BATTLE STANCE my girls and i breakin...

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creep-pee

the funny thing about working in an office is how you find yourself saying hi and good morning and making small talk with people you see once a day or once a week, people who don't work in your unit, etc.

on my floor, i say hi to people i know work on my floor. it is like an office courtship. you start off just smiling at people on your floor/in your office since you don't know who is who. then after the smiling, comes the "hi" "how 'ya doing." it's like second base. after a few months of just "hi" "how are you's" comes the going steady.  you move beyond the second base and now ask how their day is or comment on the weather or the slow elevator. 

i am a social lego and pretty much can talk to a glass of punch if need be. in my profession, i like to think that i can hold a conversation.

now that i have laid the foundation, let me tell my tale. i went to the ladies room due to one to many water bottles (damn hydration and the gym).  as i entered the bathroom, i see one of the ladies who works on my floor. she and i have exchanged hellos and she has told me she likes my clothes. she has always been friendly. 

she and i say hello and i tell her to have a good day. this was my closing. i go into the stall and realize that she did not pick up on my closing. in fact, she is outside the stall still talking. who is she talking to? good grief. is it me? i wanted to tell her. no, this is not right. we are still at the hellos. i mean she is not one of my girlfriends. is it too much to pee in private and not have to keep a conversation flowing (pardon the pun). she leaves but i am left thinking, she is creepy. or should i say, "creep-pee."

slime a dozen

it doesn't end. you know how your parents, teachers, counselors tell you that the teasing stops? people outgrow their ignorant behavior. they don't. i work in a profession where it is basically a dude/cigar club. i am used to being the token. being different looking. today people call my look "exotic." back when i was growing up, it was called "ugly," "different," "weird," and plain out "dorky."

funny how my face has not changed, my eyes remain slanty, i am still tiny, but now the times call my look "exotic." i have grown to accept my different look and embraced it. it was not until college, really law school where i felt that i was confident in my appearance. i have always been completely aware that i was no barbie. i never looked like my classmates. i grew up in the burbs where brunettes were considered ugh, so imagine being a little vietnamese girl who was constantly falling down and actually believed in monsters. yeah, i was not sitting at the popular table. by no means. still, i accepted that my hair would never been blonde and straight, at least not without tons of bleach. i know that i laugh way too much and for a little girl, i dont have a bubbly giggle, but a snort. i have no bridge on my nose. sunglasses and any type of eyewear, besides goggles, won't stay on my face. i never even knew people couldn't see my nose until in fourth grade, i remember eric, this kid in front of me was using those retarded safety lefty scissors to pretend to cut the girls' noses. he then turned around to try to snip my nose and he looked at me and said, "you don't even have a nose! it's too flat!" everyone laughed and i remember wishing the floor would swallow me up.

despite the teasing, i turned out ok. the teasing continued through high school and even college. yes. people can be drafted, old enough to vote and buy beer, but they don't outgrow their stupid racist attitudes. i would be called ching chong or they would scream some jargin that these lame-os believed resembled "chinese." i would just roll my eyes. i could have retorted with some scathing remark, but i couldn't be bothered. i also wanted to explain that i was not chinese and that calling me a chink was actually an incorrect racial slur. just because china has a huge population does not mean all us asians are chinese. all this would have gone over these people shouting at me. but, college is over and i have joined the ranks of the working class. the proleteriat. 

today i was talking to a colleague of mine. he was complaining how he hated dealing with slimeball attorneys. he stated he hated slimeballs. i laughed and said, well, we are lawyers so we will have to deal with slimeballs sooner or later, "they're a slime a dozen." he laughed and liked my description.

as i left work tonite, i was thinking to myself, listening to my ipod and walking home. it is a nice walk and with the blustery weather, i tried to walk a bit faster. as i approached a group of 4 guys, all sporting large oversized sport parkas and sweatpants, i moved around them. well, i tried to. they were screaming something, but i couldn't understand, so i paused my ipod. as soon as i hit pause, i heard "chink" "f*ck hong kong" "go home hong kong"  and "chink" again. the words were followed by high fives and laughter. i didn't respond. my face was hot with embarassment and annoyance. 

i didn't understand the high fives or how little me embodied the city of hong kong, but i guess even without encountering lawyers, slimeballs are a slime a dozen in this cold city.

a drawing of me from TRKFLD ad

my friends rick (TRKFLD photographer) and bryan poerner (founder of TRKFLD) called me and let me know that this guy drew me. too bad he doesnt live in philly, my girls and i could pose for him! 

having an intern is work

when i was in law school i remember working my butt off at any type of clinical or internship. you never knew what law firm would offer you a job or give you glowing raves in letters of recommendation or even direct you a place that was hiring. as if law school wasn't hard enough. before i hear a rant of people groan and tell me there best why i hate lawyer jokes, just know that going to law school will numb you to those jokes. i realize people hate lawyers just like they hate doctors. i never hated lawyers, but i did hate law students, especially my classmates. ok, hate is a strong word. i just didn't dig any of them.  

think about it. college is filled with different cliques. it is diverse. you have the brains, the musicians, the artists, the drama freaks, etc. in law school, you have all these alpha dog personalities and you have intelligent people who are used to being right and smart. that all changes in law school. law school takes your ego and everything you know and beats it out of you! but i digress. i did well in law school and although i never was the alex keaton type, i see no reason why people who tote leather briefcases and people who still sling a backpack can't get along. despite our choices in carrying our files, we all ended up with the embossed business cards with watermarks or seals.

just as law students are an odd mix of hope, pride and inflated self worth. all those emotions and factors really come into play with legal interns. dressed in their new suits, french cuff sleeves and new leather briefcases (most early graduation gifts). they are all preoccupied with finding a job or figuring out how so and so even got a job! which leads me to my title of my blog. having an intern is work. more work for me. i used to think having an intern would decrease my work load. nope. not the case. far from it.  instead, i have to find research projects or interesting field trips. all of which, between a heavy caseload and maintaining my own sanity is usually the last thing on my outlook to do list. i can't ask them to file stuff into redwells because that is not a learning experience. i can't take my intern to every court event because i need to show them a variety of events.  they certainly do not want to sit at depositions and motion court all the time. (although as an attorney you do spend a lot of time doing the mundane).  so here i sit, my dayplanner color coded so i know where i need to be, and my list of things for my intern to do remains blank. too bad, i can't ask them to bring us all coffee.

let's hope i come up with some work for my intern. either way, don't believe the hype. interns=work. i hope i get an intern who wants to work because then the equation could be intern who doesn't work=mo' work for me.

grrr

ok i started up a blog group and i cant post anything! grr. what is wrong with my mac?! anyhow, sit pretty, i've got some news on geometry wars and shortcomings by adrian tomine. every time i try to post on my group's blog it says some odd jumbo crap. too tired to figure it out now. i wanna finish reading "the road"cormac mccarthy's melancholy view of the world done in such a lovely manner that you forget that

my white fiddle

i used to tell people that i am prolly one of the only people that falls in love with cities and objects. i am by no means a shallow person, but sometimes i just connect memories to places and things. for example, when i moved to boston, i fell in love with the city. it was dynamic with touches of old history mixed with urban decay and nouveau. it was a paradox that had a reliable public transportation! to this day, boston remains in my heart as a home. dorky perhaps? maybe, but true.

i recently got a white fiddle. it is now part of my string family. a violin that has been with me through youth orchestras, suzuki lessons, pain staking auditions and practices. each scratch or knick tells a story.  i have an electric pink violin. girls like pink. it is some new wave crazy shape and the classically trained musician in me sometimes feels like a poser or fraud for liking the sound the strings emanate through my pignose amp. it still smells new and my fingers are still unaquainted with this new gadget.  my last instrument is a white fiddle. it is amazing. i have been playing constantly, the smell of the rosin, the strength of the bow and the energy of it all. 

i just started to learn to fiddle. i love playing the violin. but i am falling in love with my fiddle.

if any bands need a little asian girl fiddler, give me a holla!  

xo

cutest death ever

the best place to get phone charms is at the hello kitty store. the one i frequent is in chinatown. it was a cold saturday afternoon and i was there with my girls and we were browsing the world of hello kitty cuteness. the little old lady who runs the store was busy putting inventory on the shelves. as we mingled around the tiny store, i stopped to look at some japanese candies. is it normal to have ginger or chocolate squid?! all of sudden, i was hit on the head by a hard object. then another. it was like a bunch of meteors were showering my poor head! then i realized the very top shelf of overstuffed, gigantic hello kitty dolls, human sized hello kitty dolls had fallen on my head. a whole shelf! the old lady who was on the ladder, arranging these cute weapons was all apologetic and worried. asking how my head felt. sore i said. i mean these werent plush hello kitty toys, but these toys were like bean bags. not soft. and deadly.

my friends had witnessed my downfall and were laughing. i laughed too as i rubbed my noggin.

i can see the headlines now, "little asian girl killed by an avalanche of hello kitties." something the onion would report.

only i could get hurt at a hello kitty store. i'm asian. i thought the hello kitty store was my safe haven, my shire. oh well.

pearlisms

my friends tell me that i mix up my metaphors. but in my head it makes sense. what can i say i grew up in a bilingual household! the kicker is i am so close in my own version of popular metaphors, yet soooo far.

for example, in my profession, i encountered lots of alpha males who wanna be all mean and macho and i try to deflate their egos. once in an argument, i told this one dude who was going on and on and on that he was "no creamy mountain!" silence followed. then perplexity. then more silence. i thought i had stumped him! me and my flawless argumentative skills. instead, he looked at me and said, " what the hell is a creamy mountain?" i rolled my eyes. later that nite, i told my friends what had happened and they smiled and laughed because they too did not know what a creamy mountain was. i explained that this guy was all cocky and that he was not right. then a lightbulb went off in my friends' heads. "you mean cream of the crop OR king of the mountain!" ooooooh. but i am so used to saying it "my" way that it doesnt make sense to change.

my best friend matu is starting a book of my pearlspeak. you know you've hung out with me way too long when you understand me.

i guess my friends and i are thick as socks.

shrink ray

when i was little, (ok younger, i am still little) my pa would hate having to park our car. there were never enough spaces and you know what they say about asian drivers. :) he used to tell me that he wanted to invent a shrink ray. he could use it on our car and put it in his pocket. from then on, i was obsessed with shrinking things and putting things in my pocket. 

i often take walks to clear my head to see what song will pop on my shuffle as i take this mini adventures. on my walks,  i would often see things or people i would find adoring or so edibly cute i wanted to shrink them or it and place in my pocket for safekeeping. chubby babies. pretty leaves. an ugly puppy. a fat apple. a lost checker. just poof and shrink and into my pocket you go. my pockets arent too deep, but they will suffice. if one can put a ship into bottles, why not shrink things to put into my pockets?