I didn’t really want to start a blog in the “middle”. It’s a bit like starting a book in the middle – you enter, take a few pages to get your bearings, and decide if you want to restart at the beginning and find out the whole story. However, there’s no beginning here, and no formed direction yet. A little like my entire life right now. What better way to get a hold of where I’m going by taking stock of my choices in words? I’m going to resist the urge to fill in all the back-story right away, and try to stick to what’s on my mind. However, I only have marginal success in achieving that in real life, nevermind in print.
Things I think about a lot and therefore may decide to write about over time:
- Vault 31 – our 10+ year horizon “project house”/lifestyle/source of impending continuous marital dissent
- Crafting – knitting, sewing, building things that are hilarious, yet completely un-sellable due to the inadequate potential compensation for time and materials.
- Cooking and Eating (and Fitness) – my lifelong dilemma about eating “healthy” yet refusing to give up things that are delicious. “Healthy” usually loses out. I also have a bit of a focus on the cultural implications that are imposed upon us by things being labeled as “healthy”.
- Music – these days, it’s mostly nostalgic waxing about someone else’s musical genius. That, and a lot of karaoke.
- Career – this never-ending search for a new career to “define me”, and/or the grand decision of whether or not the role of my new career is to define me or just to provide me with the capital and moderate purpose to sustain the rest of my interests.
And of course, being a “bad Asian” – I can’t be the only one a little lost in the Asian diaspora. I am 30-something and marginally living up to the Asian stereotype largely misunderstood by media and loosely defined by the movie the Joy Luck Club. I spent so many years growing up largely white-identified and wishing people wouldn’t see me through Joy Luck glasses. Yet, when I finally married Soy Sauce guy (see: Joy Luck Club movie) I kept my last name, fearing that it would strip me of the Asian identity that I had taken so many years to develop.
So here it is. The first steps of my chronicles as a Bad Asian. My mom always thought I was the “bad child” anyways.