Tuesday, August 27, 2013


A comprehensive list of all the courses I took throughout my college career (2009-2013):
  • Microeconomics
  • Cohort Leadership
  • Conversations of the West: Antiquity & the Renaissance (literature)
  • Calculus II
  • Commerce & Culture (writing)
  • Financial Accounting
  • Statistics
  • Business & Its Publics
  • World Cultures: Russia since 1917 (history)
  • Advanced Japanese I
  • Information Technology
  • Foundations of Financial Markets
  • Managerial Accounting
  • Entertainment & Media Industries
  • Film Distribution & Finance
  • Elementary Russian I
  • 20th Century Theatremakers (drama)
  • Organizational Communication
  • Introduction to Marketing
  • Beginner Korean III (Intermediate Korean I)
  • Business Law
  • Operations (business)
  • Economics of Global Business
  • Intermediate Chinese II
  • Entertainment Accounting
  • Consumer Behavior
  • International Studies: Asia (Singapore) (business)
  • TV Management
  • TV Nation: Inside & Outside the Box
  • Advanced Chinese I
  • Marketing Research
  • Legal Aspects of the Entertainment Business
  • Professional Responsibility & Leadership (ethics)
  • Producing for TV
  • Intermediate Korean II
  • Management & Organizational Analysis
  • Private Voice Lessons
  • Globalization & the Entertainment Industry
  • Technology & its Impact on Entertainment

The ones in bold are the courses I really enjoyed attending and didn't consider a chore. I realized that they all fall under liberal arts pursuits: 6 language courses, 1 ethics, 1 writing, 1 history, and 1 literature. 

I wonder, would I have not looked upon my past 4 years with disdain if I had gone to a liberal arts school? But then again, I know myself. The reason I enjoyed these classes so fondly is most likely because contrasted against my dull business classes, these liberal arts classes really allowed me to exercise the more interesting side of my brain, the side of my brain I'm rarely allowed to access in the money-driven, practical, low-risk environment that my parents and business school have created for me. Even though I was taking other classes that interested me and were "practical" (i.e. my entertainment classes), they still felt like necessities because I had to be actively pursuing a career. 

Thus, having these "irrelevant" classes peppered into my schedule every semester allowed me to stay sane. But to be honest, I probably wouldn't enjoy myself all too much if I had to write all those essays and theses every semester that the liberal arts student is regularly bombarded with.

Plus, pepper tastes terrible by itself.

Classes I still want to take:
-James Joyce class, specifically on Ulysses, because I really could never get through that book and properly enjoy it myself if I didn't have a professional guide me through it, and it's just sitting on my shelf, still brand new. My ideal syllabus: chapter deadlines, regular discussions, but no essays

-Philosophy class. The reason I enjoyed my ethics class is because it's so interesting discussing different ideas of the world and everyone sharing their own viewpoints. I'm always interested in how others think because it really helps me understand, not anything in particular, just understand. My ideal syllabus: lectures; discussions; journal entries with no guidelines, just to write, in lieu of essays. I actually bought a philosophy book today because it was on sale at Barnes & Noble and the closest thing I could get to learning about it.

-Infinite Jest class. Does this exist anywhere? I've read maybe the first 80 pages or so on my own (with the help of the David Foster Wallace dictionary) and really appreciate Wallace's usage of words, but like Ulysses, I don't feel like I'm properly appreciating the novel as a whole. My copy is literally sitting right next to an untouched Ulysses. My ideal syllabus: see James Joyce class

-More language classes, of course. If I could only choose one thing on this list to take, it would most definitely be more language classes.

Sunday, August 25, 2013

I got excited at the prospect of a free monthly unlimited MetroCard, but then I realized that these days, I don't ever go out enough to make full use of it. I guess just the thought of not having to pay out of pocket just to go to work is comforting.

I actually don't go out at all anymore. I'm not sure if this dreadful feeling that's overcome me is because of my impending time of the month or the maturation of my mind, but I enjoy staying in on a Friday or Saturday night nowadays. Maybe I've partied myself out during my college years.

It's so depressing to see me write those words, as if my college years are something of the distant past, as my high school years truly are now, but I just don't feel that going out to party is something I need to do or am missing out on, since I've done it before, plenty of times before. I almost feel inconvenienced when someone suggests we go out to a bar because all I keep thinking is, why can't we just stay inside and talk because that's all we'll be doing at the bar anyway + it's free.

Maybe this is my slipping into my unemployed niche in society. Being freshly post-grad, I'm having a harder time defining who I am, when I just left 16 years of a uniform identification system: I'm a 4th grader, 7th grader, high schooler, college senior. Everyone seems to want to know what you're doing in this world, why you exist, and at the moment, it seems as if I have no purpose because I have no answer to the question "What do you do?"

I read. I clean. I sleep. I watch TV. I eat. But because I'm not making any money, it almost feels like a crime to me to indulge on a weekend, since none of the money I'm spending is mine. Indulging is practically what I do everyday, since I have no responsibilities, so a weekend really doesn't feel like a week-end but just another day.

Therefore, I feel like I've settled into this ennui, since I'm coming to my fourth month of unemployment. So maybe I just can't tell whether I don't have the luxury to go out or just don't want to go out.

Rain or shine

Ever since moving to New York, I've realized that when it rains, the raindrops never hit the windows with the comforting pitter patter I constantly look forward to during these types of stormy weather days in Texas. I never know that it's raining anymore when I'm indoors, unless I squint and really focus my eyes on the falling drops.

One of the reasons I love rainy days is because being indoors in the middle of a storm is one of the most comforting feelings ever. The sound of the light thumps against my window pane assure me that I'm safe inside. It's almost like an analogy for yin and yang; you don't really understand good if you've never experienced evil.

But here in New York, there have been multiple times where I'm caught off guard by the rain. I'll take a quick glance outside to judge the weather, and the transparent raindrops camouflage into the backdrop of daylight, painting a fictitious image of clear skies, so I go outside, wearing flats, clutching a purse with everything but an umbrella, and step out into the pouring onslaught. It's the annoyed disposition that everyone who's lived in New York for over a year eventually and inevitably absorbs that prepossesses me to just commit and make it through the weather because there's no way I'm going back up 24 floors again just to get an umbrella, even though I won't stop complaining about not having an umbrella for the rest of the day, New York style.

But maybe the quietness with which it rains in New York is its own analogy. Terribleness is just a nonchalant part of life here and is no excuse to stop you from going on with your normal life just to enjoy yourself.

After four years in New York, is anyone enjoying themselves anymore?

Friday, July 26, 2013


Sigh, I didn't get the job. I guess it just wasn’t meant to be. Back to more applying and cold-calling then.

Maybe I should do what the main character in Someday, Someday, Maybe did and give myself a deadline for my “dreams.” Not saying that that would make me work harder towards my goal because I feel like I’m doing all I can, but I don’t know how much longer I can make everyone around me worry for my unemployment, especially my parents, who just completely don’t support my decision at all.

Okay, it’s only been 2 whole months since I graduated. It’s still too early to worry. I have to stay positive.

Keep calm and whatever the fuck.

Monday, July 22, 2013

interview follow up

On Friday, I had an interview with a legit production, but I don't want to say what it is in case I jinx it. The interview went super super well, especially because we spent a good amount of it talking about the non-work-related stuff on my resume, i.e. my study abroad experiences. It really lightened the mood and allowed me to show my true true self, which I find a) hard to display when I'm stuck discussing the stuffy details of my work ethic + b) a much more exciting person to be around than my reserved interview persona.

But standard interview procedure calls for a follow-up email within 24 hours of the interview, and I got my interviewer's business card and clearly saw it in my purse when I put it there but lost it in the end, meaning I have no way of contacting my interviewer now. Sigh life. I really really really cross-my-fingers hope that this doesn't screw my chances, because technically I forget to follow up like all the fucking time and I do want to say that I totally didn't follow up on the interviews for the last two jobs I got. So here's to hoping?

Thursday, July 18, 2013

Vincent Kartheiser and Alexis Bledel are such a beautiful couple.

Wednesday, July 17, 2013


If David and I weren’t dating, we wouldn’t be friends. Our personalities don’t mesh as friends. We have different interests, we enjoy different activities, we have different perspectives on things. But in spite of all this, we mesh so well as partners.

One day in Korean class, 선생님 asked us what was most important to us in finding a partner. Everyone gave the typical slew of “personality,” “education,” “looks” answers. As we added those words to our limited vocabularies, she wrote a new word on the board: 가치관. She loosely translated it to “values” and went on to elaborate that there is another level to relationships that really makes them stick. You could like the same bands and the same bars and complete each other’s sentences, but if your values are misaligned, you wouldn’t work out. You couldn’t work out. You have to want the same things, believe in the same things, be going down the same path.

David caught me at the right place and right time. If we had met anytime earlier than we did, I wouldn’t have given myself to him. Even though I had constantly wished for a boyfriend, I was never ready for one. There was always still more I wanted to do for myself, and just myself. I wasn’t ready to stop being selfish yet. And he wasn’t ready for me either. Any time earlier, I would’ve caught him taken, in a once-a-monthly sexual, mediocre relationship, and then lost, trying to get over the loss of the other half he had attached himself to for a year. I’m a very impulsive person, and I rely too much on my instincts to be swayed otherwise. If I had met David any time earlier, during any of these times, my immediate instincts would not open my heart to him at all. I would’ve found him physically attractive but nothing more.

But we didn’t meet earlier. We met at the perfect time. I had finished fooling around with the world, with random boys, with random interests and was finally ready to settle down, with graduation and the real world looming. And he had gotten over his ex and was ready to open his heart again because he lives to care, to love.

I’m scared though. I’m scared that even though our values are the same, they might not be in the same place. Whenever we get to talking about the future, all signs point to him staying in the Midwest where he grew up and leading a normal, stable life, but even before that, going to dental school nowhere near New York City. Meanwhile, I’m still trying to find a job in television, in New York City, where it is the complete opposite of normal and stable. This is what I want now, even though in the future, I do want the normal, stable, suburban family life outside of New York. But I don’t know where and how all of my wants right now factor into my future. David’s current path is definitively going toward the future he wants. My destination, on the other hand, is the same as his, but I’m going the opposite direction. I just want to be able to satisfy my whims until I’m ready to turn back around on my own. I’m scared though that he’ll just go on ahead of me, without me.

I love him. I love him so much. It never occurs to me that we have nothing in common because we just love each other. Isn’t that the only thing we need to have in common? But that’s why I’m scared, because our values are there, we both want the same things, but I’m the one who might eventually fuck this up because maybe I’m not quite there yet on the whole figuring-myself-out thing.

I told David that if we broke up, I don’t think we would stay friends because we would have nothing to talk about. There were no external experiences we would share, so we would never even cross paths. We would never be in each other’s lives again.

To this, he replied, “Then let’s just never break up.”

Monday, July 15, 2013

Points of Uninterest

I learned how to use the dishwasher, but now I have to Google how often it's okay to use it because I realize that it's a much more efficient clean than my hand washes, especially when the dishes have piled up extensively, as it always is when Christina is around, so I feel like I'll be using it all the time.

Now that David is around all the time, I don't feel like I can do anything. I feel like anytime there's something I want to do just for myself, and not for anyone else to participate in, or be involved in, or even know about, I have to tell him. He has to know what it is. And then he has to know all about it afterward.

It's not that he's nosy or anything. He's just curious and cares, as any loving boyfriend would, and I'm sure I would ask the same questions if he were to get up and leave in the middle of the day out of nowhere. And it's not that I resent him in anyway, not at all. I've just finally realized how valuable alone time is, and of course this realization takes place when I'm the complete opposite of alone.

I guess this is lesson one for me in the relationship trek: how to balance 'me' time with 'we' time. I wish I was more proactive about doing things during the month he was away.

Goals goals goals:
-Write write write
-Cook cook cook
-Read read read
-Language language language

current life

2 months in and I can finally write cover letters without wincing. On top of that, they are all personalized. It just comes so naturally to me now. I think it's because I have all of the evidence of my credentials practically recited because I've had to state them for 2 months straight.

This is all I have to say about my life now.

Thursday, June 13, 2013

amor fati

I always imagined that the first guy to become my boyfriend would come out of some spectacular, unexpected event. I accidentally knock over a stranger's hot coffee with my purse, and it spills all over his lap, but then I meet him a month later at a random party, and we just happen to remember each other for some reason and then just completely hit it off. Or I'm getting out of work to see that it's pouring outside, but I don't have an umbrella and am completely underdressed for the rain, so I'm walking home drenched and shivering cold when the kindest stranger offers to share his umbrella and gives me his jacket and walks me home and then asks for my number.

It stings when I have to tell people that David and I met at a club. I guess it's because I realize that our relationship didn't stem from dramatic origins of the romantic comedy flair as I had always wanted.

But it's so hard to explain how serendipitous that meeting really was. I was truly so close to not going that night and never meeting the best thing that's ever happened to me in my life.

I was drinking by myself at home, pregaming because I couldn't imagine going to Circle sober, and after my fourth half shot within the minute, I looked at my reflection through the living room window, and my vision started to blur from the tears conjured by this image of me, how sad I looked in my plain, black, not-dressy-enough-for-clubbing dress, drinking all alone in this huge apartment. I felt like I was looking into the future, how I would be 30 and still all alone in a huge apartment drinking by myself because all of my friends are snuggled up with their significant others at home and I still didn't know how to go out and meet someone without the help of the Fairy God-liquor.

I was supposed to meet Soomi and Teresa at 11 so that we wouldn't have to pay cover, but it was half past midnight, and they had already gone inside a while ago. I had every reason not to go anymore, and I was starting to accept this bleak impending future reflected in the crystal ball of my windowpane. But out of nowhere, a flash of optimism struck through me. I had to stop using laziness as an excuse not to do anything or else nothing in my life would change. While I had accepted eternal singledom as my destiny, I didn't want it. I didn't think I deserved it. If you keep doing what you're doing, you'll keep getting what you're getting. That phrase I had precariously scribbled on a yellow sticky note pinned to the bulletin board in front of my desk suddenly loomed in my mind, reminding me that if I wanted change, I had to change. I wasn't expecting to meet someone that night; I just felt like I had to start saying yes to more things because I never knew what could happen. I took one last shot, headed out the door, and hailed down a taxi with resolve.

I bitterly released the $20 cover from my grasp as I entered the club, swimming through the throng, trying to find two Koreans in a Korean haystack. The fact that I spotted Soomi and Teresa immediately should have been a heads-up of my fortuity of the night. We bopped our heads to the depressingly mediocre beats, trying to convince ourselves we were having fun because this was Circle.

As we moved from section to section looking for a good spot to dance, I naturally scoped the crowd. It was your typical sea of Korean guys, all with the same too cool, too disinterested looks. At one point, I did notice one guy who I genuinely thought was cute, and for a moment, it seemed like he was looking our way, checking us out. At first, I had a tiny bit of hope that maybe he was looking at me, but I erased this delusion immediately because it's so easy to trick yourself into thinking that everyone is looking at you when you want them to. So I did what I usually did, pretended that I hadn't seen him and moved my girls to dance in a different section to see if he'd follow.

Of course he didn't because who the hell did I think I was, this hot girl that all da boiz wanted? I lost him in the crowd anyway when I moved, so whatever. There were a lot more hotter girls in the club anyway. I completely forgot about him and just enjoyed my time with Soomi and Teresa because I really always had fun with them.

We danced with a few guys until we got tired of them, and then Teresa decided we should move elsewhere. I kind of lost them as I tried to follow them through the crowd, so I just kept pushing myself through, determined to meet up with them again, but suddenly, I was standing right in front of the cute guy. We locked eyes, and at that moment, everyone else in the room dissolved into thin air. I always thought the cliche was hilarious, but it was then that I really understood that it was possible to feel like you were the only two people in the room.


He said, with a smile. To me. I smiled and said hi back. And then in a millisecond, we started dancing together so naturally. And then continued to do so for the rest of the night. And not even gross ass-grinding, but slow dancing. I've never slow danced with a guy in my life because I always felt that it was awkward, weird, and unnatural, but here in this moment that felt like just ours, I rested my head on his shoulder and he just held me as we swayed, incongruous to and unaffected by our gyrating surroundings. It strangely felt right, the two of us.

I eventually started getting tired and accepted that this moment had to end some time. Ready to never see him again, I told him I was tired and was going to go. But as I had secretly hoped, he asked if we could hang out sometime, and for the first time, I gave a guy in a club my number.

I left the blissful trance, and life was back to normal again. I sat with Soomi at a table, waiting for Teresa, as we rested our feet sore from dancing all night. After a few minutes, I felt a tap on my shoulder, and it was the cute guy again. He passed me a glass of water and disappeared back into the crowd. I was so taken aback because it was such a thoughtful and considerate gesture, nothing I'd expect from a guy in a club. Even though I had given him my number, in the back of my head, I still thought he was probably just as sleazy as the other guys I'd met in clubs before.

He asked me out that night over text. The next day, I agonized over whether or not I should go. Last night was good. Last night was great. I didn't want to destroy that. I don't know how to be on a date. I'm not normal. He seemed too nice. I'm totally not his type. There's no way he would like someone as loud and crazy as I am.

But my loudness and craziness ended up being two of the things he likes about me. These past two and a half months have been so great that I've started thinking of my life in terms of "before meeting David" and "after meeting David," even though it's the importance of meeting David that I find so hard to convey to others.

I guess how we met shouldn't matter that much because I've met a guy who calls me in the middle of the day just to hear my voice,
who cooks for me,
who takes care of me when I'm PMSing,
who just wants to hold me whenever I'm feeling down,
who holds me tight at night when we sleep,
who rubs my back without complaint,
who makes sure I floss every night,
who puts up with all of my whining,
who calls me every night before he goes to bed to tell me good night,
who tells me how beautiful I am every day,
who knows me better than I know myself.

I've met a guy who loves me.

About a month into our relationship, David says that he has something embarrassing to tell me. He had sought me out at the club that night, but when our eyes first met, for some reason it seemed like time had stood still, and at that moment, he felt like we were the only two people there.

Maybe this is my own romantic comedy after all.

Monday, April 15, 2013

"You look so pretty even when you're not wearing makeup."
I don't understand how my boyfriend always says the right things.

Tuesday, April 9, 2013

Baby steps

I have this terrible habit of starting things that seem fun, but once I get into it, half the time I just don't feel like following through because I've simply become bored of it. Maybe this fickleness seeps into the way I interact with people. I'll get to know someone, but before I've completely gotten to know them, I'll just go off and find someone new to hang out with because I just like being around different people. It energizes me.

I've constantly pined for a boyfriend. My favorite genre of movie is the romantic comedy because all I want in life is love and the laughter and tears that accompany it. But whenever I sit down and really dwell on it, I doubt my ability to really commit to it. The idea of someone who always wants to be with you, who constantly thinks of you, who loves you, frankly, kind of scared me because I didn't know if I would be able to return the favor, with my unstable state of mind.

I told him that I've never been attached to anyone, that I don't know how to be attached to anyone. I only know how to be detached because otherwise, I can't survive the New York jungle and all the flaky people who inhabit it, who come and go in and out of my life as they see fit, not caring about how badly I want them to stay. Those are the only types of people I know, so I've adapted.

An excerpt from our phone call tonight:

Me: I'm on my bed now! It's so comfortable.

Him: I want to be on your bed too.

Me: Because it's so comfortable, right?

Him: No, because that's where you are right now.
I didn't let it show in my voice, but I started crying. I started crying because I wanted to be where he was right now too. I wanted to see him so much.

Then I realized that this is what real "like" is.

Maybe I can learn to commit.

Tuesday, March 26, 2013



I could've prevented a lot of embarrassing moments in my past if this was available for text messages too. Get on it STARTUPS.

Wednesday, March 13, 2013

The kinds of things that excite me these days

The only people I really care to have daily updates about their life are my friends, so I never bother to go out and friend people on Facebook because I just don't care enough. Thus, my Facebook friends list is a compilation of 400+ people who bother to want to stay connected with me. It does hurt when there's someone I want to stalk though and I'm too set in my ways to actually bother to friend them. :|

It's the middle of my last semester of college, and I just received 5 random friend requests today for no reason. They're all people I've met before, so they're not creepy randos or anything, but I can't even remember the last time I even just got 1 friend request, let alone 5, in one day.


((S for sad.))

Thursday, February 28, 2013

Not to be that person, but really guys, idk how yall don't understand why I have low self-esteem when these are the kinds of comments I receive:
  • "You look nothing like your Twitter photo. You actually look good in it."
  • "I used to think she was pretty. Now I think she looks more like you."
  • "Wow, she looks nothing like you! She's so pretty!"
  • "There's actually a difference between the Chinese. For example, the Hong Kong-nese are the ugliest... Constance looks the most Hong Kong-nese."
  • Getting killed in every MFK game that I was included in
Spiral of doom. I gorge on McNuggets every night, depressed about my life, only to get fatter and elicit more of these kinds of comments on me, leading me to gorge on more McNuggets, leading me to get fatter and elicit more of these comments.

I only have the one day, in Korean class, when I was paired up with Yohan for the assignment, and he told me how I looked good with my hair up, and how I look good in yellow, to hold onto as my thread of hope that someone will want me some day.

Friday, January 11, 2013

How to Write

When I go back to read the things I wrote when I was in high school, I am absorbed. I actually was able to relate my life in a way that was meaningful and preserved my emotions in a digital time capsule. Being able to articulate and illustrate exactly how I feel made those feelings tangible because I can feel them again, oozing through the many holes of my female anatomy. Putting those words on a blank sheet of paper created this real essence out of nothingness, and the emotions course through my veins once again.

I seem to have lost my knowledge of that alchemy today though, and I set these goals for myself in an attempt to refresh my memory. Write every week, write every day, write when there’s nothing else to do. But everything I try to write is like a bad magician’s tricks, spilling his trick deck-on-a-string and pulling lint out of a hat instead of the usual rabbit. Just because I have a trick deck doesn’t mean I’ll become Houdini. Just because I’m writing for the sake of writing doesn’t mean everything I write will have something to say. The problem is that I don’t have anything to say. The reason I have such a hard time writing these days is because I can’t find anything to say. Because I don’t feel anything these days.

I’ve gotten to that age where I reflect on my high school days as “when I was young.” And when you’re young, you live. You don’t know what real problems lie ahead, that cable and internet will actually be a huge chunk of your monthly bills, that you have to worry about working out and eating healthily, that finding a job is scary because you’re essentially being asked to find an identity. At 22. That’s not even mid-twenties. Without these thoughts drudging through the muck that your brain has become thanks to the business degree, aptly named B.S, you pursued for the past four years, you can actually live and think about what color you want your new pajama pants to be and hang out with Caleb and them today and Lauren and them tomorrow.

Because I lived, I had things to write about, experiences to share, people to love, feelings to extrapolate, whereas now, I don’t feel like I’m living. The last time I did have something write about, I was in Korea, where I was living everyday as if there was no tomorrow, no end of the semester, no ride back home. After that I was stuck.

Kind of like the way we label the days in our life by grade when we were younger—“when I was in 4th grade,” “that happened in 6th grade,”—I used to bookmark periods of my life by who I liked at the time. That was when I liked Kevin. That was when I liked Tre. Now I just have my years thrown randomly into a manila file. I have 2011 with a sticky-note label “The Year I Studied Abroad” and then everything else.

It’s been three years since I last liked someone. And when I say “like” here, it’s as major as love to me because it’s one step away from love. If I like you, and then you like me, that’s when love can happen. To me, love is shared. The feeling engulfs me as much as it engulfs you because I can’t help it, but because you love me back, you don’t fight it and just let it take you in.

I’m upset at how society today has outworn the word “love” to an old toy that they don’t play with anymore because it’s become uncool. People just think it’s stupid these days to love someone anymore. Still, I want to like someone because then it brings me closer to loving someone, and I don’t know love. I read about love, I watch about love, but I’ve never experienced love.

I can write heart-wrenching novels about the three months, or however long it ever lasts, when I like someone. I can write one sentence about this whole past year: I existed.

That luck I believed in for odd-number years when I was younger, when I was living, I will believe in it again this year. Thirteen is only an unlucky number if you let it be.