndrome is to Chris’s dad. “It affects the ulnar nerve that runs down from the neck to the hand,” she told him. She turned to me: “It’s strange that you would get this. Ulnar nerve damage is usually a result of trauma.”

Ahhhh. Yes, in general, that was true once upon a time… prior to the creation of MOBILE PHONES.

This is when it hits me that just because someone may be a doctor or whatever professional title they have, that doesn’t necessarily mean that they stay up to date with the latest awful things happening in medicine, diagnoses, and society at large. Perhaps that’s why all doctors and all professionals should be trained and updated in their fields. In the last 10 years, there’s been a ridiculous rise in the cases of cubital tunnel syndrome, and the vast majority of those arise from excessive mobile phone use. Yep, you’re reading the post of one of those affected losers right here.

Four weeks ago, I had no idea what “cubital tunnel syndrome” was. I didn’t know the name of this nerve running from my neck down to my hand. And unfortunately, now I know. Sometimes, ignorance really can be bliss.

I really do wish I were still that ignorant.

About two years ago, I read an article in the New York Times discussing how Nepali tea is growing in popularity. While much of the world of tea lovers is aware of countries like China, Japan, Taiwan, and India for producing exquisite teas, tea from Nepal was virtually unknown, and some Nepalese folks decided to change that while spreading the goodness of tea from this part of the world in the U.S.

The funny thing about Darjeeling being world-renowned and loved is that similar to olive oil, much of the “Darjeeling” that is distributed around the world is actually fake. While I’ve enjoyed many Darjeelings, who the heck knows if they were authentic or a mix of real or fake. I’m no Darjeeling expert at all. All I know is that I still enjoyed them and their distinct flavor. Nepal, not being too far away from the Darjeeling region of India, wants to become the next Darjeeling in some respects, and if they can do it in a sustainable way, then I’d be happy to support them.

So I bookmarked Nepali Tea Traders and Nepal Tea LLC years ago, and finally I got reminded of them when I got an email from another tea company regarding their Black Friday sales last week. I remembered I had wanted to support Nepali tea small businesses, so I went to both of these websites, and I ended up choosing the second one because, well, they had a smaller minimum to buy in order to qualify for free shipping, plus they were willing to offer 15% off for Black Friday. I chose three teas: one Kumari gold tea (which is like a lighter black tea), one Ganesha green tea, and one I was wary of, but after reading so many good reviews, I figured I had to try it: Nepali Breakfast tea. This is their version of a chai blend with spices, and while I am partial to chai with just fresh ginger, cardamom, and the occasional sprinkle of fennel seeds and a single clove or two, I decided to try this out. Reviews said it was warm with a light spice. Chai blends I’ve tried previously have just been too strong for me: the pepper, clove, or cinnamon has been overpowering.

I tried the Nepali breakfast with 50/50 ratio of water to milk this morning, and I was blown away by how good it was: it really was as the reviewers described: warm, lightly spiced, and very comforting. There’s no ginger in this, which is what I love in my chai, but I actually didn’t miss the ginger at all. I even had Chris try some of it, as he’s usually averse to strongly spiced chai, especially the amount of ginger I like in mine, and he agreed this was very good.

This is definitely a great chai when I feel like chai, but I cannot be bothered to crush cardamom pods and slice and smash ginger in the morning. I’m so happy I can not only support a small business but also finally support Nepali tea while enjoying one of my favorite things.

Chris has been giving me look-back reminders of fun things we’ve done on a given day in the last year. “Babe, do you know what we were doing last year today?” He’ll glance over at me with a bit of a smirk, knowing he’s about to do something to annoy me. “Last year, we were taking our day trip from Brussels to Brugges!” Or, another one: “today, were exploring Christmas markets in Brussels!” And with the first of December being today, he said, “and today, we were counting down the days until we would be boarding our flight to summer in Australia!”

I detest this. I detest this very much. While he likes to do look-backs all the time, this year, it’s particularly frustrating because we have absolutely nothing to look forward to. It’s one thing to reminisce on the fun we’ve had in the past when there is fun to look forward to in the future, but we have virtually nothing. While vaccines are being approved around the globe now, that means absolutely nothing for what will happen here in the U.S. because I generally believe that this country likes to prescribe to absolute stupidity and lack of common sense. And oh yes, the anti-vaxxers, some of whom I personally know, are having a field day now, insisting via their social media platform of choice that they predicted this ALL along: COVID-19 is a GLOBAL CONSPIRACY TO GET EVERYONE IN THE WORLD VACCINATED!

I have nothing to look forward to. And my elbow pain is still persisting. I hate everything.

Today was pretty miserable. It wasn’t a particularly busy day, but as l looked at my work calendar through the week, slowly but surely, my time blocks started getting totally filled up. I’m not sure how this happens where at the beginning of the week, it appears that I have a decent amount of work and meetings, and as Monday ends, my calendar has become completely full. This is awful.

After a long weekend, everyone wants to be polite and ask you how your weekend went. And my response was generally the same, almost down to the last word. At the beginning of the weekend, you think, wow, I have so much time! I can do all these things! And you get really ambitious about everything you want to accomplish. And then, when Sunday finally rolls by, you get a little depressed, thinking, how did those four whole days roll by and we’re already right around the corner from MONDAY? WHY? HOW????

There never feels like there’s enough time to both accomplish everything you want to do and also relax. Because yes, when you’re an adult with all these responsibilities, you actually have to make time to relax and do nothing.

Since the summer, I’ve been trying to promote my YouTube videos more across different social media platform groups to raise awareness of my channel and my brand. About 99.99 percent of the time, when there is engagement, it’s been pretty positive. I’ve had a lot of people on Reddit and Facebook actually make the dishes that I wrote out or had videos for, and it’s been really flattering. A number of these people have also followed me across my social media handles, which has also helped energize me and give me more reason to continue doing this.

Unfortunately, since we are in the online space full of trolls and bullies, there will inevitably be haters. For the most part, I have zero desire to engage. But this one comment really did need to be addressed. One person insisted two times that my Vietnamese roast chicken recipe was absolutely not authentic, whether it was Vietnamese or Vietnamese-American, and continued to try to troll me. And another person piled on. My general response was this:

“I always find it both curious and comical when I speak with people about the concept of “authenticity” of food, and they vehemently deny that a dish is “authentic” merely because they believe neither they nor their family members have encountered it. Vietnam is a country of over 95 million people, and the Vietnamese diaspora around the world adds even more to that number. Simply because you and your bubble have never come across this does not make it “not” Vietnamese. For those unfamiliar with the Vietnamese language, “ga” means chicken, and “roti” comes from the French word which means “roasted.” So, if you don’t consider this “roast chicken,” well… maybe you should think about what the words “roast” and “chicken”mean. I’m merely here to share recipes that are delicious and what I grew up with as someone who identifies as Vietnamese. If you, for whatever reason, believe yourself to be more “Vietnamese,” then that’s your own issue to take. Cheers! :)”

Someone responded that this was an arrogant response and “destroyed” all my credibility. I’ve actually gotten a lot of feedback, even from complete strangers, that my response was very calm, reasoned, and thoughtful. If you cannot call out someone for being close minded in their response and not considering the world bigger than their bubble, then… I guess the conversation is over.

The most hilarious response came through direct message on Instagram where some white guy, who clearly has nothing else better to do with his time than bully strangers, who goes by onekind81 – feel free to look this jerk up, told me that my dish was not authentic and that I was “pandering to white people.” I literally laughed out loud when I read it, reported the comment, and blocked his account. It’s always funny to hear a white guy try to tell me, a Chinese-Vietnamese woman, that the food I make from my OWN culture, which he has no idea about, is not authentic, and that I, for one, am actually pandering to white people… LIKE HIMSELF? Huh?

I’ve often read and heard about Inwood as being a great neighborhood of Manhattan. Right under Marble Hill, Inwood is the second northernmost neighborhood on the entire island of Manhattan. If you come from where we live, you can take the A train, which runs express all the way to the last stop along the A line, which is 205th Street. We visited Inwood today, and as we were strolling through the area, I was annoyed with myself for not having visited sooner.

Inwood, by the Census numbers, has a very high Dominican population, but when you look around on any street, it feels extremely diverse and mixed. You can hear languages ranging from Spanish to English to African languages I cannot even name. You see people of literally all colors walking around and mingling with each other. On a single block, you can see a Chinese, Japanese, Puerto Rican, Dominican, “New American,” pizza parlor, and Mexican spot. There’s also this huge park up there that feels like it goes on forever, and today, although we’re at the end of November, the autumn colors really shone through everywhere we walked.

As we walked around and stopped at a few places, including a delicious bakery owned by a husband-and-husband team (that had MY ALL TIME FAVORITE PISTACHIO ECLAIR IN THE WORLD), a hole-in-the-wall taco spot that made the most delicious al pastor and lengua tacos, a pizza-by-the-slice joint, and a wine bar, I thought to myself, hmmmmm. This would be a really great neighborhood to live in. It feels like Manhattan because it is in Manhattan, but it also kind of feels like a suburb of the city. Yet it’s super diverse and has all kinds of interesting businesses. But… then I immediately thought. I love Queens. I love Manhattan Chinatown. If we were to live at 205th street, I’d be soooo far away from both, and it would take so much longer to get to both of these areas.

Queens is my first New York home. I love my trips there every time we go back. and Manhattan Chinatown is like another form of home to me. I can’t be that far away from either, otherwise I’d be pretty sad.

I feel like this is the first weekend when I actually feel pretty down, and that’s saying a lot since this pandemic began way back in March, which is now nearly nine months ago. I’ve been constantly telling myself to make the most out of this time. Read more! Make more videos! Edit more! Exercise more! Do more face masking! Experiment with more different recipes! DO MORE! I just feel exhausted. I’ve felt exhausted for the last week or so. My mind and my body are slower, and I feel more numb. I suppose it doesn’t help that my cubital tunnel dull pain in my elbows is still lingering. My PT says that since we just recently started the nerve flossing exercises that I likely will not see real, tangible improvement for at least 3-4 weeks. That was just so depressing to hear. I almost cried. I’m 34 years old, and I have a nerve problem in my elbows. I told my doctor friend this, and she was at once in disbelief and in rage. “You’re too young for these kinds of problems!” I hate everything today.

I was thinking about all of the things we’ve done in previous years, ranging from personal to work travel around the country and world. I thought about events we’ve gone to, from food festivals to comedy shows to off Broadway shows. I’ve thought about catch-ups and events with friends. I thought about all our trips to Asia and Canada over the last seven summers, plus our European Thanksgiving trips and the Christmas markets we got to mingle in and be a part of. I thought about how I have not been back home to San Francisco since February — that was nine months ago. In the last seven years, I was really happy about my routine of going back home about 3-4 times per year. It felt like a good number of visits to go home and a solid amount of time to spend with family and friends back home. I’ve even thought about the prior “normal” act of hugging or kissing a family member or friend upon seeing them, and all of it just drove me nuts this morning.

Nothing is normal anymore; everything feels wrecked. Even now, when I see TV shows on Netflix or HBO and I see people interacting in offices and hugging, I immediately think, as a gut reaction, “Why are they not wearing masks?” And for a moment today, I thought, I really miss San Francisco. I actually miss my parents and just want to see them. I would like to have an argument in person with them just to be in person with them. I would like to see my mom nag me while I am packing my roller bag, asking me as per usual, “Why did you not bring a bigger suitcase? Now, I can’t pack you as many things!” I’m sad I cannot see my aunt, who always tries so hard to be optimistic about every freaking thing that happens in life. Yeah, she inevitably will send me off with some gift she has regifted, but you know what? It’s the thought that counts. I’m annoyed I can’t catch up with my close friends back home over afternoon tea or boba or at some new interesting restaurant that has opened up, or do something else stereotypically “Asian.” I’m mad I was never even able to see my close friend pregnant, even for a second. All of this is driving a combination of rage as well as sadness in my head.

I just can’t stand this country right now. I can’t stand this lockdown. I can’t stand anything today.