Tuesday, February 28, 2012

Tunesday #4

I haven't done Tunesday in a while.  Hehehehe... well to make up for the lost time, I'll put this hilarious music video.  Pro golfers Bubba Watson, Rickie Fowler, Ben Crane, and Hunter Mahan (congrats on beating McIlroy the other day for the match play tournament!).

Their costumes are priceless.  After the video, go watch the behind the scenes... :)


Hardships of a Teenage Girl :: Work

I work 2-5 times a week at a local golf course for 1-3 hours.  Actually, it's a private golf course at a retirement home, but whatever.  The old people there are nice anyways. 

Two teens work each day.  One washes and puts away the golf course's carts (electrically charged), puts gas into the old people's carts (gas-powered), vacuums the pro shop, take trash out, clean the spike cleaner, and wash and put away the golf push carts.

Sounds like a lot, but I prefer this position MUCH MORE over the other one.

Let me explain.  The second person handles anything concerning the driving range.  So, he/she drives the "picker".  You know, the vehicle that picks up balls off of the range and is the moving target that the golfers try to hit. 

After picking up a substantial amount of balls, which takes approximately 30 minutes around and around the range, the person deposits the basket of balls into the ball cleaner bucket by bucket.  And let me tell you, this is not glamorous.  The balls are covered in slimy geese poo, mud, dirt, grass, etc.  You must pick out the cracked balls and the oddballs (see what I did there?).  Therefore, you use your bare hands to pick them up one by one and throw it out of the normal bunch. 

After the bucket of balls are thoroughly cleaned (two times through the ball cleaner should be enough), you must heave the bucket and throw it into the ball machine (the machine where people buy the balls).  Then repeat the process until all of the balls from the baskets are cleaned.  Then go back out there on the range and pick up more. 

Worse, on rainy days, the range person must pick up manually via metal chutes, which takes over two hours to do everything. 

One day, while working on range, I got a comment on my attire.  I wore a navy rain jacket, blue rain-proof baggy golf pants, and black rain boots.  An old man commented on my ensemble.  He said that I looked like a "Russian soldier".  I smiled and laughed, but couldn't help but feel a little miffed.  Still, his words do hold some truth.
Here is an accurate comparison of a World War I Russian soldier and my work outfit:

Well, I shouldn't be complaining.  I did apply for this job, kind of knowing what I was getting into.  I am, after all, earning um........ $8.50/hour.  Hey, I do get free balls and free rounds though!


Sunday, February 26, 2012

A Basic Understanding :: Black Leather Jacket

A wardrobe must for me is a black leather jacket.  This versatile piece can be worn in just about every way possible.  Here are some of my favorite street outfits that feature the black leather jacket:

Credits to:  Harper's Bazaar, Mr. Newton, Streetpeeper


Monday, February 20, 2012

Hardships of a Teenage Girl :: Shaving

Oh puberty.  With boobs and periods comes hair.  Lots of hair.  Here is me on a weekly basis:


Saturday, February 11, 2012

Identity Crisis :: Race Part 1

I think the first time I noticed my Asian-ness was in Pre-School, but the time when it really exploded in my face was in second grade.
It was lunch time, and I was chomping a sandwich or taquito or something when I heard a boy named "Ren" singing a song that went something like this: "blahblahblah i forgot the first part, Chinese people pee-pee in their Cokes!!"  I felt myself blush and I was so mortified and embarrassed.  I'm super sensitive, so it was no surprise that I bursted out crying.  In no time, my friends saw my misery, and alerted the adult monitors.  While tears streamed down my face and while my nose was all gloriously snotty, I choked out the reason and pointed to Ren.

He was sent to the principal's office, and apologized to me afterwards.  I remember him being chastised for disrespecting other people's ethnicity.

. . .

"Hey what nationality are you?" the Asian guy, maybe around mid 50s, asked one day at work.  I was just getting in the golf cart to throw trash away.
"Ummm..." I was tempted to say American.  After all, that is my nationality (well more like Chinese-American but whatever).  But, I knew what he meant. 
"I'm Chinese."

. . .

"My dad taught me a way to tell if a person's Chinese or Japanese" a girl said in my 6th grade CORE class said.
"Oh.  What is it?" I asked.
"If the last name is really really long, then they're Japanese.  If the last name is short, then they're Chinese."  I was dumbfounded.  Her words held some truth, but that shouldn't be the deciding factor whether someone's Japanese or Chinese, two VERY different cultures. 

. . .

"I'm half Chinese and half Japanese," a fellow classmate told me.  "But I can't speak either languages."
A wave of sadness and disappointment passed through me.  What will happen to future Asian-Americans?  Will we eventually lose grasp of our rich history, language, culture?

. . .

I screamed and cried almost every week on Saturday afternoons when I was in first through seventh grade.  My sister and I were just about to go to Chinese School.  I hate learning the language.  I hate how I have more schoolwork and homework than my other friends.  I hate how my Saturday afternoons are not free.  Chinese School just about ruined my precious weekends. 
My parents keep telling me that it's all worth it, and how we won't regret it.  My older sisters say how they wished they could go to Chinese school too and learn Mandarin.  Then why didn't they just go?  Because we can't absorb the information as well as you can.  When you're young, it's easier to learn.

. . .

"Romantics have their heads in the clouds.  They emphasized on the individual" said my AP Euro teacher, who was talking about romanticism, and it's message.  "Your parents keep telling you you're special.  None of you guys are special," he then joked.
"Hey you sound like an Asian parent!" I laughed.  I immediately felt guilty.  My parents aren't tiger-parents.  If anything, they're way more lax compared to other Chinese parents. 

Okay, okay.  My twin sister and I had to take piano lessons from kindergarten to seventh grade.  And Chinese school as mentioned before.  And they always emphasized to respect your elders and call every adult we meet by Mr./Mrs./Ms. Lastname.  My parents have never pushed us.  They never really straight up demand A's, even if we did deliver them.  I think they just expect us to get A's because we want to.  We want to make our parents proud.  We know that this is just a baby step to securing some sort of future. 

To end Part 1, I present two hilarious videos.  To understand the jokes, one must have Asian parents or have an Asian friend who have Asian parents.


Wistful Thinking :: Watches

I've been drooling over these Michael Kors watches for a while now...

After seeing Wendy's Look Book and EatSleepWear rock the tortoise watch, I can't help but lust for it.. maybe I'll save some of my work money for it?  But it comes in a hefty price at almost $200.

Meanwhile, here are some cheaper versions of these three watches by Fossil, and are almost half of the price of the MK ones:

Gahhhh... they're all so beautiful!  But if I'd had to choose a winner, i'd be Michael Kors for the gold one, Fossil for the Rose Gold, and MK for the tortoise (the Fossil's crystals are a bit much for me.. they scream BAM while MK's crystals are more subtle and elegant.)

I must, however, try to keep my ultimate goal in mind while spending spending spending: