Disappointment

There is some closure to the anxiety and frustration I’ve been having due to my job searching. In particular, I’ve been waiting to hear back from two companies regarding possibly joining their Training and Development teams. This week, I’ve waited with baited breath, and finally I have my answers. I wish it were great news. Unfortunately life is not a series of granted wishes.

Very briefly let me walk you thru the rollercoaster ride of emotions I have gone thru lately. Company A, a Fortune 500 company, called me yesterday (after almost 3 months, several rounds of interviews, an hour long presentation I staged for their management team, and beating out 75 other applicants). They offered me a job but had to later retract the offer because of some legal technicalities. It’s a long story but suffice it to say they did their best, I did my best, but a resolution could not be met. Company B, a large private institution in L.A., called me today (this after 8 weeks of interviews – phone, face-to-face, and panel – as well as a two-hour demo I had to present, and being one of the two final contenders). Their news was I had come in second. Meaning they had offered someone who had more years of experience the job BUT if he declined or did not make it thru their background and reference checks, they would offer it to me.

A small part of me is happy and proud that I had made it thru the whole “selection process circus” but a larger part of me is disconcerted and crestfallen that I did not get the job. For those who know me well, you would know that I am extremely competitive and confident, and as a result I do not take rejection and defeat well. It’s been hard for me the last few days to sit and wait for the news and even tougher the last few hours to come to grips with the results.

I guess it’s easy to wallow in self-pity and to feel a strong sense of dejection over not coming out on top. After all, second place, according to some, is first place among the losers. I could choose to rant about unfairness of circumstance and to bemoan how I was robbed of an opportunity that should have been mine. I can spend the next few days blaming others, myself, fate and even God. Or I could just curl up in a corner and give up.

Tempting? Yes, it is. But then again, what would be the point of this post if I had taken one of those easy ways out? How could I face my parents and the rest of my family after they had shown such an awesome amount of support and encouragement towards me? How could I face God knowing that my faith was so weak and shallow that after being tested I automatically give up? And most of all, how could I live with myself knowing that I couldn’t get up and brush myself off after a fall?

And so, it's back on the saddle again for me. Hopefully now better, wiser and more prepared.

A post about not posting ...

Pardon the fact that I have not posted anything lately. I have been going thru some issues, mainly pertaining to a change in career, that has not given me much time to update my blog. I have plenty to narrate but am choosing not to for several reasons. Mainly since I don’t want to presume anything nor do I want to jinx my chances. Suffice it to say, these days, I am quite anxious and my faith is truly being tested. Oh -- and that post I wrote a few days ago, the one where I aim to practice more positive thinking, well, that’s another test I’m having to face these days too. I’ll be posting soon – once things become a little less uncertain and when hopefully I’ll have more upbeat news to share. Till then.

One of the many reasons I married this guy ...

Every night, after doing everything that needs to be done and before drifting off to sleep, Jojo and I spend our last few awake moments talking. We talk about what happened during the day, about what we have planned for tomorrow, about things to look forward to for the weekend, and any thing that comes to mind. Nothing existential – just every day conversation.

Last night was no different. Jojo was telling me about his lunch with some friends from work and I was telling him about a presentation I was working on. After a pause, Jojo starts talking in a silly robot-like voice. He was doing an imitation of someone he knew from somewhere. He was actually pretty good.

I know it sounds inane but I started laughing. Then he started laughing. I laughed harder, then he laughed harder. We’re both doubled over with laughter. Pretty soon the laughing has escalated to almost hysterical guffaws and we’re both literally gasping for air. It’s strange cause come to think of it, it wasn’t THAT funny. But you know how you get when you just can’t stop laughing? We were exactly like that – we couldn’t stop laughing. The more we tried to suppress the laughing, the worse it got. We’d look at each other and a giggle would break out, our shoulders would start to shake, we’d start with a chuckle and all hell would break lose again.

We both had to sit up to catch our breath, turn on the lights to find the tissue box and wipe our tears from all that laughing. Seriously, you’d think we just won the Mega Lotto grand prize. It wasn’t even about the silly robot-voice anymore. We were laughing at each other and at ourselves. Every time I’d stop, or he’d stop, the other’s laughter was too contagious and we’d be laughing all over again. This went on for maybe a good 15 minutes. Later on when we both finally got a grip and settled ourselves, we had to agree that was the best laugh we’ve had in a while. (Ever had that, a really, really good laugh?).

Anyway, the point is, Jojo and I may have our differences and we don’t always see eye to eye. We may have varied interests and sometimes things are not always perfect between us. But one thing I know is for sure, he has been and will always be the one who makes me laugh.

Positive thinking

I had an unplanned haircut yesterday at a local salon on Larchmont Street. If you knew me at all, you would know that it isn’t like me to, spur of the moment, get my hair cut, especially at an unknown salon with a hairdresser who had too many body piercings for me to count. But since I had over an hour to kill, waiting for Jojo, I thought, “why not”. Luckily this did not turn out to be one of those “Oh-god-what-was-I-thinking” moments. I guess it’s hard to go wrong when you’ve had pretty much the same hair style since college (in my defense, the length of my hair does vary and I did go thru the highlights/colored hair phase!).

In other news, my job searching is going ok. I’ve completed a 4th interview with company A and am looking forward to a 4th interview with company B this Friday. Amazing how much time has passed since I first submitted my resume to both these companies and how much time they have taken to get me this far! I’m still keeping my options open and am still looking at other opportunities – but I’m getting a bit anxious too.

On a personal level, I am choosing to practice more positive thinking. Not that this is such a profound statement nor is it an innovative concept. But it is nonetheless a huge step for a pragmatic realist such as myself. (Notice how I used the politically-correct phrase “pragmatic realist” – other more apt terms to describe me have included “negative thinker”, “active worrier”, and “anxious pessimist”).

Here’s my rationale. Optimistic thinking will allow me to radiate a more positive aura (and of course good vibes beget good tides!). Plus, positive thinking is good for me mentally, emotionally and physically – this will certainly relieve the stress I’ve been placing on myself and inevitably on my hubby too. And since my negative thinking has not really done me any good, maybe I should try the flip side. Also my mom keeps telling me that “worrying is an insult to God” and I wouldn’t want to do that!

So, instead of focusing on the glass being half empty, I’m going to TRY and see every situation as glasses being half full (operative word is “TRY” – since you can’t change behaviors overnight!).

Here’s my first shot at being more positive. Yesterday, as a favor to our Office Manager, I had agreed that on my way to work this morning I would drive over to our printing vendor to pick up our company letterheads and stationery. No big deal. But this morning, my hubby and I were running very late, traffic was exceptionally horrible, and the printer’s was 3-4 miles out of the way. Not to mention the fact that I had to park almost three blocks away AND had no coins for the parking meter. I debated making a run for the printers, picking up the stuff and dashing back to my car. But having had a recent run-in with parking attendants and tow trucks, I decided that it was not worth it. This was the perfect time and opportunity for a “pragmatic realist” such as myself to think negatively, right?

As I was telling myself to think positively, I see another parking spot across a coffeeshop. I pull into that one, duck into the shop, order a cup of coffee and get change for the meter. Killing two birds with one stone. But what’s even better was I stumbled into a really wonderful coffeeshop that served REAL coffee. It’s a running joke with my friends and I that there is nowhere in California where one can get REAL coffee. You know the strong, full-flavored kind? Starbucks, CoffeeBean, and the refills you get at Denny’s and IHOP really don’t come close. Back when I was in Berkeley, my roommate brewed strong Turkish coffee every morning (from a local store) and it was awesome. Peet’s Coffee, for me, probably is the next best thing. But you can never find a Peet’s when you need one.

Anyway, back to my story, I got a cup of Organic Panama coffee from this small obscure coffeeshop (called Groundwork) and it was really, really good (strong, full-flavored). Now that's what I call serendipity! So instead of focusing on how I was late for work, had to drive 4 miles out of my way, had to park three blocks away from the printer, and had no coins for the meter – I am calling my morning “the one where I had really good coffee”.

Snow Flower and the Secret Fan

The SBRC (South Bay Readers Circle), or better known as my book club, met yesterday. Our book for that meeting was Snow Flower and the Secret Fan by Lisa See. Having read the book on my own a few days ago, I found the story fascinating and the style of writing quite captivating. I was intrigued with the characters’ lives and found myself imagining what it must have been like going thru their turmoil, their joy, their hopes, and their heartaches. Being part of this book club and having a chance to talk about the nuances of the book has allowed me to look at things from several different perspectives and has allowed me to even take a step back and consider things I would have never even thought of on my own. Yay! That’s the power of several minds thinking and exactly why I formed this club in the first place.

Snow Flower and the Secret Fan is a story of women’s lives in early 19^th century China. It is told thru the eyes of Lily, a poor farmer’s daughter born as a middle child, who because of tradition and circumstance was regarded as a useless member of the family. However Lily’s destiny, as manifested in her perfectly arched feet, was for greater things. In those days, a woman’s worth and beauty was primarily judged by her feet. This was at an era where foot binding, now considered a barbaric torture, was the norm. Lily’s story revolves around her relationship with Snow Flower, who was her lao-tong or old same (her friend for life), her struggle as a woman, her difficult relationship with her mother, her marriage into the powerful Lu clan, and her own trials and tribulations with her own children.

The story also allowed the voices of many women to be heard. It was a fascinating unraveling and interconnecting of lives. The women’s medium was their poetry, songs, letters, chants, and nu-shu (a style of women’s writing that was developed by women as a secret correspondence). Through these mediums it allowed the readers a peek into a private inner world.

Several things jumped out at me while reading this book.

First. I am intrigued by the allure of reading about a culture that sounds both so foreign and yet so familiar. The women in the story were second class citizens forced into subjugation by their bound feet. Their lives were controlled by the men (first their fathers, then their husbands, then their sons). They had no voice other than to each other and they lived their lives with the sole purpose of placating the men in their households. At first blush, tragic and horrifying! But on closer examination, the question really is, how far have we come from that type of society? Yes, we have come a long way and are no longer are bound by such unyielding norms as they were back then. But when we think about it, women today, no matter how far we’ve come, still have our roles to play, still have our bindings that hold us back, and we still have to fight harder to get the same benefits.

And yes, we are no longer obligated to bind our feet and mutilate ourselves to be considered beautiful. But our society has taken its own standard of beauty and has continually rammed this standard down our throats. And so there’s plastic surgery, and eating disorders, and fashion makeovers, and the constant lingering thoughts that “I’m not good enough”. The argument to that is now we have a choice. Now we can decide for ourselves whether we want to go thru whatever process we think we need. But think about it, do we all really have that choice? Do we really in our minds believe 100% that our decisions are not in some way determined by the people around us?

Second. It was easy to blame the men and to lump them into the unfeeling, uncaring, dominant group. And yes, maybe it was some men that created that kind of subjugated society. But looking at it closely, it also created roles for men. Roles that maybe they didn’t want thrust on them either. In the story, Snow Flower’s father could not handle being primary breadwinner and took to the opium pipe. While Snow Flower’s first born son was weak and frail and considered useless since he was not fit to one day oversee the family. Men also went thru dealing with pressure and having to live up to standards whether they wanted to or not.

Third. Foot binding was a painful and debilitating process that mothers did to their daughters in the hopes it would better their lives and find them suitable marriage matches. When asked if I found myself living in those times but knowing what I know now, would I subject my own daughter to that, my answer was a quick and resounding “no way”. But after careful thought, I had to consider that if I did not bind my daughter’s feet, she would never have a chance to marry and would be a servant all her life. Would hurting her now, spare her more hurt in her future? The question then is much harder to answer and was undoubtedly faced by the mothers during those times. Today, there are still countless ways mothers and daughters (or parents and children for that matter) clash over what parents think is right for the child and over what the child wants for him/herself.

Snow Flower and the Secret Fan is a beautiful and powerful story that I think most women (and even men) can relate to. It is not merely a story of oppression nor is it of women’s liberation. In my opinion, it is simply an account of how life back then, in that part of the world. And thru it we can choose to see how far is it that we have come, and at the same time, how far we still have to go.