Back in December, I started working for a small company that I am currently in.  Even now as I type, I’m in the office on my break.  Out of all the companies I have ever worked for, there is so much that goes into a small company that I really appreciate.

My opinion matters.  You would be surprise how much your word never gets heard.  Or lost in the dust or not even a ping in someones mind.  But when you work in a small company, everyone’s opinion and concerns gets heard.  Feel valued.  There is no “oh you’re sick, do you have a doctors note?” Or “what do you mean you cannot come in today?” Granted that I never call out when there is something extremely important.  But even so, there is no guilt trip if I ever do.  If there is an emergency, I don’t get penalized for it later.  The small company mentality is literally, you are one of the family.  And the genuinely care about you.
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I never had a real male figure role model in my life.  My biological father was a crummy one.  When my mother was pregnant with my sister and he was supposed to take care of me, he instead left me with another pregnant woman at a park to go find cigarettes.  This poor woman had to go around the block many times to find my mother at home cooking dinner for my father and I.

Another story, one of my favorites, is when my mom told me I would not stop crying in the middle of the night.  So dear ol’ dad went over to my crib and slapped me a couple of times to shut me up.  Which in turn had developed my epilepsy.

I think what put a nail in the coffin, of forgetting I even wanted to remember him.  Was the day of my sisters funeral.  Not only did he blame my mother for my sisters death, he left right after the funeral.  Leaving my mom and I with no where to go.

The sad part was, that is the first memory of that I have of my real father at my sisters funeral.


Part One. Part Two will be later.


Really caring for someone, is hearing their day to day life.  Thought process.  Concerns.  Without hearing someone out, your heart can’t really open up to someone.  You would expect the same for yourself, but yet some people won’t do that for other people.

Vexes me when I open up to someone yet don’t have the same reciprocal response of letting me hear their own heart open up.


Which makes sense why I shut off the world most of the time.  Or come off as a bitch.  I don’t mind it after a while.  I’ve been hurt, betrayed and let down so many times to finally stop being with people that don’t matter to me if I don’t matter to them.


I thought about this highly during my youth.  Symbolism and word play in literature.  What if our reflection was evil?  Something underlying from ourselves.


I’ve never had a problem with tinted windows in cars.  I know some of the uses of it.  However I’ve never had it, until my CRZ.

I find it useful, but mainly because I’m an Asian American Female Driver.

Not implying that, I myself am a terrible driver.  I follow the rules of driving in my state laws by day.  And by planned out nights, go racing on private streets with different car groups (whole shabang, walkie talkies in all the cars and we signal if there is a lone driver minding their own business who wander down our current location. We have also veterans who driven enough to know when someone is under the influence and call law enforcement of said under the influence person driving).  We just do things differently.

It’s everybody else that are terrible drivers.  Even so, they always peered into my Prelude Everytime they almost hit my car but think I am in the wrong.  They see my hair or face and typecast right away.  This is infuriating.  The hateful glances….”oh it’s a woman” expression against their face.  “But of course, Asian!” With their middle fingers in the air.

I’m going to be investing in a dash cam of the shit I have to put up with (excuse my language).

With the tinted windows, for the first time I was enthralled that people trying to peer into my car could not see me.

Recently this SUV was next to me.  Instead of following the rules of turn signal, pause, look over shoulder and cross–this man had the nerve to cut the middle two out.  I almost got slammed into because he turned a signal and went at the same time.  Startled by almost hitting me, I passed him and he chased me down.  Before his exit he got close to my car and tried to look at me through the window but did not see me and I never saw him past that.

Sorry for the rant. As well if you follow me, you’ll hear me talk about cars a lot.

That, and food.


I’m one of those weird people who believe in ghosts.  Mainly from personal experiences.  Such as a parked car reversing on its own in the middle of a street and then parking itself again, by itself.

Unlikely encounter of a “good omen” during an ouji board (I know, don’t mess with it, yada yada).

A guiding throw of a snowball into, what looked like black water, was actually a hole down to a river bank covered in snow (I am terrible at throwing).

Barely getting knifed, by a toddler who took a knife from her room, and laughingly threw it just passed my head.

Death wants me.  Or these Hosts are toying with me.  But I know for certain, that I believe in ghosts.


Most people don’t worry about cancer until they are much older.

Unfortunately, at the young age of eight, learned the destructive force of cancer.

My mother had not one.  Or two.  But three types of cancer so forth.  It runs in my family.  The first for my mother, was ovarian cancer.  This is around the age of twenty eight; which is my current age.  My mother had her ovary surgically removed.

Second, thyroid cancer, ten years down the line.  I am told, if you had to have a treatable cancer, this is the one you wish you could get.  Rather than skin cancer or worse.  So I’m told.  Cancer in any form, even treatable, is still the worst type of news.

Thirdly, Thyroid cancer, aggressively becoming breast cancer.  Also, roughly ten years from her last.  This was the first time that she ever had chemo done.

We were fortunate enough that she is in remission.  She is stronger than I have ever imagined and I am so proud of her.  She can have the world as her playground again.

I had my first scare in Middle School.  Found out it was nothing.  But now I have another scare, from yesterday, and healthcare is getting particularly difficult.

I guess that’s why I couldn’t sleep last night.


I cannot decide which I would want more for tools.

Mechanic Tools or Cooking Tools.

I love both very much and I am at an impasse of what I would want more in my life.


……as long as its all in the color of teal.