The Life and Times of Rose

Morning Routine:

Me: (Leaning over small sink applying eyeliner.)
Cat 1: I need water. Now. (Jumps on to tiny counter)
Cat 2: I need to nuzzle your arm! (Jumps onto even tinier counter space)
Me: No! (Shoos both cats off and resumes eyelinering.)
Cat 1: There is no water here! (Jumps back up and begins swinging paw under faucet to prove point.)
Cat 2: Arm! (Jumps back up and headbutts elbow causing eyeliner to go up into my eyebrow.)
Me: I said No! (Shoos both cats away and shuts door on them.)
Cats 1 and 2: Pay attention to us! (Cat hand reaching under door…)

The Life and Times of Rose

A Ballad… or Trajedy… Dramedy?… Musical?…

…Standing in the shower for an hour… blow drying my laundry cuz the crap dryer in my complex can’t seem to finish the job, and I didn’t have enough quarters to run another cycle. Perhaps any other day, I might have just let it all hang dry, but said laundry happens to be my sheets, and it’s already full dark out and I’m kind of tired.
…All the while friends and loved ones merrily book/plan their exciting trips for the holiday season.
…At least she will sleep in dry sheets tonight…

Well, it finally happened. My ancient fitbit finally passed…
Farewell perfect figure, for why should I ever leave this chair. Farewell sunlight and birdsong, for why will I ever need go outside. Farewell wind in my hair, from power walking to keep up with others…
It’s been nice using you feet and legs, but without a fitbit, what purpose is there in walking anymore??
Rip Fitbit, may you finally find peace and motionlessness..

Tortie Day at the Beach

(Or rather the marshland before the beach..)
I may not be an English guy walking my tortoise to the pub. Or an old Japanese man strolling thru town with my skirt wearing tortoise. But hes like my cool party trick. Passersby are a mix of shocked, flabberghasted, and intrigued. Would’ju look at that, a turtle on the beach!
And I smile, and tell them how old he is, let them poke and pet his shell, let their dogs sniff then bark at him, let them ooh and aah. And there is one consistency. One thing that never fails. Everyone, EVERYONE has a turtle story. And they always share theirs with Shredder and I.
Hashtag: Bringing the World Back Together, one Turtle Story at a Time. 🐢

Omgawd… it really MUST be the scariest night of the year, it’s 8pm and I’m in bed hiding… from all the children… candy crazed children, running wild in the night… *shivers*

…jk. No child would be brazen enough to mount my darkened steps. The last time a child knocked on my door, I answered it with a knife in my hand.
…actually, I heard the monsters coming and whipped the door open right before they knocked. With a knife in my hand. They actually ran screaming. 😁

Hashtag: Anyone Need a Babysitter?

Gawd. When you finish the last page of a wonderous book, and it just lingers on your tongue like the last bite of ambrosia. And you sit, holding time tightly like you can stop it from moving foward. Hold this moment, this feeling, for even were you to read and reread and reread, no other time will ever be your first again. No other moment will ever be this very moment, this new and haunting taste left in your mouth. This is what reading is. This is what magic is…

…when the night begins to win over the day. when the air begins to grasp at your skin. when the trees start to turn, growing gold, then crimson, as if infected. then drop their leaves as if seeking to blanket the Earth, keep her warm, keep her safe. safe from the ghosts that slowly drift in the dew light, from the shadows that yawn and stretch in the twilight…

My wisdom hairs normally come out this sort of interesting blonde colour. But this morning I looked in the mirror and there was one so silver I nearly had to shield my eyes from the glare. And honestly, the whole idea still confounds me. I looked in the same mirror yesterday, and that hair wasn’t there. Did the colour just fall off in my sleep. Did grey hair gremlins attack me in the middle of the night? Are the wisdom hairs actually the super hairs of the head, with the power to grow overnight?
You know the first X-men movie? Where Rogue is strapped to the Anti-Mutant machine, and her body undergoes so much stress you see the grey just sweep down a section of her hair like a waterfall? Sometimes that’s how I imagine it. Only, minus the Anti-Mutant machine…
I generally allow my wisdom hairs to hang out. But this one I plucked. …for the safety of others, you know? Don’t want people getting into car accidents from the extreme shine in their eyes…

Hashtag: Damn You Gorgeous Shiney Hair…

On to better things.
I found a prereleased copy of one of my favorite authors upcoming books. Official release date, sometime in the next few months. I feel a little bit secret, a little bit special, the word “CONFIDENTIAL” stamped across each page of text.
I am both excited, and dubious. This is the start of a new series based off one of my absolute favorite series. But she also butchered the ending of said series, and I quite promptly discarded the last book and forever pretend it never happened. More disappointedly, her next book, a stand alone, was… tragic. I enjoyed it only slightly more than I enjoyed the last book I just read.
So I feel this book is walking a thin line. But I have so much hope. The series it follows was written with so much magic and dreaminess. I legitimately fell head over heels for one of the characters. I wanted to live in that world. I wanted to smell the trees. I let out a sigh each time I had to pull myself out of the world and put the books down.
So this journey is a gamble.
But what fun would an adventure be, if you knew exactly what you were getting into?

Bicycle Uber!

Sometimes, I have these really brilliant, stupid ideas..

The other morning I woke up and was like, “Bicycle Uber!” Like Uber but on bikes. You know, for like shorter distances. Like, “Oh no! I’m gonna be late for class on the otherside of campus!” Or, “Oh man, I’m so drunk I can’t walk the four blocks home.” Or even for those who need a ride, but just love the environment too much. Boom! Bicycle Uber’s got yer back!

But then I started really thinking about it…
“Oh no! I’m gonna be late for class on the otherside of campus! Better call a Buber!” 🙈
“Oh man, I’m so drunk I can’t walk the four blocks home. Maybe I’ll just Buber it!” 🙉
Worse yet… “If you’re an enviro-nerd and don’t believe in cars, but still need to get places in a hurry, Buber’s got yer back!” 🙊

I shelved that idea for now…

My American Dream

I’m not opposed to people who post political things. And I’m not opposed to people who voted for Trump. I am a strong believer in everyone having their own opinions and I’m not going to tell you they’re right or wrong. But I don’t want to see your open Trump support on my facebook feed. I don’t want to see comments like, “Build the Wall!” because you don’t understand what that phrase really means.
95% of my facebook friends are White Americans. 95% of my facebook friends have absolutely no idea what it is like to be descriminated against. They have no idea what its like to wake up every morning and not know what someone is going to say to you today. Half the time I laugh it off, because whats the point in making a big deal? But I guess I’m finally making a big deal, and I’ve been thinking about this for a while now.
Out of like 30 dayshift staff on my unit, there are 3 who aren’t White Americans, including me.
Whenever I work with the man, patients are constantly commenting on how we would be a cute couple. When I work with the woman, patients are constantly asking if she is my mother, we look so much alike. We aren’t even from the same countries. I laugh it off, because working in my unit begs a strong allowance for stupidity. But 90% of my coworkers won’t ever have to experience that.
The majority of the people in my life will never understand what it’s like to wake up and immediately have people treat you differently because you’re skin isn’t white. To have people offhandedly tell you that your English is really good. To have someone start a sentence off with, “I’m not trying to sound racist, but…” To have someone actually recognize that you are Korean and then tell you that they’re the worst race ever. To have someone spit the word “Gook” at you in the middle of a crowded room. To ask you if the Sweet and Sour Chicken they had for lunch is just as shitty where you come from too. “Where you come from.” The m
ajority of my friends will never have the phrase flung at them with such distain. I met a man recently. He was a law clerk in Forida, but packed up and moved here. He wanted to open a restaurant, so he did. A small hole in the wall with one table. He was telling us how just the day before a man was walking down the street and saw him. The man yelled at him to pack his things and go back to where he came from.
America used to be a country that the rest of the world looked at as a land of Hope and Opportunity. It promised people the chance at a better future. And in essence, I, myself, came to America for the chance of a better future. For Hope and Opportunity.
What people don’t realize is, even if I went back to Korea, I would never be fully assimilated and treated as a Korean, despite being born there. For 3 decades I have been an American, and I will always be an American. But I clearly will never be fully treated as an American. So where are people like me supposed to feel at home, if even a country built on immigration and the American Dream, can’t fully accept us? I guess all men AREN’T created equal, with the right to life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness. Isn’t THAT what “Make America Great Again,” should REALLY be about?

Turned 30 and I’ve started gaining weight. I know you’re probably thinking, “you skinny ass bitch, shuddup!” But I didnt say I was “fat,” I am just gaining weight. And normally I wouldn’t even care, but my pants certainly keep reminding me of the fact. And I’m starting to not like it. I don’t like having to think hard about what I eat, so as not to upset my pants. It all is taking up too much anxiety and thought space. Because I love food and I like to eat. I’m actually really good at it. And honestly, for me, food is alot more than just eating it. Food is an emotional experience. Food is a way to relate to the world. That’s deep thought though. I love food, I mean, I actually really love food. But reaching my 30s has changed that for me. Now it seems… I might need to start buying “mom jeans” to get my stomach to shape up.

Female Asian Problems

Never perform the Asian Nightly Skin Care Routine infront of the guy until you’ve tied the knot.

Pre knot… He’ll think you’re totally a weirdo…

Post knot… He’ll be high fiving himself for scoring such a fresh and young looking babe!

…Until he doesn’t…

I still believe there is no more beautiful place than the Olympic Peninsula on a bright day. Morning coffee at my beloved coffee shop. Dreamy faces and heavenly scents. Early geri-excersise group on the docks. I lose myself in the exquisite brew and my favorite album, as I cruise. Down the highway. The road is bright, cradled in the arms of the forestry. No more beautiful colour than sunlight streaming through leaves. The trees tease, sashaying their hips to reveal glimpses of the water. Sparkling like crystal blue fields made of sapphires. Until they open completely and the channel is the end of the road. I board the ferry to the big city, find seat in the sun, and as the seats around me fill up… the sounds of meaningless chatter pull me from the dream..