1996:
Dear Young One,
Personally, I like "young one" much less than I like "little one", but it didn't really feel right to call you "little one" anymore, so congrats on leveling up, I guess.
I'm not going to lie to you, second grade is a little bit of a bum deal. You don't really get along with your teacher, and very few of the friends that you made last year are in your class, which is a real bummer, as you met some really cool people, particularly GGKK, whom you will be friends with for the rest of your life. (But we'll get to her later -- you don't really start hanging out until next year).
There's also CB, whom you met in Brownies (that's right -- you, my dear girl, are briefly a girl scout, for all the good it does you) and who teaches you spunk and joy. In fact, CB was probably the only positive thing to come out of Brownies. The skills you are taught are about as useful as a 50s infomercial for women, most of your friendships formed there are as cohesive as oil and water, and you constantly make royal fools of yourself in public performance. Your troop disbands after only 2 years, and you never make it to Junior Scout.
This is also the time of some very weird family dynamics. Your mom's side of the family is almost never talked about, and then suddenly they appear in your life, much to your discomfort. They seem to arrival piecemeal over a pretty short time span, as if this is the time that they've been allowed to visit. Grandparents, aunt (only one of 2, by the way. You have zero knowledge of the other until you get to high school), and uncle & cousin. Yup. One day, you will be at home and some strangers will also be there, and you just kind of have to accept that they are your uncle (mom's brother) and cousin. Your uncle is kind of a creeper, but he only stays a few hours. Your cousin, on the other hand, is there for like... 2 weeks or something. A semi-painful two weeks.
Your cousin D is something like 5+ years older than you, and honestly kind of a jerk at this age (he gets better with time). He strangles your stuffed animals, and "kills" your Gundams, but you still desperately try to be friends with him, because he's an older kid, and therefore he's cool. Also, he teaches you to play chess, so, like... trade-offs, I guess. Here's the thing, though -- no one explains to you why Cousin D is staying with your family. Your parents never really specifically tell you to be nice to him or make him feel at home, which, you know, it would have REALLY BEHOOVED THEM TO DO. Why? Because Cousin D's parents are getting a messy divorce, and he's staying with your family during the proceedings. You don't find out about this until nearly a decade later, and while this information might have not been totally pertinent for an eight-year-old to know, your parents are still really lucky that they never explicitly had to tell you, "Hey, maybe be extra nice to your cousin, even if he's kind of being a dick."
On the subject of problems being swept under the rug, this is the first year that you can recall your parents fighting during the holidays, specifically Thanksgiving. Now, this is certainly not their first fight, so certainly not your first rodeo when it comes to fading into the background when they get into it. However, it is the first time that you can recall it getting so bad and so long that they actually carry on into every room in the house. Quietly, you and your sister retreat to your room and shut the door to wait out the storm. Your sister is debating taking you over to her best friend's house to spend Turkey Day and the night, when suddenly you both hear a shout erupt from the other end of the hall, and your sister stops dead.
This is one of those times that you wish you could understand Mandarin. Or maybe not.
Quietly, so quietly, she murmurs, "I think Dad just said, 'Shut up, or I will kill you.'"
A few moments pass. Maybe a few minutes. Maybe 30 minutes. Mom and Dad will wander to your room and tell you that everything is ok.
Lies.
In school the next week, your teacher asks you to write a letter about Thanksgiving to your assigned pen-pal. Not knowing any better, you candidly jot down a line about your parents' row. Several days later, after editing the grammar and spelling in each letter, your teacher quietly asks you to add a line saying that "everything is better now."
And people wonder how you learned to lie so well.
It's not fair that you're taught so young to hold the pain in your chest. But if one, single small silver lining has come of this, it's that you know what it is to need a good listener, and whether or not you mean to, you become one for others. Pain shared is pain lessened, you will tell others in the future. I hope you learn it for yourself one day, too. Chin up.
Hearts and Kisses,
You.
Sunday, September 9, 2018
Saturday, September 8, 2018
30 in 30: Year 7
1995:
Dear Little One,
I'm not sure how much longer you're really going to abide me calling you "little one", but at age 7, I'm afraid the moniker still sticks. I have to say though, you are growing up very quickly, and life is starting to pick up the pace. After all, you're in 1st grade now -- actual numbers to designate what year of school you're in. It's the big time, now.
This may come as a shock to many who know you later in life, but you're actually pretty garbage at school at this age. You kind of muck about when it comes to doing any actual homework, particularly math, and you are constantly getting into trouble for lack-of-personal-space reasons. Needless to say, transitioning from constant play time to actual proper classroom activities is a bit of a hurdle for you. But, you are a superstar when it comes to writing short stories, according to your student teacher (not everyone can write such a harrowing tale about a killer whale who is hated even by his own mother).
This is also a year of some wild social interactions for you. This year, a boy actual declares his crush for you. Whaaaaaaaaaaaaaaattttt. He's a nice kid, kinda dopey, but very well meaning. You play it pretty cool - a few stolen glances at lunch time, and poking each other during recess, but it starts getting way too serious too fast for you (he's giving you trinkets every day. Every day.) and you call it quits at your dad's behest (yeah, that's a trend that will carry through life.) Alas, you are but 7, and so your attempts to reject his affections are about as tactful as drill sergeant meeting a new recruit. Later in life, he'll become a death metal singer with angst issues. Naturally, you'll blame yourself, that despite your relationship only lasting three days, you were the catalyst for his blackened heart.
You also get into your first and only playground fight! During a game of tag, a group of boys from another class will join you, uninvited, and begin picking on just you. At first, it's just a few prods and pokes, but then they literally start corralling you and circling you like vultures. You have a choice here, kiddo: cower, or stand up for yourself. And, to my everlasting pride, you tell yourself, "F*ck this," and you aim a pretty sharp kick at the ringleader, landing just shy of his family jewels. I mean, with a last name like Beer Bomb, this guy is a natural born ass (yes, that is his actual name. No, that's not how you spell it.) The gang immediately scatters, and Beer Bomb freaks out and runs to tell the recess monitor on you. And you know what - not only do you have your actual friends backing you up, you win the monitor's sympathy. Rock on, little one.
Standing up for yourself is scary, and trust me - it doesn't always work to your benefit. You do it so rarely as you get older, the fire in your eye burning a little lower with each passing year. But whether or not it ends up working in your favor, you have a right to let people know how you feel, and having a voice should be reward enough. Chin up, little one.
Hearts and Kisses,
You.
Dear Little One,
I'm not sure how much longer you're really going to abide me calling you "little one", but at age 7, I'm afraid the moniker still sticks. I have to say though, you are growing up very quickly, and life is starting to pick up the pace. After all, you're in 1st grade now -- actual numbers to designate what year of school you're in. It's the big time, now.
This may come as a shock to many who know you later in life, but you're actually pretty garbage at school at this age. You kind of muck about when it comes to doing any actual homework, particularly math, and you are constantly getting into trouble for lack-of-personal-space reasons. Needless to say, transitioning from constant play time to actual proper classroom activities is a bit of a hurdle for you. But, you are a superstar when it comes to writing short stories, according to your student teacher (not everyone can write such a harrowing tale about a killer whale who is hated even by his own mother).
This is also a year of some wild social interactions for you. This year, a boy actual declares his crush for you. Whaaaaaaaaaaaaaaattttt. He's a nice kid, kinda dopey, but very well meaning. You play it pretty cool - a few stolen glances at lunch time, and poking each other during recess, but it starts getting way too serious too fast for you (he's giving you trinkets every day. Every day.) and you call it quits at your dad's behest (yeah, that's a trend that will carry through life.) Alas, you are but 7, and so your attempts to reject his affections are about as tactful as drill sergeant meeting a new recruit. Later in life, he'll become a death metal singer with angst issues. Naturally, you'll blame yourself, that despite your relationship only lasting three days, you were the catalyst for his blackened heart.
You also get into your first and only playground fight! During a game of tag, a group of boys from another class will join you, uninvited, and begin picking on just you. At first, it's just a few prods and pokes, but then they literally start corralling you and circling you like vultures. You have a choice here, kiddo: cower, or stand up for yourself. And, to my everlasting pride, you tell yourself, "F*ck this," and you aim a pretty sharp kick at the ringleader, landing just shy of his family jewels. I mean, with a last name like Beer Bomb, this guy is a natural born ass (yes, that is his actual name. No, that's not how you spell it.) The gang immediately scatters, and Beer Bomb freaks out and runs to tell the recess monitor on you. And you know what - not only do you have your actual friends backing you up, you win the monitor's sympathy. Rock on, little one.
Standing up for yourself is scary, and trust me - it doesn't always work to your benefit. You do it so rarely as you get older, the fire in your eye burning a little lower with each passing year. But whether or not it ends up working in your favor, you have a right to let people know how you feel, and having a voice should be reward enough. Chin up, little one.
Hearts and Kisses,
You.
Friday, September 7, 2018
30 in 30: Year 6
1994
Dear Little One,
Oh boy is this a special year. Bill Clinton is in his 2nd year as president, Nelson Mandela is sworn in as President of South Africa, The Lion King is released in theatres (you see it on the big screen, and this also becomes the first time you see people crying during a movie, which is a totally foreign subject to you now, but will become waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaay relevant down the line), and Jeff Bezos starts this teeny tiny little company called Amazon - like that's ever going to take off.
And, and, this is the first year that you start *real* school. So long pre-school, hello kindergarten. Another year, another slew of weird seminal life experiences that seem to mold you in totally bonkers ways. Your raw brattiness from ages 3-5 seem to have waned a little, and you're starting to be a little more conscientious of the world... sort of. Relatively, speaking, I guess. You're loud and have got no cap on your temper, you've got no problem saying what's on your mind (in only the way at 6-year-old can), and rules (particularly those concerning language and etiquette) seem totally arbitrary and ignorable. But, you're also surprisingly ladylike, polite, and courteous, and despite your total regard for using inappropriate language, you are weirdly particular about following rules about order and silence.
Kindergarten really is a playground for your creativity. You get to play with crafts and musical instruments, draw, read, and even carve the world's ugliest jack-o-lantern. You'll meet some really lovely people, like Lisle, who starts out as being a little bossy, but turns into one of your closest chums for the next year and a few months before she moves away. Through her, you'll learn that the highest form of praise is imitation. Collin and David, who remind you that there's nothing wrong with unbridled joy from time to time.
This is also the year that you learn that you are forgettable, and that sometimes you have to pick yourself up by the bootstraps.
You see, little one, you and three classmates going to be sent to the library to pick up some books. The library is a little bit of a distance from your classroom, and between the classroom and the library is a stairwell with two heavy doors. Whether it's because you're just slow, or because you had to tie your shoe, or maybe the rest of them were racing, you're going to be left behind, and when that happens, your finger is going to get trapped in one of the doors.
And it hurts. A lot.
You're going to cry and shout for help, but no one is going to hear. Not a teacher, not another student. You'll wonder how long it will take the others to realize that you are missing. They don't.
You'll fall silent when you realize that it's just you.
And then, you'll wipe the tears away, and with a little sniffle, you'll pull the door open by yourself. Your classmates haven't noticed your disappearance, and they don't understand why you are quiet and upset when you walk back downstairs.
More things than just your finger will hurt, little one.
And I wish that this didn't effect the way that it will. Children lack empathy and caring, and nothing that happened was your fault. But remember, that day you will have learned something important: sometimes the only one who can get you out of a situation is yourself. and you'll have passed that test, young one.
Chin up until tomorrow, little one. It'll all be ok.
Hearts and kisses,
You.
Dear Little One,
Oh boy is this a special year. Bill Clinton is in his 2nd year as president, Nelson Mandela is sworn in as President of South Africa, The Lion King is released in theatres (you see it on the big screen, and this also becomes the first time you see people crying during a movie, which is a totally foreign subject to you now, but will become waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaay relevant down the line), and Jeff Bezos starts this teeny tiny little company called Amazon - like that's ever going to take off.
And, and, this is the first year that you start *real* school. So long pre-school, hello kindergarten. Another year, another slew of weird seminal life experiences that seem to mold you in totally bonkers ways. Your raw brattiness from ages 3-5 seem to have waned a little, and you're starting to be a little more conscientious of the world... sort of. Relatively, speaking, I guess. You're loud and have got no cap on your temper, you've got no problem saying what's on your mind (in only the way at 6-year-old can), and rules (particularly those concerning language and etiquette) seem totally arbitrary and ignorable. But, you're also surprisingly ladylike, polite, and courteous, and despite your total regard for using inappropriate language, you are weirdly particular about following rules about order and silence.
Kindergarten really is a playground for your creativity. You get to play with crafts and musical instruments, draw, read, and even carve the world's ugliest jack-o-lantern. You'll meet some really lovely people, like Lisle, who starts out as being a little bossy, but turns into one of your closest chums for the next year and a few months before she moves away. Through her, you'll learn that the highest form of praise is imitation. Collin and David, who remind you that there's nothing wrong with unbridled joy from time to time.
This is also the year that you learn that you are forgettable, and that sometimes you have to pick yourself up by the bootstraps.
You see, little one, you and three classmates going to be sent to the library to pick up some books. The library is a little bit of a distance from your classroom, and between the classroom and the library is a stairwell with two heavy doors. Whether it's because you're just slow, or because you had to tie your shoe, or maybe the rest of them were racing, you're going to be left behind, and when that happens, your finger is going to get trapped in one of the doors.
And it hurts. A lot.
You're going to cry and shout for help, but no one is going to hear. Not a teacher, not another student. You'll wonder how long it will take the others to realize that you are missing. They don't.
You'll fall silent when you realize that it's just you.
And then, you'll wipe the tears away, and with a little sniffle, you'll pull the door open by yourself. Your classmates haven't noticed your disappearance, and they don't understand why you are quiet and upset when you walk back downstairs.
More things than just your finger will hurt, little one.
And I wish that this didn't effect the way that it will. Children lack empathy and caring, and nothing that happened was your fault. But remember, that day you will have learned something important: sometimes the only one who can get you out of a situation is yourself. and you'll have passed that test, young one.
Chin up until tomorrow, little one. It'll all be ok.
Hearts and kisses,
You.
Thursday, September 6, 2018
30 in 30: Year 5
1993:
Dear Little One,
Year Two of Great Beginnings: go!
So, yes, despite turning 5-years-old this year, you've been asked to stay in pre-school for another term. Darn cut-off months. The result of this is that you're going to be on the "older" end of all of your classmates each year, which in the grand scheme of things isn't a huge deal, but you are going to make a big fuss about it until you hit your 20s. Them's the breaks.
But to be fair, better a little older than a little too young. I'll be honest, Little One, you aren't super mature for your age. You are a little spoiled, and a little bit selfish, kind of still in that phase when you think that the world revolves around you. Don't worry, though, this second year will stomp the diva right out of you... sort of (she says while maintaining a blog). Not to mention, this is the year that you discover what it's like to have romantic feelings for another person for the first time (his name is Robbie, and he becomes a bit of a prat later in life, but for now, he's your Prince Charming).
Speaking of Prince Charmings, this is the year that you really begin to discover fairy tales, and boy does your imagination run wild with it. Remember: you've recently discovered Little Nemo: Adventures in Slumberland, and for some reason, this is your gateway to fairy princesses, which means this is around the time you become obsessed with (everyone say it with me now) B*tchin' Poofy Dresses.
Beauty and the Beast came out two years ago, and that really did a number on you, too. You and your sister will learn it, line for line (heck, you two even re-enact it sometimes. It is friggen adorable.) It is your favorite film for years, so much so that the ballroom scene inspires you to ask your sister's best friend and your first older-guy-crush to dance with you (shortly before you accidentally poke him in the eye and run away in embarrassment). Spoilers: this is the only time you've successfully asked a crush to dance with you, and I hate to break it to you, but you don't really become that much more elegant around romantic interests.
Around this time is the second stretch that Dad is gone for an extended period. After his time in Taiwan finishes up, he comes back for a spell, and then shortly moves down to Florida to take up a job at his old university. It's still a little confusing for you, but by now you're a little more old hat. And hey - family trip part 2! Pretty neat that you get to travel so much when you're young, huh?
Yeah. Always try to see the silver lining in life.
I know. Things are weird. You can't even really read properly yet, and you're already trying to write full blown letters to express everything that's on your undeveloped mind. But despite the fact that you still cry when you get your vaccines, and that small animals and babies scare you, you're a tough little nugget. And even though you can't appreciate it now, your sister and your mom are still there to look out for you as life begins to make more sense (as well as it can, anyhow.)
Chin up. Higher this time. You'll be ok.
Hearts and Kisses,
You.
Dear Little One,
Year Two of Great Beginnings: go!
So, yes, despite turning 5-years-old this year, you've been asked to stay in pre-school for another term. Darn cut-off months. The result of this is that you're going to be on the "older" end of all of your classmates each year, which in the grand scheme of things isn't a huge deal, but you are going to make a big fuss about it until you hit your 20s. Them's the breaks.
But to be fair, better a little older than a little too young. I'll be honest, Little One, you aren't super mature for your age. You are a little spoiled, and a little bit selfish, kind of still in that phase when you think that the world revolves around you. Don't worry, though, this second year will stomp the diva right out of you... sort of (she says while maintaining a blog). Not to mention, this is the year that you discover what it's like to have romantic feelings for another person for the first time (his name is Robbie, and he becomes a bit of a prat later in life, but for now, he's your Prince Charming).
Speaking of Prince Charmings, this is the year that you really begin to discover fairy tales, and boy does your imagination run wild with it. Remember: you've recently discovered Little Nemo: Adventures in Slumberland, and for some reason, this is your gateway to fairy princesses, which means this is around the time you become obsessed with (everyone say it with me now) B*tchin' Poofy Dresses.
Beauty and the Beast came out two years ago, and that really did a number on you, too. You and your sister will learn it, line for line (heck, you two even re-enact it sometimes. It is friggen adorable.) It is your favorite film for years, so much so that the ballroom scene inspires you to ask your sister's best friend and your first older-guy-crush to dance with you (shortly before you accidentally poke him in the eye and run away in embarrassment). Spoilers: this is the only time you've successfully asked a crush to dance with you, and I hate to break it to you, but you don't really become that much more elegant around romantic interests.
Around this time is the second stretch that Dad is gone for an extended period. After his time in Taiwan finishes up, he comes back for a spell, and then shortly moves down to Florida to take up a job at his old university. It's still a little confusing for you, but by now you're a little more old hat. And hey - family trip part 2! Pretty neat that you get to travel so much when you're young, huh?
Yeah. Always try to see the silver lining in life.
I know. Things are weird. You can't even really read properly yet, and you're already trying to write full blown letters to express everything that's on your undeveloped mind. But despite the fact that you still cry when you get your vaccines, and that small animals and babies scare you, you're a tough little nugget. And even though you can't appreciate it now, your sister and your mom are still there to look out for you as life begins to make more sense (as well as it can, anyhow.)
Chin up. Higher this time. You'll be ok.
Hearts and Kisses,
You.
Wednesday, September 5, 2018
30 in 30: Year 4
1992:
Dear Little One,
Four! You're 4-years-old now! Why am I this excited? Because this is the year that you really get to attend pre-school for the first time. Your first institution of learning, and really, the first time to start to become socialized with other kids your age. Ah, Great Beginnings, the perfectly named institution for your humble start, little one. Granted, your first day here will go down in infamy as the day that parents stopped encouraging you to learn Mandarin (Damn you, Ms. Amaroso), but there were some really plusses, too. Snack time with ABC pretzels, arts and crafts, learning a sense of responsibility and leadership (clean up, clean up, everybody do your part, indeed), and, um, pseudo bible study. I still vaguely question your parents' decision to send you to a Methodist preschool despite being diametrically opposed to organized religion, and I have to say, this is going to be a confusing point of contention for you for... ever.
And this is the first time that you start making friends! Lindsay, who lives up the block from you, will be in your life for years, which... is questionably good or bad. Andrea, who you carpool with to school, is... also going to also be a slight source of confusion. Christie, who lives down the street, will be an absolute angel, but she'll move in about a year or so. Tara, who lives across the street from you, will be in your life for way longer than is necessary.
Huh. Alright, so maybe not off to a great start here. Look, so you're a little limited in the radius in which you can travel in order to make friends. It's going to get better, though, I promise. And, realistically, no relationship and no friendship is perfect; there are going to be highs and lows to everything. But learn to take the good with the bad. Like it or not, no man is an island, and I wish someone had taught you that sooner, because it would have saved you a lot of loneliness in later years. And don't try to hold onto friendships and relationships just for the sake of them. It's ok to say goodbye sometimes.
Learn to fill your life with things that make you happy and bring you around like-minded people. Sure, the hobbies themselves will enrich your life - I mean, this is the the first year that you start clumsily tapping on piano keys, and look how happy music still makes you to this day. But it's not always about the activities themselves; it's about the experience and how it make you feel, and despite how shy you are, you're going to find that the best experiences in your life are those that you shared with others. People may come and go, but those feelings will still last forever.
Speaking of people coming and going, this is around the first time that Dad will not be in your life for an extended period. You're not really going to understand what is going on, but he's taken a professorship in a far-off place called Taiwan, his, your mom's, and your sister's birth place. It's going to be confusing, because you'll send him presents and voice recordings, even though you don't really know why. And you'll even get to meet your extended family and see Taiwan for the first time! (And never really see them again because 14 hour plane flight, among other things.) You'll see so many cool monuments (and not appreciate it because you're too young) and each delicious food (and dislike it because your palate is juvenile). I'm being a little harsh, but you will make some really neat memories, like meeting your grandparents, and playing with ribbon dancers at the Sun Yatsen Memorial, and seeing fair ladies in qi pao, gliding along with parasols like something out of a dream.
And even though the adults think you'll be too young to understand, you'll cry in the airport when Daddy isn't coming with you on the plane home.
It's hard to say how much this will affect you because, to be fair, you are pretty young. But... let's just say this is going to be the first of a long string of confusing moments and feelings you are going to have with your father.
Chin up, Little One. It'll be alright.
Hearts and kisses,
You.
Dear Little One,
Four! You're 4-years-old now! Why am I this excited? Because this is the year that you really get to attend pre-school for the first time. Your first institution of learning, and really, the first time to start to become socialized with other kids your age. Ah, Great Beginnings, the perfectly named institution for your humble start, little one. Granted, your first day here will go down in infamy as the day that parents stopped encouraging you to learn Mandarin (Damn you, Ms. Amaroso), but there were some really plusses, too. Snack time with ABC pretzels, arts and crafts, learning a sense of responsibility and leadership (clean up, clean up, everybody do your part, indeed), and, um, pseudo bible study. I still vaguely question your parents' decision to send you to a Methodist preschool despite being diametrically opposed to organized religion, and I have to say, this is going to be a confusing point of contention for you for... ever.
And this is the first time that you start making friends! Lindsay, who lives up the block from you, will be in your life for years, which... is questionably good or bad. Andrea, who you carpool with to school, is... also going to also be a slight source of confusion. Christie, who lives down the street, will be an absolute angel, but she'll move in about a year or so. Tara, who lives across the street from you, will be in your life for way longer than is necessary.
Huh. Alright, so maybe not off to a great start here. Look, so you're a little limited in the radius in which you can travel in order to make friends. It's going to get better, though, I promise. And, realistically, no relationship and no friendship is perfect; there are going to be highs and lows to everything. But learn to take the good with the bad. Like it or not, no man is an island, and I wish someone had taught you that sooner, because it would have saved you a lot of loneliness in later years. And don't try to hold onto friendships and relationships just for the sake of them. It's ok to say goodbye sometimes.
Learn to fill your life with things that make you happy and bring you around like-minded people. Sure, the hobbies themselves will enrich your life - I mean, this is the the first year that you start clumsily tapping on piano keys, and look how happy music still makes you to this day. But it's not always about the activities themselves; it's about the experience and how it make you feel, and despite how shy you are, you're going to find that the best experiences in your life are those that you shared with others. People may come and go, but those feelings will still last forever.
Speaking of people coming and going, this is around the first time that Dad will not be in your life for an extended period. You're not really going to understand what is going on, but he's taken a professorship in a far-off place called Taiwan, his, your mom's, and your sister's birth place. It's going to be confusing, because you'll send him presents and voice recordings, even though you don't really know why. And you'll even get to meet your extended family and see Taiwan for the first time! (And never really see them again because 14 hour plane flight, among other things.) You'll see so many cool monuments (and not appreciate it because you're too young) and each delicious food (and dislike it because your palate is juvenile). I'm being a little harsh, but you will make some really neat memories, like meeting your grandparents, and playing with ribbon dancers at the Sun Yatsen Memorial, and seeing fair ladies in qi pao, gliding along with parasols like something out of a dream.
And even though the adults think you'll be too young to understand, you'll cry in the airport when Daddy isn't coming with you on the plane home.
It's hard to say how much this will affect you because, to be fair, you are pretty young. But... let's just say this is going to be the first of a long string of confusing moments and feelings you are going to have with your father.
Chin up, Little One. It'll be alright.
Hearts and kisses,
You.
Tuesday, September 4, 2018
30 in 30: Year 3
1991
Dear Little One,
The world is a pretty happening place this year. The Gulf War ends. A big piece of Apartheid is South Africa is repealed (the Population Registration Act, which had required racial classification of all South Africans at birth). President Zachary Taylor, who had the 3rd shortest presidential term to date (492 days, man), is exhumed on the suspicion that he was assassinated by pro-slavery Southerners with arsenic poisoning; spoilers: it was a GI illness, not arsenic, those crazy conspiracy theorists. Aung San Suu Kyi wins the Nobel Peace Prize, while under house arrest (this is going to seem somewhat ironic or hypocritical or something about 20 years down the line).
Oh - and here's two big ones that will really affect you in years to come: The Super Nintendo Entertainment System (SNES) is released, and Comedy Central launches. You're too young for console gaming right now, but look forward to hours upon hours of something you will come to affectionately know as "rage quitting". And you are definitely too young for the raciness of CC, but in the future, this will absolutely be seminal to your sense of humor. Have fun with that.
Chesterbrook, PA is not exactly what I would call a happening place, but what makes it special is that this is the first time you really start forming memories. Fragmented at best, but vivid all the same: waking up in a crib/bed in a dimly lit room, the first rays of sunlight pouring through the windows, a pink crocheted blanket hanging over top, and your sister poking her fingers through the bars playfully. Thick white snowfalls while you trudge, encumbered by layers and layers of clothing, through the yard, determined to make your way up the hill before you have to come back inside. And, a black dog the size of Cerberus tearing through your living room, leaving destruction and feces in its wake (it was like a 6 month old puppy, but how would you know).
Memories are kind of a funny thing. They are not permanent, and they are often mutable, and yet they make up the people that we become. Cherish your memories, little one, but do not let them consume you. You have a lovely, vivid imagination, but this is both a gift and a curse in its own right. Be not caged by the entanglements of your own mind. Be open, experience the world, and try to let go every once in a while.
Hearts and Kisses,
You.
Dear Little One,
The world is a pretty happening place this year. The Gulf War ends. A big piece of Apartheid is South Africa is repealed (the Population Registration Act, which had required racial classification of all South Africans at birth). President Zachary Taylor, who had the 3rd shortest presidential term to date (492 days, man), is exhumed on the suspicion that he was assassinated by pro-slavery Southerners with arsenic poisoning; spoilers: it was a GI illness, not arsenic, those crazy conspiracy theorists. Aung San Suu Kyi wins the Nobel Peace Prize, while under house arrest (this is going to seem somewhat ironic or hypocritical or something about 20 years down the line).
Oh - and here's two big ones that will really affect you in years to come: The Super Nintendo Entertainment System (SNES) is released, and Comedy Central launches. You're too young for console gaming right now, but look forward to hours upon hours of something you will come to affectionately know as "rage quitting". And you are definitely too young for the raciness of CC, but in the future, this will absolutely be seminal to your sense of humor. Have fun with that.
Chesterbrook, PA is not exactly what I would call a happening place, but what makes it special is that this is the first time you really start forming memories. Fragmented at best, but vivid all the same: waking up in a crib/bed in a dimly lit room, the first rays of sunlight pouring through the windows, a pink crocheted blanket hanging over top, and your sister poking her fingers through the bars playfully. Thick white snowfalls while you trudge, encumbered by layers and layers of clothing, through the yard, determined to make your way up the hill before you have to come back inside. And, a black dog the size of Cerberus tearing through your living room, leaving destruction and feces in its wake (it was like a 6 month old puppy, but how would you know).
Memories are kind of a funny thing. They are not permanent, and they are often mutable, and yet they make up the people that we become. Cherish your memories, little one, but do not let them consume you. You have a lovely, vivid imagination, but this is both a gift and a curse in its own right. Be not caged by the entanglements of your own mind. Be open, experience the world, and try to let go every once in a while.
Hearts and Kisses,
You.
Monday, September 3, 2018
30 in 30: Year 2
1990
Dear Little One,
Congratulations on making it into the new decade! A "radical" time if you will. A time of big hair, scrunchies, high tops, and spiffy designs that will really make your eyes pop. Some things that will effect you in a big way: Nickelodean Studios opens, and JK Rowling begins writing this crazy little book known as Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone. But at the moment, you're a bit young to be appreciating these things. Don't worry, you'll come to recognize the importance sooner rather than later. But right now, it's goodbye Minnesota and constant snow, hello Pennsylvania and all four beautiful seasons. You'll take it for granted, but trust me, it's a real rare treat.
And you're two! You're walking and toddling along, and much to the detriment of the world, you've begun talking. Your first word comes out a bit rubbish, but oddly, it's the Mandarin word for "orange." To be honest, baby, you're not going to be talking all that much over the course of your life, but when you do actually open your mouth, you can really stun people, so be prepared to proudly stick that feather in your cap.
This is also the year that you will discover the piano for the first time really. Sure, you can barely get your baby butt up on the bench, and all your doing is banging on keys, but in a couple of years you are going to be playing for first real notes. Love that instrument, dear one. It may seem like a terrible punishment at times, but it is truly wonderful to express yourself through music, and you will regret the years that you wasted ignoring something so freeing.
I guess what I'm saying is, take nothing for granted and try to appreciate everything, young one. Good times, bad times, and everything in between, know that this too shall pass.
Hearts and Kisses,
You.
Dear Little One,
Congratulations on making it into the new decade! A "radical" time if you will. A time of big hair, scrunchies, high tops, and spiffy designs that will really make your eyes pop. Some things that will effect you in a big way: Nickelodean Studios opens, and JK Rowling begins writing this crazy little book known as Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone. But at the moment, you're a bit young to be appreciating these things. Don't worry, you'll come to recognize the importance sooner rather than later. But right now, it's goodbye Minnesota and constant snow, hello Pennsylvania and all four beautiful seasons. You'll take it for granted, but trust me, it's a real rare treat.
And you're two! You're walking and toddling along, and much to the detriment of the world, you've begun talking. Your first word comes out a bit rubbish, but oddly, it's the Mandarin word for "orange." To be honest, baby, you're not going to be talking all that much over the course of your life, but when you do actually open your mouth, you can really stun people, so be prepared to proudly stick that feather in your cap.
This is also the year that you will discover the piano for the first time really. Sure, you can barely get your baby butt up on the bench, and all your doing is banging on keys, but in a couple of years you are going to be playing for first real notes. Love that instrument, dear one. It may seem like a terrible punishment at times, but it is truly wonderful to express yourself through music, and you will regret the years that you wasted ignoring something so freeing.
I guess what I'm saying is, take nothing for granted and try to appreciate everything, young one. Good times, bad times, and everything in between, know that this too shall pass.
Hearts and Kisses,
You.
Around Europe in 21 Days Pt. 5 -- The Bells of Notre Dame
I had only really planned about 4-5 days in Paris, which surely wasn't enough to see every possible neat thing available, but I was pretty good about setting reasonable expectations. I had done most of the big touristy things that I'd wanted to do in the last two days, so the remainder of my time in the city, I could sort of view the nooks and crannies of the city. At this point, there was only one thing left that I desperately wanted to see: Cathedrale Notre Dame.
I have to say, despite technically being on strike, the metro system in Paris really got me around town, which is something I could never say of any city I've ever lived in. USA, seriously, get your shit together. Your public transportation system is pathetic in the face of like... all of Western European. Aside from one minor hiccup (due to me forgetting a few words in French), getting a weekly Navigo card was probably the most convenient thing I'd ever done.
Nooowwwww, you're really supposed to affix a tiny picture to the card so that multiple people can't use it, and officials do sometimes do a spot check on the metro cars to actually make sure you didn't hop the turnstile, etc. BUT this is one of those times that the strike worked in my favor, as no one was checking, so I could slip by quite clandestinely.
The closest stop to Notre Dame was about 5 blocks away with a somewhat nondescript station name: Hôtel de Ville. That translates to... city hotel, ok, cool.
No. Nope, guys. Strung together, those words have a pretty specific meaning: City Hall.
 |
| Celebrating World Blood Donor Day. Have you saved 3 lives today? |
Sunday, September 2, 2018
30 in 30: Year 1
1989:
Dear Little One,
Congratulations! You have made through an entire year of life. Crazy, right? Well, they say that the first year is the hardest... or... something. That...that probably applies to parenthood, and not infancy, but who am I to say?
After all, '89 was a pretty crazy year. George Bush Sr. is the sworn in as president, the Exxon-Valdez nearly destroys the Prince William Sound, the Tienanmen Square protests take place, the same-sex civil unions are legalized for the first time in history in Denmark, and the Berlin Wall fell, just to name a few things. September 18 of this year is... sort of unremarkable. An alleged coup was foiled in Burkina Faso (I highly stress the use of the word "alleged" - it's actually a pretty interesting tale of friendship, politics, and betrayal, but I could easily believe that something like this was a setup, and not an actual coup.)
Meanwhile, you're more concerned with learning how to like... exist. Crawling, taking your first steps, eating solid foods. It's all pretty life-shattering stuff here, baby. And your family is learning how to live with a new addition in their family. It's a tough job for them to juggle, kiddo, make no mistake. Dad's chained to his doctoral studies, Mom's working in the hospital, and your sister is dealing with realizing that she's not the only apple of her parents' eyes anymore, and probably while on the precipice of puberty. Seriously. Be nice to her. For the love of god, don't do anything shitty like, oh iunno, bite her nose as hard as physically possible.
ಠ_ಠ
Your folks are emotionally stunted as is, so trying to explain to them your feelings while your hormones are getting ready to kick it into high gear is probably like setting a punch card on fire so that the ashes fit into a floppy drive for the data to be read.
But, hey, you're growing up nice and healthy, which is really all anyone can ask for, despite occasionally being mistaken for a boy. Yeah, Mom believed that old wives tale that cutting your hair when you were a baby would mean luscious hair later, and will continue to believe it for years, so get used to ranging from the pseudo-crew cut to the bowl cut. I mean, if you had any sense of self-preservation, this might annoy you now, but trust me - far into the future, you... kind of are going to wish that that trend continued (it's a long confusing story, we'll get into it later, baby. Now is not the time.)
My daily wisdom to you, little one, is to literally and figuratively take it one step at a time. Things may seem really slow right now, but life is going to rush at you before you know it, and you might want to tear your surprisingly full head of hair out, but learn to roll with the punches, and you'll get through it alright.
Hearts and Kisses,
You.
Dear Little One,
Congratulations! You have made through an entire year of life. Crazy, right? Well, they say that the first year is the hardest... or... something. That...that probably applies to parenthood, and not infancy, but who am I to say?
After all, '89 was a pretty crazy year. George Bush Sr. is the sworn in as president, the Exxon-Valdez nearly destroys the Prince William Sound, the Tienanmen Square protests take place, the same-sex civil unions are legalized for the first time in history in Denmark, and the Berlin Wall fell, just to name a few things. September 18 of this year is... sort of unremarkable. An alleged coup was foiled in Burkina Faso (I highly stress the use of the word "alleged" - it's actually a pretty interesting tale of friendship, politics, and betrayal, but I could easily believe that something like this was a setup, and not an actual coup.)
Meanwhile, you're more concerned with learning how to like... exist. Crawling, taking your first steps, eating solid foods. It's all pretty life-shattering stuff here, baby. And your family is learning how to live with a new addition in their family. It's a tough job for them to juggle, kiddo, make no mistake. Dad's chained to his doctoral studies, Mom's working in the hospital, and your sister is dealing with realizing that she's not the only apple of her parents' eyes anymore, and probably while on the precipice of puberty. Seriously. Be nice to her. For the love of god, don't do anything shitty like, oh iunno, bite her nose as hard as physically possible.
ಠ_ಠ
Your folks are emotionally stunted as is, so trying to explain to them your feelings while your hormones are getting ready to kick it into high gear is probably like setting a punch card on fire so that the ashes fit into a floppy drive for the data to be read.
But, hey, you're growing up nice and healthy, which is really all anyone can ask for, despite occasionally being mistaken for a boy. Yeah, Mom believed that old wives tale that cutting your hair when you were a baby would mean luscious hair later, and will continue to believe it for years, so get used to ranging from the pseudo-crew cut to the bowl cut. I mean, if you had any sense of self-preservation, this might annoy you now, but trust me - far into the future, you... kind of are going to wish that that trend continued (it's a long confusing story, we'll get into it later, baby. Now is not the time.)
My daily wisdom to you, little one, is to literally and figuratively take it one step at a time. Things may seem really slow right now, but life is going to rush at you before you know it, and you might want to tear your surprisingly full head of hair out, but learn to roll with the punches, and you'll get through it alright.
Hearts and Kisses,
You.
Saturday, September 1, 2018
30 in 30: Year 0
September 18, 1988:
Dear Little One,
It's sort of a quiet, if somber day otherwise. The top headline across the US is that 200 are suspected dead or missing in Mexico after Hurricane Gilbert made landfall. In Myanmar, pro-democratic uprisings, known as the 8-8-88 Uprising, are quelled by State Law and Order Restoration Council when thousands, mainly monks and students, are killed in a coup. Oh, and it's day two of the Summer Olympics in Seoul.
But we're not really super concerned about the outside world at the moment. It's about 10:30-11 AM in the morning, CST. The place: a hospital in Minneapolis, MN. It's snowing pretty badly outside, but, I mean, that's Minnesota, where you have 2 seasons: winter and construction. And, something of pretty cool importance is happening now:
You are born. Happy Birthday, you! Welcome to the world!
I know. Stuff is kind of confusing at the moment. Here you were, cozy comfy in your amniotic fluid world, and suddenly it's bright and loud, and you're actually not exactly breathing for the first few minutes because your umbilical cord was wrapped around your neck. Hey - maybe that's why your favorite color is going to be blue for so many years (just kidding, it's because you wanted to mack on this guy named Justin for like... ever, and blue was his absolute favorite color, but we'll get to him later.)
I hate to tell you this, but it's not going to get significantly easier, baby. For a good long bit, you will not know the difference between your fingers and a boob. Your main mode of communication is going to be screaming and crying (spoilers: that... kind of will be a theme in your life, even past infancy). People are going to be confused when you don't want your bottle (you... may or may not be lactose intolerant? Who knows!)
But really - you're ok. Your mother, hard-ass and saint that she is, is holding you now. In all your red-facedness and pruniness, she is looking down on you, and all she can think is, "God must be an artist."
Life is often confusing, loud, and bright. You're going to face a lot of things that will seem like a cake walk, and just as many things that seem like the worst thing in the world. But it's all going to work out, one way or another. Your mom is going to be there, supporting you in her own way, even if it doesn't always seem like she's around. And that other female creature? That's your really cool sister. She's 9 years older than you, so like... listen to what she has to say. And your dad... Well. He's going to be a fun one to work with. But, know that he loves you, too.
I'm sorry for every bad thing that is going to happen to you that you cannot control. I celebrate every success that you will achieve. But understand that your greatest strength will be to find purpose in adversity.
Best of luck.
Hearts and kisses,
You
Best of luck.
Hearts and kisses,
You
Tuesday, August 28, 2018
Around Europe in 21 Days Pt. 4 -- Verily, Versailles
Your daily fact -- Versailles is not part of Paris. Believe it or not, it is its own town in Île-de-France, and more like a suburb of Paris. Granted, it is only about 10 miles outside the city center and has a metro stop a mere jaunt from the Château de Versailles - BUT remember when I told you that there were strikes in France strongly affecting the train schedule? Trains to and from Versailles were still running, but on a somewhat unregulated basis. SNCF was telling commuters to check the schedules the night before, when daily printouts were being released. Naturally, the day before I planned to visit Versailles, I was refreshing the website every so often to make sure I would actually be able to make it there and back.
But, what luck, my particular train line was running smoothly. To the Palace of the Sun King!
But, what luck, my particular train line was running smoothly. To the Palace of the Sun King!
 |
| No, not this one (where my HZD fans at?) |
 |
| Yes, this big ole foppy fop on his majestic effing unicorn. |
Sunday, July 29, 2018
Around Europe in 21 Days Pt. 3 -- La Vie est Belle
As the bus pulled into the station in the village of Bercy, the 18-year-old version of me was having a small fit. FINALLY, here I was in Paris! Something I'd been dreaming of since I'd started taking French in the 7th grade. What would I do first? Moodily sip espresso at a cafe? Pair cheeses and wines at a farmer's market? Wander le Cathedrale Notre Dame in search of a clandestine hunchback? Get rained on?
 |
| I love Paris in the summer when it pours a deluge on my head |
Saturday, July 21, 2018
Around Europe in 21 Days Pt. 2 -- Planes, Trains, and Hurricanes
I have less than positive feelings about travel days, a stress that I admittedly put on myself. The first day out is the worst, for everyone I imagine, but definitely for me. Double-checking that I have everything, remembering at the last minute what random non-essential I didn't grab, giving myself way more than enough time to catch my flight -- I have, more than once, waited in excess of 2 hours after getting through security. Though I have never missed a flight, I am not proud of myself.
And of course, security.
JFC, TSA. I would love to know if anyone has really done a full analysis of the before-and-after effects of limiting liquid carry-ons to <3.4 fl oz crammed into a clear plastic baggie. I wonder if the end of that analysis would be that we've all learned to become Tetris masters of lotion and toothpaste.
I have taken a few pages from the book of my boy George Clooney from the film Up in the Air, as far as packing and surviving security, and I have gotten my own check-in process down to a science. Still, nothing can ever *really* alleviate the pain of waiting half an hour+ in line, kicking your luggage the half-nanometer down the queue every time someone moves, waiting to step into a magical microwave that says whether or not you are a risk whilst praying that you aren't pulled aside because a random sliver of something in your pocket set off an alarm, and then hastily shoving your carefully separated things back into your carry-ons before you clog the conveyor belt.
In short, blah blah, screw you, it's a huge pain in the ass.
Tuesday, July 3, 2018
Around Europe in 21 Days Pt. 1 -- The So-so'est Laid Plans
"Be VERY careful. Don't talk to any strangers, and don't walk down any quiet alleys. You will get robbed or raped and no one would even know."
^^^ My mom's immediate reaction upon telling her that I was planning to travel by myself in Europe for 3 weeks. Is it... is it because I'm too young and beautiful, Mother?
Fortunately, the support was there in other places, because I would have totally lost it and given up on this excursion otherwise. Why? For those of you who remember my Italy series, you will recall that a.) I am prone to panic, and b.) am somewhat vexed by the idea of international travel. Add to that the concern that I could even afford this trip in light of the fact that I would be staring at a big ole' student loan bill soon, and we have a base recipe for regret.
But, being the everlasting fount of positive energy that he is, SJH was able to talk me out of my Negative Nancy doldrums.
 |
| Pictured: Pre-planning discussion |
Sunday, July 1, 2018
Around Europe in 21 Days -- Prologue
I quit my job.
Those who follow me on Facebook and Instagram know this fact by now. What you may not be aware of is *why* I quit my job. There are a number of pretty concrete answers that I could give, but ultimately what it boiled down to was: I hated my life and what my job was doing to me. I was coming home absolutely miserable every day, and generally feeling utterly purposeless.
Other little known fact: I'd been feeling that way for at least 2 years.
So why leave now? Well, long story short, I got just the kick I needed when my assignment was about to lead me to a fairly uninspiring position in the middle of Wisconsin, a choice that was made with little to none of my input. My options were essentially take it or leave it. So I left it. In February.
This was actually a pretty bold move, as I had nothing really lined up for afterwards, except the vain hope that I would be accepted into a master's program, a decision to which I wouldn't hear about until mid-March at the very earliest. At best, this void left me kind of panicking and floundering, particularly as I had also recently lost a big part of my support network.
Other other slightly less known fact: I also became single in February.
I'm well aware that I've never really gone into the details about my relationships, save for the fact that I am in one as implied by the fact that I've done something with them/gone somewhere/received or given a present. Per the norm, I'm not *really* going to get into it today either. However, my ending of a relationship is pretty seminal to this tale. The long and short of it is, after being in a serious relationship for 3.5 years and engaged for several months, we found ourselves in irreconcilable place, not burning with anger, but cold. And so we left. On good terms, mind you, but we left, all the same.
So, let me set the stage for you, friends: It's February. I'm both recently unemployed & single, living above my sister's garage as a part-time babysitter (in a really nice au pair suite, I'll grant you, but still mooching above a family member's garage), all the while, waiting for the letter that will change my life.
CUE THE DRAM-COM MONTAGE.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)