And let the influx of “Purpose”, Justin Bieber’s latest album released last week, begin!
Love Yourself (Borche Deep House Mix)
If you haven’t given the album a chance because of your stance on the Bieb’s un-Canadian antics, but if you’re a consumer of pop culture you shouldn’t sleep on it any longer.
Although Adele’s album dropped an hour ago, so things are about to get real sad real quick.
I’ll be sure to post my latest music finds and dalliances so be sure to check back!
So I’ve been driven to try this once more. They say in order to get better at something you need to fail a couple million times. I may have roughly (at least!) 10 abandoned blogs in the past 10 years so that has to account for some personal growth, right? I can at least be proud of how my writing has evolved from my humble Xanga beginnings.
With that said, it has come to my self-realization that I have become “that” person on personal social media outlets. While there may be a list of “types” of Facebook friends that come to mind, I am unfortunately at the lowest, most inner despicable ring – people with opinions about race and politics. Super cringe worthy, right? Don’t worry, my feelings aren’t hurt in the least.
In fact, I’m so well aware of this now that I decided to turn my efforts into something a little more tangible in terms of tracking my reading and a lot less abrasive to those unwilling to hear about how I feel about something they never thought about until today. The irony is that I am probably one of the most unapologetically opinionated individuals that you will ever meet, but I am still worried about your feelings of me shoving what injustices I came across on social media that day. As much joy as I get out of making people uncomfortable, I want that lack of comfort to stem from the realization of something new not because I annoy the shit out of you.
Truth of the matter is, I really do edit what I have to say to fit the attention span parameters of my audience on that media. So what do I do to emphasize on a text outlet that does not permit bolding or italicizing? CAPS LOCK, BABY! It makes everything look so much more urgent when all capitalized not to mention one usually reads phrases construed of all upper case letters as if someone was yelling in their head. I do love that part.
Unfortunately the world around me gives me enough fodder to hit Publish on every headline that churns my insides and makes me want to cry out in disgust. There is so much ugly in the world and all I seem to do is share what horrors I’ve learned with the people around me more often unwilling than not. But I just can’t NOT say anything.
I can’t just sit there and watch this shit fly past my face every day. I can’t let people not know about how our fellow man or woman suffers at the hands of oppressors in all shapes and forms. I don’t want people to walk all over me because I’m afraid of telling people how I feel and what makes me feel that way so they can hopefully stop. Is it so wrong to have an opinion?
Recently I have been facing some backlash for speaking my mind, for getting mad at stuff that is actually more offensive to me, and worse for sticking up for something I believe in. I’m no martyr, but I do feel the need to speak up when I feel so backed up against the wall.
So that’s what this is. Nothing more, nothing less. Just how I view the world with my unique perspective just as yours is special and different than mine. And until I have a completely altered idea of what it is to be American, I’m going to keep speaking my mind, stay true to my heart, and love the differences I’ll face everyday.
Definitely going to have to prepare myself for misogynistic comments as I step more often behind the bar. I think I could be a decent bartender and practicing is clearly the only way to achieve confidence.
But I will admit I do find relief in being able to smile, apologize after messing up a simple drink, and still get tipped.
Ah, double standards.
I politely said no.
“Are you Vietnamese?” She tried again.
“Done. Next pants.”
I stared down at the cuffed and safety pinned uniform. Back in the changing room, I put on the second pair of the same color and fit.
“No, Japanese,” I offered instead of the usual guessing game I put people through. She finished the pant leg in 30 seconds.
“Oh, Japanese bettah. I like Japanese more than Chinese. They don’t try take over my country,” she said so fast and almost as if relieved by answer. She looked up at me,”All done. You change. Want press wit dat?”
“Um, no. No, thank you,” I mumbled as I closed the changing room door one last time.
Now in my pair of skinny jeans, I paid for my pants to be hemmed and picked up by Friday. “Are you Vietnamese?” I asked as I signed my credit card receipt. All of that and she didn’t even bother to tell me.
“Yes,” she smiled stapling the receipts together before handing them back to me. “Thank you, come again.”
Spent a good chunk of my weekend in LA, starting with the Black Keys concert at the Forum. It truly is exciting to be working at a venue and to be getting paid with these legendary artists performing in the background. While it may not be ideal for some and most would prefer to be watching the concert, but at this point in my life this is realistically the most affordable way to see such a multitude of different performers.
Enough with the defending of my part time work… KROQ had boasted a private soundcheck with the Black Keys and about 30 lucky individuals. And guess who walked as slow as possible to their portable to witness their greatness?! I heard their entire show as I poured $12 beers outside and upstairs (The Forum carries sound reallly well around the entire venue). I’m not a dedicated fan, but I do appreciate their talent so it was awesome to see them live. And their soundcheck was flawless.
Last minute, I got a text from my UCLA family member – Alex. Word on the street was that Outkast had picked up three new additions this class. We rolled up (on time, silly us) to Fu’s Chinese Palace and indulged in some delicious non-traditional, Chinese-American food. After that is what usually happens after BBR’s… I think the common term for what went down is usually referred to as a “sh!tshow”. I know I’ve only been done with school for about a year, but 1) I cannot hang (nor could I ever) and 2) whyyy did we do that to ourselves? No joke, I was cringing left and right… and that was before the vomit started flying. Oh, college.
The next day I got ready for the Kings vs. Canucks game held at Staples Center. Not only have I not been at Staples Center since probably (AT LEAST) 2003, it was also my first NHL game! Up until Saturday the only hockey I had ever seen were the Mighty Ducks trilogy and a couple of Ontario Reign games. We were celebrating Jasper’s good friend, Max’s birthday. No better way to celebrate someone’s existence than with a 5-1 win, private suite with chicken wings and sliders, and heckling the Canadians next door.
Overall great weekend of friends, family & debauchery. Peep the next update when I come back from Carmel & Ensenada 😉
I had a humbling moment in Downtown Fullerton the other night over chamango margaritas.
The server had taken our order after we had quickly finished our delicious los diablitos. He repeated the order saying something like “Carne asada and carnitas.” Out of habit and probably alcohol induced, the word “Si” slipped out of my mouth.
Flashing back to my first shift at the Forum for the Luke Bryan concert on Sunday, I was reminded of a confrontation with a guest over his wife’s lost phone. The phone was later found and he thanked my supervisor (a man with dark skin and of Mexican descent) AFTER having an entire conversation with him in English saying, “Gracias, senor.” This was after he thanked another supervisor before him (ethnically ambiguous compared to the other) in English. It was such a blatant microaggression that the situation at the Mexican restaurant brought me back to it, but this time I was the perpetrator!
It became a moment of horror when the server looked at me incredulously asked me “if I just said ‘si’?” I then proceeded to defend myself by saying,”Yes, I’m half. You wouldn’t believe me if I told you the other half though… it’s Asian.” This broke the awkwardness and created a new conversation that ALWAYS happened when I mention that I am half-Mexican.
“So where is your family from in Mexico?”
I NEVER know how to respond to this, which means I have a response prepared. “I don’t really know. I’m fourth generation.” This usually receives a polite silence and continued fascination that two individuals of different ethnic identities can procreate.
But this time was different! He blew me away with a response that derailed this part of my identity I was always afraid to be a part of. “Fourth generation? [Wow] Then that doesn’t really count because you’re pretty much all American.”
I have been using that response for a couple years now and people never really understood, but this time he was accusing me of not being Mexican. And instead of being relieved or vindicated, I was offended! This happened on Tuesday and I have been mulling it over, chewing my lip in concentration as to why he was wrong. Of course it all came full circle as the Giants won the World Series tonight.
Needless to say I am sad that the Dodgers lost in the Playoffs because Kershaw didn’t deserve it and I learned to really enjoy my job. In the six months I spent at the Blue Heaven on Earth, I felt connected to my “Mexican American” roots in a way that Chicana literature, Spanish classes or any exposure to media or communities (which I had none btw) could fill me up with so much joy and finally a sense of belonging to a part of my ethnic identity my mother couldn’t share with me because SHE didn’t have any either.
So not only did I lose my job when the Dodgers lost, I had to say goodbye to this part of my identity I had just begun to explore and feel comfortable with. So of course my natural reaction when the server questioned if I was really Mexican would be defensive. Now more than ever I could proudly state “I’m Mexican” without doubting myself when really I should not have to defend my self-identification to begin with.
Ultimately, this has recharged me (along with some exciting news, changes and opportunities this past week). Also, the margarita was really good. It’s time to reflect, work hard and do all the living I’ve been dreaming about.
Oh and by the way the margarita was really good. Like reeeeaaallly good. Now for the pictures!