Dear Grandma,

My paternal grandmother is fairly upset with me. Since my sister just had her wedding this past weekend, all my family decides to pour into Seattle to celebrate. I love my family, don't get me wrong, and it has been years since I've seen the majority of them, but there are good reasons why I moved somewhere they aren't.

Anyways, as my out-of-town relatives are leaving my parents' home. I go to give everyone a hug. My grandma was out by the van already, so I go out to say goodbye. As I raise my arms for a hug, her eyes follow the hand I'm holding my keys in and backs away, asking what that [my keys] was in my hand and questioning what I was doing in general. In my surprise, I forget how to say "I wanted to hug you" in Cantonese, but my aunt comes to my rescue behind me and grandma and I awkwardly hug.

I walk away to my car, and my mom comes over asking if I'd heard what my grandma said. Roughly translated:

"You don't talk to me for three days and now you want to hug? Isn't it a bit late?"

.....

But of course, this was not when my mom or I was supposed to be within hearing distance.

Soaring

Written: August 24th, 2011 [on the plane to Newark]

For the first time in my college career, I am not flying towards an expectation. There is no love waiting for me at the end of this plane ride. There is no hug waiting for me outside of baggage claim. There will be no friendly face to smile at. And that makes me feel so empty, for as strong as I say I am.

Everyone has asked me whether I was excited to go back to school. Honestly, I wasn't. But not because I had any strong attachment to Washington or my family (sans my sister). More than anything, I am anxious to just finish school and start this whole life thing. I like I am just waiting for everything to truly START. Press play, Dad, I want to see what happens.

On Being an Outsider: At a Funeral

[Disclaimer: I went to my (now) brother-in-laws' grandfather's funeral two months ago. This is just a personal account on how I felt when I was there. To hear of his death was very shocking and sad.]

Wear all the black you can and do your best to look somber. You may not really have known the dearly departed, but you are there to pay your respects. Everyone's going to give you disdainful looks for being there, but hold yourself together and give them a sorrowful look back. Maybe your fear will be masked by sadness.

Go with your mom so you don't see too out of place. Let her do most of the talking - she knew him better anyways. Ignore how you will be ignored and relish saying your goodbyes in your head as mom shakes Uncle Tim's hand.

Sit in the back row. Find out it's not really the back row at all but actually the break in the aisle where the procession marches through. Awkwardly bow your head as the whole family, priests and altar boys walk by you. Wonder who designed the stupid aisles, curse them and blush while trying to keep a mournful look.

Pride

Written: August 18th, 2011

When I was younger, my family always used me to rant at because I would just sit there and listen, offering very little in the way of advice or opinion. Due to the subject of the rants, my attitude served them just fine, and I was forced to endure endless hours of them talking about one another, as if I didn't see them all on a regular basis. Regardless of how I felt, I learned a lot about how they thought and processed - knowledge that I later used for easy manipulation of them when I was older. I'm not completely proud of how well I can manipulate the people around me, but it is a fact, nonetheless.

Sad sad robot.