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debcantsmell
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Name: debra
Location: California, United States
Gender: Female
Expertise: long drives
Occupation: Student
Industry: Nonprofit
Member Since:
3/30/2003
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| "parental appreciation weekend, part one"
"so....are you going to medical school?"
(silence. confusion.)
"medical school. to become a doctor."
my mom has good timing. four years into my college career and eight years after i stopped seeking parental wisdom, she dishes it. you want me to be a freaking doctor? why wasn't i informed when i actually enjoyed the hard sciences...
***
"after you graduate, i'm free. i can relax and visit the family in vietnam more often and..."
(silence. confusion.)
"...because after you graduate, you're going to take care of me!"
i think my pops has overestimated the value of a bachelor's degree. unfortunately, possessing a college degree no longer automatically qualifies one for upper/middle class membership. you gotta choose to use and make something of those four plus years. so maybe i should postpone announcing to my parents that everything i want to do career-wise won't translate into big time escrow document signings and luxury cars and first-class plane tickets.
***
my parents had always told me to do well in school, but they never told me why. they never showed me why. never went to the teacher-parent conferences, open houses, or pta meetings; rarely attended the award ceremonies; didn't show much emotion when i told them i got accepted into my "dream college" - heck, my dad still thinks i go to usc. for a long time, i was, predictably, angry and bitter and disheartened and jealous and, worst of all, skeptical of the competency of my parents as parents. it's like the one trite metaphor - i'm standing right in front of them, my arms flailing, my voice screeching, my eyes chasing, and they're looking right through me. not even past me. through me.
if you go back to maybe my third entry ever, you'll see the lyrics to "make yourself at home" by kenny and the gang. that marked the changing point. i cried for two days straight my first year (most of which took place in the confines of a bathroom stall on 7 north) just listening to that song because all the rage and feelings of neglience somehow morphed into guilt and humility. and it was the most profound revelation i've ever had and will probably remain so for the rest of my life. i knew the reason why my parents were never there - it wasn't because they didn't care. it was because they didn't know.
***
college applications. i remember a question inquiring the educational attainments of my parents. so i asked Mama,
"hey Mom, when did you graduate high school?"
(silence. awkwardness.)
"Mom! when did you graduate from high school?"
"i never went to high school."
(silence. confusion.)
"i left school to help your grandma and aunt."
"well, how old were you?"
(silence. awkwardness.)
"Mom!"
"twelve."
(silence. confusion. awkwardness.)
"hey dad, when did you graduate from high school?"
"what?"
"when did you graduate from high school!!??"
(chuckles) "right before the war. why do you need to know?"
"okay thanks bye."
***
8.5 hours ago.
"debra! how are you? come in, sit down, how was your weekend? what did you do?"
mr. lawyer man disproves all stigmas i had previously held about the legal field. for the first half hour of every shift i work, he invites me into his office to talk. not about work. but about life.
"did you call your mom on mother's day?"
(usual schpeal) "yeah of course. but my mom was kind of upset because she said that it was the first mother's day ever when none of her kids were home."
(conversation evolves into college and graduation)
"wow. your parents must be so proud. to have come here and worked so hard. and now, all three of their kids are going to be college graduates. they must be so proud. how did they do it?"
(trying to think of a clever comeback. nothing comes, of course, so i continue to stare at that intimidating pile of paper sitting on the corner of his desk)
sensing the temporary malfunction of my neurons, he continues, "no, really. think about it, the magnitude of it all - your parents, both of whom didn't go to college. and now their kids, all three of whom will be college graduates."
wow. yeah. that is pretty crazy.
"whatever your parents did, they did it right. right?"
***
i think that one of the most profound, coming of age moments of life is when you realize that suddenly life, your life, is not just about you and all the petty problems that plague the greater perspective you hold about the world. that who you are and however you define yourself is so much more than the vehicle you embody or your individual experiences. it's also about your friends and how they keep you grounded, motivated, and sane. and your pets who induce an unconditional sense of love and care that you may be too embarrassed to express in other parts of your life. and of course, it's about your parents, who they are, the struggles of their life, the sacrifices they've made to give you so much of which you take for granted.
i remember the first time i saw my brother dance on stage with his fraternity. the anticipation of it was perhaps prematurely ruined by the hyper-azn frats and sororities also present. i couldn't believe i allowed myself to sit amongst, let alone, support, these people who i so deliberately avoided and avoided becoming. but once i spotted him onstage and watched him rock away ten times better than usher, all those feelings of my discomfort and me-ness completely disappeared. because there is no way to articulate that sincere joy you feel when you're just sooooo proud of someone you really care about. i can hardly recall the 9 minute routine, but i will never forget that overwhelming feeling from gut to throat, head to toe. i imagine that's what it's like to be a proud parent and i can only hope that i will provoke those same feelings in my own parents a few times in my life.
and so, in accordance with this consumer-friendly "holiday" driven by flower shops, hallmarkesque companies, and family restaurants, i apologize to my parentals for being a tough one to raise. i may be stubborn and inclined to talk back, but i swear that everything you guys have done for me has gotten through, or at the very least, getting through. i front like i'm a tin woman, inept of feeling feelings, but i swear that during those too-rare moments when i step back and look at my life, i am overwhelmed by how incredibly lucky i am to be able to call two truly special people my mother and father. i credit you guys for every ounce of goodness i have in me. you personify strength, selflessness, and courage, and the greatest satisfaction will come when i am able to give you just a little of all that you have given me.
thanks, Mama and Daddy. i know you guys always cared. and now i realize that you did know - i was the one who didn't know. but i swear - i can see clearly now. the rain is gone.
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| "write here, write now" (stolen from an admirable's xanga headline)
dontcha love/hate it when you become so overwhelmed by thoughts and
revelations that you are forced out of the comforts provided by
blanket, pillow, and teddy bear at 1:46 am to try to capture its
spontaneous urgency? i do/don't.
i've always believed that the
best writers aren't just the ones who can articulate themselves
beautifully and poetically. it's not so much the how as it is the what
- the meat of the burger after it's been removed from the extraneousness of
ketchup, mustard, top bun, and bottom bun. and i think it's safe to say
that the best writers tend to be the ones with some degree of emotional
angst so profound that it finds refuge in mere sentences. simply put, i
think it's more important to say something beautiful than beautifully.
and
hence, there's a direct correlation between my tragic diagnosis of
Writer's Block and a lack of xanga entries, even private ones. there's
a lot going on, a lot to vent...yet i've stopped seeking and finding
satisfaction through writing, once such an effective medium of
organizing thoughts and making sense of emotions. i'm definitely
thinking a lot, feeling even more, but unsure of exactly what to
convey.
and so tonight, for the past 46 minutes or so, i laid
awake in bed, disturbed by a seemingly petty dilemma - why haven't i
written? why don't i write? why CAN'T i write? deb already CANT
smell...and now debCANTwrite? oh the horror.
when everything
in your life is suddenly disputable, it's hard to find any means that
could rightfully express the unexpressable. i thought at first that the
abandonment of my lovely journal, in which i wrote everyday, sometimes
twice a day, while abroad in paris was due to the very sad fact that i
was no longer in paris. and then i thought, no. i'm still the same ol
verbose debra with too much to say - i should have plenty to write! and
then i thought, it's because i haven't had any sort of inspiration, no
creative spark to which i'm always forced to pacify. but then i
thought, i'm inspired every day by the people around me, by these
spoonfed opportunities, by a reinforced notion that life needs to be
appreciated. how much more inspiration does a verbose debra need?
how
fitting it is that an adequate answer came barging into my brain right
as i was entering the land of dreams and nightmares. especially because
exactly one year ago, i was acquaintancing myself with a city they
call paris, a place i was just beginning to call home. every day in
paris, i had something to write and felt compelled to do so because of
my surrounding environment - the snobs along the sidewalk sipping on
their espresso sans milk with their noses stuck so high up in the air,
they forget to acknowledge the here and now; the book booths lining the
polluted seine river; the cool but overrated glass pyramid of the
cooler
but even more overrated louvre museum that epitomized the greenhouse
effect; my favorite pondering spot right in front of notre dame. even
after five months, the novelty and nostalgia of comfortably calling
that place "home" just never got old. i wasn't and can't ever
become desensitized to the fact that me, little verbose debra with too
much to say, was lucky enough to have that experience abroad come at
such a character-building, perspective-shaping, self-exploring time
of my life. in the words of the great billie joe armstrong, "for what
it's worth, it was worth all the while."
after coming back, i've failed to apply all that i've learned in
paris to my life in san jo and la. how unfortunate it is
that i've succombed to the cynicism and stagnation that plagues one's
ordinary life, thereby doing my experience absolutely no justice. i
need to stop dwelling on the whats that was uncovered long ago, and
start figuring out the hows - how to put into practice the things i
learned about myself and the world while abroad, how to not only think
and feel but do, how to focus more on what i write instead of how i write it.
so here and now, i pledge to not let anything or anyone, even the
lowest scum of all scums, jade my pursuit of a meaningful, albeit
pretentious, life. i want to record every lesson of every day so that
they will be preserved, even if it is through words. i
hope to continue hoping in spite of the inevitabilities of setbacks and
betrayals. and i will keep myself accountable in letting the whats pour out and not diluting it with the hows in my writing.
so yes, let's write. right here. right now.
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| "getting schooled"
my stomach is agrumblin, my eyes are aachin, my calves are asorin...
...and as i slave away at this overly broad topic crammed into six
double-spaced pages, i can't help but be tempted to break my keyboard
into three equal pieces and hurl them at three snoozing roommates, with
whom i'd do anything to switch places. yawn.
next time i update at 5:00 am pacific standard time, scold me for not starting just three hours earlier.
two more paragraphs. i can do it, i just need to put my back into it.
p.s. why must college-aged people continue to misuse "your" for "you're"?
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| "survey says"
Name: deb.cant.smell.
Profession: student, legal clerk, clerk/receptionist aka procrastinator, indentured servant, copy/fax machine pro.
Alter-ego name & profession: debcantsmell, personal xanga owner.
Current location: 90024.
Dream
Location: i wish i were in paris on july 14 of any year.
Song you're listening to right now: whatever you want by christina milian.
Favourite song at karaoke: hey look, favourite is spelled the british way! that would have to be BARBIE GIRL! or REGULATORRRRS!
Last item you bought on eBay: a super sick charcoal cadet hat with a skull imprint. so excited for it to arrive!
Celebrity who looks most like you: don't make me get on my soap box and
talk about how there's a lack of asian american representation in
mainstream media!
Celebrity who you want to be: probably fergie or eve.
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Preferences
Cats / Dogs: dogs duh.
The Book / The Movie: the book.
A few very close friends / Loads of buddies: few close friends wins by a hair.
***********************
Something you own that is...
Red: jason mraz's tour hat that I CAUGHT during his concert first year.
actually, i had to ro-sham-bo some white chick for it. homegirl had no
idea that no one can outrock, outpaper, or outscissor me when authentic celebrity memorabilia is on the line.
Broken: ummm a few book covers are torn, does that count?
Borrowed: a lot of nancy vo's stuff. hehe.
From your childhood: my piggy bank and my asian blanket.
From a special occasion: a little stuffed bruin named joe. my brother
threw it to me as i was crossing the stage during high school
graduation.
Useless: old, unfinished crossword puzzles that i won't throw away
because of a high case of denial that my limited word bank and me have
been defeated many times over.
Glow-in-the-dark: my ipod cover. it glows blue.
Used every day: my contacts.
***********************
Last time you...
Laughed out loud: putting suichi in a jiu-jitsu hold while she was half asleep.
Cried: the day i left paris.
Hit someone/something: um i punch rich from time to time.
Sang a song: everyday!!! DONTCHA WISH YOUR GIRLFRIEND WAS HOTTTTTT LIKE ME. eden's crush lives!!!!
Baked something: chicken during my short-lived attempt of being a
self-made, self-trained chef. it was disastrous and will not be
repeated.
Donated
to a charity: twenty hollers for twenty dollars for ucla dance marathon.
***********************
Someone you...
Hate: meter maids, especially in los angeles.
Find sexy: ben affleck and sean connery. and that bartender at the sky bar.
Miss: family, pets, san jomies, paris crew, arnold and the 7north girls, 414 landfairers.
Envy: lc from laguna beach because of her phatty house.
Fear: vp girls.
***********************
Something you...
Like: watches and hats.
Love: companionship and the like. jeopardy.
Hate: those who loathe in self-pity. just live, people!!!
Find sexy: ankles. pretty boys. pretty boys with sexy ankles.
Miss: paris - being able to get anywhere in no time because of an
efficient metro system, overhearing conversations but not being able to
understand them, crepe runs, seeing the eiffel light up the first ten
minutes of every hour, walking on cobblestoned streets lined with
modern boutiques, being inspired to journal...stuff like that.
Fear: failing to live up to expectations.
Can't live without: whole milk. family, friends, and pets.
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Favourite...
Number: 333.
Day of the week: i really like thursdays.
Colour: maroon.
Disney villain: prince john from the animated robin hood.
Time of year: new year's eve!!!!! this year, it's gonna be "san jomies go to vegas, part deux"!!!
Musical instrument: acoustic guitar.
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Least favourite...
Body part: knees and toes, knees and toes.
Person: i need a whole category for this one.
Place: los gatos.
***********************
Your perfect movie
Would star (actor): jason tobin.
And (actress): pasta jenny(hey, it's my movie and i'll cast asian am leads if i want).
Would be set in (place): burbank.
During (time/period): the now.
Would be directed by: coppola. the younger one. cause i know jenny would get a kick out of it.
It would be about: an extended version of the daniel powter, "bad day", music video
The soundtrack would feature: death cab, kanye, mraz, missy elliot,
kelly clarkson/ashlee simpson, temptations, sister hazel, justin
timberlake, and daniel powter.
It would be rated: pg-13. light-hearted, heartwarming, hearty. just lots and lots of heart. and not the lovey kind.
***********************
Last...
CD you bought: jason mraz, mr. a-z. that boy is so clever, ain't he?
Film you watched: coach carter.
Song you listened to: whatever you want, christina milian. didn't i just answer this?
Item you bought: eight party antennae with little penises attached to
the ends for my sister's bachelorette party later this week. holler.
Thing you ate: a spoonful of richard's golden graham cereal in his gross ass lactaid milk. puke.
Time
you had a haircut: june 1, cut, dye, highlight. i'm overdue for another one.
Exercise you did: crunches, leg lifts, and some weird brazilian jiu-jitsu exercise.
Gift
you bought someone: i bought siuchi's chapstick from rite aid today. that's a good gift, no?
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| "mo money = mo problems?"
maybe the lawyer at my internship somehow someway came across my last
post regarding the joys of unpaid labor. maybe he felt offended by
the irony of working for free in a profession that is notorious for
uping the charges and creating extraneous fees. or maybe he just
sensed a lack of motivation to sit at a computer and type aimlessly for
the sake of typing.
whatever it was, i am grateful. once school starts, i will be getting
paid for my services. and it'll be the best-paying job i've ever held.
holler.
and still, with my new job at the ucla school of law also under way, i
obsessively search craigslist.org, the classified section of the daily
bruin, and the career center website hoping to find another source of
income that will fill up my evenings and weekends, currently reserved
for 3 hour naps to make up for lost sleep during the night. richard
wonders aloud why i feel so compelled to earn earn earn, especially
when i'm already earning. arlene worries that it'll offend my parents
because my constant need to work implies that they're inadequate
providers. nancy says in the midst of all this working, i forget that
my first priority should be my academics.
if i had the luxury of not having to work, i wouldn't. honestly. and
while it ideally sounds nice to financially rely on my parents, it's
just not realistic.
my sibs and i always joke that my mom doesn't know how to relax. even
on her days off, she'll find things about work to stress about. like
this past saturday when she contemplated not going to her cousin's
daughter's wedding because she wasn't comfortable leaving my bro and me
to watch and close up the store. i had to remind her that we've been
closing the store since we were six and four years of age,
respectively, and that now, as twenty something years olds, performing
such labor is actually legal. not to mention my sole purpose of making
the 300 plus mile trek from la to san jo was so that she'd be able to
attend the wedding and gasp have a little fun...oh mama, you
best go. and still, while walking out the door, i caught her
glancing over her shoulder on two occasions to make sure we were okay.
and i'll bet that during all the celebrating and toasting, she was
thinking up scenarios where my bro and me would need her to come
swooping in to resolve our random crises.
and maybe that's why i feel obligated to not be a financial burden on
my parents. because i've seen it all my life and i've felt it for even
longer. i always tell my mom that my innate laziness derives from all
the stress i was exposed to as a fetus in her tummy. she laughs. but
deep down, i know she agrees with me. i'd like to think that my
laid-backness balances out her
freak-out-at-every-sign-of-imperfection-ness. that's the bond we've
created and fostered and embraced for as long as i can remember.
i don't want to portray my parents as inadequate or my life
circumstances as unfortunate. it's the exact opposite actually - my
parents have provided more than i can ask for, including an older
sister who's my inspiration and an older brother who's my best friend.
i'm looking forward to the day when they can kick off their shoes and
relax their feet, and party on down to with D E B & Co. i'm
twenty-one now and it's time to start making that goal more tangible.
if i can somehow alleviate the stress i've witnessed for so long, i'll
happily oblige. and if it means working more than is convenient, so
be it. i'm not money-driven (though there is a bit of sadness that my
last shopping stint was way back in paris), i hate feeling subservient to others, and i sure as hell am
not a workaholic. i just feel a profound duty to help my parents by helping myself.
everytime i tell this to someone, they try to negate it, to discredit
my
assertion that self-sufficiency can benefit others as well, not because
they're inclined to be argumentative but because they geniunely care
about my well-being and sanity.
and maybe their warnings of burning up and out do have premise. but for
now, i'll just ask them to holler and trust a sister who considered all her
options and made her decisions based on what was most rational and
practical, not on what was most ideal.
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