OMG I am freaking out again.

As much as I LOVE cosmetology school... it seriously takes up ALL my time! I am feeling SUPER overwhelmed at the moment but I have to get to bed. So instead of freaking out about all the things I need to do, I am going to write out my to-do list on xanga. I NEED TO BE IN CONTROL AT ALL TIMES! EEEK!

1. Figure out payments to my assistants for the last few jobs and pay them.

2. Figure out referral fee payments and pay them + pay final payment A-List Makeup classes (who hoo!).

3. Sign, scan, and email out all the wedding contracts to my clients for the rest of this year.

4. Email past clients to ask for pictures to put on my website + reviews on my yelp!

5. Do cosmetology school assignment on the history of facials.

6. Answer snail mail about the house.

7. Make the final payment on my car. Whoo hoo!

8. Edit all the photos I have and post them on my website, facebook, and xanga!

9. Clean up and prepare to meet tomorrow's client.

10. Organize all the important papers I have laying around re: bills, business papers, etc... in a super organized filing system.

11. Contact all the CPAs referrals I've been getting.

12. Breath and go to sleep peacefully.

Good night all. Hope you have a stress free week!

When I was younger, I would enroll in the summer reading program at the library every year. I would read tons and tons and tons of books. My dad or my brothers would take me and we'd spend all day at the library then I'd go home with a pile of books in my arms. I would trade books with my cousins and I'd get everyone into the Harry Potters series (back before it was a culture). Once I learned how to go online and use AIM and AsianAvenue and Myspace and whatever I stopped reading. I would read random facts online all day but never a full book.

A few weeks ago while waiting in Target for my friends, I browsed by the book section and ended up reading some summaries. I picked up A Child Called It and Lovely Bones. In 2 days I came back and picked up Loose Girl and Please Stop Laughing At Me.

A Child Called It is a true story about the third-worst case of child abuse in California. Just in the neighboring city next to me a loving mother turned on her eldest son and physically and mentally abused him. She shunned him from the family, turning everyone against him, not even feeding him so that he had to steal food from school. She severely beat and burned him. She made him work to the bone to only feed him his own vomit. And his fire fighter of a father just stood by and watched since he had no power over the mother. The story is written through the voice of the little boy. Faced with hatred from his own family and classmates, he fought hard every moment just to stay alive. I became so angry reading this book, it brought me to tears. Obviously the mom has some mental disorder that should be treated, that or punished. Then on top of that, I was so angry at the dad for allowing his child to be so severely abused. Instead of standing up for his child, he himself becomes a victim.

Lovely Bones is a fictional story about a young girl who is raped and murdered by her neighbor. She then goes to heaven and watches her family, friends, and neighbors over the next decade. Her family falls apart when her dad becomes obsessed with catching her murderer. Meanwhile her mom sees this as an opportunity to leave the family, something she never wanted in the first place. She has an affair and then abandons the family and lives life how she wants by herself across the country. The young girl just watches everyone's lives unravel without much event. Again, serious lack of parenting going on.

Loose Girl is also a true story about a girl with a mother who becomes emotionally overbearing when her husband divorces her. As a result, her mom abandons her daughters to follow her own dreams and the main character goes to live with her dad, who has no idea how to raise girls and treats them as his friends instead of his daughters. He encourages drinking, drugs, and sex. The main character grows up trying to desperately find love by sleeping with over 40 guys over a few years. Instead she finds hatred for herself.

Please Stop Laughing At Me is a true story about a girl who has a very happy childhood. Her parents teach her to be a good person and to stand up for herself, which lands her as a target of bullying after she stands up against her friends when they tease the retarded kids at school. The bullying gets so bad that she transfer school where again she becomes a target after she unintentionally gets her 12 year old peers in trouble for having a sex party. Her parents give her bad advice on ignoring the bullying, which makes it worst and her teachers turn away saying she shouldn't be a tattle.The verbal bullying becomes physical bullying and eventually her parents believe that their daughter is to blame. They drag her to psychiatrists who puts her on drugs and physical exercise techniques.

I never knew being a kid was so hard. My little heart breaks for theirs.

And I can't believe that their parents, who are supposed to protect them and love them are the ones either intentionally or unintentionally hurting them. No parents are perfect but these stories are just so sad.

PLEASE parents and parent-to-bes... LOVE YOUR CHILDREN!

Oh, and buy them lots of good books. I bought a book at Borders today for the Fundraiser that allows you to buy books for children in homeless shelters. I bought Green Egg & Ham. I hope some kid enjoys it as much as I enjoyed receiving books for gifts, especially silly books : )

Yesterday I met with a new client after school and right away we clicked. As I curled her hair and did her makeup we talked comfortably. We talked about her birthday plans. We talked about her school career and how she came from Taiwan. We talked about the lifestyle in Taiwan, where she's from. We talked about the lifestyle in Vietnam, where I'm from. Then we easily moved onto talking about her boyfriend and how they met and how they are getting married. Of course she asked me about my boyfriend and how we met. I told her how we met on xanga and how we're getting married. We're going to have a HUGE wedding I told her. She told me about her mom and her siblings and her friends. I told her about my mom and my siblings and my friends. Then she told me about her career. How she's good at it but it's too stressful. She told me about her dream. She's designing software for medical practices. She asked me what my dream was? I told her I will one day own a bridal-focused-full-service-beauty-salon. I jokingly told her she'll received an email about it years from now. She promised she would come to my grand opening.

It's this way with ALL my bridal/pageant/photo shoot clients. They all become my friends after. And we stay in touch on face book years after their wedding. I comment on pictures of their pregnancies and their babies while they continually compliment and encourage my work.

Before we knew it everything was complete and she loved every color and every shape I gave her. As I packed my kit and got ready to leave, she handed me a check for my services and told me she knows I will be very successful.
"Really? What makes you say that?" I asked.
"You're a great people's person!" She smiled.

I thanked her and wished her a happy birthday before I left the hotel room. I walked to my car beaming. I couldn't get over the fact that she said I was a people's person. I felt so happy SOMEONE thought I was good with people. Just earlier that very day I was feeling so low at school.

At school, my cosmetology program runs a school salon, in which students gives services to clients who come in. A majority of the clients are senior citizens, little old ladies who come in the middle of the day to get their hair permed and the gray dyed. Some of the ladies have been coming for over 10 years.

I was given a regular client that day. The little old lady had been coming for 7 years and so all the staff knew her and a lot of the older students knew her too. All the teachers and students had warned me she was one of the nicest old ladies and she was very easy going. This was all true when I greeted her at the receptionist desk. She was happily chatting to the receptionist. As I put her in my salon chair, a teacher came over and they talked like old friends. She told us how she fell and bruised her hip. The teacher told her how her mom was getting a divorce to the crazy old man she recently married. I smiled quietly while draping her. When the teacher walked away, she buried herself in a magazine. A few minutes later, a student walked by and upon seeing my client, came up to her and asked her how her Hawaii trip was. They chatted easily and exchanged stories. Again, I smiled quietly while applying dye to her hair. When that conversation ended, she buried herself again in the magazine. I was glad she was busy seeing as I had nothing to contribute to conversations about old women bruising their hips, old women getting divorces, and old women in Hawaii. But at the same time I felt a little out of place. Why didn't she tell ME those stories?

She finally turned to me and pointed out a photo of Jennifer Aniston. Good! I thought. A neutral, non personal topic we can chat about.
"I don't like her. I never liked her." She said. My face dropped. What?! I have a soft spot for Jennifer Aniston. I always have. To me, she was the sweetheart who never really won the war on love.
"Oh.. why not?" I asked, still trying to keep it light and cheerful.
"I don't know. I just never cared for her."
"Well, do you like Angelina Jolie?"
"Yes, I really like her." She replied. My face must have REALLY dropped by this point. I hate that weirdo husband stealing Angelina. She must have seen it because she reassured me that her not liking Jennifer Aniston had nothing to do with that. But still, she couldn't come up with a reason why she didn't like her. And every comment I made after that was shot down. So I stopped trying to converse. And she went back to her magazine.

Later at the shampoo bowl while I had her wait for the conditioner to soak, she told me I could go do whatever it was I needed to do. She would rather lay there in an uncomfortable shampoo bowl for 5 minutes than talk to me. But I was determined to make her like me. So I told her I would stay with her since it was only 5 minutes. I asked how long had she been coming to the salon. And if it was far away. We talked about the city she lived in. Then she asked what city I lived in, it's the same city her daughter lives in. She tells me she comes to my city all the time and she takes the long route because she can't drive very fast. I tell her too bad the quickest route has been closed for a year now. She tells me I'm wrong and that the route has always been open. I tell her that the route has actually been closed since it's along the coast and it had been eroding severely this last year. She argues with me that it surely is open. I bite my tongue. I KNOW it's been closed. I drive by it EVERY DAY and I see that the road is freaking closed! I want to yell at her. But I don't. I am so annoyed. I give a weak, "hmmmm." Thank God the 5 minutes are up.

As I give her a trim, another student walks by. And I watch as they gingerly pat each other on the shoulders. They chat for a long time before the student notices me standing by awkwardly, quietly, just smiling. I have nothing to contribute to the conversation. The student tells her she should let me finish the haircut and walks away not before saying goodbye warmly. Back to the awkward silence. She's buried in her magazine again. This time I'm thankful for the magazines, something to fill the silence.

I finish her up and I walked her to the front receptionist, she waved goodbye warmly to everyone we walked past. She chats again with the receptionist and gives a cheerful wave and she says she'll be back. I smile silently the whole time and quietly whisper bye to her as she walks out the door. She never said bye to me. The same thing had happened the previous day when I had met her for the first time when she had come in for her allergy test.

I kept thinking I was a total and complete loser. I had nothing to contribute to any of the conversations. I only knew how to listen. And even when the conversation was directed at me, I felt very uncomfortable and annoyed. We could not agree on ANYTHING.. This is how it always is with my clients from the school salon. White guys in their 40s. And old women old enough to be my grandma. I never have anything to say. I try to get them out of my chair as quick as possible. *sigh* I knew for sure I would not be successful in this field where I would have to be in close quarters and touching, massaging strangers. I was not cut out for this.

So you can see why I hung onto every word when my bride had specifically said I'll be successful since I'm a "people's person."

Maybe.. Maybe.. I have a certain type of "PEOPLE." Young, rich, pretty, Asian girls!

Miss me?! I miss xanga! I have been super busy x10000 since cosmetology school started up again. I'm in school M-F 8-5 or 8-7 depending on the days. On days I have an 8-5 schedule, then I meet with new clients right after school. By the time I pick up mom from work and have dinner its 9PM. I answer emails and take care of snail mail and I am WIPED. Saturdays & Sundays I am WORKING WORKING WORKING. Wedding season is in FULL SWING and I LOVE it!

Oppa has just started a new job too and our new schedules was causing some problems with us in the beginning but we're much more understanding of each other now.

Oh! And I started taking Pilates class, the first physical activity in... 5 years!! It's a lot of fun : D
Plus I started reading like crazy! I've read 4 full books in one week. Read for fun I mean. All the books I've bought are really sad books about child abuse, rape & murder, low self esteem, and bullied children. It really opens my eyes. Makes me think twice about parenting. Hear THAT Won Choe?!

I had more thoughts than this but its midnight and I need to sleep already. Goodnight all : )

text: Omg football preseason started today!!!!! Omg Omg Omg

NO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Football season is here AGAIN -____-.

Wasn't it JUST here already?! In my professional opinion as a real live girl and all, football should be like the Fall Olympics, just once every 4 years. If even that. Or maybe it should be like snow in San Francisco, once every 20 years. Ha! We would have to hand pick the football players when they are 5 and train them until the football season when they are 25! Kinda like Chinese Olympic gymnasts. Hehe.

Ever since my first pair of eyelashes at the age of 16 I have been addicted. They are my GO-TO be gorgeous makeup trick. Seriously, a pair of lashes will open up your eyes and manipulate any eyeshadow to look good.

By senior year of high school I was wearing eyelashes to school EVERYDAY. This of course continued throughout college. 5 years later, I am SOBBING to say I have developed an irritation for ALL TYPES of eyelash glue. My eyelids will turn red and swell. Not to mention the eyelid skin will dry out and peel the next few days. SAD!!!!!

This is what I look like without eyelashes...

See!? See?!?! My eyes just get lost! They don't stand out and grab attention.

I feel like God has just sentenced me to be ugly for the rest of my life.

What to do... What to do...

Permanent Eyelash extension!!! YAy!! Since the eyelashes are glued to your eyelash hair, and not the eyelid skin, then I should be fine right? Right?  Cost of maintaining eyelash extensions? Like 1.5K a year. And they can't be as dramatic and fabulous as I like them to be with the falsies. But beggars can't be chooser.

Sad.

Edit: I realize I should talk about these pictures a little bit. Ha! In high school I was on the girl drill team and so every time the current drill team has a big performance/competition then us alumni come back to watch and support them! The first picture is of me and some of the girls from my team. The second picture is of not only the girl drill team alumni but also alumni from the boy drill team and drum corp with our program supervisor ( the old white guy in the pic). Fun times catching up with all my old friends.

1.Friends: It's a lot of fun because we can point things out to each other. I take my time so I can show them what I like and then see what they like.
Alone: It's a race because I don't want to be seen just browsing alone. No. I am on a mission! (Even though I don't really have anything in particular I wanted to buy. )

2. Friends: I won't try anything on because I feel bad for making them wait for me while I'm in the dressing room.
Alone: I try anything and everything on. I'll go into the dressing room with an ARM LOAD of clothes and take my time to try on everything twice. Heck, I'll even try on things in front of the mirror in the store, multiple times.

3. Friends: I don't buy as much because I don't want my friends to judge me for how much money I spend on certain things.
Alone: BUY! BUY! BUY! No guilt. Just pure happiness. If I go with friends and eye something I want that they say costs too much, I'll come back alone to buy it. Even with the boyfriend, I won't buy certain shoes because I don't want him to think I spend too much but when alone, I won't even blink when buying a pair that costs twice as much.

4. Friends: I am more rational with what I buy. I'll only buy if I really need something.
Alone: I will hesitate for a second before I decide to buy three jackets of similar style and color thinking it's okay because I can always decide at home and return the other ones. Btw, I never return ANYTHING.

5. Friends: I spend more money on treating my friends to drinks, ice cream, and snacks because it's fun to just sit and share some treats.
Alone: I don't stop for anything except maybe some water to keep hydrated.

6. Friends: I try to dress up and wear cute shoes so my feet hurt and we can't shop for long periods of times.
Alone: I wear comfortable flats so I shop until I run out of time and have to come home for dinner.

Conclusion: SHOP WITH FRIENDS.

I woke up and had breakfast with my assistants at home before going to work. I had heard my dad cough a little from his room but did not think much of it. We had had an unusually cheerful dinner the night before.

3 hours later I had multiple missed calls from my mom and texts messages from my brother. My dad was in the hospital. I met my mom in the Emergency Room waiting room. I asked the volunteers for some milk and cookies so my mom would gain a little bit of strength. We waited all afternoon. In the evening we were told to go to the ICU center for Neurology. There we did some more waiting. And I made all my calls and emails to cancel my plans for the next 2 weeks. By night time we could finally go in to see my dad. He had another stroke, 3 years after his first one. But this one was different, he wasn't awake and responding like he did the last time. This time... he had a tube draining out blood from the top of his head, that was the scariest thing to look at. He had tubes in his mouth and his nose and needles in the veins in his arms. He looked like he was in a lot of pain. I could see the tears form at the corner of his eyes and drip down the sides of his cheekbones.

The next morning we went to church and came back to the hospital. We spent ALL day there, either in the actual ICU room or in the waiting room. The doctor would show us X-Rays of his brain and all the blood pooling in certain areas. They would tell us what new things they were able to try because my dad was considerably young and they were able to use the more aggressive approaches. My mom, brothers, and I would meet with the doctor every few hours with the curtains closed so he could give us any updates. My brothers would ask for an explanation and I would translate it to my mother who would just nod and say thank you, I don't think she really understand what was going on exactly medically but enough to know it was very serious. She was exhausted but she held on. The compassion from the doctors and nurses were comforting, that was the only comfort.

It was on this day one year ago that the doctor would meet with us by our father's bed. And tell us that the damage to the brain was too severe and that he would never wake up. Silence filled the air. I started sobbing into my mother's shoulder. The doctor and nurses stepped outside. My mom cried too. But then she pushed me away and asked what was wrong. I wished my mom had understood English for just one second because the worst feeling in the world is to tell your mother that your father will never wake up again.

Eventually the doctor came back in and explained how to proceed from the situation. We would have to decide to stop the machines. It wasn't a matter of us deciding his life or death, it was a matter of deciding WHEN. The earlier the better but of course not until we've said our goodbyes. With that, the doctor left us to be. One by one by family filed outside and I was left alone with my father. I held his hand and kissed him on his forehead. This would be the 3rd time in my life that I remember kissing my father. I apologized that I never did become what he wanted me to be, I didn't live up to the grand things he had dreamed of for me. I apologized that he had to see me take a completely different route with my life. But I also felt he was secretly rooting for me the whole time and that made me happy. I knew I would always be his little girl. But I also had to tell him I was growing up now and that had done his job with me, he should have no worries for me. I cried because his body looked like it was in so much pain. My dad has such a small frame and ever since his last stroke I've always felt the need to protect him. I wanted so much to protect him from... all the machines, all the needles, all the tubes. I didn't want to see him here in this hospital anymore.

Time slowed down after that moment. I didn't care about much anymore, I wanted my dad's body to rest, all the machines were forcing it to fight. It didn't seem peaceful in any sense. But the calls came flooding in. And suddenly there were stories of my mom's friend aunt's cousin-in-law's little sister's husband's grandma who woke up from a 3 years coma. And everyone wanted us to wait so they could have the chance to fly in from God-knows-where to say their goodbyes. And that according to them turning off the machines was the same as murder. Why didn't we have any hope they would ask. Yet, we saw the X-Rays, 1/2 the brain was filled with pools of blood, and every doctor advised there was no coming back from this. I knew it was tearing my mom apart inside. She didn't understand science the way we did, she could only live by faith and by what people told her.

I became very cold and angry. I wanted my father to rest. I started to hate coming in to see his body fighting and failing. I hated seeing the tears that would fall down his cheekbones. I hated the tubes, the needles, the beeping of the machines. I started to hate the calls and the visits. I even started to hate the tears. I had said my goodbye and I wanted his body to just be at peace. I became very removed from the whole experience. The next 2 days were an eternity but I was never really present. I was just... there.

I saw my father again when he passed away in the hospital bed and again in his coffin. To be honest, I didn't want to but I did because I was forced to. And to be honest, I regret that I did. Those images haunted me and I tried to forget them as quick as I could. I wanted, instead, to remember him when he smiled how crooked it was. I wanted to remember when he was deep in concentration reading or writing his books. I wanted to remember how gentle he walked. And how quietly he sat. I wanted to remember him for all the things he built with his bare hands. And all the organizations and legacies he formed with his ideas. That's how I wanted to remember him.

To this day, it's his smile that I remember. And his focus when he read or wrote. It's how gentle he walked and how quiet he sat that I remember. It's all the things he built with his bare hands and all the organizations and legacies he formed with his ideas that I remember. Mostly, I remember how once he told me he always wanted a beautiful daughter and he thanked God that he got just that. And I'll never forget the compliments he gave me on my drawings and paintings when I was 10 years old. Or any of the races home from preschool we had, especially the ones where he let me win. And of course I'll hold onto all the encouragements he gave me about my life choices. He taught me to be a fighter, to be a star, and nothing less.

At his funeral, I was so touched by everyone who stood up and called my father their big brother, their adviser, or their inspiration because I knew that was how he wanted to be remembered. I knew my father was well loved and respected by his friends, family, and peers. He was a fighter, a star, and nothing less.

I usually try to keep my xanga entries light and on a cute bubbly note since everyone has their own problems they don't have to read about mine too. But lately I am feeling like I am trapped underwater. You know that feeling when you are underwater for a nano second to long before you get back to the surface? It doesn't kill you but it makes you so anxious. That's how I've been feeling and I need to talk about it... to someone, somewhere.

Figuring out what to do with the old car and how the payments are going to work for the new car has just been a nightmare. It's surfacing the ugly way my family deals with money. I get so frustrated that my brother wants me to pay up like an adult yet he won't help me set things up the legal way.  I feel if he is going to deal with me through family then he should show me compassion like family. We've been going back and forth on it so much its just this terrible feeling of dread to deal with it. And what makes its worst is that I always get a second opinion from my boyfriend because I don' always agree with my brother's methods. But that doesn't always work in my favor because I'm caught in between two differing opinions. I feel like I am doing the wrong thing no matter who I listen to.

And then on top of that, there is the whole medical bill thing. It's just hanging over my head. Even though we've made all the calls to make the best of the situation. I just hate it. It makes me feel so helpless with my money. I really thought I was getting ahead but now I just feel like I am at the BOTTOM of Mount Everest and it's night time in the winter.

And then dealing with house business left over from when my dad was taking care of those things. My brother used to help out with some stuff but now he's decided that I should be in charge of everything so everything is getting transferred to me. Correction, I am changing everything over to my name. But since everything was either under my dad (who has passed) or my brother (who lives 2 hours away) it's so troublesome to deal with.

My business itself is getting overwhelming. As much as I love work and chatting with my  clients, juggling 20 of their emails all in one night is getting to me. I feel so anxious when I sit down to get through to them and I feel really sloppy if I don't get through to them every 24 hours. Then the paper work for the actual business and finding a CPA has been hanging over my head to. My boyfriend can only help so much until he's frustrated by my lost of steam for the whole ordeal. I hate that I have to put everything on the back burner for now because there's so much other urgent things at the moment.

My brother says that this is just life and I shouldn't be mad at anyone. I'm not. But it doesn't mean I have to go about it like a lollipops and sugar. I just feel so.. anxious. Like that second I've been underwater for too long.

To off everything, we're approaching my dad's one year anniversary. All these extra emotions are flooding back to me as the day comes closer and closer. Everything gets better and better at reminding me of my father and I am filled with a sadness I don't know what to with. This is the kind of problem I can't complain to anyone about. It's not something I know how to express. The pain isn't tangible. Nor is it something I want anyone to try to cheer me up about.. Some lost.... you don't want to lose.

My mom is hosting a prayer and dinner for my dad. We're expecting anywhere between 30 - 50 people. I've been cleaning out the house in preparations for that but it's been stressful to get rid of all the unused furniture, throw away more junk, tidy up, and redecorate. Sheesh, my dad had A LOT of stuff. My mom has been spending every minute of her waking hours outside of work to shop, prep, and cook for all the guests and I've been trying to help out as much as possible but I get so tired so fast.

I feel so... weak physically, mentally, and emotionally right now. So... underwater right now. But the good thing about the underwater feeling is that it only lasts a second until you reach the surface and can breath again.

What it's like to be in love with someone so....
angry at times, and sad at time, but worst so insecure at times.

I wonder what it's like to be asked if she's pretty
5 times a day. And to be in trouble when I don't answer quick enough. Or convincingly enough.
What it's like to tell her it's not broken glass when she looks in the mirror.
And to say no, you don't look fat in that. Not for all 4 of the outfits you've tried on so far.

I wonder what it's like to pay for her heartbreaks in the past.
To open myself up completely. To give her all my passwords.
And to tell her my most hidden away memories. And to even let her question them in chronological order.
Until she feels satisfied knowing. As psycho as that is.

I wonder what it's like to be caught in a sudden storm of bad moods.
And worst, in a season of bad health. From aches to shakes to it just plain hurts.
To deal with her when her world spins out of focus. And the aftermath that follows it.
I wonder if it's the rotten attitude that makes the last strand.
Or is it arguments in which every single thing I say is wrong, that is, if she will even let me speak.

I wonder what it's like to constantly be demanded of my life long commitment to her.
To be asked for the material things I don't know if I could afford.
For the things I don't know if anyone could afford.
To be asked if I love her more than any past and future.

I wonder what it's like to help her every single step of the way. In money and math.
When I have my own pile of worries. And she doesn't even know where to begin to help me.
To always give but not expect anything in return.

I wonder what it's like to deal with someone
who's psycho, crazy, and unrealistic.
Who wants my undivided attention every minute of every day.
Someone who gets mad at the things I don't do wrong. 
And doesn't take into consideration the things I do do right.

I wonder if these things are little tribulations that makes up the day.
Or if they would keep me up at night.

I wonder if it's something I can put up with forever.
Or will I get fed up and say it's been enough.
Or wake up and realize it's been a one way street.

I wonder if I can help her.