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| so i feel like this post has been a long time coming. for those of you know know me personally, already know that i quit my job this past monday, and for those of you who don't - well...surprise!
Q: Why the heck did I quit in the middle of a recession when unemployment is high, and I have a coveted job that other people are trying desperately to get into?
A: Simply put - money can't buy happiness. I've been miserable for quite some time, doing something which I don't have much interest for. Besides that, I felt there were a lot of events leading to my departure, that showed me that this particular job was not meant for me. Over the past few years, I've grown to hate steak, hate domestic traveling, hate hotels, and hate, terribly hate working overtime at something which I have zero passion for. I'm also a very efficient person, so when I think I'm staying late even though I got the majority of my work done during the day, it makes me quite insane. I'm one of those people where work isn't my life. It's only a fraction of my life, and having double majored in accounting and literature, i love doing things that are spread out - i dance, i volunteer, i read, i write - i need these things to keep me sane, and to balance out. I can do my job and do it well even when I don't like it. When it consumes you though - that's when it's time to draw the line.
It really pissed me off and broke me - when i realized, after doing everything "right" in school - getting my homework done on time, doing well on exams, landing a job - i was miserable. Utterly utterly miserable, questioning if this was all life really had to offer, and ultimately deciding, no. oh hell no. oh heck the freaking hell no, i dont care this cant be freaking hella freaking hell no, no way in hecking freaking hell this can't be all there is to life.
So this past monday, i marched into HR, snapped my fingers at them (ok, no not really, that was in my head) and demanded that this was my last day. When you're miserable and in a rut, you have a personal responsibility to yourself to get out. For certain things in life, no one can help you but yourself - and when you realize that you're in one of these situations, you need to literally grab life, put your foot down, and go, "no. i refuse to be this miserable anymore, and I need to stand up for myself, because you know what? No one else will."
I know that there are a ton of people out there who don't agree with my actions - and in some ways I agree with them. There are people starving, people suffering, people who would kill for my job - to have something well paid that looks good on a resume. I should be grateful for this job. And I am...well, was. I learned alot over the past 2 years, met some darn freaking awesome people, learned alot about the type of person I was, and learned alot about the industry which I think is good experience to have.
But at the end of the day, if I'm doing something which I have no passion for and forced to work long hours doing this soul draining work with no work life balance...if i'm carrying this huge weight around, unwilling to give myself a chance to be happy - then what's the point in living?
I can honestly say, that I'm not the type of person who cares for name brand anything - im happy with a pair of jeans, t-shirt and old sneakers. Money is important, but having ALOT of money can sometimes make you greedy, and makes things complicated. I spent 2.5 years at this job to give my parents a good start on saving for their retirement, and I think I accomplished that, which I'm proud of.
Now rest assured, I didn't quit my job so that I can lounge at home and watch TV. I'm excited about actually having the chance to fill my life with things I'm excited about - volunteering (setting up lanterns for CNY tomorrow, interview to tutor kids in english this sunday for a weekly gig), massive writing at the library, reading at barnesandnoble, researching grad school, and meeting with recruiters for 9-5 jobs which I am okay with. I also fully realize that this freedom will be hard - that I will face new challenges, and that it will be tough and that there is a chance that I will regret my actions. There's also a chance that pigs can fly. But you know what? I know myself, and I know that I'm not the type of person who will let myself fail. I'll fight wicked hard to do something which I think is right, to stand up for what I believe in, not because that's the person I just am - but because that's the person I need to be right now.
I sort of feel like a blank canvas now (something I've alluded to in my past writings), so I'm excited about filling it, figuring out how to work this brand new start which I've given myself. A friend messaged me and said "welcome to the first day of the rest of your life," and I sort of looked at it
and smiled.
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| After a horrendous week at work, had dinner with a few friends at Olive Garden and went to a free dance lesson at a dance studio. The place was packed with people of all ages and ethnicity, and i quickly became aware that this was a boy-girl thing - you had to have partners to dance with. I quickly grabbed my friend (a girl), and we danced. it was hilarious, salsa is not my thing, that hip shimmy thing comes out ghetto, whenever i get into it. We laughed our heads off though, and although I don't drink, I think I acted pretty drunk, lol. im surprised they didnt kick us out...everyone else was properly paired off, and then there we were - the 2 asian girls who kept laughing at the stupidest things, and kept spinning around and throwing gang signs every now and then. Afterwards, we went to starbucks and talked. After a longgg &$*(@ week, it was so incredibly awesome.
Today, i had to come in to work, but afterwards, i went to a hip hop dance class that was being held by my old teacher and the school's director - it was really fun getting to do his choreography again and to just kick it back and actually be moving around. I also met some new people, everyone was so chill and friendly, it's such a relief to realize that there are still normal people out in the world.
Afterwards, went to dinner with some other friends, bonded over korean food and we then went to go see "Leap Year." The plot itself is simple - it's based on the most cliche tradition, and you know exactly what's going to happen. But the actors were incredible. Their acting was what made it work - amy adams has such expressive eyes and the guy - i don know his name, but by the end of the movie, forget amy, i was also in love with him.
We pay for movies - to see these bigger than life people on screen - so big, with the surround sound so loud, that it makes us feel like we're there - it draws us in more than a TV is able to, and when you think about it, you're paying for an emotion. Paying to be taken to another plot and not think about the real plot aka your life, that you have going on. cliche as it was, i cried like a cow during the movie and at the end. I'm such a sucker for romantic comedies.
such a sucker.
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| There’s something about walking in the hallways of schools - the quietness, the atmosphere, the open shared place of learning that humbles me filling me with utmost respect - now more than ever since I have left and joined the workforce. I took a class at the Alvin Ailey Institute this past Sunday, and even before the class began, I fell in love. The building was beautiful - a multi-storied work of art with large glass windows, wide open spaces for classrooms with doors that allowed you to peek in. The people manning the front desk I thought even LOOKED artistic - their dancer bodies, African features, slightly skewed crew cuts and bright patterned outfits. The way they held their heads, made you want to look at them, even as they went about their mundane duties - keying the registers, filling out forms. The school was filled with people like this - young men and women dressed in dance clothing, loose comfortable fabric mixed in with stretchy materials that shaped their bodies. People who got on the elevator barefoot and walked with light air about them with their chins lightly held high (but not too high as to condescend), posture perfect and feet rushing quickly on air as they hurried to their classes. I walked the halls waiting for my own class to start and saw couples leaping, girls holding the bar, people spread out doing yoga in a massive room. All sorts of dance but the only thing they had in common was their facial expressions - serious in concentration and focus yet an air about them that shone freedom and enjoyment. When I walked into my street jazz class, I nervously edged towards the back corner thinking I’d take the first class slow. The teacher was young and gorgeous, and I only identified her at first among the many of us, when she began to speak. There are moments when people say exactly the right thing at exactly the right time, and this was one of them - I felt happily at ease when she welcomed the new comers and told us to stop looking so freaked out. I laughed to get rid of the jitters, and now I was excited. The class was unbelievable - her choreography was amazing and the song we danced to by Rhianna. I followed well enough - a new antelope at the edge of the pack - as we moved in unison spinning, ducking and throwing our arms up carried by the music and dancing wild with fervor. | | |
| Do & Do Not: Do not sit in the front row for a 3D movie. It will leave you nauseous and make you feel like you spent the last 2.5 hours looking up everyone's butts. Do not be surprised when you ask for a kitten for xmas and instead, you receive a necklace with a cat pendant. Do paint your dad's toes with pink nail polish while he's sleeping. Do not spend 15 minutes looking for a painting at the Met and then realize that the painting you had in mind was at the MoMA.
Do spend sunday morning reading at the laundromat, waiting for your clothes with a cup of coffee in hand. Do make a hello kitty gingerbread house: 
Do not be surprised that for 2009, the number of new year resolutions you successfully completed was 0.5. Do be smarter about making resolutions for 2010: I have none - resolutions are a letdown. Update on mom and her Facebook. So, my mom recently got FB and she's been adding all her relatives in Malaysia. Her assimilation has been amusing: I walked in the other day to see her typing a long message on her g-mail account. When I looked closer however, I saw that the message was addressed to no-reply@facebook.com >< that took me a while to straighten out/explain. She called up my aunt a few nights ago, and asked her, "hey, I saw that you were a fan of this singer on FB. Why are you his fan?" She has also become quite the camera whore, asking me to take photos of her so that she can post them up. Oh parents. They grow up so quick. Waiting: There was a lot of waiting back in the day - waiting for the postman to bring you your letters from relatives and friends overseas; waiting for rolls of film to be developed only to see how your funny face turned out not to be as funny as it was gross; waiting for your friend at a particular place at a particular time, nervously peering down the block hoping that the retard didn't cancel again because cell phones hadn't been invented yet and you had no choice but to wait and hope. These days, waiting is a thing of the past - the internet allows us to send and receive e-mails in real time, digital cameras allow us to perfect our funny faces until we finally decide to save a good shot, cell phones allow us to call our friend and to yell at the retard who 'accidently' woke up late that day… all in real time. It seems like life is moving a lot quicker these days, we can get more things done if you factor all the waiting out. Oddly enough though, it seems like what we're left with is the opportunity to do even more…a whole chunk of time, available for the taking. Trying to figure out what to occupy our time with however - that's starting to feel like a hassle, not quite unlike waiting. | | |
| note: typed this up from my draft scrawling on paper that I did late last thursday:
so im at work on a thursday night, alone at the office since everyone else has gone, really wishing that it was already friday...or better yet, friday of next week which is xmas.
i remember being a kid and counting down to xmas as soon as thanksgiving was over. 20 days, 12 days, then 2... i'd be so freaking psycho imagining the gifts i'd get, getting ready to wrap my own gifts for the family - cards out of construction paper and lots of glitter (yes, i was glam at a young age too); dusting off my 101 dalmatian Mc Donald's happy meal ornaments to hang on the plastic 3 foot tree which lasted only 1 year on the account of my dad throwing it out in January (it's plastic you're suppose to KEEP it, baba! FAILLLL). xmas morning, i'd wake up running to gifts with labels on them like "merry christmas, love santa." or "merry christmas, love angels" and yes even, "Merry christmas, love mom & dad." i'd be estatic as heck, so excited that i didn't even mind the dumb yule log my mom always insisted on watching (it's just a picture of a LOG!!), so thrilled that it was xmas morning - just the feeling of it was awesome.
the gifts themselves, were either a hit or miss. the worst gift i got was when i opened the box only to see myself face to face with my teddy bear. correction, my OLD teddy bear, the one i got a few years back. I look at my shelf and sure enough, it's missing. My mom had taken my old toy and re-wrapped it. Worse than a lump of coal in my eyes. Worse than a lump of coal. Other bad gifts were the practical ones - socks, socks and more socks.
The best gifts were the toys my mom and dad would buy because they knew how much I wanted them - toys which I still have to this day since I find it hard to toss away my childhood and feel guilty to show them such utter disregard when they indeed have helped me pass my time as a kid - crafting stories, pawns of my imagination and whatnot. I can tell you all the details of my beloved toys. The color of my barbie's eyes, the made in china stamp, the colors and details of my dollhouse, the number of whiskers on my stuffed animals. When gifts were given to me, they were truly gifts and I treated them as such. I examined them carefully, imagined what it would be like to be them, created worlds, cooked and cleaned, did their hair for them.
These are things which are important when you're a kid and something which I lack now as a grudgingly self-admitted adult. Having the power to buy what I want makes things less special. I buy myself 'gifts' but my ability to obtain what I like makes me appreciate them less. The shoes I got last week are already blah, the boots that were new are already old. I guess they call it a gift not because we want it or even need it - but simply because it comes from someone else, who had taken the time to consider what you'd like. When I look at my old toys, I think of my parents. Middle class asian parents who stopped by at a toy store to pick up what their young daughter had asked for.
These days, my parents usually don't get me anything for xmas, and I'm actually fine with that. Xmas these days, is about what I should get them - I pore over and decide what they 'need' and what they would 'like.' When I'm stuck, I hand them an envelope of cash, and they wave it in a fan like those ghetto rap videos, smiling because, hey, what adult doesn't like cash?
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