Which is [...]]]> Remember those high school days when abbreviations and acronyms were common enough to compromise every other word of text and instant messages? What a lie, I have only halfway grown out of that tendency, but “ttfn” (ta ta for now!) has somehow faded out of my lexicon. So I’m bringin that one back.

Which is to say: I’ll be putting this little bloggy blog on hold for a few months, as I devote exorbitant amounts of time to studying for the June installment of the Law School Admissions Test. It sure didn’t feel like I had a couple extra hours each day to devote to studying, but somehow I’m making it work – and obviously extraneous minutes of internet usage are going to be the first thing to go.

So, have a good Spring, folks! See you on the other side.

NO RELAXING ALLOWED UNTIL JUNE 10!

Well, that’s not quite right. We have definitely been robbed once before: we returned from a trip once and noticed that all of Ben’s power tools were missing from the garage. At least a few hundred dollars worth of equipment purchased slowly over a long time, all gone. [...]]]>

Morning light through our bedroom curtain.

We are pretty sure we got robbed.

Well, that’s not quite right. We have definitely been robbed once before: we returned from a trip once and noticed that all of Ben’s power tools were missing from the garage. At least a few hundred dollars worth of equipment purchased slowly over a long time, all gone. Mostly we were relieved that our new gym supplies weren’t also taken (we figure they were too heavy and not as obviously valuable, though some is worth far more), and we kind of shrugged and moved on. It was particularly easy for me to get over since none of the stuff was really mine.

This last time feels different. After Christmas, we noticed that our Wii games were missing from a shelf. It took a few days for the blank spot to catch our attention – and even once it did, our first assumption was that maybe we’d lent them out to someone and just couldn’t remember. Then I realized that all my rings were missing from their section on my jewelry rack. Most of them were from a cheap plastic set from Target, but intermixed were a few family heirlooms. I definitely hadn’t happened to lend someone my entire collection of rings.

The weird part is that nothing else was missing: our TV, DVDs, computer(s), Wii console, microwave, Kindle, shoes, purses, whathaveyou. None of what we own is particularly fancy, but the choice items are still a bit odd. Ben recently recalled a conversation we had years ago about how “one good thing about not being able to afford any nice stuff is that we won’t care if our house gets broken into… except that we have a few things with a lot of sentimental value.”

The rings fall into that category. Not the Target ones, but the others. One was a tiny gold ring that only fit on my pinkie with a pearl in the center surrounded by wavy gold bumps like a cupcake wrapper or flower petals. It was from my paternal grandmother, who had worn it as a child. Another was similar, a gold ring with six tiny pearls across the top that sort of reminded me of brass knuckles. One of its pearls had fallen out since my mom received it from her mom on her sixteenth birthday, and it had been replaced by an obviously fake plastic sphere that was oddly lopsided. I liked that it had six pearls on top, since Ben’s two last names mean “six” and “pearl” in their original languages. A third – from my stepmom – had a setting of rubies encircling a tiny diamond in a shape that to some looked like an eyeball and to others like a flower and still others like a cupcake with a candle on top.

And I guess now they’re gone. I haven’t a clue how much money they’d be worth; probably not much. But I suppose I’d always assumed that I’d just always have them, and give them away to someone else someday. Sometimes I liked wearing all three at once, though it was perhaps a little much, to remind myself throughout the day of my three families.

I have heard people say that having your house broken into feels violating – that that feeling is the worst part of the experience. I didn’t really feel that way when our tools went missing; maybe because they’d just been in the garage, which we had accidentally left unlocked. I wouldn’t describe this one as “violated,” either. More… creepy. It’s just creepy to think of someone in our house while we are far away, looking at our stuff, touching it, taking it.

I knew that this was a risk we were choosing to take by living in this neighborhood. Many of our close friends in this church and community have had things stolen from them, and in some ways it’s just a given in places like this. And living here is worth that risk, to us, but the creepiness has been hanging over me since the holidays.

This morning at church, I couldn’t stop thinking about how grateful I was for the community that we are a part of. The unusually diverse group leading music included a now-teenager with streaky hair and big gauges who I’ve known since he was literally a tiny kid; currently tiny kids squished into the row behind me, adorably screaming mispronounced song lyrics; Ben in the back helping with sound equipment and best friends on either side of my seat; friends from our weekly potluck sprinkled throughout the room; and not a single comment from the old ladies about my blue hair dye (even as I emceed from the front!).

The longer we are here, the more we receive – in the form of relationships, growth, support… return on our literal and figurative investments. Yet we also choose into increasing risk and greater potential sacrifice. Our experience has been that which Jesus describes in Mark 4 (NRSV): “the measure you give will be the measure you get, and still more will be given to you” – even though some things, literally, might get taken away.

This time last year, Ben was still working at a real awful little company that had sent him on a seemingly never-ending business trip to Oceanside, on which Last week, I mentioned to Ben: “Remember what we were doing this time last year?” He paused. Then, “Whoa.”

January 1, 2012, 12:01AM.

This time last year, Ben was still working at a real awful little company that had sent him on a seemingly never-ending business trip to Oceanside, on which I happily tagged along. That same month, he instead started working for himself. We also spent January doing a Whole30.

An oddly warm February meant flowers blooming everywhere.

In February I started a new job that helped pull me out of a rut of boredom but also catapulted my schedule into the land of busybusybusy. We celebrated a dear friend’s scholarship pageant success and had a happy little Valentine’s Day.

Three of the very best women in my life. Possibly also in the world.

The obvious highlight of March was the second (now) annual gathering of all our best friends under one roof. I CANNOT WAIT for this year’s third installment.

Our vows on our first anniversary, as seen from my side of the bed.

In April I ran a big conference for work that exhausted me to the point that I currently cringe while typing about it. But afterward, Ben and I escaped for a one-year anniversary celebration. We ate dim-sum, bought each other fancy presents, savored a ten-course dinner, and stared longingly into one another’s eyes (kidding) (well…).

Stopping for snacks at a corner stand on our way up the mountain.

May was a month-long ramp-up to the summer internship that I help direct, plus a much-needed weekend retreat in the mountains for our internship. The foggy weather and intense conversations and extended rest and hilarious moments of that weekend stand out as some of the most significant of all of 2012.

A storm rolling in over an elevated park in Manhattan.

It seems like June has just become our travel month – Seattle in 2011, Seattle plus New York in 2012, and Colorado this year. 2012′s June trip was one I would easily choose to repeat.

Ben’s birthday gift: new gym equipment!

The summer feels like a blur of work flurry interrupted by personal highlights. Ben’s birthday and weightlifting competition stand out from July, as well as his cousin’s wedding in the Bay Area.

A much-needed view on the road to Glacier National Park.

Our road trip to Montana in August was absolutely one of the year’s finest points with one of the most beautiful weddings we’ll probably ever attend. September was similarly wedding-filled (I guess that’s just what life becomes in your twenties?), but also became one of the most intensely difficult of our whole marriage thus far.

Perhaps the coolest wedding ever. A piece of our chuppah is a piece of their chuppah.

October kicked off the season of seemingly nonstop travel. There was an internship weekend in San Jose, then a work conference in New Orleans, closely followed by a weekend in Chicago (with my birthday smack in the middle). Next was another weekend internship trip to Long Beach, and from there the holidays began: an awesome camping & rock-climbing trip with friends, Thanksgiving, Hanukkah, Mexico, the Christmas marathon, New Year’s, a weekend in Oakland… and now we’re finally on the other side with no imminent travel plans (for now! That never lasts long with me). And we added a little puppy to the family somewhere in there, too.

Camping with Naga the day after we brought her home.

A friend told me recently about a book she’d read about goal-setting, which proposed that people tend to overestimate what they can accomplish in one year but underestimate what they can do in five. I’ve been sitting on that thought as I try to look ahead in five-year increments instead of only one at a time; looking back on 2012, though, I can’t help but feel shocked at how much happened. I didn’t quite finish everything I set out to, but I’m grateful for the unexpected things that filled in all the spaces I left between my plans (sometimes overflowing into the plans themselves).

We have a TV hooked up to a PC in our living room, which functions as both our desktop computer and Netflix/Hulu viewing device since we don’t actually have cable. It also plays Spotify nonstop, but only if a screensaver prevents it from pausing every few minutes. That screensaver is a polar [...]]]> Some background:

We have a TV hooked up to a PC in our living room, which functions as both our desktop computer and Netflix/Hulu viewing device since we don’t actually have cable. It also plays Spotify nonstop, but only if a screensaver prevents it from pausing every few minutes. That screensaver is a polar clock that looks like this:

The polar clock has proven rather mesmerizing to many an unsuspecting guest, who frequently ponder aloud: “I wonder what it does on New Year’s Eve.”

So obviously we decided to have a party and find out.

Then came the problem of being out of town for over a week up until two days before said party. Then spending most of those two days hitting after-Christmas sales with my sister-in-law.

But! As is always the case, it turns out that good people + good food + not-that-good-but-pretty-cheap alcohol makes for a party success.

We had some games:

• taping names of folks on Time Magazine’s 100 Most Influential People of 2012 on guests’ backs,  allowing only yes or no questions to guess your person (surprise: an Asian American Christian gal who had never heard of Jeremy Lin; highlight: the question “is it a female singer who is incredibly overplayed, talentless, and frustratingly catchy?” leading to “OH! OKAY! RIHANNA!”)
• “Celebrity” using people on Barbara Walters’ list of 2012′s Most Fascinating People
• miscellaneous trivia of the year’s top news stories, Billboard songs, and other statistics
• two teams guessing the twenty-some-odd tunes used in DJ Earworm’s 2012 United States of Pop

…with glamorous prizes (ie, Trader Joe’s candybars tossed in the cart whilst booze-shopping).

We also made food that was based on New Year culinary traditions around the world - bacon-wrapped dates, as pork symbolizes good luck in China; chile corn muffins, as gold foods symbolize upcoming prosperity in the southern US; grapes for Spain’s twelve sweet months; and a LOT more. A LOT. Too much.

Relatedly, a giant shout-out to the local Bevmo – whose buy-one-get-one-for-a-penny sale includes a rather tasty champagne option – for letting us in the store an hour before they opened on the morning of the 31st to buy a lot of it.

Then there was the last-second decorating attempt that we instantly realized had accidentally become a decent photobooth backdrop:

And the sparklers from our wedding that we’ll apparently never run out of, the abundance of which will likely prompt similar parties for (new) years to come.

Despite the rushed nature of it all, I figure that ending the year playing with sparklers from our wedding – with both family who’d participated in it, and new friends who we didn’t even know that day – is actually a pretty beautiful picture of our ever-changing and yet ever-the-same world and life.

Oh! And the clock: nothing special happened. It just become Tuesday, January 1, 2013, o minutes, 01 seconds. And life went on.

So I guess it’s 2013? And I missed the whole “happy new year” blog post thing? And the “13 in 2013″ goal-setting list? And the “this year is gonna be great, I can feel it in my bones!” situation? And the “here’s my word/verb/verse/quote/mantra for the year!” deal? And [...]]]>

So I guess it’s 2013? And I missed the whole “happy new year” blog post thing? And the “13 in 2013″ goal-setting list? And the “this year is gonna be great, I can feel it in my bones!” situation? And the “here’s my word/verb/verse/quote/mantra for the year!” deal? And that part where you reflect about 2012 and all that?

Oops.

I’m still recovering from the holidays. The boozy glow of homemade eggnog has nearly faded, though it hasn’t taken the added pudge of omgsomanycookiez along with it. It all started in mid-December with a little road trip to Mexico, and straight from there to my family on Christmas Eve for five separate holiday celebrations, and straight from there to Ben’s family on Christmas Day, plus a week of his sister at our place hosting NYE party smack in the middle, and an additional weekend in the Bay Area (all with our puppy!) before the “holidays” were over. And thank God that they are, indeed, over. RIP, Christmastime 2012. R. I. P.

So. Happy New Year, I guess! I am neither reflected nor recovered nor resolved, but I am here. And that’s all there is, sometimes, it seems.

The end!

The year is rapidly coming to a close. It has been full, it has been long, it has been good.

I’d almost forgotten about my list! Here is an update:

1. Take the LSAT again (maybe?) and apply to law schools.

This one will not be happening in 2012 [...]]]>

The year is rapidly coming to a close. It has been full, it has been long, it has been good.

I’d almost forgotten about my list! Here is an update:

1. Take the LSAT again (maybe?) and apply to law schools.

This one will not be happening in 2012 – but for good reason. I’m taking another year before applying to grad school, which is partially due to a reconsideration of what program I want to enter.

2. Get my motorcycle license.

It looks like I’m going to be selling my little scooter, so this is no longer necessary. Lemme know if you’re interested!

3. Have our neighbors over for dinner: January 18

We have new neighbors now. I’m not sure if that means I should re-do number three.

4. Visit one new state or country: August

Many new states: check! Country: not so much. But hey, there’s still time…

5. Get better at Photoshop and Illustrator.

This has absolutely been happening – if by “Photoshop and Illustrator” you mean “GIMP and Inkscape,” the free open-source versions of that software. Adobe CS is EXPENSIVE, man.

6. Find more interesting and fulfilling work: January 30

So much work. That’s all there is to say about that.

7. Play soccer in a park.

This could literally happen any old day – why have I been putting it off?!

8. Go to a museum (June), a concert (January 31), and a play (June).

In fact, many of each were attended. I am a lucky girl.

9. Organize our finances (March 24), paperwork, and belongings.

We have slowly become more organized in each of these areas over the course of the year. But lately I have been itching to do a real major overhaul of a few areas (like closets, cupboards, and garage).

10. Regularly spend time outdoors and unplugged.

Hm. This may have begun trailing off a bit lately, but one really enjoyable habit that Ben and I have gotten into is taking a walk around our neighborhood each morning. Sunshine plus neighbors, minus electronics. I have found that I regularly have helpful work insights on these walks, or Ben and I get into really good deep conversations. There is something powerful about stepping back and away.

11. Contribute significantly to my community in a tangible way.

Man, why did I put this one on here? I’m not sure how I will even determine whether or not this has happened.

12. Read a book in my hammock in my backyard: April 12

So many books. So much hammock. Such a good 2012.

Everything around me – even everything in me – is slowly, steadily, dying.

I don’t mean to be morose. It’s just that I have finally accepted what is probably a very basic fact of adulthood: a lot of life is spent just keeping sh*t together. By the time you feel ahead or on [...]]]>

Everything around me – even everything in me – is slowly, steadily, dying.

I don’t mean to be morose. It’s just that I have finally accepted what is probably a very basic fact of adulthood: a lot of life is spent just keeping sh*t together. By the time you feel ahead or on top of one thing or another, something else requires attention, and by the time that’s finished your original subject is in need of some kind of work again.

Basic housework is a simple example. How often do I find myself sighing, “But I swore I just cleaned these bathrooms!” Nothing ever just stays statically pristine. Despite researching endlessly when we created a wedding registry, we’ve now broken all but a single teacup and burnt holes in the oven mitts and stained plush blankets. Our fancy vacuum is currently sitting right next to me, in many pieces, tragically dysfunctional. The satisfaction of a shiny countertop is quickly replaced by an urgent need to buy more milk, and the just-vacuumed carpet inevitably suffers a sticky spill. And I don’t even have pets or kids. Sheesh.

I think the same principle applies on a more personal, internal, even spiritual level.

One category is health: of course I know that getting off the chair to go work out is healthiest for me, but there are quite a lot of days where I  just do. not. do. it. Having awareness of what is best doesn’t seem to always (or even often!) lead to corresponding behavior. It’s easy for me to pack my brain with knowledge about fitness and nutrition – especially when I live with a dude who is a total nerd for that kind of stuff – but there is no automatic correlation in my actions. Even my efforts at systemizing the process (like recording my daily water intake to encourage better hydration) usually trail off and eventually fail. Most of the time, despite good intentions, a few healthy habits are barely in order while others are inevitably slipping away.

It’s true in other areas. I’m always a few emails/phone calls/text messages/birthday gifts behind. Work projects that should be straightforward end up domino-ing into endless task lists. I know it would be good for my soul if I woke up a bit earlier to write a bit more in my journal, but the snooze button frequently wins out. Watching TV just sounds a whole lot more appealing, even though I have been wanting to read that book.

There’s even an odd glamorization of this tendency: it’s cool to post photos online of obviously unhealthy meals, or smile while confessing how long it’s been since laundry got done, or backhandedly brag about how crazy busy schedules have made rest and fun impossible.

I like how it’s worded in Romans: “I do not understand my own actions. For I do not do what I want, but I do the very thing I hate.” There’s a certain exasperation the writer seems to feel with himself that I can relate to there. Getting in his own way, stumbling over his own feet, taking two steps back for each step forward.

What’s nice is that, it seems, there does exist a certain tipping point of progress. When the majority of my ducks are all in a row, I do have the rare experience of feeling like I really am gaining ground – in my apartment, my health, my relationships, my general wellbeing. When most things are mostly taken care of, there is space to breathe outloud and survey the landscape. This, I think, the place out of which consecutive steps forward can come.

Probably due to my slightly OCD nature and exceedingly task-oriented ways, I am lucky to actually live out of this space more often than many. But my tendency is to see these things as very black-and-white: “I am so on top of my work! My to-do list is entirely empty! I will venture into new exciting projects! MORE MORE MORE!” or, “The laundry has been in the dryer for days. My life is, therefore, a complete mess. I am drowning in impossible projects. EVERYTHING SUCKS.”

Instead of hoping for perfected control of myself and surroundings, I want to start setting my sights on the tipping point: creating just enough order to serve as a firm foundation for forward motion. I want to beat the entropy while still enjoying the present moment. Even if a bit of laundry goes unfolded along the way.

I’ve never felt quite my age. After [...]]]> “Little Emily – that girl has got an old soul,” I overheard a friend of my mom sigh as they clinked wine glasses at the kitchen table while I, with my tiny tribe of sticky friends, scrambled around the house. “Ten going on thirty, that one.” They laughed.

I’ve never felt quite my age. After skipping a few of the earliest elementary grades, I was constantly surrounded by “peers” who were one or two or even three years my senior. Up until the end of middle school, I was part of an almost hilariously alternative education facility that meant myself and nine other kids comprised a whole class for most of our young lives. Though I was the youngest around, it wasn’t long before everyone stopped noticing.

My supposed maturity was exaggerated by my role as the oldest of my two siblings, which then became four after a bit of parental marital chaos. As homework-helper and ride-giver and lunch-packer and sibling-sitter, I tiptoed in a delicate limbo between child and adult. Kid or grownup? Both. Neither.

Showing up at my Catholic preparatory high school at the ripe ol’ age of twelve brought about its fair share of awkardness. Students and teachers alike gasped at my birthdate: “Are you like a genius or something?!” And dating proved risky for young men who didn’t want to be teased as cradle-robbers. Some other private schools had even denied me admission, specifying their concern about my youth.

But again, as we always do, everyone stopped noticing. By senior year I’d gathered plenty of friends, straight A’s, mistakes with boys, and even a Homecoming Queen crown.

I’d assumed I was in the clear… but then came college. Despite this newfound progressive and inclusive environment, classmates’ questions echoed those of preteens’ past. “OHMIGOD. You won’t even be able to buy alcohol until AFTER you’ve graduated!” As if that ever stopped anyone on a college campus?

Yet again, as is always true, everyone stopped noticing. I made the deepest friendships of my life, I grew as a student and a leader, I finished a hundred-plus-page award-winning thesis, and I was accepted to some of the nation’s top law schools.

I got married at twenty-one to my boyfriend of four years. We were mature, level-headed, realistic, and fully endorsed by friends and mentors who knew us best. But doubts aplenty were expressed, both to my face and (mostly) behind my back; and yet somehow I simply did not feel nearly as young as I was being treated at the time. It was as if my twelve-year-old self was softly reminding me: “This is how it’s always been. This is how it’ll always be. This is who you are.”

My guess is that it’ll take a few more years before my wedding ring stops garnering curious glances. Eventually, though, everyone will stop noticing. And in the meantime, I am living a marriage full of laughter, growth, support, and love.

At a certain point, I suppose I resigned myself to doing everything young.

A good friend in college once asked me if I’d always had an internal timeline – like this little roadmap in my head, matching major life events with approximate ages, that I half-consciously planned to fulfill. On hers, she shared, she would get married around twenty-eight; then have kids a few years later. I’d never realized, until she asked, that I had an internal timeline, too. And compared to most people in my geographic, socioeconomic, ethnic, and educational circles, mine is just a bit… young. I am living just a few units offset from most people around me, but that is the place that feels comfortable, authentic, and real.

Today is my twenty-third birthday. I have four incredible younger siblings, each charting their own paths and starting off on their own timelines. I have a good degree and the plans to get at least another. I have friends and memories scattered around the globe. I have a strong community surrounding me on all sides. I have a brilliant and handsome husband with whom to adventure through life. And I have growing confidence that, for me, doing things young means doing things right.

Little me.

—

Voting is sort of hard. Getting your paperwork turned in, making sure addresses and name changes match up, making sure you research all of California’s insane propositions, finding your polling place, standing in lines, using the weird little ink stamp machine thingie. Shoot. I am an educated, intelligent, [...]]]> Some miscellaneous thoughts on voting:

—

Voting is sort of hard. Getting your paperwork turned in, making sure addresses and name changes match up, making sure you research all of California’s insane propositions, finding your polling place, standing in lines, using the weird little ink stamp machine thingie. Shoot. I am an educated, intelligent, politically engaged lady and I could have easily made a fatal mistake at some step along the way. What does that mean for my neighbors who don’t speak much English, or have disabilities, or don’t own cars, or can’t research on the internet?

—

Voting is surprisingly casual. Show up in sweats, fill out a little form, get on your way. No metal detector or pat-down, no admissions test or prerequisites. I just walked in and, ten minutes later, walked out. There is something oddly disjointed about doing such a deeply important and heavily fought-for task while wearing slippers, while men and (especially) women around the globe are without that opportunity.

—

Voting is depressingly dramatic. Why do my extended family members feel a need to send me long chain emails disparaging a candidate that they assume I support (though they never asked – and I don’t post political thoughts on social media)? Why do friendships become tense in the midst of election season? Why do we all seem to feel a need to persuade others of our perspective, to feel personally offended by anyone who disagrees, to feel justified in judging a person’s entire character and self based on a single view or decision? I have respected and beloved friends and family who all vote very differently. And I am glad for that.

—

Voting is somewhat ineffective. I mean that on a national scale, as a resident of California – where political ads aren’t even worth financing, and a vote for either side in a presidential race is almost equally frivolous. Of course, I still cast a vote for president (and other seats that I’ll probably hardly affect); principle does outweigh practicality, for me. But this fact has fortunately  made me care much more about local politics. City measures and candidates influence my life more directly and actually need my vote, even though reading up on my local city charter is not nearly as glamorous as touting support for a presidential candidate.

—

Voting matters. Today, I exercised a right that women before me battled with their whole lives to earn – to them, I am deeply indebted. It is the profundity of that right that makes me care a bit less who or what you vote for; really, I just want you to be an informed, compassionate, conscientious voter. And it causes me to wonder what sort of rights people around me are being denied today. What could I be fighting for now so that others enjoy more freedoms later? What am I responsible to pursue on behalf of those who cannot? Where is my place in the long line of activists who made this morning possible for me?