Wednesday, December 19, 2007

Karma Chameleon


I began writing this blog and Kira managed to walk across the keyboard and delete the majority of it permanently. This will just add to the frustration behind the post, I'm afraid.

As I was saying, one of the things I find most frustrating is when I cannot find an outlet for my emotions. Generally, blogging would be the most obvious way for me to find release, but unfortunately, not everything can be talked about on a public forum for fear of possibly severe repercussions.

This is one of the topics that I can't blog about. And it sucks. If you ask me about it in person, I may explain it to you. I may not.

In high school and at the beginning of college, before the blog really existed or took off, I used to write poetry. Tons of it. All the time. That was my way of expression. Now, I don't write nearly as often as I'd like to. I don't have that kind of creativity in my blood anymore. No passion for it. But on occasion, I do write poetry. And I still post it online. Just not here. Not in this blog. I have another blog, also linked to my personal site on which I post just my poetry. You can find it here or go to my site and click on Expression. I most recently posted there last month.

I think I'm going to change that, though. I'm going to include my poetry here since this is the more often read forum. Maybe through a more metered form of expression, I can still write about the un-writable and pray that it is vague enough to let me off the hook.

So here it is. It has no name and it has no dedication. Just an expression of my frustration.

brand new, like dew in the early morning
trying hard to blend in, chameleon conforming
conform to unbending, to ignored and broken
ignored's two-faced smiles support, voice unspoken
complaints to unbending. chameleon pushes
rising up and onward beyond its own bushes
ignoring what's two-faced and breaks its own branches
while leaves surround and in hushed whispers dances
congratulates chameleon for blending right in
right in the same breeze, while ignoring self-sinning
leaves rustle loudly, but chameleon aloof
incapable of showing loud leaves the truth
continues to meld as dew turns to darkness
hopes unbending sees chameleon as leaves' hidden target
targets chameleon for turning color so well
chameleon thinks leaves should all go to hell


Wednesday, November 21, 2007

Tag, I'm it

I have an audience at work. Co-workers, or at least, work-friends who read my blog. That's dangerous, because it limits what nasty things I can say about them. It's also dangerous because that means I can't hide who I am. The "non-professional me," if you will. They know everything that I was, or am, willing to say on this semi-not-so-anonymous forum. Who knows what that means in terms of acceptance? o_O

It's scary, really, since I actually don't know who of my fellow Advertiser employees read this. I know that more people than have come forward do and that they've even brought up concerns about my personal character with some other co-workers. Apparently, some of what I write or say or do upsets the conservatives. I guess I already knew that.

Although, obviously the fact that SOME of my audience continues to talk to me proves that they've accepted the me of my ramblings. I hope that the rest of them follow suit. If not, oh well. Heh. =)

But the main reason why having a work audience is dangerous is because they do things like VIRTUAL TAG ME DURING WORK. *waves @ rod* This means I must do the responsible thing and play the game while the "game" (i.e. work) is in session. Of course, it's easy enough for Rod to do because he has his own cubby where even if the higher ups walk past, the computer screen is facing AWAY from them should they decide to stick their heads in for a hello. In my case, in my half-cubby, my back (and thus my computer screen) faces a very much used walk-way and those coming in through the door can get a great view if they happen to glance over.

And thus, I must be ninja when I play tag... *poof*

Here are the rules:
1. Link to the person that tagged you and post the rules on your blog.
2. Share 7 random and/or weird things about yourself.
3. Tag 7 random people at the end of your post and include links to their blogs.
4. Let each person know that they have been tagged by leaving a comment on their blog.

1. For many years, I thought I was a boy. Because of the unique quality of my name, my parents didn't know how to romanize it. So, to accommodate the Thai L vs R thing, they decided to put both letters in the spelling of my name. Moncharlee. Charlee for short. And being that I looked like a little Japanese boy, my sister went around introducing me as her little brother, Charlee. Then, when I was 3 or 4, at Mother Rice Pre-school, I was enlightened. There, the boys and girls shared the same bathroom. On a trip to said bathroom with then friend, Ross Nakagawara, I noticed a veeery interesting difference in our equipment and in the way we relieved ourselves. I pointed and asked, "What's that?" He said, "My peepee. Boys have it." It was then I realized that I was female. I just thought it was normal for boys to wear dresses like the one I was wearing that day...

2. I have a hugely bad temper. I blame my Thai heritage. You know what they say, Thai women's temperaments are like their food. Hot and spicy! And I do have an insanely quick temper and if in the right situation, I also have a very quick physical response to it. A great example was in college. My roomy at the time, Laura, can attest. I was angry after a phone call with an unnamed family member. So I picked up a butter knife, threw it across the room, and it embedded itself into the CONCRETE WALL. Laura ran over to pull it out, probably mostly so I wouldn't direct the next throw at her. She couldn't. And mind you, she's 5'11" and was on the crew team with muscles as big as my head! (Well, maybe not that big.) ... but over the years, I've tried to curb that violent, angry streak... if anything, I release at home, behind closed doors, where no one can see.

*blink* Ok, I sound crazy. I'm really not. I promise.

3. When I listen to music, I know it's a good song when I can relate it to the elements. You know, Earth, Wind, and Fire, etc. Not the band, the elements. I can picture the scenery that best matches the feeling of the song, to me... Can picture how it would look in a video sequence and can sometimes even associate smells and such with it.

4. I like feeling other people's woogies. Woogies are the soft, triceps area of the arm that wiggles when you wave. The sound effect, in my head, that comes with that wiggling is "woogie, woogie, woogie." I find the gentle squeezing of woogies to be somewhat therapeutic. Try it sometime.

5. I don't like to kill things because I feel bad. And by things, I mean cockroaches, ants, etc. I believe in karma and in killing these animals, it reflects badly on me. That doesn't mean that I *don't* kill them. I just feel really bad and when I do kill them, I apologize before, during and after for taking their lives. The only animal I feel less bad killing is the mosquito. Those are evil. Really.

6. When I'm really cold at home, I like to make myself a burrito. Not one to eat, though. One to wear. I'll roll myself into a blanket or two so that my arms are trapped and just my head and feet are sticking out. And if I have to go somewhere, I hop there. I think it's a little like swaddling babies. It's comforting and warm. Except that I have mobility (sort of) and the babies don't.

7. I *hate* the game of tag. As an uber-plump child, I wasn't one for running. Try as I may, I could never catch anyone I chased. And thus, once I was tagged... "It," if you will, that basically meant game over. That doesn't mean that I didn't try. And it was in my trying that most mean-hearted kids got the most enjoyment. I mean, how funny is it to constantly be juuuust out of reach of the fat-kid! So, in the spirit of tag-hating, I shall not do what this game demands. I will *not* tag 7 people and force them to answer. =) Or, let's change that... my issue with tag when I was little was that I was singled out. So instead, I will do a general tag. I will tag EVERYBODY and not just the 7 people who will be forced to respond. So... if you're reading this...

TAG! You're IT!

... and it's not my fault. Tis Rod's... <3


Sunday, November 04, 2007

Living on Borrowed...


Winter has arrived in Hawaii, marked by torrential rains, big waves, flash flood warnings, and more importantly...

by Internet outages (caused by torrential rains...)

My Roadrunner connection has now been officially out for 6 hours. Despite the fact that my digital cable is alive and well... despite the fact that there are at least 5 live connections in the area (because I can see their wireless networks), *MY* beloved Internet connection is down.

And that has forced me to do the unthinkable. Piggy back off of someone else's wireless. The connection is weak. I can't even watch YouTube videos.

But I can blog. And chat.

And that keeps me sane.

Of course, I should really be doing more productive things instead of stealing other people's life blood, I mean, Internet connection.

I should really be... cleaning. Or something. But that would be the responsible thing to do.

I called Oceanic to check on timing. They've apparently already fixed the majority of the island's Internet. It's really just mine that's left. But of course, that's according to a recording that was up-to-date about an hour ago. No live people to talk to, so they could be lying, and I would never know because I can't press anyone for information.

I guess I'll just have to continue to be a virtual vampire until further notice.


Tuesday, October 30, 2007

Stronger - Part II

When I talk to people, I tend to be very open. I generally have no qualms talking about my past or embarrassing moments or periods of strife. I share them because I have nothing to hide, and often, I don't care what the listener thinks about what I am saying or about who I am, as a person. I'm me and I try not to apologize for it too often.

Because I am an open person, people tend to be open with me in return. They tell me secrets and know that I won't tell anyone. I generally don't judge. And often, I've gone through something similar so I can empathize.

And because of the fact that people feel comfortable with me, they often come to consider me as a close friend and confidante. And cold as this may seem, I often see them as no more than an acquaintance.

That being said, I know that I am blessed. Despite my somewhat aloof take on "friendship," as I've aged, I've managed to collect a group of friends on whom I know that I can rely if I so choose. They don't judge me. They love me for me. And if I so needed it, they'd fly to the ends of the universe for me. I haven't seen many of those people in years. I rarely talk to them.

Any of my many acquaintances, I believe, would also be there for me if I asked them to be. The offers are there and I appreciate them. But as I've mentioned before, as open as I am, I find that I have a hard time talking out my frustrations. I don't like "burdening" people -- yes, yes, I know many of you are shaking your heads and denying that my venting would be a burden at all.

Today, I remembered part of the reason why I don't generally open up with regards to what's really bothering me. I remembered why I choose to blog instead of chat or talk to someone living. It's because my blog won't slam the door in my face, on purpose or not.

I mentioned to a friend today that I'd been depressed. My friend read my previous blog posting and I decided that I'd discuss my present state of emotion with him. His response? "Stop emo'ing." Heh. Stop emo'ing.

Of course he's right. I *am* being overly emotional. That's part of my frustration and I admit to that. But that's not what I needed. I didn't need someone to throw my emotion back in my face when I decided to make myself vulnerable. I didn't need my concerns belittled or made light of.

I know that my frustrations are nothing in the grand scheme of things. That's yet another reason I don't often bring them up.

I told him that I lack a good support system. My best friends are not here (and I refuse to lean on them for such minor things -- although they'd welcome it). My friends that are here often don't understand where I'm coming from (or do, but don't react the way I need them to). My family has their own stresses (and often, manage to make me feel worse). And so I'm left with my cat, my blog, and myself.

My cat's insane. So scratch that.

All the openness in the world and all I can do is talk to no one but this small virtual space in an endless virtual world. I just hope it doesn't slam the door in my face.



The last week and a half or so, I haven't had much opportunity to chat online with Yoshi. It seems I have the worst luck of it. If I wake up at 3 or 4 am, he doesn't come online. If he comes online later in the day, I'm either out of the house or at work. If I'm at work and happen to have meebo on, I'll be away from my desk when he IMs me and he'll be gone by the time I return. And this morning, I woke up late with a start (by late I mean 5:30 am) to realize he'd been on for two hours and that Kira had put my computer on mute so I didn't hear the AIM sound that is specific to Yoshi when he logs on.

And right when I came on to say hi, he said he had to go.

And I burst into tears.

And now I'm depressed.

As many of you know, I've had bouts of anti-social behavior since he's been gone. But today is the first time in the two months he's been in Kuwait that I feel as though I'm having an emotional breakdown because of his absence. This is the first time I really cried since dropping him off that rainy night at Schofield.

And I feel like shit.

And all of this feels silly to some extent because it's not like we haven't spent time apart before. I went to college in Japan and Massachusetts and was basically gone for those four years, with just a few return trips here and there. But I think this is different.

Maybe because this time, he's unhappy about being away. He isn't there by choice, but by obligation. He's unhappy and there's nothing I can do about it. And that sucks.

Maybe it's just the frustration of knowing that I have the opportunity to have contact with him right at my fingertips and because of my luck, I can't seem to make it happen.

Maybe it's because I'm just pathetic and needy.

Well, whatever it is, I'm sitting in my room at 5:45 am in tears that won't seem to stop -- ignoring a hungry, whining Kira.

Stupid emotional breakdown. Go away already. I'm supposed to be stronger than this...


P.S. I just realized that our "anniversary" is on Sunday. *sigh*

Sunday, October 28, 2007

Racial (In)Sensitivity, ESL, and My Own Racism

A highschool friend, MJ, a young, bright, beautiful Filipina woman posted an article as a bulletin on MySpace this morning that was originally posted in the Star Bulletin (a local paper). The article, entitled ‘Housewives’ angers Filipinos in medicine (original article) stated that a racist comment was made on the popular show, Desperate Housewives, that has the US Filipino community up in arms.

The quote:

When a gynecologist suggested Terri Hatcher's character (Susan) might be reaching menopause, she said: "Can I just check those diplomas because I just want to make sure that they are not from some med school in the Philippines."

While I agree that this is, indeed, an inappropriate and offensive thing to say, I think that this, like many "racial issues," may be taken too far. ABC, Inc. (my former employer, heh) has issued a formal apology for its stupidity. After receiving notice from the Filipino community that they had pissed a lot of people off, they recognized their insensitivity and tried to make amends. But apparently, sorry isn't enough.

The Filipino community wants more. They want ABC to "... produce shows recognizing Filipino [contribution to society]" ... or else.

I'm sorry, but that's ridiculous. There are tons of ethnicities, minority and otherwise, who have contributed to making this world what it is... who have helped the world move forward... and not everyone gets a show about their ethnic triumphs on primetime. To demand such a thing is ludicrous. Where does an ethnic group get off making such a demand? Are their contributions to society that much more important than everyone else's? Isn't that a bit elitist and self-important and quite possibly... racist?

I guess racial insensitivity doesn't stop at big corporate productions.

Furthermore, I'd like to point out that one of the statements quoted in the article from a Dr. Fernando Ona (who I am sure is a bright gentleman with a great education) makes absolutely no sense. "[It was a]... reprehensible insult to the racial diversity... of doctors of Filipino ancestry."

I'm sorry. What?!

Ignoring the fact that there is only the human race and everything else breaks down into ethnicities, doesn't "racial diversity of doctors of Filipino ancestry" seem to contradict itself? Or is that just me being nit picky and looking too closely at semantics? What is he trying to say? Granted, I've cut up the quote a bit, but even in its entirety, the meaning is lost.

Can anyone explain this to me?

In talking to another close friend of Filipino ancestry, when I brought this quote to his attention, he told me that, " thing I think is common with 'educated' Filipinos is that they have a tendency to want to use 'big' words and 'flowery' phrases...that don't necessarily make sense. It's part of the Filipino culture to be flamboyant...not in a malicious or mean-spirited way, but it's just their way."

My response?
But that makes them look stupid.

And I'm sorry, but his saying that DOES make him look stupid. And if that's the norm, no wonder the editors and writers for 'Desperate Housewives' let that quote slide. While it's never good to base things on stereotypes, they exist for a reason. And that reason is that there is some truth to it.

I'm horrible. I know. And I know that lots of people use big words inappropriately. It's not just Filipinos. I want to say that people who learn English as a second language do it more often than most because they want to demonstrate (often subconsciously) their true fluency and harness of the English language. I want to say it, but hell, I know LOTS of English as a FIRST language speakers who butcher English all the time, in ignorance. I'm sure I'm one of them (although technically Thai was my first language... I don't remember a lick of it). But I think it's just more blatant when the speaker doesn't have English as their mother-tongue.

I personally am of the mind that everyone's a little bit racist. (Ha! Avenue Q was right.) I am no exception. I know that I am quite racist, and unfortunately, because I went to a high school where I was the minority in a world of what was often called "Little Manila," one of the ethnic groups toward which I harbor the most animosity is Filipinos. Ignore the fact that some of the people I love most are Filipino. Heh. (*Waves at all my Filipino friends who KNOW I am often anti-Filipino*)

And it is because I have always felt that the Hawaii Filipino community is too self-engrossed, too close-minded, and too culture-centric. I think it's healthy to remember where you come from. To have ethnic pride. But what about welcoming other cultures and learning from them and embracing them? What about expanding one's world and accepting that people are different and stopping the jamming of your own culture down someone else's throat until they gag?

It's not happy to gag on someone else's culture.

Mind you, this all coming from a girl who knows well not to eat the chocolate pork, but to steal all the banana lumpia, who understands what it's like to pack and ship balikbayan boxes to the family, who loves patis, who laughs at the barrel man, who has sung "Dahil Sayo," who has done tinikling in two states, who has gotten into a fist fight for not being Pinay and to DEFEND Pinay, who has taken friends to get Alibata tattoos, who looks for the Fork & Spoon, the Last Supper, and plastic runners when she goes into a Filipino house, and who understands the meaning of "Mahal Kita."


Monday, October 22, 2007

Work, Weariness, and Muffin Wars

Since I began working at The Honolulu Advertiser on October 9 as the Online Coordinator for, many of you have asked me how it's going. Rather than continuing to answer you all individually, I'm going to take the lazy way out and do a mass answer here. Work is fine.

Originally, I was at a loss as to what I'd actually be doing. My first week was filled primarily with reading about the product and becoming familiar with some of the technical aspects of the position. Basically, to sum up, I'm technical support for the car dealerships who utilize the product via and the liason between clients, our sales staff, and support.

The work itself has been, for the most part, rather easy. It's mostly about handling personalities and putting out fires. In that sense, it's not much different that Lost or PacRim Marketing Group. It comes down to making people happy. I think I can do that effectively.

My co-workers seem to be a neat group of people. The Online Department is comprised of 12 people, including myself. 8 men. 4 women. My manager is a brilliant woman who I'm convinced is smarter than me by far. I don't meet people like that often, so I love it. I'm of the general mind that most people are stupid (how's that for condescension and modesty), so it's always a thrill to find someone who is on equal footing or who can overstep me. Well, at least that's how it is with me... heh. And I think a good percentage of my coworkers can fall into the equal footing category, so I'm excited.

I've begun decorating my half-cubicle. I have my Yoda head, a few lava lamps left there from the previous employee, and a few pictures. If any of you have anything you want to add to my display area, feel free. I have lots of space left.

In other news, I'm tired. MAN am I tired. As I mentioned in a previous blog, I wake up at 4 am everyday to talk to Yoshi. Which is fine. And I love that I get the opportunity to talk to him. But waking up at 4 am, going to work, going to work out, and then coming home and basically NOT SLEEPING WELL is beginning to kick my ass. I'm no longer having nightmares, so that's a plus. But I'm still waking up every 20 - 40 minutes. I wonder what's on my mind that is making me sleep (or not sleep) that way. It's slowly killing me. I just hope it doesn't affect me on the job. I wake up each day completely exhausted.

And I think I'm getting sick. Shit.

So, that basically updates two of the three topics from my last blog. Last one? Self-image. I'm fat. Shut up. I know, I know. I'm NOT fat. But gunfunnit, I AM fat. Since high school, I've gained at least 30 lbs. I don't fit into the majority of my clothes and can't afford to (and don't want to) buy a completely new wardrobe that'll fit my fluffy body.

A few weeks ago, in looking through some old photos, I finally realized how frickin' disgusting I look in comparison to the younger, more fit me of years past. So I joined 24 Hour Fitness. And work out at least 4 times a week. My goal? To lose at LEAST 20 lbs. (ideally 30) or 10% of my body fat by the end of February.

I've called this my "Muffin Wars," in reference to the ever hated "muffin top" that I've seemed to develop. For those of you who are not familiar with this term, "muffin top" refers to the belly fats that folds over the edge of one's pants as a muffin top would "bloop" (sorry for the sound effect) over the muffin's paper cup.

Here is a visual:

That's my goal... and whether or not I'm achieving it is a completely different thing. Because I've GAINED weight.... please let it be muscle weight. Bleh. So if any of you have a 24 membership and want to work out in the evenings, call me. Rob's been good about coming with me, but I need all the support I can get.

Help me combat the evil that is the muffin top. Join me in my Muffin Wars.

And then maybe the self-image issue will fix itself. Let's hope so.


Thursday, September 27, 2007

Nightmares and New Starts

So, for the past several weeks, I haven't been sleeping well. Rather, I just haven't been well. Everything from random waves of nausea (generally in the evening) to troubled sleep to lack of motivation and antisocial behavior.

I guess the combination of Yoshi being gone, frustration in job searching, and a general frustration with myself, overall, has literally been keeping me awake at night. When I sleep, I sleep in short stints... waking up every 20 - 40 minutes or so. If I manage to sleep longer than that, my dreams are riddled with nightmares -- nightmares mostly about job searches gone wrong, failures, and death. Since I'm generally one who doesn't dream at night, dreaming at all can sometimes be exhausting. But dreams that just... are negative... well, let's just say it's been rough.

And my lack of sleep hasn't made me the best friend or the best family member. I've been irritable, antisocial, and generally blah. So, if I've slighted you at all in the past several weeks -- turned down invites, snapped at you, canceled, not answered calls (not that I'm good about answering calls anyway), not helped to celebrate -- I'm sorry. I wasn't in the right frame of mind to be good company anyway.

Hopefully, though, things will change soon and I'll start sleeping better. Since my release from Lost, I've been living off my savings and off what Yoshi is making, now that he's in Kuwait. Lack of money is yet another reason why I've been MIA. I can't afford to live right now, let alone play. But today, I received a job offer and accepted.

I've been job searching for weeks and weeks. Went to a job fair. Went to countless interviews. Some for which I wasn't qualified. Some for companies that I didn't think deserved me. Some that would be great jobs, but paid next to nothing. A big issue for me has been pay. I swore that I wouldn't take any steps backward, paywise. And I didn't.

Starting next week Thursday-ish, after a drug clearance and some paperwork goes through, I will be the new Online Coordinator for The Honolulu Advertiser. I'm not sure of the nitty gritty, but it sounds as though I will be heading up the coordination for their online cars search engine via It will be my first job where I work semi-normal hours. A mere 37.5 hours per week, average! Considering that I'm used to working 60+ hours per week, this'll be nothing!

I'll probably walk to work everyday, which will help, I'm sure, with the self image thing.

And as for Yoshi, all I can do is make due with what little contact I have with him. I've been waking up at 4 am, each day, to chat with him for an hour. That's more than I was thinking we were going to get, so I'm grateful. We may also have the opportunity to see each other next year, assuming he gets leave. (By the way, if anyone wants to start going walking at 5 am-ish, let me know.)

So... things are looking up. Which is good, because I needed that.


Monday, September 17, 2007

Departures - Part III

Part III

Yesterday, after having awakened from a troubled sleep, wrought with nightmares, I received a phone call from my Dad. He said that he, my grandma, and the rest of that side of the family were at Queen's Hospital, in room 541 of Queen Emma Tower, to say goodbye to my Great Aunt Nobuko before she passed away.

I immediately walked across the street to the hospital to join my family. Aunty Nobu, youngest sibling of seven, was originally admitted to a different hospital for pneumonia. They discharged her that day, but she was readmitted, this time into Queen's Hospital, as her condition had worsened.

By the time that I'd arrived, Aunty's vitals were already headed downhill. She was on a respirator, had lost conciousness, and despite being on two IVs, the doctors and nurses had already cut off the drip. Everyone had already been there for several hours; I was only there for two.

It was heartbreaking watching her two daughters and their husbands, HER husband, and their dog, gathered around her, hugging her and talking to her... watching her husband, Harold, generally a rather stoic Japanese fellow, kissing her and whispering in her ear... crying.

I was there when the doctor came in and asked the family's permission to give Aunty an extra dose of morphine, to lessen her pain. Asked if the family would approve of not giving any resuscitative measures should she take her last breath (CPR or defibrillator), as it would only bring her more pain and wouldn't bring her back.

I didn't catch the exact time she flatlined as they turned off the in-room monitor when the time neared, so the family wouldn't watch the monitor. But I was there when she took her final breath.

I watched the entire family (except for one person) cry. My grandmother, shaking silently as she watched her youngest sister die before her. This is the second sibling she's lost this year. They were both younger than her.

Now, there's just my grandmother and my Aunty Pat left of the seven. And my grandmother doesn't want to be the last of them.

Anyway, Mrs. Nobuko Minami (maiden name: Ishimoto) passed away the afternoon of Sunday, September 16, 2007, in the Queen Emma Tower, room 541, of Queen's Hospital. She is survived by her husband, Harold, her two daughters, Susan and Sandra, and her two sisters, Patricia and Jeanne. She also has many nieces and nephews, grand-nieces and grand-nephews.

Thursday, September 13, 2007

Departures - Parts I & II

Part I

Last night, I silently watched Yoshi put on his military uniform. I've seen him leave several times already. And with the exception of the first time, that brought me to tears, it's gotten easier and easier to watch him leave because his departure to Kuwait seems less and less real as he kept coming home to my doorstep.

This time was real.

We drove our way to Schofield to drop him off by midnight. Mid-way there, our gas light came on, as in our rush we'd forgotten to refill the gas tank, adding to the anxiety already thick in the air. We talked about silly things -- and complained about people and their goats and stuff that doesn't really matter in real life.

We arrived at Area X exactly on time. On time, in military time, is actually late... but it seemed everyone was running late. I guess everyone knew they were really leaving this time and were trying to prolong the inevitable.

He unloaded his stuff and prepped it for his departure. And I made mine, not wanting to get in the way. I hugged him tight, kissed him and told him to stay safe and do his best (頑張って、気を付けてね.) I told myself I wouldn't cry as I walked away back to the car. And I didn't, nor did I need to because it started to rain... like the world was crying because the human race is so stupid... sending people off to fight a pointless war.

And now he's gone. Here's to hoping he comes back soon, unscathed physically, emotionally, mentally. And here's to the rest of his unit returning in the same way.

Part II

In other news, I was offered a wonderful opportunity to work as the APOC (Assistant Production Office Coordinator) for an upcoming television series. The job would have taken me to San Fernando Valley, CA for 9 months, and would have allowed me to work under a wonderful woman, Michyl-Shannon Quilty (see IMDB for details about what she's done).

I did a lot of searching. Apartment searching. Subleaser searching. Ticket searching. Soul searching.

And today, I told my beloved Michyl that I wouldn't be going. Not because I don't want to take the position. Quite the contrary, I do. But because I don't think I could afford it.

So to all of you who were helping me apartment search, helping me find subleasers or who were simply cheering me on, thanks. I appreciated it and I feel bad that I'm not following through with the move, despite your help. But I think that this is the right choice...

So, long story short (now that you've reached the end of this entry), departures: completed and averted. to find a job I want to do here in Hawaii.


Thursday, August 30, 2007

Fuckin' Genius

I've been backlogged on the blogging topics from all the nothing I've been doing. (See previous post.) I meant to type this the day after it happened, but got sidetracked as Yoshi was here and making me WoW on a PVP server. Vashj. Join it. If you're on it, let me know. I'll /friend you.

Anyway, a little over a week ago, I was confronted with an event that put me in a situation where I felt insulted enough and threatened enough that I'd pulled a knife -- albeit, not an OPEN knife (yet) on a person. Let me give you the background and you can all judge for yourself what you would have done in the same situation.


I was always close to the security guards at Lost. George, Kevin, Josh, that whole lot. They've always been good to me and we've shared some great talks. But with the new season came new guards. George and Kevin decided to quit Securitas to return to school after more than 10 years of being out of that whole lifestyle. And Josh, poor Josh, was the sole guard who remained from the original acquisition of the Lost account.

Securitas brought in several new guards and unfortunately (or fortunately?) I wasn't able to get to know them all before my own departure, but they all seemed friendly enough.

After my release, I received an email from one of the new guards saying that he'd noticed my name had been crossed off of the studio access list and he wished me the best... keep my chin up, that kind of thing. Not really knowing him, I was cordial and sent an email back thanking him for the support. He contacted me a few days later saying that he had plans to go to Japan and wanted to talk to me about it. I gave him my number, not thinking anything of it, and told him that it would actually be best to email me about it, as many of you know that I'm poor at answering my phone or giving call backs. He emails saying that he'll contact me later.


Later comes. August 22. Wednesday.

I'm at my sister's husband's best friend's house. He's moving to the mainland in a few weeks, so we went over to pick up some furniture we'd purchased... and also to help him with any last minute cleaning. The guard calls me. I tell him that I'm busy and that I'd give him a call in the evening. Twenty minutes later, he texts me: "Got somethin for me for a drink.say,6ish.u pick the place." I reply: "I'm scheduled to go to dinner w/a friend tonight." Actually, I'd had plans to go to dinner with my sister and the friend we were helping.

A few hours later, he calls. My sister and I are at the Kalihi Salvation Army, donating some of our friend's stuff. The guard calls me again. I tell him, again, that I can't meet with him because I have a dinner planned, but that I'll call him after I'm through with all my previous obligations. He says he has something to give me, but is extremely vague about what it is. Just that I'll understand when I see what it is and that he believes I may have something to "contribute" to it. He also mentions that he has a new job and is no longer with Securitas. By this point, I'm a bit irritated since I feel that he's being rather pushy also being evasive as to why he wants to meet me.

Dinner at Shokudo goes well.

Afterward, I go walking at the UH track with Jolene. We walk about three miles, during the course of which, the guard calls me twice and texts me once. Again, I'm irritated; I told him I'd call when I was finished with my previous plans that day. I drop Jolene off at her Aunt's house and call the guy. He asks that we meet briefly so that he can give me whatever it is he has to give me. "It won't take more than 15 minutes."

I meet him in the parking lot of the Pali Hwy Longs/Safeway. He hops into my car and we drive down to a dive downtown called Amy's Place. He drops a stack of papers onto the table in front of me and asks that I read it. It's a script -- location, Japan. I read through about half of it before he approaches me to talk about it.

Basically, he says that it's a film script and he wants to use my expertise and my connections in the industry to get it produced. He says the producers at Lost are unable to break into feature films because they don't have the talent or opportunity or whatever. Condescension drips like venom from his mustached lips as he speaks negatively of the people there, and then says that the script in my hand is a "fuckin' masterpiece..." and that he's a "fuckin' genius." Kids, let's make note of the phrase "fuckin' genius." We'll be hearing it for the rest of the night.

He then proceeds to tell me how he knew from the moment he laid his eyes on me that I'd be the one to bring the project to fruition. I could help him get money from the Lost producers, get them involved. I could use my Japanese skill in Japan. He "fuckin' chose [me]. The script is a fuckin' gift. [My] life fallin' into [my] lap. [He's] a fuckin' genius." He's drunk.

I tell him that I need to read the entire script before I decide if it's something that's worth my time and effort. He tells me that there's nothing to decide. He's TELLING me.

Heh. I'm sure you all know how well that goes over with me. TELLING me to do something? I don't think so.

And then I become the target of his condescension. I'm young. I don't know anything. I'm turning away the biggest opportunity of my life. He's a fuckin' genius (the only genius I'm ever going to meet, according to him, mind you). But he needs my help to do this. And he CHOSE me. I'M the ONE who is going to make this. Oh, and P.S. He's a fuckin' genius.

Anyway, an hour later, the bar is closing. I'm still telling him that I'm undecided as to whether I'm interested. He insists that he knew from the moment he saw me that after I read the first page, I'd know I'd be part of the project... because it's a fuckin' brilliant script... oh, and let's not forget he's a fuckin' genius. I tell him I've read the first 50 or so pages and I'm still not convinced. And he's pissed.

I tell him that we should go. I'd already stayed MUCH longer than 15 minutes by that time, since it was after 2 am. We jump in my car and I drive back to the Long's parking lot so that he can retrieve his vehicle. We pull in next to his van and he doesn't get out. He proceeds for the next 15 minutes to argue with me... to convince me that he's a fuckin' genius and this film is going to take Sundance 2008. I ask him to get out of the car. He doesn't. Every other sentence I say is "get out of the car." He ignores me and continues down his tangent. He's upset and getting closer to me. All of a sudden, he looks at the back of my car and then looks at me and says, "Hey, do you want to go somewhere and fool around?" My response? FUCK NO. GET OUT OF THE FUCKING CAR RIGHT NOW. I'd had it. And I also had my MUSHROOM KNIFE in hand - blade still tucked away. (Click on the link to for an example of what a mushroom knife looks like.) Of course, the drunk bastard probably didn't even realize I was armed.

Anyway, he looked at me incredulously and asks "Are you kicking me out of your car?" I'm aghast. I'd been demanding he get out of the car for 15 minutes! I tell him again to get the fuck out of the car. I was scared and seriously considering cutting the guy if he didn't leave immediately. He gets even more upset, declares that he's no longer interested in working with me. Turning this away was the biggest mistake of my life... blah, blah... fuckin' genius... blah. He gets out of the car, I thank him for the opportunity. He slams the door and I peel away -- grateful that he hadn't hurt me. It felt like he was going to.

And I thought things were over. I was wrong.

The next day he calls and texts over and over. Saying how he knows me because of this very blog and thus understands me well. Saying how he understands my predicament with my boyfriend being gone... And then sexually propositions me AGAIN.

And I've decided to ignore him. As much as possible. Josh at Securitas thinks that I should file a complaint with the police and with Securitas since the guard had originally gotten my email address from the confidential crew list at Lost. I'm not going to take that route, yet.

Instead, I'll just pray that the guard will go away. And if he doesn't, then I'll take further steps to ensure he no longer bothers me.

After all this, I'm still amazed that he believes his behaviour that night would convince me to help him with his production. I told him on multiple occasions that his attitude was insulting... disgusting... and that if he truly wanted my help or the help of anyone else on this project, he was going to have to learn the concepts of respect and reciprocity. I told him MANY times. His response, "What?" I would repeat it and he wouldn't hear me. I would say, "You're not listening." He would reply he is. I'd ask him to repeat what I just said and he'd reply, "That I'm a fuckin' genius."

Fuckin' genius? Try fuckin' idiot.



I'm sure you've heard the phrase before: "Everything happens for a reason."

And generally speaking, I believe that it is a true statement. Whether or not you believe in divine intervention or fate or whatever, sometimes things that at first make no sense come to make perfect sense as the puzzle pieces fall into place.

As you all know, I was fired on a Friday. That next day (Saturday), my sister drags me out to help set up and attend her best friend's third child's 1st birthday party. I get all gussied up, despite the marshmallow-like eyes that come from crying like crazy, and we head out to the Outrigger Canoe Club in Waikiki. We're there not 15 minutes when I get a phone call.

I look at my phone, it's Yoshi. I'm elated.

I answer and he asks where I am. I say that I'm not at home, but I'll be back later. He says he needs me to do something. What is this something, you ask? I asked the same thing, saying that I'll do it when I get back home... He says he needs me to go home IMMEDIATELY. Why? Because he's waiting for me.

And I start shaking. I'm so excited. I hadn't seen him in months and the very next day after being released, he's waiting for me to come home to him and tell him everything that happened. And my sister, being the doll that she is, drove my ass home so that I could be with him.

And I've been able to see him every weekend since.

Not only that, but I was able to attend my friend's father's funeral. I've fenced. I've spent some time doing nothing. Alone. With friends. With Family. With Yoshi.

And all of this would not have been possible if not for the fact that I was released.

Yoshi deploys for Kuwait next week... (apparently, he was in training at Schofield this whole time) and this is supposed to be the last week I can see him. And again, if I were still working, there would have been no way for me to take advantage of all the time I'm being given to spend with him.

So, while it still sucks that I'm jobless, I'm grateful for the respite. It's given me the chance to do something more important... be happy.


P.S. I've decided I'll not seriously look for a real job until Yoshi's left the country. But if you all have any leads, let me know.

Monday, August 13, 2007


Friday evening, I was released. And by released, I mean fired from Lost.

I saw it coming. In the month that I was under my new manager's supervision, there were countless warning signs. Anything I did, correct or not, was negative. Any question I asked -- most often to clarify how things were to be done -- was seen as a direct confrontation or as a challenge to her absolute rule. It didn't matter how hard I tried to make her transition to our show smooth or how hard I tried to make her happy. It wasn't within my power.

Aside from simply being negative, that negativity was directed almost solely at me. The people that she hired (as I was last season's leftovers) were generally well-treated. They were allowed mistakes and stupidity. They were allowed to slack, to ask questions, to have fun.

At first, I thought that it might be all in my mind. I thought I was being victim of my over-active cynicism that slants the world against me. But then other co-workers approached me and asked what was going on. Others noticed that there was something crooked happening in my office -- but unfortunately, everyone agreed that short of switching departments or leaving all together, there was nothing I could do.

I tried switching departments and my manager prevented me from doing so. And I wasn't given the chance to leave.

It's really quite frustrating. When my manager "released me," she said basically that I had a bad attitude. And that despite liking me as a person, that we couldn't get along.

While I agree that we weren't getting along, I was appalled that she would chalk it up to my bad attitude. Little did she know how much I'd sacrificed personally in trying to get along with her.

As you all know, I'm one who rarely holds my tongue. I talk back. I sass. I give smart-ass answers. I make punny jokes. It's part of my charm that is either loved or hated by those who know me. And I fought every day to say nothing. And for the most part, I said nothing. I saw all the disparity and didn't defend myself. Didn't point anything out. I tried to stay humble. I tried to tell myself that I didn't know everything about the master plan. Instead, I'd go home to Kira (my cat) and cry out my frustrations to her.

I was wrong in doing that. The work environment my manager created wasn't healthy and I should have taken the advice of the many who look out for me (including my manager from last season) and removed myself from the abuse. I didn't. I thought I could take it.

On the day of my release, there was a misunderstanding between myself and my manager's right-hand woman. I made a sassy joke and she took offense. Rather than tell me that it wasn't cool, she went straight to the powers that be. I was pulled aside and told that I need to show both my manager and her right-hand woman some respect... and that it was the last time she'd talk to me about my poor attitude. I said that what I had said earlier was a joke and that her warning was duly noted.

That, coupled with all the exchanges I'd had with my manager in the previous weeks -- which included her calling me a liar and also being told that my assessment of a co-worker who wasn't pulling his weight was "wrong"-- could only mean that the end was near. I just hadn't realized how near it was.

At the end of the day, when she told me it'd be my last day working with Lost, I brought up my concerns regarding unfair treatment and biased behavior. My manager basically said that I was entitled to my opinion, but that I was "wrong." Of course she would say I'm wrong. That was part of the issue from the beginning! That anything I expressed, correct or not, was wrong.

I packed up my belongings and left. I drove to the Kahala Mall parking lot and just screamed. And cried. And my sister joined me and sat in my car with me and let me scream and cry. But the tears weren't for sadness, they were from frustration. Everything I'd held in and hadn't spat back out at my manager came out in those tears.

So now I'm jobless. But I'm free. I'm free from the dread of waking each morning knowing that I'd be enduring another day of hell at the hands of a woman who can't see her own fault. And knowing that even though I'll be living on my savings for a time, that I'm better off for it... because it wasn't my bad attitude that made things so difficult -- it was hers.

Because in the words of my beloved manager from last season... "I'm really quite something." And I am. Damn straight. And I'm released.


Wednesday, August 08, 2007

Standing Still

I've been frustrated lately.

Those of you who are in contact with me on a fairly constant basis know this. Hell, many of you who only are in casual contact with me know this. And the question coming from all of you is, "Why?"

Why am I frustrated? There are a multitude of reasons, just as I am currently experiencing myriad KINDS of frustration.


I don't even know where to start and where to end my list of reasons why I might be frustrated.

Yoshi is gone. And I haven't really heard from him for a while. I won't be seeing him for at least a year and a half. I miss the friends who were closest to me. I haven't seen them in years. I'm not happy with the way that I look. I'm tired. I don't have time for myself or to exercise or to fence or for friends or for family or to do absolutely nothing. I've begun to hate my job because of a certain someone who I feel abuses me -- who chooses favorites and who seems to be spiteful, in spite of their "let's have a happy office" ideology. Also because of a certain coworker on whom I absolutely can't rely, but whose actions (inaction?) gets me blamed for everything negative under the sun. Some of the few people to whom I am close are currently going through some "rough" times and are taking their frustrations out on me -- whether they mean to or not. And I take it. Prayers go unanswered. Prayers don't even happen, half the time. It seems I've run into many people lately who are close-minded and disappointing. My friend's dad just died and I probably won't even get to go to the funeral service because I'll be working. And what's sad is even if given the opportunity to go, I'm so hurting for funds right now that I would choose work over the service because I need the cash.

And that's not the end of it. I have so much to vent. So much to say. And nothing I CAN say or do at this point feels as though it'll make any difference.

There are lots of people who I know would listen to my complaints and for that I'm grateful. But as much as I vent, I've always been one to try and carry my own burdens. I don't need anyone. Even though I do. And maybe that's because I'd rather not burden anyone else. It's not like their knowing about the things that are dragging me down will change the situation. It doesn't change a thing.

It doesn't change a damn thing.

And fuck, life goes on. And I think about my mound of problems and realize that my problems are nothing in the grand scheme of things. And I know that. And that only manages to make me feel worse because, despite knowing that really, my problems aren't so bad, I can't make the feelings of frustration go away. I can't deal with my stresses better.

I can't be better and make things better or anything.

I can't. Not that I won't or think I can't. I just can't. Tis out of my control.

And life spirals on and on...

And I stand still.


Wednesday, July 04, 2007

4th of July: A Discussion about Freedom... sort of

Hello all,

Today is Independence Day. A day to celebrate our liberation from England and truly, our establishment as a nation. We are the United States of America.

I am currently engaged in a discussion with a gentleman on MySpace (who shall remain nameless to protect his identity), regarding patriotism and one's stance on the current war. It began because he posted a bulletin that I didn't necessarily agree with. I shared my opinion and stated that is was just that, an opinion. It's gone back and forth a few times now and I thought it'd be interesting for the readers if I shared our exchange. I'm not sure if the exchange is over, yet. Not likely, but here's what we have so far.

I would love to hear from everyone else on this topic. Please post your responses, religious or not. ^_^ No judgments here, as we are all adults and can agree to disagree since the subject of faith is a touchy subject with no "right" answers.

Also, just so everyone knows, Yoshi deployed on June 22 and I've been rather depressed about this. Yoshi being gone and eventually being sent out of the states to war makes this an even more personal subject for me.


His Original Bulletin



My Original Response

Patriotism itself is not violence. But to show one's patriotism in the form of military action is.

What I think people who ARE patriotic and pro-military action do not understand is that one can believe in the soldiers, but not believe in the war. Because one does not support the war, does not make one a coward or a traitor.

Personally, I am anti-war, anti-military action, but I appreciate that I wouldn't be able to have those sentiments without past wars fought or the continued existence of our military. I appreciate the sacrifices made by our soldiers (my bf among them).

Patriotism also has nothing to do with bravery. Those who are patriotic, but do nothing other than wave a flag a few times a year are not brave. They are the same as any other spectator in this crazy world.

Just my humble opinion.


His Reply

I understand what you are trying to say but our freedom would have never come without War. War will aways be in eyes of men no matter what you cant stop it nor can I. But the main reason is because of Sin when God Created Adam and Eve. They both were temepted by the Devil,God told Adam and eve to never eat from the tree of Knowledge but they did. So God cast them out of the garden of Eden. They suffured out into the wilderness and so God gave us up to sin and therefore we are sinners without Christs sacrifice we would never be forgiven or have a chance to enter the kingdom of Heaven. I think people are cowards if they dont stand up and support the soldiers as well as the war anyone who opposes this war is just as wrong as the terrorists.


My Reply

You may have noticed that I did mention that I appreciate that our freedom came from past wars. I am aware of this as much as I am aware that war may be here for quite some time.

Personally, because I don't believe in the Christian theology, I don't agree with your reasoning behind everything, although I respect that fact that it is your belief. To me, war is caused by greed, misunderstandings, and lack of acceptance of those who are 'different' from oneself.

I truly disagree with your statement that "...people are cowards if they dont stand up and support the soldiers as well as the war anyone who opposes this war is just as wrong as the terrorists."

Quite the contrary, supporting the war MAKES us terrorists to the people with whom we fight. Unfortunately, one rarely sees their own country as doing wrong or as committing terroristic acts when we feel it is in our own interest. There is just as much bravery in choosing not to fight as there is in choosing TO fight.

Of course, we can always agree to disagree since matters of faith can be argued forever if one person doesn't share the same faith.

I just thought that perhaps I could share with you that there are those who do cheer for the soldiers, who are grateful for the sacrifices made for the freedom to say that they oppose the war, but who might not believe that the war is the correct course of action. I believe this does not make them cowards or traitors to their country.

Many of these people are proud and grateful to be American -- which makes them patriotic.


And that's where we are right now.


Friday, May 18, 2007

A-Z a la Cari Cast

I got this survey from Cari Cast. I work with her at Lost.


The Letter A
What is your age? A Quarter of a Century Old
What annoys you? Maaaaaany things annoy me. Including PeOplE wHo TyPE LikE tHiS.

The Letter B
Do you know anyone named Billy? Not personally.
When is your birthday? The last day of the shortest month.
Who is your best friend(s)? I've lots, depending on where I am. Leah, Vans, Rae, and Dave come to mind. Oh, and Yoshi, too. ^_~

The Letter C
What's your favourite candy? Uh... candy... I like lots of candy. Not the sour stuff, though. No, I don't like sour.
When was the last time you cried? I'm not sure. Recently, though. Perhaps at my Great-Aunt's funeral on 5/5.
Have you been out of the country? Yes. Japan. Thailand. Germany. Austria.

The Letter D
Do you daydream? Sometimes.
What's your favourite kind of dog? I like cats better... but I like sharpei and Shiba inu and weenie dogs. Yes, weenie dogs. If I had two weenie dogs, I'd name them Wienah and Schnitzel.
what day of the week is it? FRIDAY!!!! It's about time.

The Letter E
How do you like your eggs? Scrambled or Over-easy.
Have you ever been in the emergency room? Yes, several times, but usually for someone else's ailments.
What's the easiest thing ever to do? Procrastinate.

The Letter F
Have you ever flown in a plane? Yes
Do you use fly swatters? My hands.
Have you ever used a foghorn? No... but I've always wanted to.

The Letter G
Have you pet a goat? Yes, but the last time I tried, they didn't let me and walked away. Damn goats. (And yes, this was only last summer that I tried.)
Are you a giver or a taker? Both.
Do you like gummy candies? Yes. I was telling someone that the other day at the Apple Store (not that I like Macs, since I don't), there was a kid behind the counter who pulled gummy worms out of his pocket, ate one, and offered the other to me. Out of his POCKET. Not a bag in his pocket. Just his POCKET.

The Letter H
How are you? Still congested, but ok.
What's your height? 5'4"ish
What colour is your hair? Black, plum, and red.

The Letter I
What's your favourite ice cream? I like ice cream a lot, despite the lactose intolerance. Vanilla, cookies-n-cream, green tea... *drooooool*
Have you ever ice skated? Yes. And my FIRST SCAR EVER was from ice skating.
Have you cheated the IRS? No. I'm honest. And scared of being audited.

The Letter J
What's your favourite jelly bean? Toasted marshmallow jelly belly.
Do you tell jokes? If they're told well.
Do you wear nice jewellery? I wear a nice necklace that Yoshi gave to me. All my other jewelry, for the most part, is cheap.

The Letter K
Do you want to kill anybody? Maybe.
Do you want to have kids? No.
Where did you have kindergarten? Manoa Elementary

The Letter L
Are you laid back? Umm... no, I don't think so.
Do you lie? I try not to.
When is the last time you sent a hand-written letter? A few months ago. In Japanese to Kanzaki's friend. She didn't write back.

The Letter M
Ever talked in a microphone? I sing into one often.
Do you still watch Disney Movies? Sure!
Do you like mangos? Only ripe ones. That are chilled. And have already been cut up for me. I don't do that cutting myself.

The Letter N
Do you have a nickname? Lots. Chi is the most recent favorite.
What’s your favourite number? 13
Do you prefer night over day? Sometimes.

The Letter O
Are you an only child? No
Do you wish this was over? Yes.
What is the closet orange object near you? The bottle of Clorox Disinfecting Wipes on my desk.

The Letter P
What one fear are you most paranoid about? Not being good enough.
Do you think you are pretty? Naw, but I have great hair.
Do you play any instruments? Yes. But I also own some I don't play.

The Letter Q
Are you quick to judge people? Yes, and I'm usually right. Usually.
Do you have any quirks? Many.
What do you keep quiet about? Things not of import to YOU.

The Letter R
Do you think you're always right? I don't THINK, I know.
Do you watch reality TV? Top Chef. Project Runway. Shear Genius.

The Letter S
Are you a social person? Yes.
What is your favourite season? Fall
What states have you lived in? Hawaii, Massachusetts, California

The Letter T
What time did you wake up? 7:00 am
When did you last sleep in a tent? 5th grade.
Do you like tomatos? Grape tomatoes. yes.

The Letter U
Do listen to Usher? Raymond. No.
Describe the underwear you’re wearing? Grey.
Do you have an umbrella in your car? Maybe. I used to, but I haven't looked recently.

The Letter V
What’s the worst vegetable? Shiso.
Do you like movies with violence? Sure.
Where do you want to go on vacation? Everywhere. The WORLD.

The Letter W
Ever been on a waverunner? Never been.
Do you wish on stars? Sometimes.
Where do you work? Lost.

The Letter X
Have you ever had an x-ray? Yes.
Have you watched the x-games? Yes.
Do you own a xylophone? I used to be a hardcore percussionist with a strength in mallets, so instead of a xylophone, I really wanted marimba.

The Letter Y
Do you like the colour yellow? Sure.
What year were you born? 1982
What did you do yesterday? Worked. Went with Michyl to get her honu tattoo. Went home to get Yoshi. Had dinner with Michyl, Yoshi, and Daryl @ Macaroni Grill.

The Letter Z
Do you believe in the zodiac? To some extenst, yes.
Ever been to the zoo? Yes, I LOOOOVE zoos, but they make me sad since the animals really belong in the wild. OH YEAH, and the Honolulu Zoo no longer has pygmy marmosets. That also makes me sad.

Saturday, May 05, 2007

Follow Up: Undeserved Reprimand

This is quite late in the follow up department, but I wanted to let all of you know that there was, indeed, a follow up to the undeserved reprimand of last blog.

When the reprimand occurred, I told my supervisor, who was appalled (although unsurprised). I'm sure she made some movements on my behalf to have the event addressed.

The following day, I needed to get an insurance form signed by the producer with whom I'd had the exchange. The producer sees me at his door and says, "Chi, get your ass in here."

I enter.

The producer says, "The next time I say I'm going to shove a fucking phone through your fucking head, know that I'm fucking joking." I nod, saying, "I know," realizing that this is the closest thing to an apology that I'd be receiving. The person went on to say that they have a "sick sense of humor" that I'd be getting to know well, over the course of the season. Yippy.

The producer then realizes that I'm holding a piece of paper, snatches it from my hands and says, "What the fuck is this?" I reply, "I need your signature on this insurance form." "What for?," they ask. "So that should you die, the company can make money off your dead body," I reply.

The producer blinks in silence.

Heh. And that was the end of that exchange.


Thursday, March 29, 2007

Undeserved Reprimand

Hi All,

As some of you may know, I recently began a new job.

For the past two years, I've worked for PacRim Marketing Group, Inc. They are a primarily Japan-focused PR/advertising/marketing firm. I held three positions there: Advertising Assistant, Marketing Coordinator, and Account Executive.

However, three weeks ago, I began working as the Key Office Production Assistant at Grass Skirt Productions -- in other words, I work for LOST.

It's an interesting, high-stress, secretive production. The relationships between the different levels here are very different from the two shows on which I've worked before (North Shore and Extreme Makeover).

Now, part of television is to not step on anyone's toes. If you can manage to not piss anyone off, you've done well. You also have to be thick-skinned, as sometimes the words that come out of peoples' mouths are scathing and it's easy to get hurt. Most of the time, I've let peoples' comments slide off me like water on a duck's back, but that's because the words are rarely meant to be taken personally.

Today, I was reprimanded. The words were hot and directed at me by a producer(who shall remain nameless). My mistake? Not knowing the producer's voice when I answered the main line. Of course, being standard procedure when you redirect a call, I asked who was speaking as I didn't recognize the voice (primarily because I've not heard more than 10 words spoken to me from this person yet). The response, "If you ask me who I am again, I'm going to take this fucking cell phone and throw it through your fucking head." That may not be verbatim, but it's pretty close.

What infuriates me here is that:
1) There shouldn't be an expectation that I know the person's voice if I've barely even spoken to the person. That's unreasonable.


2) Despite my position and his, there should be some sort of mutual respect. You know, I *do* happen to be of the same species as the person, despite their financial situation. Choice of language is big. There is a huge difference between something along the lines of "You dumb fuck" and "You made a mistake." (Those are just examples and were not said to me in this instance.)

I'm sure the producer must think me to be stupid, which I think frustrates me more, since I know that I am not.

Anyway, that's the basic rundown of today's undeserved reprimand.

Ridiculous, really. Grrr.

Have any of you had similar experiences? I'd love to hear them.


Wednesday, March 28, 2007

Everyday People

Hi all,

Everyday People. Everyday People are the individuals with whom you create your life. They are the ones that, whether physically present or not, influence you everyday. These are the people that, when for whatever reason, you lose them... your life noticeably changes and you can recognize that change.

Just because you don't see someone everyday doesn't mean they aren't influencing you. Some of my best friends in the world (and really, I mean in the world as they are located all over the place) are Leah, Dave, and Rae. I haven't seen any of them in countless years. I barely speak to them and yet, they are my part of my Everyday People. If for whatever reason, I were to lose them, part of me would die. And I would feel it. Everyday.

Liane was one of my closest friends growing up. I like to say we were best friends for 10 years, although who knows when the friendship stopped on her side. Occasionally, I see her around. But I'm dead to her and in my life, she is no longer. When she decided that she no longer wanted any part of me, I lost a bit of myself. Everything that I'd put into creating what I had with her was lost. And to this day, even though we parted ways now more than 10 years ago, I still feel that loss.

And she was not my only loss. There have been many. Some by choice, either theirs or mine. And some by fate.

Sometimes you lose someone and then get them back again. In those cases, it doesn't always mean that you get back the piece that you lost. Sometimes it's gone for good... and you then have to take what's left of what you have, if anything, and try to rebuild.

Recently, I lost another one of my Everyday People. His path only briefly crossed mine, but he taught me so much in that short time. He is no longer here because I asked him, pleaded with him, screamed at him to leave. And he did. And while I'm sure he's cursing me and cursing all he's lost now that I'm not part of his life, he doesn't realize that he's not the only one who is feeling a sense of loss. Afterall, he was part of my Everyday.

And we both lost a lot.


To My Everyday People, past, present, and future - Thank you for being there - or even being not there. Thank you for giving me second chances (sometimes third, fourth, fifth, infinity chances). Thank you for kicking my ass when I need it. Hugging me when I need it. Loving me when I need it. For telling me what I need. For letting me figure out what I need. For just being. Because I wouldn't be who I am without you.



Monday, March 26, 2007


Hi Readers... if anyone still reads this.

So, it has been ages since I've last blogged and my non-blogging was a concious decision. I didn't blog, not because I had nothing about which to write, but because I had too many things -- all of which were sensitive topics. I needed an outlet for all the happenings in my life, but I couldn't put it here... couldn't make it public because it involved too many other lives and it wasn't my place (it still isn't) to make much of it accessable to everyone else.

In the biggest nutshell... since I've last posted, the following has happened (Please note that this is not in any kind of order):

* I made mistakes.
* I made new friends.
* I lost old friends.
* I got weaker.
* I got stronger.
* I fell in love.
* I broke a heart.
* I lost a chance.
* I learned what it was to be number one.
* I learned that sometimes, once is not enough.
* I learned that I am truly selfish.
* I realized that I can't make others see their own selfishness.
* I found myself.
* Yoshi came home.
* I quit my old job.
* I started a new job.
* I got fatter.
* I got back a dream.
* I shattered a dream.
* I fenced.
* I stopped fencing.
* I lost myself.
* I found... a lot of myself... but am still searching for the rest of me.

Honestly, the last year or two has been emotionally draining. I've hurt a lot of people, and especially those who are close to me have seen me hurt. Seen me scream. Cry. Rage. Die.

Yoshi came back in August and we've been trying, since, to work things out. I've come to the conclusion that no matter how hard I try, I will never be what he wants. He might never be able to put me before all else. He might resent me forever. But somehow, I still want things to work out.

A good friend of mine in Japan, Dave, pointed out to me last night that I, like he, generally have tao-ist tendencies. In other words, very "whatever happens, happens." But he noted that with this Yoshi situation, no matter how much the world at large likes to get in the way, I still try to force the issue. I still ultimately want to be with him, even if it may not necessarily be the best situation for either of us.

Ah well... I have tons of things to write about... but, unfortunately, that will have to wait.

If you have questions, let me know.

I promise to try better to keep you updated on my life.