Becoming everything.

My humor is always tongue-in-cheek and sarcastic.

So I went ahead and reserved the domain name, becomingeverything.com, as my new blog name moving forward. Just to poke fun at society's expectations that women be everything to everyone, and all. 

Also all-encompassing of my affinity to write about, well, everything. Yay!

Listening to the rain.

Becoming one with the universe.

I've been thinking of writing more publicly again. 

This blog spans years of my life but it never had a concrete goal -- which was and yet wasn't and still isn't the point, when I really think about it.

Aside from the increasingly plentiful, cryptic personal rants as of late -- a must, I've long realized, for me to pump and dump in order to free up limited emotional and mental space for writing and being creative in my day job -- I've noticed patterns in topics that intrigue me. The intellectual in me wants, and needs, a place to explore, analyze, and compartmentalize these topics more thoroughly to my little heart's content.

Most of all, I'm a collector -- of thoughts, ideas, memories, books, things.  

We'll see.

Day 3 - Your parents

Dear Mom and Dad,

I'm sure that, under different circumstances, in a different frame of mind and moment in time, I would write something more positive and substantive and far less abrasive.

But tonight... tonight, I have no other words to say to you, other than the following:

You have been unkind to me these last few months and I still cannot fathom why you refuse to attend my wedding due to "religious" reasons when you have committed some of the biggest sins according to the Bible. I am no longer upset with you, but the distance between us keeps growing and growing, and for some reason, I am okay with that. I am not sad, I am not mad, only deeply disappointed.

I am your daughter, your one and only and oldest one, but there are days where I truly feel like we are complete strangers to each other and I find myself wondering why I still bother.

Find something.

"Find something you're passionate about and stay tremendously interested in it."

- Julia Child

Passion fades, but you can always grow and nurture your curiosities and interests.

Always.

After years of making it a personal and professional goal to be a "writer", I finally consider myself one and it just feels like ... like home. A very happy and comfy one.

Sunday Funday.

Cup of tea; granola waffles with blueberry preserves; mixed berries yogurt; my thoughts, and my laptop.

Writing, and setting my writing schedule and assignment deadlines for the week, is what I'm doing this morning. And I couldn't be happier.

As an amazing 2012 winds down, I find myself reflecting on some important life lessons I've learned this past year...

• Don't just ask - negotiate.
• Say no to things that do not nourish you.  This includes people.
• Take control of your career, because no one else will do it for you.
• Dig deeper until you find or obtain what you want.
• No matter how hectic life can get, always carve out quality time for loved ones.  Always.

Provided the Mayans were wrong, and the world doesn't end on December 31, 2012, I am looking forward to 2013 with every single fiber in my being.  

Hyper with words.

I've long self-diagnosed myself with hypergraphia - the overwhelming, compulsive urge to write. 

My writing patterns as an adult mimic my writing patterns as a child - where I once kept multiple diaries and secret journals with pen and pencil to paper, I now log in and type out my thoughts or advice on various online platforms.  The only difference now is that I no longer look over my shoulders to see whether my mother is reading my musings or not without my permission.  

I'm not deluded enough to believe any of what I write is brilliant - not in the least.  Half of the time, it doesn't even make much sense, and the paragraphs are often riddled with tangential overtures.  To be honest, they're generally mental, internal ramblings that I desperately need to get out of my system.  Sometimes, it's because it's, well, yugen.

But most of the time, I write to capture it all, and to look back on what once was and what could be or what could have been.  Isn't that the goal of many writers and bloggers these days, in this digital age?  To keep record; to keep tabs?  And, more so than to remember, to not be forgotten?

Utterly angry.

I am so angry; angry at someone so close to me.

I have long seen this person as a victim, but clearly, you have made your decision.

Time and time again, you choose to remain where you are - flailing helplessly, when you already know how to swim.

I should give up on you; cut all ties, and say goodbye. But I can't.

I can't because you've always been a part of me.

For better or worse, you will always be a part of me.

30-Day Letter Writing Challenge

Starting today.

(Although, definitely not for the next consecutive 30 days.)


•Day 1 — Your Best Friend

•Day 2 — Your Crush

•Day 3 — Your parents

•Day 4 — Your sibling (or closest relative)

•Day 5 — Your dreams

•Day 6 — A stranger

•Day 7 — Your Ex-boyfriend/girlfriend/love/crush

•Day 8 — Your favorite internet friend

•Day 9 — Someone you wish you could meet

•Day 10 — Someone you don’t talk to as much as you’d like to

•Day 11 — A Deceased person you wish you could talk to

•Day 12 — The person you hate most/caused you a lot of pain

•Day 13 — Someone you wish could forgive you

•Day 14 — Someone you’ve drifted away from

•Day 15 — The person you miss the most

•Day 16 — Someone that’s not in your state/country

•Day 17 — Someone from your childhood

•Day 18 — The person that you wish you could be

•Day 19 — Someone that pesters your mind—good or bad

•Day 20 — The one that broke your heart the hardest

•Day 21 — Someone you judged by their first impression

•Day 22 — Someone you want to give a second chance to

•Day 23 — The last person you kissed

•Day 24 — The person that gave you your favorite memory

•Day 25 — The person you know that is going through the worst of times

•Day 26 — The last person you made a pinky promise to

•Day 27 — The friendliest person you knew for only one day

•Day 28 — Someone that changed your life

•Day 29 — The person that you want tell everything to, but too afraid to

•Day 30 — Your reflection in the mirror

10 steps to becoming a better writer.

Five of which are outlined below:

1. Write.
2. Write more.
3. Write even more.
4. Write even more than that.
5. Write when you don’t want to.

The rest can be found here.

Living your strongest and happiest life.

I've found that the universe always has an uncanny way of leaving you little hints of what's to come; always showing you that you are on the right (or wrong!) path, with small signs here and there to guide you along the way.

All you have to do, is take notice, and listen; to be prepared and armed with a plan, ready for action.

Not too long after I wrote about my resolve to be (and become, still) a happier person a few days ago, I received in my inbox an interesting newletter article from SUCCESS Magazine titled, "Come on and get happy."

*looks around*.

*points to self*.

Wait. Who should be getting (more) happy, me?

Oh, yeah. Me.

The article referred to a study conducted by the National Bureau of Economic Research, where research suggested that life satisfaction, particularly among women, is declining. Data pulled from the study, which involved over 45,000 women over a period of 40 years, pointed to two things: that not only are we less happy than our male counterparts, but that we are also gradually becoming less and less happy, period.

I was both relieved, yet appalled when I read this. Relieved because it feels good not to be alone in my discontent, but completely appalled because we aren't the helpless, passive, or reactive sex that society seems to (still) make us out to be. We can totally do something about this. We can actively and fully regain and embrace our power to be happy.

But perhaps the bigger question on everyone's mind is, how?

I then found out about Marcus Buckingham, a New York Times bestselling author, motivational speaker, and all-around personal strengths expert, who tackled the subject of women's happiness in his book, Find Your Strongest Life: What the Happiest and Most Successful Women Do Differently. According to him, the happiest and most successful women of our time exhibited certain similarities, such as:

• focusing their lives on their best moments;
• letting go of what doesn't strengthen them;
• and, perhaps the most important one of all to me, accepting who they are.

More specifically, he urges women to explore the role they were born to play -- and then play it well.

(To find out your role, you can take his quiz at StrongLifeTest.com, which gives you a number of different hypothetical situations, with a variety of possible decision choices for each. The choice you make in each situation then indicates your interests, strengths, and the corresponding role that's likely to be most fulfilling for you.)

"Knowing your role is like having a compass providing direction on where to find happiness," he says. "The test provides a clear distinction of your biggest strength and suggests career moves that match those strengths."

Now, as we all know, women play a multitude of roles these days, from mothers, daughters, and sisters, to executives, consultants, or assistants. But I think Buckingham's on to something here, and I'm just mad he jumped on it before I (or anyone else) did.

After taking the quiz a few times over the past few days, and consistently scoring the "Creator" role each and every time, I've realized that I am at my best -- and, ultimately, happiest -- when I am developing new content, writing or blogging, brainstorming ideas or implementing new systems, or even just randomly doodling on the side of my notebook during meetings.

And although this realization was more of a reaffirmation of my existing strengths versus a more epic A-HA! moment of utter clarity, I took this as a good sign that I am doing something right; that even though my current job is nowhere near what I envision myself doing down the line, "for the rest of my life", at least I am creating, and finding, opportunities for myself to get to that point, one day.

And, you better believe I will appreciate it so much more when I do.

What kind of writer.

"THE WOMAN ASKED me what kind of writers I’m looking for. I don’t remember what I told her. This is what I wish I’d said: I’m looking for a writer who doesn’t know where the sentence is leading her; a writer who starts with her obsessions and whose heart is bursting with love; a writer sly enough to give the slip to her secret police, the ones who know her so well, the ones with the power to accuse and condemn in the blink of an eye. It’s all right that she doesn’t know what she’s thinking until she writes it, as if the words already exist somewhere and draw her to them. She may not know how she got there, but she knows when she’s arrived."

Read more beautifully written, enlightening thoughts at Sy Safransky's Notebook (June 2011, Issue 426).

I Wrote This For You.

Know someone as much as you can. Hold onto the moments that define them. Then when their body leaves, they won’t.

...

You could get on my motorbike and we could drive to a lake. We could talk about what it means to be you, what it means to be me, what it means to love and what it means to be us. And in 20 years' time, we could look back on this day and know that we meant what we said.

...

You remember and dwell on all the things you've lost and ignore all the things you haven't. Because your scars are like stars. Yet the night stays perfectly black.

...

Prose from an old favorite, I Wrote This For You, that I was all too happy to rediscover recently, thanks to my friend V.

Three years ago.

It's been three years since I graduated college but oh how I wish this author's beautiful words were part of my commencement speech, then. Reading the full text moved me to tears as I read and reread certain passages, over and over and over again.

Here's to hoping her words inspire you, too.

***

There’s a line by the Italian writer Carlo Levi that I think is apt here: “The future has an ancient heart.” I love it because it expresses with such grace and economy what is certainly true—that who we become is born of who we most primitively are; that we both know and cannot possibly know what it is we’ve yet to make manifest in our lives.

...

I’m here to tell you it’s okay to travel by foot. In fact, I recommend it. There is so much ahead that’s worth seeing; so much behind you can’t identify at top speed. Your teacher is correct: You’re going to be all right. And you’re going to be all right not because you majored in English or didn’t and not because you plan to apply to law school or don’t, but because all right is almost always where we eventually land, even if we fuck up entirely along the way.

...

You have to do what you have to do. You can’t go to law school if you don’t have any interest in being a lawyer. You can’t take a class if taking a class feels like it’s going to kill you. Faking it never works. If you don’t believe me, read Richard Wright. Read Charlotte Brontë. Read Joy Harjo. Read William Trevor. Read the entire Western canon. Or just close your eyes and remember everything you already know. Let whatever mysterious starlight that guided you this far, guide you onward into whatever crazy beauty awaits. Trust that all you learned during your college years was worth learning, no matter what answer you have or do not have about what use it is. Know that all those stories and poems and plays and novels are a part of you now and that they are bigger than you and they will always be.

...

You don’t have to get a job that makes others feel comfortable about what they perceive as your success. You don’t have to explain what you plan to do with your life. You don’t have to justify your education by demonstrating its financial rewards. You don’t have to maintain an impeccable credit score. Anyone who expects you to do any of those things has no sense of history or economics or science or the arts.

...

When I say you don’t have to explain what you’re going to do with your life I’m not suggesting you lounge around whining about how difficult it is. I’m suggesting you apply yourself with some serious motherfuck-i-tude in directions for which we have no accurate measurement. I’m talking about work. And love.

...

The most terrible and beautiful and interesting things happen in a life. For some of you, those things have already happened. Whatever happens to you belongs to you. Make it yours. Feed it to yourself even if it feels impossible to swallow. Let it nurture you, because it will.

I have learned this over and over and over again.

...

I hope you will be surprised and knowing at once. I hope you’ll always have love. I hope you’ll have days of ease and a good sense of humor. I hope one of you really will bake me a pie (banana cream, please). I hope when people ask what you’re going to do with your English and/or creative writing degree you’ll say: Continue my bookish examination of the contradictions and complexities of human motivation and desire; or maybe just: Carry it with me, as I do everything that matters. And then smile very serenely until they say oh.

...

Dear Sugar on The Rumpus, you're my ultimate new girl crush.

Hustler.

I looked at my calendar the other day, and something in me snapped when I realized that my first graduate class is only a mere few months away. Only a few more months to squeeze in as much volunteer and freelance work as I can before I have absolutely no semblance of a social life come August since I will be working and schoolin' at the same time.

Currently trying to write up a 75-word bio for my new DC style column, and I am completely stumped. I've always hated writing about myself, mainly because I'd like to think that I am one of those people who can't be properly summed in a few words, or a short paragraph... (And, yes, I'm being facetious, stop taking things so seriously.)

In any case, can I just write "HUSTLER" somewhere in there and get it over with? Sigh.

On reading and writing like you're breathing and living.

"I can never read all the books I want; I can never be all the people I want and live all the lives I want. I can never train myself in all the skills I want. And why do I want? I want to live and feel all the shades, tones and variations of mental and physical experience possible in life. And I am horribly limited."

"Let me live, love and say it well in good sentences."

"And by the way, everything in life is writable about if you have the outgoing guts to do it, and the imagination to improvise. The worst enemy to creativity is self-doubt."

- Sylvia Plath

Flowers on Friday.

One of my favorite things to do when visiting my parents is admiring my father's latest plants or flowers. The man is truly talented, born with a magical green thumb that I never inherited.

Those pretty peach blossoms? They were completely dry, and inevitably dying the last time I saw them. But somehow my father has breathed life into them once again, their petals now blushing such a healthy, pretty pink hue.

...

...

Manfriend has had some African violets sitting on the kitchen window sill for quite some time now, a small gift received years ago from a friend and coworker. I noticed nothing but leaves in its pot the first time I laid eyes on it. And so I started to give the flowers more water to drink, and I turn their faces towards the warmth of the sun every morning. I sing them love songs when I wash the dishes in the evenings.

Yesterday, we took a good look at them. Surprised, we loudly marveled at how deeply colorful and bountiful they have become in such a short amount of time.

In the long run, it's amazing how the little things can make all the difference.

...

...

He recently gave me some beautiful orchids; one of my favorites, to care for and call my own. But a single branch with blooming buds and flowers sadly did not survive the ride home, breaking off, landing softly and solemnly into the palm of my hands as soon as I unwrapped the plastic cover that was supposed to protect it.

Plants are like people, they react to love and attention, the lover simply said. Be patient. It'll be just fine as long as we look after it. And with that he tenderly examined the plant and carefully felt its soil. It has become our little child. I've become obsessed with not letting it die.

I can't let it die. I won't let it.

...

...

And my mother. After all these years, my mother still calls me ma plus belle des fleurs de tout le monde; her prettiest of all the flowers in all of the world.

...

"Let us be grateful to people who make us happy, they are the charming gardeners who make our souls blossom."

–Marcel Proust

Ai-ai-gasa.

via

I thought of my aunt today. My mother's sister, they could not be more different than night and day. I thought of her today; of how the last time we spoke, she held the phone to the wind, letting me hear the sound of the ocean waves crashing onto the shore. She was on vacation with her son and husband, their first trip together as a family in nearly a decade. I have to be really careful now, careful to never mention the words "Florida" and "Daytona Beach" so carelessly around my mother, who is still hurting, never to fully recover from her loss.

We lost my aunt to the sea that year. Painfully. Very unexpectedly. My cousin was eight at the time, and I always wonder, and pray, that he isn't still traumatized by the experience. He is such a courageous little boy. He has grown up to be such a little gentleman. I cried and held him when he recounted the story no one wanted to hear but needed to know.

I couldn't stop crying at her funeral. It was the first time I had lost someone so close to me, someone whom I cared for and loved and cherished and appreciated, with all my heart and soul. We had our differences, but what difference does it make when you don't get to hold them close anymore?

Ai-ai-gasa. Love-love-umbrella. While we carve out hearts and initials on trees, the Japanese declare their love on umbrellas. Umbrellas will shield you from the sun and keep you warm and dry from the rain. Rain or shine, they will save you when you need it the most.

You gave me so much when you were still in this life, Co Trang. I wish we were all there to protect you that day.

As Rihanna says, to let you stand under my umbrella.

Writing on Wednesdays.

I have a couple of deadlines coming up that require me to write rather extensively -- and, yet, here I am, procrastinating, writing on my blog instead, as an excuse to get the creative juices flowing. I definitely have my priorities straight, don't I?

Considering my writing group meets on Wednesdays, I only see it fit that I dedicate this day to writing. I write regularly -- for work, and for professional and entrepreneurial blogs as well -- but I have not written something personal or poignant in a while. I am tempted to blame it on lack of time, but perhaps the truth rests more between a lack of confidence in my writing abilities, and a lack of want to share.

First personal writing project: a handwritten letter to Manfriend, while he is traveling on business. He gifted me a box of love letters, written by famous names such as Beethoven and Napoleon to their amours, this past Valentine's Day. I'll consider that my inspiration to leave behind a written (physical, versus digital) legacy.

"Creative Types: Embrace Chaos" | Malcolm Gladwell

Recorded December 16, 2010
Interviewed by Max Miller
Directed by Jonathan Fowler
Produced by Elizabeth Rodd

---

Question: What advice do you have for aspiring writers?

Malcolm Gladwell: This I think is true, not just of writers, but of anyone who is in a creative space, that you have to reverse the normal human tendency, which is to edit. So a lot of... and occasionally this is, I think, a source of a great deal of frustration that exists between people in creative and non-creative universes, which is that creative people I think are trying to... their lives and their brains, their brains are messy. Their imaginations are messy. Why, because they don’t want to throw anything out. Why don’t they want to throw anything out? Because they believe on some level that there is always something of interest or value in whatever they encounter. They know enough about how mysterious and serendipitous and unpredictable the creative process is that they realize that it’s dangerous to kind of make too hasty a judgment about the value of anything that they come across.

People in non-creative universes have exactly the opposite relationship to information—or to experiences is a better way of putting it. They’ll see something and they’ll say "Is it relevant to what I'm doing?" And if it’s not they should push it aside and focus on what they’re kind of task is. If you're at Proctor & Gamble and you’re the head of Ivory soap you’re job is to sell more soap and if you get distracted by some interesting, but ultimately marginal subsidiary issue you won’t sell as much soap. And that is an extreme example, but that's a world that demands focus. If you’re a surgeon and you’re operating you cannot let your imagination wander about some idiosyncrasy of the operation. You have to kind of zero in. So I think that is a kind of... That embracing of messiness and understanding its contribution to the creative process is something that writers and creative types, artists, whatever have got to cultivate, have to learn to be comfortable with. Because it goes against a lot of our kind of instincts and training as kind of educated people.

---

Hear more ideas, and the full interview, here.

Drowning in a sea of words, trying to find the right ones.

After idly sitting on my statement of purpose for graduate school for a while now (and wanting to start from scratch versus pulling various paragraphs from various drafts previously intended for law school), I finally started tackling the beginnings of a new personal statement during some downtime at work earlier last week.

That's the hardest and most daunting part about writing, really (and anything else, too, for that matter) -- forcing yourself to take the first steps, armed with nothing more but some vague ideas, great hopes, and a good feeling.

And even if you have absolutely no idea where it will lead you, in the long run, at least you are moving forward. Not just floating, but swimming towards the shore.