thank goodness for some clarity

isn't it pretty to think that all the world's vague, uncertain, complicated situations could be clarified, reaffirmed, and resolved in one simple conversation?

yeah, well, thank goodness some situations can!

things to love about the spring

isn't it pretty to think that life can automatically start looking up with the changing of the seasons?

I think it's officially springtime in the district. here's a short list of things i love during the spring (aka: not the winter):

warm mornings so waking up early for the gym is easier.

not having to carry and wear 3+ layers.

eating lunch outside in the sunshine.

warm nights.

gardening.

the revival of my houseplants.

being able to wear all sorts of shoes.

more space in my closet because the coats are put away.

sleeping naked.

signals for transitions

isn't it pretty to think . . all transitions could have clear cut signals for the end of something old . . or at least the beginning of something new.

. . kind of like daffodils.



i've always loved daffodils, ever since watching the old version of charlie and the the chocolate factory. the scene where they're in the garden and willy sits down on some mushroom or something, picks a daffodil, drinks from it like a tea cup, and then bites off a piece of it.

ever since then, i was in love with those gorgeous yellow flowers.

however, my appreciation of them has deepened even more since moving to the east coast. not only have i discovered that they come in multiple shades of whites, yellows, and oranges . . but they also come in all sorts of sizes.

while the various types of daffodils has definitely been a plus, there's a far greater reason why i've gotten even more fond of them. a few days ago, the daffodils in the district bloomed . . signaling the end of winter and the beginning of spring. this means, i could put some of my coats away, i could start bringing out my skirts and tank tops, and soon i will be able to run outside, sit out at the mall, read on my porch . . and all the wonderful things i haven't been able to do since the fall.

i wish every end and beginning could have a signal so simple and so sweet.

like relationships. i wish relationships could have a signal for an end or at least as signal for a beginning like the blooming of a daffodil.

a few months ago, i was talking to a friend about vagueness when it comes to relationships. she couldn't stand them. she said that she needed to immediately DTR -- determine the relationship. she needed to sit down and talk to the person. ask them if this was casual. ask them if there was a future. ask them if they liked her. ask them if they were sleeping with other people. ask them this and ask them that.

i told her i was the complete opposite. i enjoyed vagueness . . it let me enjoy things as they went without all the complications of over thinking and over analyzing. it let me dream up the best case scenarios. it let me imagine that this wasn't casual. that there might be a future. that they did like me. that we were being monogamous . . all the great things that could come from new and exciting relationships.

she mentioned that she wasn't surprised. she thought i was a relatively optimistic person . . i always carried myself in a way where i COULD make things the best case scenario . . and even in the worst case scenarios, i got myself to find something good about it. then i would go and focus just on that one piece of "good" and ignore all the other not so good parts.

of course thats what i did; it's my defense mechanism.

of course i would dream up the best case scenarios; it's what keeps me going.

unlike me, my friend wasn't like that. instead, she would conjure up the worst case scenario. in her mind, she would think . . this was just casual. there was no future. he didn't like her. he was sleeping with other people . . and the list would go on.

maybe she's right. maybe DTR is the way to go. maybe worst case scenarios are the way to go.

but then again, even the most simple and sweet signals could be wrong. even clear communication, even DTR, even good life choices . . could be wrong.

a few days ago the daffodils bloomed to signal the end of winter and beginning of spring.

today, i woke up to some hard rain outside my window, cold, alone, and wondering if i really even fell asleep. the low was 30 degrees and i wished i didn't start putting my coats away. in fact, i wished i wore one when i finally stepped outside of my house.

Failed Attempt to Fall Out of Love with U.S. History, Government, and Politics.

Isn’t it pretty to think . . that everything was either black and white? You either love it or you hate it. You either dread it or desired it? No combinations of both and nothing in between?

Well, this black or white, love or hate, and dread or desire issue is exactly what I face before, during, and after each of the training sessions in the WeLEAD program that I’m in.

WeLEAD is a program hosted by American University’s Women & Politics Institute. The tag line is, “Women Bringing Women to the Power Center.” It’s basically a year-long program for young women interested in politics under the age of 25. We have sessions once a month on Saturdays and sample topics have been professional development, fundraising, government, elections & campaigns, international development, etc. It’s a way to get more young women into politics, whether it be working in politics or running for office.

I was really hesitant to apply.

I mean, the images I got from picturing a room full of young political junkies sounded worst than getting a bunch of pre-law undergraduates together in one room. But a last, I am/was one of them. Both of them.

You see, I grew up loving U.S. history, government, and politics . . and I’m not saying that as an understatement.

I loved memorizing the dates of the major battles of the civil war, reciting the preamble of the Constitution, drawing charts of our federal government’s checks and balances, reading re-reading, and sometimes even re-re-reading chapters upon chapters of textbooks . . you get the idea.

I’m not sure what it was.

• Maybe it was my dad constantly reminding me how lucky I was to grow up and go to school in the U.S. instead of fleeing communism and raising water buffalo in Laos . .
  
  
• Or maybe it Mr. Hughes – my really amazing social studies teacher in the 7th and 8th grade – who made my class simulate a make up scenario of putting Harry S. Truman on stand for dropping the atomic bombs on Nagasaki and Hiroshima (for which, I got to be the actual judge of the case) . .
  
  
• Or maybe it was Mr. Giardina – my even more amazing government and U.S. history teacher in the 10th, 11th, and 12th grades – who did wonderful things like give our class a pass or fail test on the U.S. presidents on the second day of school . .
  
  
• Or maybe I really just was a nerdy kid that liked reading, writing about, and daydreaming of being alive and apart of the making of this country’s foundation.
  

I often wish that I came to Washington, DC during this part of my life.

When I was younger, I wanted to be many things in life. However, no matter what the occupation, I was always really, really, determined and committed. .

The first thing I wanted to be was a fashion designer. This was during my younger years of playing with my Barbie dolls and making their own clothes from my grandma’s scrap material (already made Barbie clothing was just ridiculously expensive). While this phase ended when I went to school, this might be why I never have enough storage space for all my clothes, shoes, and accessories.

The next thing I wanted to be was a teacher. However, this too somewhat faded once I entered a school without a Gifted And Talented Education (GATE) and realized not all students were that excited about being in school and didn’t all admire/love their teachers. I was basically scared away from being a teacher because I didn’t want to get locked in my closet by her students like what happened to my dance teacher in the 7th grade and I didn’t want to find graffiti in my classroom saying, “Ms. Thammarath is a [insert expletive here].“

The last and final thing I wanted to be before I entered college and this current “I-don’t-know-what-to-do-with-my-life” phase was a lawyer. However, I didn’t want to be a lawyer because I particularly I wanted to be in a courtroom or anything like that . . I just knew that being a lawyer might help me become a Senator one day.

Please try to subside your laughter because, yes, that’s right . . at one point in my life, my dream was to be an elected official . . and a U.S. Senator seemed to be the most appealing to be at the time.

I mean, it wasn’t exactly out of pocket: 1) I loved U.S. history, government, and politics and 2) I was school/class president in elementary school, middle school, AND high school.

I don’t think my interest in being a lawyer and an elected official was ever really about wanting to have all that power and control (but I’m sure knowing my type-A personality, that had something to do with it too). I think it was more about wanting to help other people get the most out of this country . . but looking back, I’m not exactly sure what possessed me to think that was something I could do as a Senator.

Anyway, to my parent’s delight, I kinda threw the whole lawyer and elected official thing out the window (yes, against the model minority thing, they always wanted me to be a teacher or professor) once I heard my first ethnic studies inspired workshop at the Southeast Asian Student Coalition’s Summer Institute in the summer of 2003.

Instead of being that bright-eyed-fill-me-up-with-your-western-perspective-and-propaganda-of-history-and-government, I began to (re)question everything.

• I no longer only saw the civil war as the symbol of this country’s endurance . . but began to see the continued racism that they failed to end during reconstruction.
  
  
• I no longer marveled in the words of justice, tranquility, welfare, and liberty . . but see the document as institutionalizing not just the overall government but also institutionalizing disparities, limited access, the haves and have nots, the people who matter and the people who only matter 5/8s of the time, racism, and . . so many other things that don’t seem related to any of the stuff in the preamble.
  
  
• I no longer thought our three branches of government was a flawless structure to guide checks and balances . . but began to see the problems of congress members constantly campaigning, Supreme Court Justices that were out of touch and way too old, and career bureaucrats in the various departments that made things extremely difficult to change despite who was President at the time.
  

And with that, I began trying to fall out of love with U.S. history, government, and politics.

Unfortunately, I never really did.

Hence, the whole picking up and moving across the country thing . . the bubbly feeling I get every time I see the Capitol, especially at night time when all the lights are on . . why I love sitting on the steps of the Lincoln Memorial thinking about how much my dad would love that view . . and why I have a picture of one of the quotes at Jefferson’s Memorial on my phone’s wallpaper . .

Like with most things that I care about really deeply, I really just continued to have this love and hate relationship with U.S. history, government, and politics. However, more importantly I just started to have this love and hate relationship with myself for never being able to fall out of love with it.

So despite the horrific images of overly ambitious, probably privileged and not very diverse, probably pretty intense young women all in one room . . I applied for WeLEAD. When I turned in my application, I didn’t think I’d hear back . . or at least I was preparing myself for a rejection letter.

The part of me that loved government and politics wanted to apply, put my best foot forward, and get accepted (accepted, meant a whole lot more than just accepted into the program).

The part of me that hated government and politics wanted to apply, put all my qualms about politics and people interested in politics on paper, and make sure they only accepted me for me and all my off the wall political opinions . . or be rejected so I could rejoice in not being “one of them.”

The questions on the application were generic. Stuff like: 1) What do you want to gain from taking part in the program? 2) What do you think you could contribute?

I really didn’t think I was going to get into the program because my essays weren’t exactly . . diplomatic . . (not sure if that’s the right word . . but it could work)? I wrote some essays on the importance of recognizing not only gender but also the intersections with sexuality, race, class, etc. I basically kinda just laid out the “I’m-an-angry-womxn-of-color-and-you-probably-don’t-get-many-applicants-like-me-so-you-should-accept-me-but-if-you-don't-I-don't-care-because-I-don't-need-you-anyway” message into two pages.

To my surprise, I received an email notifying me that out of hundreds of applicants, I was one of the oh-so-lucky 50 or so women who was accepted to the program.

So here again, the love part of me was really excited; I felt like I made it into the “club.” However, the other part of me was really ashamed; I felt like it just confirmed that I was “one of them.”

So, naturally, as the only Asian American woman in the program (surprise, surprise) . . and the maybe handful of women of color in the program, whenever I go to the sessions, I always cling onto the same 3 black women and 1 latina in the program.

The last time everyone met . . I ditched the program to go to North Carolina with the dream team. This time, I really had to go or else I was going to get kicked out of the program.

The topic was Elections and Campaigns . . and I got to tell you, by the end of the session, I was thinking of ways to rearrange my life to be able to work on the 2012 election. What I enjoy most about every session is that the facilitators and panelists are so outwardly partisan and opinionated. WeLEAD sessions are never lacking in political jokes and playful poking of the other side. Oh, but they are also never lacking in the how-to-balance-your-ambitious-career-and-your-biological-clock thing either.

What made this session different was that they actually split the participants into OUR political affiliations. The moderator literary said,

“Okay, Democrats to the left, Republicans to the right, and if you think you’re independent, pick a fucking side.”

It was refreshing to hear.

Just like how sometimes, it’s refreshing to just admit . . That government and politics excites me. That I have a love and hate relationship with it because sometimes, I love that I hate it . . but also, I always hate that I love it. That sometimes, I can’t help but think that the civil war is a symbol of this country’s resilience and commitment to fundamental values, the Constitution is an amazing document that has created a whole lot of opportunities, and the three branches of the government is a genius way to organize a government.

Really, it is refreshing . . especially when I also get to admit that almost everything is some combination of black/white, love/hate, dread/desire . . and if not, it’s usually a combination of either of the polar sides.

Careers and Marriage

"So, guys, if you're game for an exciting life, go ahead and marry a professional gal."

My co-worker steered me to the article above about about careers and marriage. she struggles. she struggles with loving this work, but barely making enough money to support herself and barely having time for a personal life.

In some ways, I suppose the struggle with that too. Scratch that. I don't struggle with it. I've come to terms with it. I admit, I enjoy working a lot, being tired, getting frustrated, being angry, getting really excited, etc.

But then again, I'm young. Let's see how many years of these 12 hour work days and weekends in the office I could handle.

However, sidebar: I think the quote above could be changed in a variety of different ways:

Careers v. Marriage: for the unbalanced types

Careers v. Relationships: for the non-marrying types

Community v. Relationships: for the progressive social activists types

I think the Careers and Marriage thing already lays the foundation that it could exist together. Maybe I'm a pessimist, but I feel like the real question is, Careers versus Marriage?

Also, for the domestic partner types like myself, I'm not sure how I feel about the marriage part. I think trying to have a relationship (much less marriage) along side a demanding, fast paced, and jet setting "career" is already something of an art I have yet to master (please see Monica's dating history).

And also, for the non-career driven but community driven types, I'm not sure how I feel about the career part. I think it's easy to have a job, especially those 9-5 types where you don't have to take anything home, where deadlines and actions translate into real people, where deadlines and actions translate into real people like you, your family, your friends . . people you love and love you.

A good friend of mine just wrote a blog about love vs. independence. Does career v relationships also mean independence v love? Maybe if you consider your career part of independence.

I guess independence encompasses many other aspects, but careers, job, community -- whatever you want to call it -- has always been a big part of it for me and I definitely don't see that changing anytime soon.

Maybe I've been approaching this all wrong. Maybe the game plan should be to look for someone else who is also a community v. relationships type of person so we can both deprioritize one another be really busy but still have a great time when we are together.

Where Did I REALLY Come From?

Yet another reason why my parents should have thought about resettling in Australia instead of the United States.

Now this is what I call being a multi-ethnic nation-state!

snow snow and more snow in DC

In what folks are saying this "Could be the Largest Winter Storm in Three Years" (and by folks, I mean the Washington Post), I found saw some pretty interesting stuff while walking to the bus stop and walking to work.

First, there was a young mother, her son (probably around 3) and their big fuzzy dog making snow angels on the corner of Kenyon and Sherman. Just smack dab on the side walk flapping their arms like excited Californians in Tahoe or at Big Bear. Also, according to our local wine store, since most of the people in my neighborhood are from California (as he observed from checking IDs when people purchase alcohol), it's a good chance the family was from California.

Second, also while walking to the bus stop from my house, I saw a man "shoveling" the snow from the side walk in front of his house. I say, "shoveling" because the man really wasn't shoveling. He was more like sweeping. He was sweeping the snow. You know, it barely snows in DC . . I suppose Sarah Jo and I aren't the only ones who don't think it's worth it to invest in a snow shovel. This man obviously didn't think it was necessary either. However, I do commend his resourcefulness and commitment to being a good neightbor in Columbia Heights. Shovel or no shovel, I know I will very much appreciate his efforts in a few days when all this beautiful white powdery-ness turns to ugly gross dark ice and slush.

Lastly, while walking to Whole Foods to buy my lunch, I saw an older woman (probably in her 50s) walking her dog. This is normal in DC. What is not normal in DC (or I might even so much as say . . the rest of the country/world), the dog had on some really cute red snow shoes on. Okay, okay. So I guess they weren't snow shoes, they were more like little booties for babies.

Anyway, I'm trying to enjoy this while it lasts . . it's hard to though because I know it's going to melt and make walking around a life and death situation.