Staying up late.

The hustle will be promising.

Life feels super tough right now.

As I heard on the streets "the struggle is real!"

Putting into perspective it is not that tough. I still eat what I want and have shelter and people who love me. But all in all it's tough for me. When the threat of the future is looming over your shoulders making it undoubtedly heavy both physically and on your soul - it can get to you. I'm overdramatic. I've always have been extremely fatalistic and hard on myself. I got better in Vietnam - to trust and let go, but of course a few years back into America I am again returning to the habit of being hard on myself.

Also I fell down a small flight of stairs today on my ass. This is what happens when my mind is distracted. And when you wear socks on slippery wood. I usually bump my head on things and I tried really hard yesterday to avoid accidentally running into things but this morning that was the cherry on top.

FUCK YOU LIFE.

Say things with conviction.

Say things with certainty, confidence and readiness because that will take you somewhere. No need to doubt oneself because that can only lead to uncertainty.

Cooking food.

I've always been the type to cook my own food. Perhaps I get it from my parents who didn't enjoy eating out unless it was 99 cent day at Popeyes or dim sum. My mom's voice rings clear even when I'm thousands of miles away, "I can cook that at home, don't get that."

Needless to say, eating out is not my cup of tea. I am internally grumpy at small portions, I think it's stupid when a single dish cost more than a week's worth of groceries, and low and behold, if I can make that at home, I don't want to eat it.

Usually when I go out and eat - it's for the social aspect of hanging out with my friends which I love. It's a societal thing to eat out and to go out, but when the bill comes a little bit of me cries on the inside - I can't help it - a reaction that's a product of growing up relatively poor and in an extremely frugal household. I'm a lot better these days and I enjoy eating out but ultimately a home-cooked meal is priceless.

As of late, I've started to post things that I cook in a more social-media friendly manner with the hashtag #chefbutton (a play off my college radio dj name ms. button). One day I have a conversation with a really good friend of mine who I haven't chatted with for a little whiles she says,

So what have you been up to other than cooking?

Taken aback a bit, I laugh on the inside because of course all she knows that I do is cooking because that's all the pictures that I post. I also spoke to my cousin the other day,

You're cooking pretty complex foods.

And today it dawned on me that because of what I share on social media it's what people think of me currently. The thing is, I've always cooked my own meals for myself in this manner but now there is this attention to it that others recognize because I put it on social media. I'm really happy to share it with people, folks seem to love to see what I cook. Food gets the most likes on Facebook. So I wonder what else of me can I share with the world? I do have conflicts with it, but I also value the sharing aspect of it a lot and if I can share a piece of myself with the world than why not?

Believing in my sunshine!

Because that's all I got!

Nothing is wrong.

During rural home visits to the homes of young girls in Pacific Links Foundation scholarship program.

I had a chat on the bus with a friend of mine yesterday about this. It must of happened when I turned 25. Slowly but gradually, this looming pressure of being "an adult," getting married and having kids crept up on me. My big girl dreams of success and travel are no longer valid. Instead, I have a problem.

People are starting to get "worried" about you. 

Why would someone be "worried" about me. As if the path I have chosen in life is inherently wrong. It's very micro-aggressive.

"Why don't you get a husband so you can buy us all Christmas gifts?"

"Do you have a boyfriend?"

"Any changes? Do you have a boyfriend?"

"Even other 27 year olds like you have two children by now and you can't even cook chicken broth"

Ouch. I know this seems silly but that last one really hurt because it came from my mom. Someone who has a good head but once and a while but very rarely she will say something like that to me.

One time she followed me vintage shopping/exploring in Australia. I took them to a random neighborhood to this huge garage sale. She wanted to go with me. But throughout the whole thing she was grumpy about it. "What did Berkeley do to you? Making you like this kind of stuff..."

In my mind I'm like, "What are you really trying to say?"

Perhaps she was just like "This neighborhood is scary and I don't know where we are, we've traveled so far, and I am uncomfortable."

Instead she decided to bag on my world class education. Good one. The kind of education that people will die for and one that perhaps people all over the world dream of going to. Albeit Berkeley is the place where I came to love vintage things. But her argument was non-sequitor.

After that trip we also went to a flea market. She followed me to that as well. She bought a beanie and really liked it. She actually went back on her own to that flea market. I was proud of her. Alas lessons learned as you are near one another - a thought that I have been thinking about a lot as I decide my next steps in life. My mom is a good person with a good shoulders one whose calm. I can't stay mad at her for too long because ultimately her love for me is very strong and alas I am the way I am because of her. If she was even a bit more slightly nag-ish than I probably wouldn't live my life to the fullest as I have. She rarely says ridiculous things which is good because I am an anxious person to begin with, a person who plays by the rules, and likes to please people and keep them happy at the expense of my own.

Perhaps by saying that other women my age already have children - she had a couple of frustrations. I think 1. she misses me and 2. is uncomfortable with the fact that I am not sure where I am going with my life.

I've always never been the type of person to follow traditional pathways. When I was young I've always deflected my mom's comments like, "What kind of girl are you to not be able to clean" with my "THIS IS AMERICA, MAMA" speech. I'm awkward as fuck. I didn't get my first boyfriend until 21. I didn't really fall in love until 25. I'm slow and I get it. I have issues with opening up quickly and am pretty insecure. I take my time and pressuring me is no way good. In fact, I'll probably be more inclined to do the opposite.

I want to fall in love. Don't get me wrong. But it's the invalidation of my "self" that bothers me. It's as if attending two top institutions in the world coming from a refugee family that doesn't really speak English really well is not enough. And even then you don't have to come from a top institution to be "enough."

I am not enough, folks.

The world is always telling me that I am not enough. This super educated, smart, creative happy person.

So what does this mean when we tell women and girls that we know. You are not enough until you have a man in your life to "take care of you." What does this mean when we tell rural, migrant, refugee, women and girls who have less economic opportunities. You are not enough. And until we learn to stop telling women and girls they are "not enough" than perhaps the world will be less of a place for us to thrive for all.

I had a divorcee tell me that once. The contradiction in her sentence born perhaps out of bitterness of what she doesn't have and what society has deflected upon her in her lifetime. Instead on her focus of being such a badass strong woman for raising two kids she focuses on the negative and inflicts it on the nearest target - me. Perhaps she was told that she was not enough one too many times and continues to be looked upon as "sad" because she doesn't have a complete unit.

Well world, fuck your complete unit.

Nothing is wrong with you. Nothing is wrong with me - in fact, I'm great and I believe in myself and my journey. My journey is mine and no one can ever take that away from me. I'm a good person. I'm sorry, world, you tried beating me down but my spirit is too high to do so. To take it a step way back, I was the egg that survived and made it. Watcha going to do about that. (Also, this would be a side rant, but there is a war against girls in the womb with selective abortion) World, you tried breaking my heart, you tried to tell me that I could not amount to anything, you threw me curveballs left and right and I continue to survive, I continue to thrive.

Nothing is wrong.

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“You will never be completely at home again, because part of your heart will always be elsewhere. That is the price you pay for the richness of loving and knowing people in more than one place.”

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I love Karen O.