5 Things I Love ... right now!

I submitted a comment on M.Writes for my chance to win her latest Valentine's giveaway and the prompt for this giveaway's entry made me realize that despite the setbacks I've experienced recently, I have much to be happy about.

Reading the reasons why she loves her husband - who is 35 today! - also reminded me that the happiest people are the simplest people. Not a simpleton, but someone who embraces the little things and create their happiness from these little things. Everyone wants the biggest, bestest thing in the world and we should definitely never stop dreaming or aiming for something bigger and better. But learning to live contently is no easy task and one that we should always strive for nonetheless.

And the five things I love right now?

1. Having friends that are different. Different backgrounds. Different experiences. Different wisdom and knowledge. It's great to have friends who are similar to you, who you can relate to, but it's also great to have people you can turn to for specialized help. Case in point, my desktop computer has been bit by a trojan virus and I've got at least 3 friends (of different backgrounds and studies and habits) giving me very similar advice on how to tackle this issue. So kind of them and so empowering to me to be able to learn from them so next time, I know what to do from the get-go.

2. Finding a book that you just can't let go of until the very last word is read. Currently, that is the second installment of the Mysterious Benedict Society. I've only read a couple pages so far but am waiting for when my schedule clears and I've got a huge chunk of time to devote to reading and ONLY reading.

3. I will never be rich and right now I'm even poorer out of college than while I was in college (something about being a current student actually makes it easier for you to find jobs and internships - go figure!). But I still enjoy my travels and going to NYC has been a regular institution of sorts. It is almost a game for me to figure out a way to go to fancy places with the least amount of money used. Mostly, this is for practical reasons. I'm sure if I had the money I'd just do it up lavishly. But... I don't. So.... life moves on. But, it's just so thrilling! I've had way less money compared to working friends and yet I've managed to travel a lot more than some. Makes life difficult but this is worth way more than any money I'll ever make in my lifetime. Why be rich if I'm too worried about money all the time?

4. Having the time and energy to make myself a yummy filling lunch instead of my usual leftovers or processed/prepared meals. Always a healthier option (even if the fat content remains the same) to take the time to make a meal and eat it, without the rush and fuss that usually goes to meal time. Good for the soul if you know what I mean. Chewing seems to be less important more and more in this fast-paced world. A luxury of the past.

5. Re-watching Gilmore Girls episodes, especially the early days. If you have all the time in the world and not enough fun activities to fill it, re-watching old episodes of a favorite (classic, in my humble opinion) is a must. And, quite the frankly, the simplest way to put some joy in your life for $14.99 (thank you Costco). :) (Though, I must admit, this is quite a lazy activity.)

Bad Daughter?

My resolution this year is to be a better daughter, a better me.

And today I just had an argument with my father over our moisture/mold situation, which, by the way, has affected me most.

Am I a bad daughter? Or are my father and me just too similar? Y'know, in our stubbornness and strongwilledness.

I can't help it. I try to just ignore it or let it roll off my sleeve, but sometimes, most times really, I just want to keep it up. We both want to win the argument and in the end neither wins. Just exhausted and emotionally drained.

Today's wasn't a big fight. An annoying tiff really. Still... I broke my resolution already.

Keep trying to improve, right? I'll try. But not sure how long I can.

Each time I upset my father and complain about our house (the house I never wanted to move into in the first place and got stuck with what I thought was a wonderful room that is now turning out to be a spider and mold-infested pigsty), he'll tell me to move out. Move to where? With what money?

And each time I'm tempted to move out like a teenage runaway. Except in those movies they generally have happy endings. Mine wouldn't.

For now, we are the estranged father and the estranged daughter semi-attempting cohabitation in a moisture-cursed home. Scratch that. HOUSE, not home.

Charmed

Despite what I may be experiencing at any moment or what I may be feeling (which is a little sadness if you must know), I know that I lead a charmed life.

No. I'm not uber wealthy and hob-nobbing with the uber powerful and uber famous.

No. I don't have the privilege of getting away with whatever I want simply for my fame, title, last name, position, or money. I have neither of these things. (Well... I have a last name -- number 80-something of Chinese surnames, I believe -- but nothing that brings prestige like a Vanderbilt or Kennedy name.)

And, no, I'm not the life of the party, hanging with the "it" crowd, or on the social scene around town.

But, you know what?

I have two parents, a sister, grandparents (three still living), great aunts, great uncles, cousins, second cousins, third cousins, aunts, uncles, and other relatives who care about me and wish to see me happy and successful (however I define happiness and success).

I have friends who will be there when I really truly need them, even if most of the time I feel very alone.

I am passionate about many things in life, which, in and of itself, makes life worth living all the time.

I possess many skills and talents and have many, many goals for myself and others.

I have a family who sacrificed a lot so that I could be born in the United States, receive a decent education, attend a prestigious public university (though I don't always see where the prestige comes from, mind you), live a warm home, have food on the table, and be able to afford nice clothes (I am a fashion freak after all). I mean, how many kids can say that they are not in need of finding a job in this recession because their parents made it so that they didn't need to? (Don't get me wrong, if the primary income-earner in my family lost his/her job, we'd fall through the economic ladder in no time.)

I am healthy. What more do I need to say? (Okay, I have crazy year-round allergies, used to have crazy migraines, and still am affected by asthma -- will I ever outgrow it? Still... I'm basically healthy.)

Truth is, I don't need a lot of money or prestige or fame to lead a charmed life. I have the basics and then some. I can enjoy trips across the country or across the globe on a very limited budget. I can enjoy beautiful clothes from thrift stores and discount stores and am not ashamed of it. I can enjoy this rare thing called lots and lots of free time to decide my next step in life.

I'm not here to gloat or brag. I'm just saying... I can't and shouldn't complain about my life. It's relatively drama-free (oh, no, we still fight, a lot) and my parents have taught me how to enjoy a lush life with very little. And that's a life I wouldn't trade for all the money in the world.

I hope you all can see the beauty in your own charmed life. Happy Holidays.

Today is the Giving of Thanks

And give thanks I shall try to do today.

Thanks.

Fade into the back

Lately I have been noticing a trend (in my own life) towards the subtle and the muted. I feel a great urge to return to the pure and the natural (or, at least, my interpretation of pure and natural). Subtle, muted, pure, and natural are piggybacking on the simple and minimalist lifestyle I have been trying to craft for myself.

There is something very freeing about colors that fall into the back, neutrals that seem both luxurious and, well, natural (like it's something we are meant to enjoy, that we know we will enjoy), and soft, muted shades that sometimes feel like a second skin. They feel so natural, like it is no big deal to be so drawn to them, yet so new, like rediscovering an old favorite.

It is a glorious discovering.

And my love for natural fibers seem like a natural, usual, appropriate affair. Linen, cotton, silk, cashmere. They are my lovers. My natural-born lovers. My birthright. And it feels like a nasty cheat when I am near synthetics: polyester (ouch), nylon (ew), rayon (OMG), and this thing they dare call "stretch" (just kill me).

This simple-subtle-minimal-faded love affair evokes states of rest and nourishment. Yearning and hungering only for that which is provided by mother nature. Mentally and emotionally fed by calm soothing shapes, shades, and gestures.

I feel as comfortable in hazy browns and grays as I do in my blues, greens, and teals. Something sumptuous. Something right. Something that is like the earth and the water that we cannot live without.

Glorious. indeed.

Collecting 40 cents Ma'am

The oddest thing occurred to me today. Well, not really me. My sister, since she answered the door first. The postman came to our door to collect 40 cents for postage due on two envelopes.

It all started a couple weeks ago when I was bidding ferociously for vintage stamps. Just a little something to perk up my mailings. I bid and won two auctions from the same seller for vintage stamps from around the world.

They took a long time to come, but, today, they finally arrived. Why it took the USPS an entire week to send a first class envelope from Nevada to California is beyond my comprehension. It wasn't heavy. It wasn't a real package. It was just a thick envelope of old postage stamps. Go figure.

My biggest surprise was seeing the postman at our door asking us for 40 cents. That has never ever happened to us before. In the past, if any mail was missing postage, it would be sent back to the sender before I'd ever receive anything. Is this a new policy?

It doesn't seem like an effective policy change. It slows down the mail carrier's route by having to walk up to the door, ring the doorbell, wait for anyone to answer the door, and then collect money, before continuing his/her route. And what if the mail I am paying for was junk mail? Or unwanted, unsolicited mail? Why would I pay for that? Shouldn't it be the sender's responsibility to affix proper postage? Gee... am I now able to send mail to friends with a 5 cent stamp and let them pick up the rest of the tab? Doesn't seem like the best way to do things.

However, at the end of the day, I'm not too upset over losing 40 cents. I'll live. It's the irony that kills me and gives me cause to laugh. My package of postage stamps lacked the necessary postage to get to me. Postage for postage! Get it? Oh, how it kills me still. :)

Tom, or so I think

There is a man who lives in the open garage of a multi-story brick-laden house that is a part of "The Co-op"* (better known as the Berkeley Student Cooperatives, doing business as the University Student's Cooperative Association). And there he lived for years and years and probably many more years before.

Sometimes he comes out to play. Sometimes he likes to talk. Or give a hand when he sees someone in need. Always he says "Hello, good day" with a smile.

He is an odd sort of man. His only belongings (as far as I could tell) were the clothes on his back and the old black radio. He listened to that thing all the time, or, at least, all the times I passed by. Music, I believe. It was always music. Sometimes the news or a talk show. It is hard to recall. I have been away for a year and it is hard to recall.

At the first house council**, or maybe it was the second?, during my freshman year of college, after being on my own for an entire week, I was told this story about a man who resides next door, occupying a part of the garage whose doors are never shut. I was assured he was a kindly folk who meant no harm but also warned that a few people have had some issues with said man. Mostly minor scuffles over whose responsibility it was to maintain the trash/recycling area that nestles between Davis and Sherman***, or silly things like a verbal fight. Who knows.

A singular man. His keep at Davis primarily falls on his promise not to interfere with the members of the house and to keep to himself. He is allowed a cup of water and a member may make him a PB&J sandwich upon request. He must humble himself to invisibility, to not be in anyone's way or cause disruption. And yet his occupancy at the old brick house has far surpassed any student, for it is the tendency of students to come and go and -- upon completion of studies -- leave.

It may be his long residence at Davis Hall that explains his sense of place. Why he seems to think it is his job to take care of the trash/recycling area. And general maintenance of the small area that separates Davis and Sherman.

He is a nice sort of man. A very nice sort of man. One who never lets a passerby go without a "Hello" and, more frequently, a "How are you?" Whenever possible, I said I was good. Though, admittedly, sometimes I walked by with not a reply. Shameful. I know.

My very first encounter with this man -- or one that I can recall -- was when I attempted to heave a heavy bag of trash over the side of the large trash receptacle parked outside in the parking lot. Without realizing it, a man had come to my rescue. You see, I was neither tall nor of the physically strong nature (not in my arms, anyway) and I always, always had trouble heaving heavy bags of trash or recycling over the receptacles. Sometimes a shiny golden lock was employed and, though I tried, unsuccessful I was with the unlocking. He was always there to offer advice. More likely he would tell me to leave the trash bags on the ground and, getting up from his chair walking towards me, he'd get to it.

A singular man indeed. An existence, I wonder, if he'd led for a very long time. I should have taken some time to ask him about his life and how he came to live in the open garage of the multi-storied brick-laden house that is Davis Hall, or why he never fails to be kindly and gentlemanly.

Tom is his name, or so I think.

(My memory fails in a most disappointingly way.)


Correction: Merklin is his name. Spelling has not been confirmed. But Merklin is his name.
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* The Co-ops is a mostly student-run non-profit organization that provides low-cost housing to university students in the Berkeley, CA area, though one need not be a student of the University of California at Berkeley.
** House Council is essentially a house meeting for all the members of an individual housing unit (there are apartment complexes in the co-ops too). Generally bi-monthly, these meetings are a place for the members of a house to discuss important issues, resolve conflicts, and discuss any changes, purchases, policies that may affect the entire house.
*** Davis (Hall) and Sherman (Hall) are two of the houses in the co-op. They are neighboring houses. Sherman is all-women. Davis is co-ed.