my sister renamed all my final portfolio folders saved on the desktop computer.

"you're so immature"
"get out of my life"
"i hate you"
"i never want to see you again"
"move out"

unfortunately, i can't fulfill her wishes because my parents love torturing me here at the house. second, she doesn't hate me as much as i thought since she ran out of ideas for cruel folder names after "stupid".

i really don't mind her hating me, but I NEVER hate people unless I was 100% sure that I was better than them. She's got nothing on me so...no matter!

lifelong siesta

This transition part sucks.

As a designer, I've been conditioned for 2.5 ridiculous years to take one thing that inspires me and distort it, change it, flip it, invert it, crop it, smooth it...INTERPRET it as many different ways as possible so that I can create for myself a huge array of garments from which I can pick out the 12-14 pieces that make up a collection.

I am conditioned to take an idea and run with it. Movement, adaptation, and growth. Very important.

So what's going on now is that with my newly graduated ass, I am ready to explore; ready to move, ready to search, ready to work, ready to act the adult part. But my parents are strapping me to the ground; threatening me with paying rent, car insurance, a lease on the car, health, cell phone, and internet. Because you've got to AFFORD to be an adult.

I never expected my parents to let me have the easy way out but GOD THIS SUCKS. As a parent, you should be nurturing and guiding and kind. Give the kid what they need to grow and remind them to thank you for what you have been given. It's like begging for water but being charged for it first. I feel like I am in prison. I am under a contract. I thought about driving to Roseville but I swear they'd call the cops on me for a stolen vehicle. I thought paying off my school loans for the next ten years was going to be my prison but no, it goes far beyond that.

All because they made a big deal out of me wanting to go to the bf's house for dinner. They say I don't spend enough time with my family (they ate and drank scotch around a full dinner table while the kids stayed upstairs). They say I don't need a relationship; that I should be focusing on my career--HELLO, its the fucking holiday and everything is closed. I just wanted one fucking day.

They also said that "it doesn't matter what good or bad things you do because in the Asian culture people are always going to talk" FUCK that. The more they bring up "Thai Society" or "Asian culture" or "you're not FULL American"...it just makes me want to punch a wall. First of all, the only way anything bad could have leaked was if they spread the news themselves. Second, I've done a shitload of fucking work, more work than any of my friends who attend respectable UC's so shutthefuckup. I've worked my ass off during MY Finals week and time and time again its the same kids that get the recognition for being pretty, speaking Thai, attending a UC, and generally sucking up to all the old people. I don't need the recognition, I just want the assholes who talk bad about me (if there are any like my parents say...) they should at least consider what I have done.

I am a people-pleaser. I work hard, I sweat, I hurt, I am well-presented, I'm there first, I'm the last to leave, I'm there 110%, I volunteer, I smile, I'll do the bitch-work. I suck it up, I'll gain your trust, I want you to rely on me. I'm 90% sure if you were to ask any of the the 30+ coworkers, volunteer coordinators and and other connections I've done work with...they'd have something good to say about me and my work. The other 10% involves the folks who probably don't remember me because I don't talk much. The only people who have a problem with me are my own parents.

I've hardly got my own life to live right now. It's just bills. My bedroom is the only sanctuary I've got. And then I get to see Killer for New Years Eve. After that he's back to Irvine and "I don't know when we'll see each other" he said. How tragic.


Also, I googled my name and found a blog that mentioned Rodney. I think he may have found the same info as myself, a band's website whose album was dedicated to him and another guy "whose lives were taken much too soon" but his blog finished off in a short sentence that Rodney killed himself.

Rodney's cause of death has always been veiled...to this day I'm still unsure of how it happened. I clearly remember my dad asking my uncle a few years after his passing about how it happened and he didn't give us an answer.

I've always thought of Rodney as being good enough; that whoever lives Upstairs and controls our lives' on/off switch thought he was awesome enough to get to move on to the next life. I knew he was crazy busy, stressed out, and probably lonely. Our age difference prevented me from ever getting to be his "go-to" person if he needed a friend or someone to complain to but I still wish over and over that he could have been mine.

I've got Killer. He's my safety net, and he's not going anywhere :)


Asleep in the Back

All my time is yours (Yesss)
My twisted heart is yours (Not that twisted)
The faithless shit is yours (Nope, faithful)
The shameless fits of love that only smother you for moments (longer than that)
Until I fold them up and leave (you first)
All yours (Yesss)

Twist the words around and then you've got the perfect song.

I gravitate towards songs that sound good...they've got to have that sort of cinematic quality to it. And very often after I pick out the words and lyrics of the song is turns out to be a piece of crap. This is a almost a piece of crap.



This was from an old email chain start by some Berkeley temple kids. I let a whole 2 weeks pass before I filled it in. I hate when people don't respond to my emails so I felt the need to respond to this.


Greetings!!!!!!!Welcome to an annual Thanksgiving tradition that started back in2003!!! And welcome back to past participants.

What you do:

1. Name five things you are thankful for this year. You decide the scope and level of seriousness/silliness/both: something that made yousmile today, people, activities, anything! Please don't be a smartassand say, for instance, you're grateful that something annoying didn'thappen to you today. We all have those days, but this isn't a forumfor complaints.

2. Resend to the person who sent it to you + anyone else you want tobe part of the Operation. (A note regarding Op. Grat. and socialmedia: it is being left in the realm of old-fashioned email. With theadvent of chats, texts, FB, twitter, etc., I believe its important tothe integrity of the operation to keep this targeted, limited andintimate - and not a "post" for hundreds to read.)


BECAUSE I'M LAZY AND ALWAYS LATE <3 And in no particular order because I'm not organized either.

1.) STTT/Fremont/Berkeley Temple Kids: You guys gave me something to work a little harder for. Before Peter "dragged" me along to my first STTT meeting at ALC I was just a wee little fashion design student that complained too much about school. Nevermind, I still complain too much about school. Then I got more involved with the Thai community, helping others, and things bigger than myself and my clothes. All you old people (hehe) continue to be my big brothers and sisters that I look up to. I hope that in the future I can grow up to be as inspiring to the younger generation just like you guys are to me.

2.) My Parents: Mom for loving me unconditionally even when I forget to wash the dishes and clean my room. For taking me out of my senior year of HS for a week to tour Europe and signing off my Independent Study Forms as "Cultural Enrichment", letting me drop math class, not killing me when I got a tattoo and for forgiving me for not going to a UC to become a nurse. Dad for being reckless and funny and irresponsible (we match). For being my snowboard buddy, skydiving buddy, travel agent, and for buying a Vespa because that pissed off Mom so bad that it made me look the better person and let me off the hook of a lot of other things.

3.) Max: For letting me Genghis Khan my way in and out of your life for 5 years like it was cool and still sticking around for me in the end. For babying me because being a tough boss bitch is hard work and not so fun.

4.) Los Angeles: Because I grew up SO FAST living there for 9 months in comparison to my 17 years in Union City

5.) Mexicans. No Illegals = No Burritos. I love the food, Broadway Street and the Fashion District in LA, taco trucks, Mexico, Dia De Los Muertos, churros, flea markets, horchata, tequila, mariachi bands, Chevy's Flautas, sugar skulls, Viva La Raza!


Spike is 2...maybe 3 years old and she's already amazing!

(She's the granddaughter of my coworker. I wish I could meet her someday. My coworker's son, Spike's dad, has been writing letters to her since she was a bun in the oven!)


Dear Spike:

As usual, you were patient and kept very quiet as I went about my journalistic duties. Finally, after I finished my interviews, I lifted you into my arms and we headed back to the car.

Now, it was your turn to ask questions.

"What is that?" you asked, pointing to the building we had just exited.

"That's the food bank," I said.

"What is a food bank for?"

"It's for people who need food."

"I'm hungry daddy. Let's go to the food bank."

I set you on the curb beside our car and sat down next to you.

"OK... well... that's not how it works," I said.

You stared up at me expectantly and waited for me to continue, but I was having trouble coming up with the right explanation for a two year old — particularly an amazingly empathetic two year old with an incredibly thin emotional skin.

"How does it work, daddy?" you asked.

"Well," I said, pulling you onto my lap, "you know how when you want something to eat, all you have to do is ask mommy or daddy and we get you something from the kitchen?"

"Like macaroni and cheese," you said with a confident nod.

"That's right," I said. "We have lots of food in our kitchen. That makes us very lucky."

"We are lucky to have macaroni and cheese," you agreed.

"But not everyone has food in their kitchen," I continued, pausing to assess how you'd take this news.

Your little brow was furrowed, but your chin wasn't trembling, so I continued on.

"Some people don't always have enough to eat, so they go to the food bank for help."

You nodded your head, shrugged and pushed yourself off my lap. I opened the car door and you hopped into your seat without a word. I figured you had lost interest. And to be honest I was a little bit relieved. I had an article to write and I didn't really need a sobbing child making things difficult.

As I turned on the car, I peered into the rear-view mirror and gave you a smile.

You smiled back, but I could see you were trying to work something out.

"Daddy," you said finally. "We can help the people with no food."

I can't begin to tell you how proud I was of you.

This weekend, we'll take make a special trip to the grocery market to fill a bag of groceries for the food bank. We'll get a few loaves of bread, some meat and some canned vegetables.

And, of course, some macaroni and cheese.


Stay Awake

Killer somewhat recently introduced me to the term "Steampunk" and I LOVE all of it. Umm, well I think I do. Oh wait, not all of it. Because up there is a Steampunk style cake in the shape of my least favorite thing in the whole wide world...a butterfly.

I want to make this. Jump's surprise 22nd birthday is this weekend. Pig nominated me to make 7-layer dip like always...and I want to make this veggie dish. I'll have to find a replacement for those mushrooms though...eew.

I'm going to start labeling my posts. I enjoy looking back and seeing the things that I complain about, the things that excite me, etc. Mostly complain.

Right now I'm working on PERFECTING my layout pages for my portfolio. There ARE things I have yet to start but for some reason I really really want my backgrounds to be PERFECT. I've spent hours on Deviant Art, Flickr, Google, and Bing searching for the best photos and editing them on Photoshop. I'm actually quite pleased with my Tuskegee Airmen theme called Flyboy. Goodness, I wonder how historically inaccurate I am with this. I have got to do research. I'm not even completely sure how to pronounce Tuskegee.

My collection inspired by the photos of prostitutes from brothels of Storyville, New Orleans is probably my favorite collection. I've finally found some wonderful photos of damaged damask wallpapers.

My last collection inspired by the artwork of Aubrey Beardsley is being a little more difficult; I'm trying really hard to find a visual of something that symbolizes his artwork as opposed to just blowing up one of his pieces and using that as a background.

Taking a random topic and finding inspiration for that is easy. Taking a work of art and finding inspiration for that is a little more difficult. It's like painting the definition of painting.

Killer is coming up on Tuesday! HELL. YES. We won't really be "hanging out" because I'll be slaving away at my homework (like what I should be doing right now) but having him around while I work 'round the clock is comforting. Being awake at this hour ALONE sucks.

Lately my parents have been teasing me about Killer's uncle, Mongolian, who I'm not very fond of, by saying things like "he's going to be your relative soon" and stuff like that. It surprised me that when my mom first found out about me and Killer she said "So, you're dating [Killer] now? You want to be related to [Mongolian]?" Not in a mean way, they just laugh about him ALL THE TIME.

For example, my dad wants me to coordinate this Volunteer Appreciation Dinner for the usual temple folks in March; just a little something "fun" (NOTHING is fun when karaoke is involved) to celebrate, acknowledge, and thank the volunteers for all their hard work. And of course, Mongolian was the ONLY person against it. Saying it was a waste of money.

Second, one of the music teachers passed out twice; as in walking...then faint. Not frequent enough to be narcoleptic, maybe anemic. Or whatever else makes you pass out. Mongolian flipped out and said "We need to ship him back to Thailand now!" While my dad calmly reminded him "Maybe we should take him to the doctor first, then ask the school principal if they have insurance..."

Anyways, as long as Mongolian doesn't get as intrusive, demanding, disruptive, inconsiderate and JUST PLAIN ANNOYING like The Giantess, then I'm all good. He just knows how to be wrong when EVERYONE ELSE is right all together.


I have memories and moments that stick in my head forever and then there are things that I just continue to ask over and over about and forget the answer. I'm an airhead. But I think me and Killer's 3 months is tomorrow (I think...I forget the date) AND Harry Potter 6 comes out on dvd the same day. Awesome. I just remembered Killer's cell phone number, so cut me some slack.

I wonder when I'll finally just be really comfortable around him. As I have mentioned before, we've known each other for years, been dating for 3 months, see each other 1-2 weekends a month...but every time I see him I'm like Puff and Duke...WAAAAY excited every time someone comes home.

It's ridiculous how drawn I am to him.

K, homeworkage!


"When we live together..."

^^^That has become one of my favorite quotes. :)

First off, I JUST got out of my mandatory exit loan counseling meeting. As humorous and kind the presenter was, that didn't cover the scary fact that I'm going to be dealing with a shitload of debt. I really wish my parents didn't let me attend college until I could afford it myself because they pulled out all the loans for me and now I've just got all sorts of debt dumped on me. My parents aren't giving me any sort of discount, so adding up my Stafford and PLUS loan leaves me with $550/month payments for 10 years (hopefully a few months shorter). And that was with a little rounding up...it would be $516 flat if I really counted 10 years. Hopefully I can find a job that will enable me to shelve out more amounts of money per month to pay this off because a full 10 years of that crap sounds like prison.

It really pisses me off. I'm wondering if I should go to work as scheduled for tomorrow or finish my homework. At least I'm booked for catering with my Mom on Saturday.

Once I graduate I'm going to sell a bunch of my clothes, cash in my heavy collection of coins and loose change, sell my beach cruiser and just unload ALL my junk before I move to LA. I do have toooo much stuff.

One weird thing is that I'm excited to tackle that school loan, finding 2 jobs to make ends meet...it EXCITES me. And yet I've got a whole lot of homework due on Thursday and I'm not scared about that. I hardly care. Agjfgyldhjk

My usual blog entry with Happy Vomit 'bout the boyfriend will come later with visuals. But I will mention right now that I purchased Killer's Christmas gift last night and I think it's awesome. Here's a couple more hints.

-It'll look PERFECT in our future apartment
-It helps him accomplish one of the things he really wants to do

That's it! For now!