Where Mei at?

6 01 2009
Hanging off the rafters at MacWorld socials.

Hanging off the rafters at MacWorld socials.*

There is a light in the Financial District.

Waiting to turn left in the Financial District.

And collecting things I need to write out loud.

*Thanks for the nerdiness, Lionheart, and thanks for the photo, Mr_O! (Also note, I’m hanging by my own accord, though somehow Lionheart still looks bigger than me. And according to Mr_O, “This is my most prized shot of the night what do you think” - I think AGREE.)





Eeeeeeeeeee!*

4 01 2009

Happy Birthday Mayka!

Here’s a little painting I did for my beautiful girlfriend, Mayka. (She likes pandas.) Interesting birthday fact: Mayka is a twin and was born on New Year’s Eve! Crazy, I know.

My favorite is the second one from the left. He’s like “Oh my gosh, I am laughing so hard. I don’t know what to do with myself.”

*My signature excited sound. Often accompanied by solo clapping.





Who cares how you spell it?

4 01 2009

My mother’s float, representing Donate Life, an organization devoted to educating and promoting organ and tissue donation, won the Queen’s Award on New Year’s Day. In the Rose Bowl Parade, the Queen’s Award is one of the most prestigious, bestowed upon the float with the best use of roses. For Donate Life, it was undoubtedly earned for the float’s significance and emotional back stories.

During just the judging, when only parade participants and their families are present, judges, float riders, and nearby volunteers were tearing up. The float riders selected for this year’s float are all survivors of successful donation transplants, living organ donors, or family members of organ donors since deceased. All of them came together from across the United States to be Donate Life’s “Stars of Life.” (The Rose Parade’s theme this year was “Hats Off to Entertainment.”) It sounds cheesy, but was entirely appropriate, that as the float rolled on, Faith Hill’s “There You’ll Be” played:

There will always be
A place for you
For all my life
I’ll keep a part of you with me
And everywhere I go
There you’ll be.

The song itself tugs at your heartstrings, but seeing the “floragraphs” of donors past, seeing a wave of tributary roses, seeing living examples of donation gone right and donation done selflessly - that’s what drew tears the most. It was an emotional experience.

Twin and I had learned of the float riders’ stories before the judging. Each of them is extraordinary, and worth the read. Each one is an example of human life giving onward. The acts of donation are not so much sacrifices as they are just simple acts of giving. Just imagine being at the point where your father, brother, husband, or son, on life support, has come to his end. He has checked the “Donor” box on his DMV registration, but now it comes to you, the family, and whether or not you see the passing on of his living organs as appropriate. You say yes. And you save a 17-year old from Brea, California, who was hoping more for a kidney transplant than for high school graduation.

During the judging.

I met a number of amazing people this week, but one introduction left my heart melting.

A bit tired and drained from standing around in the sun on judging day, I was begrudginly playing the role of my mother’s camera mule. With her backpack on my back and my purse on my shoulder, I had two cameras hanging off of my forearm as she played diva donor. I had to take dozens of photos of her that she could take back to her organizations back home, when what I really wanted to do was see the Sesame Street float and the skateboarding dog up close.

One young man, probably in his 30s, emanating amazing amounts of positive energy, approached me as I catered to my mom’s demands for different angles and specific lighting and full-body shots and snapshot digicam magic.

“Is this your mother?” he asked.

“It is,” I said. I briefly pondered my use of the word “it.” Oops.

We chatted for a short bit as my mom started striking tai chi poses. Everyone loves attention, and this week was her week, with one scheduled break for Twin and my birthday dinner that night. His wife came by, drawn in by my mother’s tai chi eccentricities, and we talked about the marvel of her being able to do these things at this age and her pinnacle health and all the typical small talk things I had heard myself repeating over the last couple of days.

The man, Eric, then asked me, “And what’s your name?”

Mayka.” I said.

He and his wife jumped back a little bit.

“I’m sorry, what? You said your name is ‘Mayka?’” Their eyes were both wide and their emotions betrayed them as little shakes tremored through their necks.

“Yup,” I said, nodding casually. I’m used to people saying “Oh, like the [Apostle? Disciple?] in The Bible.” or “I know a boy named Micah, but I’ve never met a girl Mayka.”

“How do you spell it?” They asked cautiously. They were obviously emotionally attached to this name, and I felt myself softening though I wasn’t sure why.

“M-A-Y-K-A,” I said. Gesturing my thumb to my mom, I followed up with “She made it up.”

“Oh!” Eric said. “That’s so beautiful!” I’ve heard this response, too, but it still wasn’t clear to me why these two were so emotionally invested in my name.

Then the wife, pulling up a large button with an adorable toddler’s face on it, said, “This is our Micah.” At the same time, Eric had drawn his hand around the button as well, saying, “Our son’s name is Micah.”

And I couldn’t help but look at this little boy’s face. And know that this child was the one who was hit by a car while on a walk with his dad. And that a physical part of him (his heart valves, specifically) lived on in a baby boy from New Mexico. I had read this story. And here was Micah’s donor parents.

We were only just meeting. And were not related to each other in any traditional ways. But just seeing their reaction to a diametrically different girl “Micah” made me feel like I was tied to this boy’s namesake.

…Just look at that face! If someone’s parents came up to you and suddenly projected this emotional connection to you based simply on your name - I think you’d feel a little floored, too.  Please excuse me as I pull at your heartstrings some more, from Eric’s Donate Life bio:

Eric, now 31, remembers holding Micah in the hours after his birth, asking himself, “What will he be like? Who will he marry?”

The Millers will never see their Micah at my age.

I can only imagine what it must be like to stumble upon a girl who shares a rare name with your son. Now that I’ve met them, I feel like I have to live up to the legacy of a four-year old.

Micah Miller will forever be my first association of life supporting life.





I’m 25!

31 12 2008

Fuck a dime, I’m a quarter. Bitches.

A very happy new year to you.
Please, let us all join hands as I declare

FUCK YOU, 2008.

The bull stops here!

And here’s a peek at the Mei Twins’ Happy New Year Birthday Cake.





A very naked New Year.

30 12 2008

About a two weeks ago, Bai Ling re-titled her blog “Naked Seduction.” I don’t know what kept me from updating you about the transition out of “Hello,” dear readers, but I apologize profusely for the lag. Anyway, I suppose this is what you would sound like if you were to live life with reckless abandon:

Will someone please print this on a shirt for me so that people may ask where in Chinatown I got my awesome Chingrish find?

(And like a true FOB, her sidebar and headline text appears twice on her blog.)

P.S. Did you know the Oakland airport has free Wi-Fi and a Fenton’s creamery station? Neither did I. These may just be the deciding factors between future considerations between OAK and SFO. I’m sitting next to another Mac user and I feel so bougie.

I believe I am also witnessing what is to be a short-lived love affair between a boy and girl toddler who have just met while waiting in the terminal. They always say emotions run high at airports.





Why, Rose is my middle name!

30 12 2008

Though parts of last week just seemed like a total bust, today I’ll be heading down to Pasadena for New Year’s and Getting Older. My mother’s riding in the 120th Rose Bowl Parade! Though I’m set on sleeping in and wearing my new Yugala Priti Multi-Wrap Dress (From The Mission Statement. New favorite store! And I’m pairing it with Belt It Out slingbacks that Kenneth Cole set out as a test shoe in ‘06.), Mama Tai-Chi has designs on me volunteering to construct some of this year’s float:

You will, independently, have time slot/s, to help with decorating the float.  Mayka ROSE, roses, roses - Hallelujah!!!

She mentions wearing shoes that I don’t mind getting glue on. Umm, okay, so that basically leaves one largely unfashionable pair. Still, I’m excited about spectating at a ritual I have never paid attention to.

… One before the STARS OF LIFE float is with SESAME characters.  :o)

With clinchers like that, what more could you ask for?

Well, okay, maybe a 49-foot robot.

Editor’s Note: My mom, at the age of 61, is basically the quintessentially healthy older woman. A few years ago, she became the recipient of a highly experimental organ donation and now runs around with a 19-year old’s knee. She was invited to sit on Donate Life’s Rose Parade float, and there you have it. More info later. Photos to come as well. (Provided that there is Wi-Fi at the hotel.)





My hope for Economy 2008+.

26 12 2008

I’ve had a number of discussions with some fellow “underemployed” friends. Reader Michael revealed the term in that super sad (or so I’ve been told) post, “The plights of unemployment.” I’m glad he pointed it out. It seems to do a better job describing the frustration of being unsatisfied - not dissatisfied, which implies dislike for what you do - with unchallenging work.

So essentially, a great number of Americans are not where they want to be right now. They could be part of the nearly 7% of unemployed, or they could be just a blip in the throng of the indeterminable percentage of underemployed. This holiday season is the anniversary of the beginning of this generation’s Great Depression. This makes for very interesting people observations. Overall, I think everyone is frazzled and stressed. I don’t think many people feel as secure in their companies as might have been measured in the past.

Since our “holiday season” is mostly marked by the transaction of currency for material goods, it’s most intriguing to observe how the economy has affected holiday shopping. If you watch people and ask them how they’re spending, they’ll probably say “Less.” But if you also observe how they feel when they enter the store and how they approach the store’s personnel, I think you’ll also notice that they are on guard. Whether they’re conscious of that or not, I think everyone these days is working and living in a culture of fear. They want to protect their money, they want to protect their current standard of living, and they want to protect their outward appearance to the rest of society. I think the focus of most people is to protect moreso than it is to accrue wealth.

I started this draft about a week and a half ago. I had a point and I had a direction.

I forgot the rest of what I was going to write.

End.





We bring you this urgent holiday message…

26 12 2008

In case you were wondering, the premise of American Pie 20,000: The Naked Mile is some kid in the Stifler family is having trouble living up to his last name. He’s been dating his girlfriend for two years. And they are both still virgins.

The protagonist has just killed his grandmother because she caught him whacking off to some porn video he dug up from a thrift store garbage dump.

This is about when I turn off Comedy Central.

I can totally see my 17-year old self having a mad crush on this guy, though:

He looks like he could be the high school dropout CEO of a super popular startup, no?

Update: According to his “more detailed resume,” he also dances “club/freestyle” and “hip-hop” and trained at Jeremy Piven’s parents’ theatre workshop!

I don’t know if that’s as hot as hosting a booth at Wonder Con, but that is pretty cool.





My modern merry Xmas.

25 12 2008

This is, by far, the most independent holiday season I have ever experienced. Working the days before and after Christmas. At night, sleeping on my living room couch because I don’t want to waste heat throughout the entire apartment.

My siblings are working as well in their ends of the United States, and who knows when we’ll all be in the same area again? Up until Monday night, I didn’t have plans for Christmas Eve. But last night, I found myself at a bustling family friend’s house where I was being plied with plates of homecooked Chinese food.

The leftovers sit in my fridge, though I anticipate tonight’s other family feast will fill me good and plenty as well. That’s the thing about “modern” families and their “modern” holidays. It’s two of everything, even if it means spacing out the celebrations weeks apart because no one has mastered the simultaneous evening events attendance yet.

My dad promises to teach his Standard English American daughter mah jong tonight. The thought of beig pit against senior citizen Chinese women at a mah jong table terrifies me, but I’ll do it. Only one other person at the gathering will be younger than me, and she is some teenage cousin I have never met and never heard of and has the same first name as my mother. At approximately the time that I predict tonight’s banquet will begin, an eBay item that I have watched relist itself two times before is going to go up for auction again. I signed up for eBay SMS alerts so that I don’t miss my opportunity for the third time in a row.

Aside from the personal gifts to my personal self, I’ve cut down on my usual “holiday gifts for only my family” tradition to strictly bare bones. “If I don’t see something interesting and it’s not less then $X dollars, you’re not getting anything.” Maybe it’ll coerce others to hope for me more and wish me into a more stable situation. Maybe.

I’m feeding a friend’s pair of cats. One of them is shy, which is what I’d expect from a family pet who has never met me before. The other likes to take swipes at my boots and hiss at me from under the table. At least with dogs you can sternly say “No,” and they might accept you as the authority figure. With this particular cat, all I could think to do was jostle the chair and other furniture pieces she was crouching under to get her to hush. Then dish out her kibble and water.

It’s no wonder why I like my chocolate bittersweet.





Meile KalikiMayka!*

24 12 2008

)

CLICK ON THE PIC to see my latest project! Recent spottiness in posting due to me being out and about catering to procrastinating shoppers’ needs and wants. In between those times, I’ve been building the most fabulous wishlist any indie-shopping recessionista could ever dream of.

What happens when it’s your job to hunt Bay Area boutiques for drool-worthy products? A lot of “inspiration…”

Here’s to you and yours. If you’re finding yourself in a strained position this holiday season, rest assured that “This, too, shall pass.” And hug your stressors anyway.

And now, it is time, for the annual Repeat All of Mariah Carey’s Merry Christmas. (I know it’s lame, but my love for typography was born in 1994 with the printing of this album jacket. SCRIPTFONTS4EVA!)

I FUCKING LOVE THAT CLIP. Cheers.

*(Get it?)

Editor’s Note: For those of you who read theMaykazine via RSS feed, you might want to stop over to the actual site for my special holiday snow. I made a deal with Mother Nature so that the wave of your mouse will send a gust of wind from whichever direction you choose. (Abiding by the virtual Laws of Nature, of course.)