FUCK YOU, MOSQUITOS

It's like 50 degrees here. Why are you mother fuckers still around, fucking up my skin?

gravity

Somtimes you never really understand the lyrics to a song until you're going through the same shit yourself.

This is Sara Bareilles' "Gravity."

Something always brings me back to you
It never takes too long
No matter what I say or do
I still feel you here 'til the moment I'm gone

You hold me without touch
You keep me without chains
I never wanted anything so much
Than to drown in your love and not feel your rain

Set me free, leave me be
I don't wanna fall another moment into your gravity
Here I am and I stand so tall
I'm just the way I'm supposed to be
But you're on to me and all over me

You loved me 'cause I'm fragile
When I thought that I was strong
But you touch me for a little while
And all my fragile strength is gone

I live here on my knees
As I try to make you see
That you're everything I think I need
Here on the ground

But you're neither friend nor foe
Though I can't seem to let you go
The one thing that I still know
Is that you're keeping me down
You're keeping me down

You're on to me, on to me and all over
Something always brings me back to you
It never takes too long

for now

I am unemployed.
I am single.
I am poor and unaccomplished.

But I am still young. I am still ambitious. I am still determined.

I have hope that I someday I won't have to "keep my chin up" and "stay positive." I won't have to create my own happiness because it will have found me on its own.

(it's all only for now)

so cute.

NEW YORK

Pure Poetry:

In New York,
Concrete jungle where dreams are made of,
There's nothing you can’t do,
Now you’re in New York,
These streets will make you feel brand new,
The lights will inspire you,
Lets hear it for New York, New York, New York

nine eleven

“Time is passing. Yet, for the United States of America,
there will be no forgetting September the 11th.
We will remember every rescuer who died in honor.
We will remember every family that lives in grief.
We will remember the fire and ash, the last phone calls,
the funerals of the children.”
–George W. Bush

It is on only the rarest of occasions that I quote him.

I don't usually fancy myself as a New Yorker, but every September 11 since 2005, I have found myself grow increasingly attached to this land of sky scrapers and man-made parks. 9/11 showed us the duality of human nature: we are capable of the most heinous of acts, and yet also capable of such humanity and compassion as that which we saw on the day those planes hit the twin towers.

adventures in food

The only thing better than having people visit me in NYC is taking these people around and showing them how New Yorkers do food. It might seem daunting to the faint-hearted, but totally worth all the indigestion and heartburn in the world. Once you get past the pangs of constant digestive discomfort, you will find that you are more resilient than you thought... and that they make Tums and elastic waistbands for a reason.

Exhibit A (above) a Vietnamese sandwich--aka a Bouguette--aka the most delicious sandwich you'll ever eat.. ever, conststing of layers of cucumbers, pickled diakons, jalapenos, and a mystery meat that goes by the name of "terrine." In my life, I follow the motto of the wise Andrew Zimmern: "If it looks good, eat it."
The Bouguette stand, located on St. Mark's, is reminiscent of the outdoor food vendors of actual Asia minus all the smelly, stray dogs. Notice my two friends, full and content... and embarrassed because I'm taking an insane amount of pictures.

Who wants bubble tea?
I fuckin' do! Who'd want tea with the Queen when you can have BUBBLE TEA with Ten Ren? Tapioca Pearls so sweet, nestled in a frothy bed of taro milk tea.

Next stop, New Yeah Shanghai in Chinatown. And yes, it tasted just as good as it looks.

The waiters were nice during the minuscule moments that I actually understood them, apparently the salted eel is "deee-rishous." Must make a mental note of that one! yeeah!


Shame on me for eating half of the goddamn tub before I managed to get a good picture. That's how tasty it is, ladies and gentlemen.

New day, new menu. What are these people waiting in line so anxiously for? Beyonce concert tickets? SNL showing? No, no, no. Something much better..
SHAKE SHACK! The charm lies in the fact that it's located in the middle of a beloved NYC park and that you can get smashed outdoors. Shackmeister is on tap and Fawn is in the B-line. Only 45 more minutes of waiting to go.

To the left is your basic "ShackBurger," juicy beef patties, tomatoes, onions, cheese, and shack sauce embraced by a warm potato bun. To the right is your "'Shroom Burger," portabella mushroom dipped in cheese, battered, then deep fried. I would turn vegetarian for this burger, and that's saying a lot. The middle are your essential cheese fries. They are krinkle cut and crispy as hell. You'll be temped to get your own, but just take it easy and share... you need to save room for custard.
Mint's 'Shroom Burger ante first bite. Cheese= muenster and chedder. Fawn= drooling.
Shack Burger ante bite. Can't believe I managed to stop stuffing my face for even a second to take this picture. It is a huge feat, believe you me.
I told you there'd be frozen custard. Each day has a new flavor: corn, coconut thyme, and dark and stormy to name a few. This time, it's just chocolate. Boring? maybe. Delicious? Y-E-S.
I use to live a block away from this place on First ave and 14th st.. Only positive thing about moving away: losing weight. Artichoke Pizza has enough standing space for about 3 and a half people, hence the line oozing out of the restaurant. Your quintessential "hole-in-wall" pizza joint indeed.
The crab pizza which I am impartial to due to my impartial-ness to seafood.
and the star of the show: ARTICHOKE Pizza. Spinach artichoke and cheezy goodness all gooped onto a crispy piece of dough. My lame picture does it no justice, but I'm not here for food porn purposes anyway. Note my friend Mint in the background in my lame attempt to be artsy. Fail.
This is Cafetasia (8th and University). Dislike the name and the trendy decor (looks like Hogwarts up in there with all the plastic floating candles), but the food is decent and the waiters are actually Thai. One of the better Thai food places in NYC, I must say. My friends look really happy because I hooked them up with some free Thai Ice Tea. It pays to be bilingual, thank you very much.
Whoever said Magnolia cupcakes are overrated have never had them put in the fridge to moisten overnight. The butter cream frosting is the perfect companion to the jasmine fragrant-ed cake. Located West Village (aka my future home).

The next series of pictures are of cupcakes as well, although they might not look like it. I hate it when pastries try to be something they're not. Taken at the Chelsea Market
Why does this burger taste like a cake? You're confusing me. Why don't you just decon already.
no. no. NO!
This is eerily realistic and reminds me of my cousin's old puppy Lucky. I can't possibly eat you, Lucky. Those eyes... so haunting. *shudder*
Okay, well I'd hella eat these cookies. Everyone who knows me, knows that I'd purchase anything with a penguin on it. I have issues.
Barnyard cookies? mmmmmmm yum???
Stand on University and 8th. Drawn by the fact that they have a BFF special (burgers and fries forever). How could I NOT go in?

Roasted Marshmallow Shake=nummy. Roasted Marshmallow Shake + Rum= Hell to the YEAH!

And now we end the blog in the same fashion that we end most nights. At CHICKEN AND RICE on 53rd and 6th Ave. 6 dollars for a poo poo platter of indistinguishable meat on saffron rice topped off by a conspicuous "white sauce." And of course, there is a line here too.

More adventures to be had in NYC, which for me, stands for Now You Chow! Until hunger strikes again!

pedestrian crossing

I got hit by a car yesterday and came out of it relatively unscathed. I mean, bruises and sore skeleton aside, I am basically okay. After the initial shock of "holy shit I just got hit by a green Sienna" subsided, I grabbed my bag off the pavement, made sure I wasn't bleeding, and asked the blond 30-something for her contact information. All the while, my earphones were still in my ears sans ipod on the other end. Someone found it and returned it to me. "It still works.. I checked," he said.

I don't know whether I'm just a magnet for these unfortunate circumstances or if I'm just a terrible New Yorker. I've been mugged in Chinatown, spat on by a homeless man, and harassed by potheads. So it's obvious why being hit by a car came to me as no surprise. I just thought it'd be a yellow cab. huh.

This city has thrown a lot at me and I just wanted to say "bring it on, bitch." I will kill you with kindness. No concrete city is going to change me.

I realize that as cliche as it sounds, whatever doesn't kill you really does only make you stronger and right now.. I feel like Superman.

l-o-v-e

It is never easy to write about love. It is an emotion that everyone knows, and yet no one really understands what it is.

I once asked a friend if he had ever been in love. He answers, "I was never naive enough to confuse infatuation for something else." I took a second to think of a good retort since he had basically just called me naive. I put my hand on his shoulder and told him he was being too cynical: "you need to take a cue from your romantic little friend, moi."

He shook his head, "you are not the romantic, I am. I believe people only really fall in love once... first and last love. When I finally find that person, I will never let her go."


But what if she doesn't want to stay?..........................

The Big Apple took a Bite out of Me

I was crossing the street, and a fucking bike-rider-man-thing was riding his bike and heading straight towards me. Even from far away, I could see that he was aiming for me. I turned right, he went right. Left, left.

He smiles, an evil, penetrating smile while I imagined a bloodied, lifeless Fawny laying on the concrete-- crowds stepping over and around me to get to the other side of Park Ave. Once he crosses the intersection, I freeze in place, close my eyes, like Hiro fuckin' Nakamura from Heroes.

Then this douche misses me by a millimeter, barely scraping the hairs on my arm before he quickly turns and yells out, "psyche!!"

FUCK YOU!!!!!!!!! I hate New Yorkers.

ignorant doorman/racist son of a bitch

I know it's easy to get Asians all mixed up with one another, as our defining characteristics, or lack thereof, are kind of similar. We have the slanty almond eyes, jet black hair, small stature, and acute sense of style (just kidding.. that last one only pertains to yours truly).

I came into work last week and the Doorman, I think his name is Rich or Richard or something to that degree, sees me and calls up to Kimi per the usual. I sit in the stained red couch, waiting to hear "Kimi, we've got Fawn here for you," but instead it's "Kimi, we've got Grace here." Who the FUCK is Grace? Anyway, I ignored it.

Two days later, I met Grace. Fawn sits in dining room, doorbell rings, enter fobby-as-hell-sneakers-with-a-long-skirt-GRACE. She is a NYU Finance Grad student-- good for her, but she is not me! She continues to call me "Fong" all day and I continue to mentally judge her for either one of two things 1. Her unibrow 2. Her working for Kimi unpaid.

The next day, another strange thing happened. I come in to work. *ring*ring* "Kimi, Yang Yi is here to see you." How many Asians does this one Central Park white lady employ. One more of us and she can open her own damn sweatshop and put Nike to shame.

Anyway, back to the point. Why don't these doormen know the difference between me and these hoebags? They see me EVERYDAY. I can tell them apart even though they're all overweight white males with a Queens accent, wearing the same uniforms, and touting the same "we talk about Obama which makes us smart" bull shit.

Ok. the end. (before I start getting hate comments from doormen... or Grace)

Fishbowls and Astronauts

When I was younger, I wanted to be an astronaut... then a doctor... then a teacher... then a figure skater. When I was 12, I finally settled on becoming an actor slash singer. Then, I realized you needed talent for that, and reverted to "Account Manager or Brand Manager at one of the big 5 Ad Agencies in the World." That dream stuck, but was never realized.

I think back on my childhood and can recall, even down to the minutest details, the lengths at which my parents nutured my naive ambitions.

They really believed I was going to be some prodigious child- the first 9 year old to land on the moon, composing etudes and minuets between launches or maybe the female counterpart of Dr. Doogie Howser minus the shitty name and doofy haircut. I was going places, or so they thought.. hoped.

My mom believed in me so much that she sent me to space camp; made me an astronaut costume, crafted from an old, unwashed fishbowl and bubble wrap; and bought me a top of the line Galileo telescope with retractable capabilties.

Then I turned 10 and all I wanted was to play my music and sing. It didn't matter that I sounded like William Hung or that the only song I knew how to play on the piano was an especially archaic version of "Happy Birthday". My sweet immigrant parents sang along and cooed, "what a natural!"

Investment after investment, I never became anything. I never play the piano anymore after 10 years of lessons, my Astrospace stuff is somewhere in the basement either collecting dust or growing mold, and my guitar is stringless laying atop an old fishbowl helmet in the garage.

Coming to NYU was my last chance to prove myself-- to become my parents' child. When I was in school, I kept telling myself "I'm going to be someone, I'm going to be known, I'm going to do something worthwhile." And still, all I'm doing is dreaming. Not everyone's child is destined to be President, win an Oscar, and go into space... I mean, how many extraordinary people can exist in the world at one time?

As I get older, I realize that I no longer have the luxury to change my mind on a whim, to decide that instead of collecting fossils in South America, I'd rather be singing alongside Ben Gibbard at the Wiltern. At what age do you have to stop dreaming about your future and start living it?

Being in love

A friend once told me love was selfish. I didn't believe him then and I never will.

I know that when I fall, I tend to fall hard. I get screwed over and over, and yet jaded I am not. I don't believe that love is based on circumstance or sacrifices. To me, it seems counterintuitive to think that way-- to think that reason has to give into love or vice versa. I believe that when you're in love, there is no internal battle-- everything is as clear as day.

I love thee to the level of everyday’s

Most quiet need, by sun and candle-light.

I love thee freely, as men strive for Right;

I love thee purely, as they turn from Praise.

I love thee with the passion put to use

In my old griefs, and with my childhood’s faith.

-Elizabeth Barrett Browning

How do I love thee? (L. 5–10)

me. sort of..

I thought I should write something interesting for my first entry at Blogger, but all I can think about is how nice it is outside and how I'm sitting here writing an entry instead of roaming with the geese in Nowheresville, New York.

Anyhow...
A little about me: I am a New York City girl, a Southern California native, but ultimately the ultimate city girl. I moved from So Cal about 4 years ago to become a pretentious NYU undergrad. Now, 4 years later, I've got a bachelor's degree and no career prospects. I have two jobs, both of which are completely pointless and getting me nowhere.

I have a soon-to-be-doctor-but-is-still-just-a-med-student-for-now boyfriend who lives about 30 minutes north of the city in a place I like to call "hell" (just some of the time). I'm here now actually, which should explain why this entry sounds so bitter.

I am Asian. I'm not sure how important that is for you to know, but if College Board/ Univ. Admissions/ and the WalMart Survey wants to know that I'm Asian, I'm sure you do too.

I like to eat. I don't like writing about food. I just eat it. Period. Luckily, I've got one of those crazy Asian metabolisms that keeps me ... relatively thin.

Most people know I don't like to exercise, but I do like to walk... everywhere. I walk without listening to music or pod casts so that the voices in my head can come in clearer. I think a lot. About nonsensical things. This is why I have a blog.

It is the outlet for all my inane thoughts.