Can't Win Them All

Oh, how quickly life goes. How many, many things may happen within a year. Looking back to where I was a year ago, when I wrote my last entry, to where I am now.

So what has happened?

When I started my blog, I was unemployed, having to to just come back from a romantic, wander-lusty-road-trip internship of a lifetime. I was back in NY, learning how to settle down my own roots to the foundation that was already set for me. As the fortune teller in Hong Kong told me- I was a "sailor who is traveling the seas with a compass that's lost."

And now, I have my first big girl, super corporate, full time job. In addition to my full time, I have another part time. My working hours equal to someone working in Investment Banking- only I don't have an Investment Banking income. I am learning how to balance it all- work, family, friends, boyfriend. So I have finally found my compass, but now I'm figuring out how it works. I have declared it is time to shift focus on my passions- finding things that I love to do. Because there's no worse thing in the world than wasted time.

Yes, I'm picking up writing again, like picking up my favorite book from my dusty bookshelf that has been neglected for too long. Thirsty and excited to reread the book and experience it all over, with a new perspective. And thank you to my friend, Yafit, who gave me a call to remind me of my little gem. I apologize for falling off the face of the Internet. Thank you for supporting me, being patient, and not giving up on me.

I'm returning with Leila. I met her in Brooklyn. 

It was beautiful sunny, summer Sunday afternoon. My phone was at 20% battery life. I decided to turn off my cellular data in hopes of saving my battery, so I may call my boyfriend once I was close by. I was feeling spontaneous. I do not know Brooklyn and have limited knowledge with directions. With my romantic self, I thought... 'Let's do this the old school way. I shall ask for directions!'

Worst decision all day.

I ended up walking the complete opposite direction. About halfway in, my gut was telling me to turn around. But instead, my giddy romantic self skipped down the grey concrete floors, surrounded by vintage brown stone buildings, far away from my destination. Once I started to see the sketchy automobile shops, I decided it was time to ask for guidance.

It was deserted and I was left with two choices. First was a lady struggling with her two polar bear dogs. But she didn't even make eye contact with me and hurried off with her bears dragging her. So I was left with Leila. She was wearing a large brown hoodie and faded boot jeans. Her hair was pulled back into a messy ponytail, the sides of her hair was grey. Her eyes were dull and worn. A black plastic bag and cane dangled from her hands as she leaned her heavy set body on the blue pole that was part of the scaffolding.

I took a deep breath and asked, "Excuse me ma'am, do you know-"

She cut me off with her finger. Looking straight ahead, she said, "Shut the fuck up and don't talk to me..."

"Um... okay-"

A light bulb went off and she added with attitude, "...oh and two- get the fuck out of my neighborhood."

Talk about making someone feel welcomed! Shocked, I quickly walked away with a sour taste in my mouth. And when I told my boyfriend and his friends what happened later that day, they were just as shocked as I was. But instead of moping around about it all day and letting it ruin my day, they were awesome and poked fun about it the entire day. My perception of the awkward interaction shifted- it was now hilarious. And it has now become one of our inside jokes.

So, no, you can't win them all. You can't get it all the time. And that's okay. Moments like these remind me of the quote- "Life is 10% situation and 90% reaction." And we are constantly choosing how to react to things that come our way. Whether we are aware of it or not, we are. I challenge you to become aware now.

So... what are you choosing?

11. Subway Medley

Lights up on stage. Subway platform.

My dad and I sat on the bench waiting for our train behind us. Spotlight on Victoria, the lead actress. Rolling down the platform in her sleek black luggage, big plastic rimmed glasses covering half of her face, loose , straight blond hair tied back, loose strands on her face escaping from the grasp. Victoria was holding a folded up subway map on the other hand. She looked back and forth. Back and forth. Flustered.

She looked at the readily departing train and shouted at the open door into the sea of non-responsive people, "Does this go to the West Side or East Side?"

Before I could hold back, I shouted, "Times Square! That goes to Times Square." My dad looked at me funny. Oops, I hope I didn't disturb my fellow audience members around me.

Victoria caught my eye and I blushed. She heard me! She repeated, "West or East?"

I tilted my head, "Huh?"

Who knows the difference between East or West?

Silence.

The chorus of passengers turned around behind me and sang in unity, "Where are you going?"

"West side," Victoria shouted back at the chorus.

"What stop?" By now everyone was alert and attentive.

Victoria looked at me, waiting for a response. I hesitated, thinking. I slowly raised my hand, pointed behind me, and cued the passengers to go belt out, "This side!"

"Thank you," Victoria said matter-of-factually and rolled her luggage along with her to the other side of the platform. She leaned on the pillar and stared far into the darkness, awaiting for her train.

Curtain down.

What I love about this is the amount of people that was involved in helping Victoria. If only when you make the decision to be open, reach out for the support, and grabbing the hand as it reaches out for you. We're all connected. We all want to be heard. And when we see those who are seeking help, we all have the compassion in our hearts to reach out to our fellow stranger neighbor, and hold them, even if it's just for one second.

Happy Friday!

10. Naeem

3:00AM- Flushing, Queens, NY- I really had to use the bathroom. Almost every store was closed except for the Burger King and McDonald's. I ran inside Burger King. Closed.

"Please! I'll buy a chicken sandwich!"

The cashier shook his head, his urge to laugh masked with apologetic compassion. So, I skipped my way over to McDonald's. Closed again. Not one bathroom available in this ghostly yet soothing town during this time.

A bright red neon sign that screamed "LOTTO" caught my eye. I walked into the store. A woman was shopping and Naeem was standing on the side, arms crossed, resting on his belly.

"Excuse me sir. Is there a bathroom I may use? I'll buy something," I dramatically clasped my hands together and started jumping up and down. "Please, please, please."

"I don't have a bathroom. Come, look-" Naeem walked to the back and gestured his hands towards the alley way, full of stock, empty of any signs of a bathroom. "If I have bathroom, I give you use. But no, we go to the bathroom downstairs in the mall. If I have a bathroom, I let you use."

Naeem raised his dark eyebrows as a thought came into his head. "Ah, Burger King has a bathroom. Go to Burger King! Here, I give you money. You buy chicken sandwich for me so you can use the bathroom." He quickly went behind the counter to grab his wallet.

"No, no, it's okay-"

"Come, I give you money. You buy me a chicken sandwich."

We began dancing back and forth. I just met this man for less than 5 minutes and he wanted to give me his money  to buy a chicken sandwich just so I may use the bathroom. A win-win for both of us: hungry tummy-relieved bladder. The only thing is... the bathroom was closed. I began to make my way out of the door, waving my arms proudly, lying, "Okay, I'll check the Burger King!"

Stupid, why did I lie? Why didn't I just tell him the bathroom was closed? I pointed my finger at him (how rude of me) and said, "I'll bring you back a chicken sandwich!"

Well, I didn't go back to the Lotto store that night. I met someone named Joe and we took the bus together. (As for the update on the bathroom hunt- I waited till I was home.) But now, it's a week later and it was around 12:30AM in Flushing. I saw the bright red "LOTTO" seducing me and I thought of the kind man who trusted me with his money to bring him back a chicken sandwich, just so I may use bathroom.

I had to go back to see him. And this time, I bought a chicken sandwich. (Burger King was having a buy one, get one sale on the chicken sandwiches  so win-win for both of us!) I entered the store and Naeem was organizing the candy shelves. He turned to look at me with his wide brown eyes and I smiled, "Remember me? I came in last week asking to use the bathroom and you told me to go to Burger King and you would give me money to buy a chicken sandwich, just so I can use the bathroom? Well... here. I got you this."

Naeem looked at me confused. Then at the chicken sandwich. Me. Sandwich. Me. Chicken. "Oh wow... you didn't have to do this... I give you money," Naeem started to go to the back of the counter, but I stopped him.

I wanted this to be a gift from me to him. A token for his kindness in being open and willing to help a stranger out. I was touched by his authenticity and I admired his humility.  Naeem is from Pakistan and he has been living in Flushing for 15 years. He works a lot, lives alone, and is single ready to mingle. Naeem is in his early 50's and occasionally misses Pakistan. He speaks Urdu. He has 2 other brothers. He won't be working much longer at the Lotto store anymore. The Lotto store owner is his friend and Naeem was just helping out.

His wispy black and hint of grey hair fell gently on the front of his face. He would carefully look at me when we chatted, fully engrossed and his hands conducting genuine elegance. As I got ready to go, Naeeem gave me his number on the back of an old lottery ticket. "If you ever need help, give me a call."

Thank you Naeem. Thank you for reinforcing my hope in humility and the close connection created among all of us that keeps us together.

So it all started when I missed the bathroom opportunity in Manhattan and carried it with me to Flushing. The catalyst was Burger King. And reaction was chicken sandwich. The result- a new friend.

9. Peter and Mom

Timing. Here's my mom's story of how she became friends with a stranger.

My mom has a friend named Peter. I've only seen Peter maybe 3 times in my life. But I know that he's a friend of my mother's. He once brought me to the airport for my Europe trip in high school. He saved my butt when he volunteered to be my interviewee for an academic paper.  And now, he's helping me seek employment by setting up an interview with his company's human resource manager. Peter has a booming laugh, sparkly smile, and tells his stories with his hands.

I always assumed Peter worked with my mom in the same company. But, it turns out, Peter worked in the building next door. They never worked in the same building together, nor are their companies affiliated.

Confused, I asked my mom how she met Peter. And it went like this-

"I always see him on the train. Every day, after work, we'd be at the same train stop at the same time," she laughed as her eyebrows lit up with excitement.. "Until one day, I asked him which department he worked in. Turns out, he works right next door! All this time I thought we worked together."

"So..." I wanted to figure this out. "Do you hang out with Peter a lot?"

She shook her head. "Now I don't see him anymore. Usually, we both get out at 10:00PM and we would take the train together." My mom opened her daily newspaper and turned to the entertainment section. I looked at her paper and saw Hong Kong celebrities waving back at me with her plastic smile.

She took a sip from her coffee mug and pointed at me, "But now I get out 10 minutes earlier. And I do not see him anymore." She shook her head and laughed at the irony. Mom went back to her celebrity news.

All it took was for one person to step forward, break the ice between them with acknowledgment  and the possibility for a friendship flooded in. Timing brought my mom and Peter together. And now just because of 10 minutes, their paths cross and they don't see each other as often anymore. Yet, I always know that Uncle Peter is a phone call away.

We walk by millions of people each day. But how many of the same people you walk by everyday? How do you choose to interact with them? Do you walk past them? Do you just make eye contact and continue on with your day? Have you acknowledged them? How about your neighbor? Do you say 'good morning'?  Your neighbor who sits at the stoop to smoke a cigarette? How about the person who delivers your mail? The bus driver? The taxi driver? The cashier at your deli? The person who takes out your trash? The person who makes your soy latte every morning? Do you even acknowledge the person currently living in the same home with you?

How about the person you're sitting next to on the train? Do you sit in silence? Move around them like they don't exist? If so, why? Or why not?

My challenge for you is to look at yourself in the mirror. Smile, notice your smile, and then get lost looking into your deep, beautiful eyes. See yourself.

And then the next time you're sitting down on the bus, train, getting into the taxi, grabbing your coffee, or walking past the same person you see every day, stop them. Acknowledge them and say 'hi.' Because you see yourself and you see them too. We don't just exist, we're all important, we all matter, and we're all living. And we are alive.

8. Ken

Day 8- Ken

When you're an alumni visiting your friends at the college you've graduated from, it's always... interesting. There's the old things like the yummy mozzarella sticks at the favorite bar, the office to your academic adviser, dining hall food, and the favorite spot by the lake. Then there are new things like the speedy construction of the new academic building, the new plasma TV to the lobby of your dorm, and seeing friends studying when you don't have any school-related things to do. Bottom line- it's interesting to see how life has moved on without you.

Another example would be the rules for college taxis. My friend and I was sitting in a taxi, heading to our favorite Mexican restaurant. It was a silent ride until I saw the sign on a white computer paper, printed in 22-size Verdana font, it read boldly, "IF YOU PUKE, THERE WILL BE A FINE OF $50."

I had to break the silence. I giggled, "Is the really true? Your sign? If people puke, they have to pay $50?"

He shook his head and let out a tired groan. Then he scoffed, "Oh yeah, it's true."

I looked at the sign and then at him, "So... has it ever... happened? People really puke in this van?"

"Oh yeah. It has happened."  My eyes widened as I looked around the clean van, looking for any clues of vomit remnants. "It has happened a few times... when these kids puke, I have to clean it. And it takes a long time to clean. The place gets wet and it takes time to dry... and then you have to stop service for the night...then you lose money!"

I watched him from the rear view mirror as he spoke. He wore circle glasses, a Syracuse baseball cap, and a faded blue jean jacket over his black fleece coat. His driving was sharp, smooth and as slow as the city speed limit. There were hints of soft wrinkles around his eyes and his thin, smiley mouth. Both of his hands were wrapped on top of the wheel. He was a townie, raised and grown in the beautiful grey landscape of Fulton.

On his dashboard, a picture of two beautiful women covered his speed meter. I pointed as if he could see me, "Are those your daughters?"

He immediately smiled, his green gallant eyes glistened with adoration, "That's my wife and daughter."

"May I see?"

"Yes, of course!" He reached forward, grabbed the picture, and handed it back to me, eyes on the road.

The two women were beautiful. Even though they were daughter and mother, they looked young and almost identical. True story, I couldn't tell which was who. Both had long, iron-straight, black hair, pearly white teeth, almond shaped eyes, painted rosy lips. Both were wearing blue colors. Their arms were wrapped around each other tightly, both smiling at me, "If you don't mind me asking, where is your wife from?"

"The Philippines," he said proudly.

"Have you ever been?"

"Oh yes! We visit Cebu almost every summer. Whenever we can, we go," he said excitedly. His voice instantly came alive when he spoke about his wife. He shared with us the vast beauty of the Philippines, his love for the culture, listed all of his favorite Philippine food, and even started to teach me a few words in Tagalog.

Before I knew it, we arrived at our destination. Before I closed the door, I asked, "I'm sorry. I didn't catch your name."

He smiled at us. "My name is Ken."

7. Shirdula

Day 7- Shirdula

The sun is out to play today, with the wind skipping along the grass- perfect tee shirt weather. I was walking casually to my bus stop. Smelling the roses, taking my sweet time, without a care in the world, even though I was on a time crunch. And then, half a block away, out of the corner of my eye, I saw a bus that waved in sea green colors, "Q27."

That's my bus.

I was more than half a block away from the bus stop. I looked straight ahead and saw the white walking man icon on the street light. I gasped. My heart started pounding. I had to make it for this bus. Or else I would have to wait 10 minutes for the next one.

Holding my Kathy Cidston satchel by my side, I booked it. In my thin, black, shiny, pointy flats, I stretched my legs and ran like I never did before in my life. I flew. I thought to myself, 'Maybe, if I made my running dramatic enough, the bus driver will notice, stop, and wait for me regardless if I make the light or not.' I opened my arms and flaring them like I was a bird trying to take off.

The pavement flew beneath my feet. As I ran, I wondered when I would start feeling the pain in my body, my shortness of breath, and my mind to screaming me to stop. I waited, but it never came. As I got closer to the edge of the sidewalk, I anticipated the calm, white walking man to trade off with the angry, Halloween orange hand.  As my feet touched the white painted crosswalk, each step towards victory, the angry hand never came.

I let out a laugh as I saw a woman standing at the bus stop. As I got closer to her, I slowed down, catching my breath. I joined her, spread out my arms in victory, and politely screamed, "I made it!" I looked at the woman next to me. Shirdula was a shorter than me, long, frizzy, black mane, wore dark red lipstick, with a red tilaka on her third eye. She was smooth and calm, facing the direction of the bus.

Dissatisfied with her reaction, I caught eyes with Shirdula, jumped up, and said again, "I made it!! Yay!"

Shirdula nodded, "Yeah, good for you." She smiled softly and continued, "I didn't make it."

"I didn't make it."

"I didn't make it...."

For some reason, 'I didn't make it' really resonated with me. Perhaps, just 10 minutes prior, Shirdula was in the same situation as me- she saw the bus coming. She was probably very close, but she just didn't make it. But I made it. The bus we were hopping on together was my victory, but to Shirdula our bus was her alternative. As Shirdula was elated about me making for my bus, I can tell she really wanted to catch the bus from 10 minutes ago.

Things are just things. We put our own interpretation to things. We put our own story to the thing. Whatever it is, we are the story tellers, interpreters, and critics to these things. In this case, the thing is our perfect timing for catching the bus.

The bus was crowded, but I was able to stand next to Shirdula. We exchanged smiles and soaked in each other's silence. As she got off for her stop, I waved, "Have a good day! Hope you make your bus next time."

She waved back just as the back doors slammed shut and the bus continued on.

6. Aasim

Day 6- Aasim

This is a fun one.

It was snowing. Not fluffy snow, but hard ice sprinkles. The kind of snow that will stay in your hair and make you look all mystically pretty. I was walking in Flushing and really had to use the restroom. I walked passed everyone's favorite Flushing-Halal cart, on the corner of Main Street and 40th Road, right by TD Bank. I briefly glanced a look over at the man inside the cart.

Before I was able to escape, I felt a fish hook tickle my ear, "Ehhhh.... pssst. Hey! Yoohoo!"  I turned around and saw a little face peek through the window, "Long time no see sweetheart..."

I walked up to the window and came face to face with a man I had a brief interaction with 9 months ago on a hot summer evening. Although my memory of him is foggy, I do know for sure my order was chicken over rice. He had a short, stubby white beard all over his face, colorful eyes shining with brilliance. He was wearing a brown beanie hat and a comfy navy sweater. With his multi-tasking skills, he was stirring chicken on the grill and glancing at me.

"Where have you been?"

My eyes widened with amazement. For our less than 5 minute conversation during a hot summer night at 4AM and all of the customers in between these 9 months, he remembers me? Wow. So I briefly told him about my internship with LiNK: Liberty in North Korea, travelling the states for the past 6 months, fast forward to coming back for the Christmas holidays, settling in New York City looking for next big move. "How have YOU been?"

His name is Aasim. "Oh you know... the same. Working..."

"Busy today?"

He stopped what he was doing and looked out the window. He scrunched his face and shook his head, "No, not really. Later busy. Same thing everyday, you know? Do you want something?"

"No, thank you," I said politely.

He works at the cart 4 times during the week. "Are you meeting your boyfriend?" he asked. I laughed. I shook my head no. "You Chinese?"

I smiled, "Yes, I am."

"Oh... I can tell... You don't have boyfriend?" By now, he was finished cooking and was beginning to clean, putting things away. I shook my head. "Oh? Why not?" He leaned forward and said, "You know, I am single. Looking for a wife."

"Oh really?" I laughed, "I'll be sure to keep an eye out for you," by now the snow was coming down harder and my bladder wanted to go to the restroom. "I'm going to get going. Great seeing you again."

"You sure you don't want anything? It's okay! What do you want?" He said offering me some yummy foods on the grill.

I wish I was hungry, but I was full from my lunch earlier. "Thank you, I appreciate it, but I'm good. Thank you!" Before I walked away, I asked for his name.

"Aasim. My name is Aasim."

"Ah- Aasizz?"

After dancing around with the pronuciation of his name for a minute, I finally left knowing I would have cravings for some Halal food later, knowing exactly where to go when the craving came. There's always a time for some chicken over rice. Be sure to stop by and say "hi" to my awesome friend Aasim!