Spoiled little white rich girl

We didn’t have the best of luck today with our flight departing for Miami to then connect and bring us to Mexico City. We got on the plane, then almost immediately had to deplane because something was wrong with the engine, and AA ultimately had to cancel a flight to Chicago to use that plane to take us to Miami late. Regardless, we still made it to Mexico City, just about three hours late, but I witnessed one of the biggest displays of white privilege that made me so angry.

Chris and I were seated in business class, which was actually quite empty today. Because I get upgraded a lot, I know that unless a flight is extremely short, such as Boston to New York or San Francisco to Los Angeles, you usually have to “request” an upgrade in order to get upgraded from economy to business class assuming there is availability. I pretty much always do this, and occasionally because I have the highest level of status, I automatically get bumped without requesting an upgrade. That’s a bit rare, though. This woman, tall, blonde, disheveled, maybe in her 30s, clearly overly privileged who just expects to get whatever she wants and loves to have her mind read, got on the plane and stopped in the business class section where we were seated and immediately started whining. “I just don’t understand why I didn’t get upgraded,” she said, in a whiny, high pitched tone, dragging out every syllable slowly and painfully. “I alwaysget upgraded, and it didn’t happen this time. I don’t get it. It just doesn’t make sense because look at all these empty seats up here in business!”

The flight attendant was apologetic, but using some level of rationale, asked her if she actually requested to get upgraded and if she was on the upgrade list.

The woman, so very polite and well mannered, rolled her eyes at the flight attendant and shot her a dirty look. “No,I didn’t. I never have to do that, and I’ve always been upgraded in the past!” She stormed off to her sad little economy seat in the middle of the plane. I was turning to watch her and the flight attendant and made eye contact with the guy sitting in the row behind me in business, shocked by what we just witnessed, who mouthed to me, “What the fuck is her problem?”

I got so much satisfaction watching that exchange.

I love spoiled entitled brats not getting what they want.

Faith in humanity via travel

I took a walk with a colleague to Madison Square Park today, and we were talking about the desire to escape and have a mental reset. Chris and I are leaving for Mexico City and Oaxaca tomorrow through Monday for an extended long weekend, and I’d been looking forward to this for the last several weeks. “What are you trying to escape – New York, work, your bubble, or what?” he asked.

“Everything?” I responded, questioning. “All of the above?”

We’re so tied up and absorbed into our day to day lives – everyone is guilty of this no matter what your background, where you live, what you do for a living. It’s hard to step outside of that and think about the world around us and what’s bigger and greater than what we are and what we do. For me, the best mental reset is one in which I can get away from my day-to-day routine, away from what I consider “normality,” and experience a culture, language, lifestyle… life, that is so far removed from my own. That’s what travel is. Immerse yourself in the unknown, the new, the exciting, and completely fall into it and forget what we considered important or essential back at home. Think about how other people live, what passions and priorities others have in worlds away from you, what keeps them up at night, and what drives them. And then, after all of that, think about our differences… but then realize that we’re all doing such different things when at the end of the day, we really want the same things: a roof over our heads, warm food on the table; to be loved and appreciated and respected; to help and provide for others; to feel like we all have some sense of purpose in life.

When we were in South Africa last December, in Cape Town specifically, the water shortage made me think (and feel guilty) about my showers back home, where I’d luxuriate occasionally and not keep track of how long I was exfoliating or conditioning my hair. When outside of Kruger National Park, I got excited at the idea of being far away from any urban place and wondered what life would be like as the rangers and workers of the safari lodge, waking up every morning to the calm of buffalo drinking water in the nearby watering hole, or even a lion sleeping right outside my bedroom window. In Japan, I thought about the salarymen in their plain, uniform-like suits, waking up early, walking their everyday walk/train commute to work, having a long day in front of their computers, drinking late night in bars after a quick rice bowl or ramen, and hitting repeat for the next day and the next day. I also thought about the average Japanese man’s refusal to have sex (or want to get married… and thus the low marriage and birth rate in a country we consider so advanced), and wondered what that would be like if that were the case back in the U.S. The list goes on for every place I’ve visited.

Some people freak out and are alarmed when they are lost in translation, trying to communicate something to someone in another country that does not speak their native language. I actually thrive in that and get excited by it; it’s like a mini adventure to me: get this person to understand what I am saying, and try to figure out what he is telling me. I also tend to smile and laugh more because I find that it lightens the mood of the other person in the event any frustration arises from not being able to understand each other. Warm, open body language disarms them and gets them to trust you, and I suppose it helps a lot that I’m a woman… because how threatening could a petite Asian woman like me be? These situations also force you to be more creative in how you express yourself, whether that’s via facial expressions, gestures, sign language, acting out something. If what is often said by researchers is true that seventy percent of communication is non-verbal, then for all the basic human emotions, desires, and messages, we should be able to suffice without knowing every exact word that comes out of a person’s mouth.

The world is so big and so great – there’s no better way to remind yourself how insignificant you are in the universe than to travel to parts unknown to you and witness humanity outside of your own bubble. I’m not an ignorant ass, though; I’m aware that not everyone can afford to travel, whether it’s due to living paycheck to paycheck like so many people around the world do, or due to commitments with sick family, etc. But for those who can afford to do it, there’s nothing else that is quite like it. There’s so much humility and perspective to be had from it, especially if you choose to fully immerse yourself into your surroundings.

a dream within a dream

It’s as though the morale is so down in our current office that they decided to fly out one of our team managers to host a happy hour for us tonight at a fancy cocktail bar half a block away from our office in the Flatiron. We already had a happy hour to increase team camaraderie last Thursday, but we had to have yet another one today. It’s not that I am complaining about it; it’s more that although I do like nice, well made cocktails that I don’t have to pay for, I think the problems are deeper than what can be solved by getting tipsy with my colleagues.

I originally thought I’d only stay for a drink or two, but I ended up staying out until nearly midnight, which I definitely did not plan at all on doing. Two venues, four drinks, six hours later, it was as though everything just felt like a big blur. But I was extremely cognizant of everything around me. I could feel myself enunciating every syllable clearly to detract from the fact that the alcohol was seeping into my blood and affecting my head. Is this period just a phase, a big haze that will eventually end and morph into something else? I kind of feel like I am floating and things aren’t quite real right now, and I’m not sure why. That then reminded me of this poem I enjoyed by Edgar Allan Poe when I was 13, studying his poetry and short stories. It’s when we ask ourselves what is real vs. what is not, yet we think everything we are experiencing is real. The poem goes something like this:

A Dream Within a Dream

Take this kiss upon the brow!
And, in parting from you now,
Thus much let me avow —
You are not wrong, who deem
That my days have been a dream;
Yet if hope has flown away
In a night, or in a day,
In a vision, or in none,
Is it therefore the less gone?
All that we see or seem
Is but a dream within a dream.
I stand amid the roar
Of a surf-tormented shore,
And I hold within my hand
Grains of the golden sand —
How few! yet how they creep
Through my fingers to the deep,
While I weep — while I weep!
O God! Can I not grasp
Them with a tighter clasp?
O God! can I not save
One from the pitiless wave?
Is all that we see or seem
But a dream within a dream?

Calling home

I didn’t call home at all last week. It wasn’t really a conscious decision; it was more that work felt very stressful and dramatic given all the changes that had happened in the last two weeks that at the end of each day, I felt very little energy to talk to anyone on the phone. And talking to my parents would not be an upside to the day given all the inane questions they typically ask. I’d also worry that my mom would sense my tense tone and think something was wrong, and the last thing I really need is for her to worry even more about me than she already does.

So tonight, I called home, and when my dad answered the phone, he didn’t even say hello in response to me; he simply handed the phone to my mom. My mom said he was in the middle of something and was busy; too busy to say hi to his own daughter?

That kind of thing is just ridiculous. How difficult is it to greet your child over the phone? Does that sort of thing need to be taught?

Chicken tenders

My mom never enjoyed cooking; she has always done it out of necessity because she married a man who didn’t cook and pretty much expected his wife to cook for him. So she  learned a bunch of basics from her mother-in-law, her sister-in-law, and ran with it. One of the things that was always on rotation growing up was chicken tenders. She used herbed shake’n’bake type bread crumbs, coated flattened chicken pieces in egg, then dipped them in the breadcrumb mixture, and pan-fried them in a little oil. They were always one of my favorite things that she made, and I always looked forward to eating them.

Now that I’m an adult and am experimental with cooking, I made my own version with herbs, garlic powder, homemade panic breadcrumbs, and grated parmigiano reggiano. I baked them and was pretty impressed; they’re like the adult and more sophisticated version of the chicken tenders my mom made. I think she’d be pretty satisfied with these if she were in New York.

Transatlanticism – Death Cab for Cutie

The world feels like a blur. The mood today is like this song from Death Cab for Cutie. My good friend from college got me into this band at a time when all I knew was mainstream pop music.

The Atlantic was born today and I’ll tell you how…
The clouds above opened up and let it out.

I was standing on the surface of a perforated sphere
When the water filled every hole.
And thousands upon thousands made an ocean,
Making islands where no island should go.
Oh no.

Those people were overjoyed; they took to their boats.
I thought it less like a lake and more like a moat.
The rhythm of my footsteps crossing flatlands to your door have been silenced forever more.
The distance is quite simply much too far for me to row
It seems farther than ever before
Oh no.

I need you so much closer [x8]

I need you so much closer [x4]
So come on, come on [x4]

Dinner in Forest Hills

Tonight, our building’s handyman, who is now one of our friends, invited us over to his place for dinner with his wife and his big (and very diverse) friend crew. We met the week we moved into our building last July, and it was like “like” at first meeting. We immediately bonded over cooking and food, and we won him over by giving him a taste of some whisky we had. He loves bacon and applying sous vide to anything; his wife bakes obsessively and has even catered sweets for one of her good friend’s baby showers. Occasionally when I am planning to cook something and I run into him in the building, I describe what I am cooking, and he will stop by and have a taste or two. “If you make it, I will put it in my mouth,” he always says. There are few things more satisfying than hearing that someone has so much faith in my cooking ability that he will literally eat anything I put out.

It was his turn to impress us tonight: he made pernil (slow cooked pork shoulder), baked mac and cheese made with smoked gouda, dubliner, and gruyere cheeses, and sous vide fried chicken drumsticks. His wife made a lemon tart, a three-flavored cheesecake, and all the appetizers, including deviled eggs that were made with pickled beet dyed egg whites. The sous vide drum sticks definitely won me over, and now an iteration of that is on my list of things to make with my own sous vide precision cooker. What was even more exciting was that a bunch of his friends also love to cook, and so we had a very interesting and intense session of cooking technique discussion while watch

Happy hour and karaoke night

One of my colleagues I’m friends with was in town this week for work, so we organized a small get-together for dinner and karaoke after our scheduled happy hour with our cofounder, who was also in town. I think after a lot of the announced changes this week, we were really due for some fun and relaxation outside of the office, so this night’s outing could not have been better planned coincidentally. We went out, talked about senseless but funny topics, and sang about three hours of karaoke until our vocal chords were cranky and strained. It felt really good to let a bit loose and to just not focus on all the serious and annoying things that have been going on.

I have a subgroup of colleagues I can actually call friends, people I somewhat trust and can feel like I can be myself around. Tonight was kind of evidence of that – no judgments. We’re all in this together, and we’re supportive of each other. It’s a good place to be even in difficult times.

Announcements

Communication is always key in any relationship. It occurs in multiple forms that continue to evolve as technology evolves. There’s the in-person communication, which, to most normal, rational people, should be considered the best and highest form of communication. There’s video and/or phone communication. There’s e-mail, which most people universally agree, sucks as a main form of communication. There’s also text, electronic chat, Snapchat, Facebook messenger chat, etc.

So when it comes to things like big team announcements, like who a new leader may be, wouldn’t it make the most sense to make it the most personal and to announce that in a live team meeting rather than in an impersonal email?

E-mail is seriously the worst. So much for respect.

Dog like

My colleague and I were having a conversation about stress management and how people in general take life too seriously and do not enjoy the moment. We both love dogs and think they’re one of the best stress relievers, one of the easiest ways to put smiles on our faces in the office (when we are lucky enough to have a four-legged visitor, that is). I told him about the time I went with a fellow colleague to an animal shelter because she was considering adopting a dog, and there, I fell in love with the most adorable white terrier mix fluffy dog. It was love at first sight. His fluffy fur, his big smiley face, his tongue hanging out, his speedy wagging tail, his energy. He was so enthusiastic and eager to see and play with us… but both of his back legs were out due to an abusive situation he was rescued from. He didn’t seem to mind, though; he continued running around like a happy dog and as though he had no care in the world. His two back legs were dragging, but it was as though they didn’t exist to him. He just wanted to play and be loved. When he goes on walks, he actually has a “wheel chair” for his two back legs so that they don’t drag. In a few days, he would get picked up by his new owner, who had experience caring for handicapped dogs.

So then we said, what would it be like if we could be more dog like, if we could just live and enjoy and stop stressing as much as we do? We’d have less trouble sleeping and concentrating. The past would truly be in the past. We’d focus on what’s right there in front of us instead of worrying over the future and what’s going to happen in a week or a year. Dogs just don’t care what their disabilities are; they barely know they’re disabled (right?). They live and enjoy the moment, then pass out and sleep.

“Be more dog,” my colleague said. “Maybe tomorrow will be more dog like?”

It’s rarely that simple, but at least we can strive to be more in the moment for just a few seconds extra every day… is it possible?