Driving Miss Minnie

“Don’t forget to repark the car!” This my husband calls out to me as he leaves the house to be a productive American. Little does he know of the inner meltdown I experience at the mention of this small task: move my car from one side of the road to the other. It’s like my brain is sweating. Or on fire. Or crying. That must be it. My brain is crying.

Our road is quiet. An average of 1-3 cars pass our road every two hours. Piece of cake. I complete my K-turn flawlessly only to realize that I K-turned too soon. It’s ok-turn. Just back up a few yards to get into the spot you want… GO AWAY, CAR BEHIND ME. WHERE DID YOU COME FROM? I wonder for a second if apparition is real…

No. Only in England.

… Long story short, I survived. I drove around the block, reparked my AUBS*, and avoided a ticket. Success. Now I want to go to Trader Joe’s.

As they say in the movie Spanglish, “gulp.”

Yesterday I drove to a nearby mall. It was an easy drive, some of you might say. No major highways or big roads. Just three turns and you're there. It was fine. I just needed to walk around for 20 minutes to calm myself down. There was a moment when I truly didn’t know how I was going to get home. I also set off my car alarm but didn't recognize that it was mine. Note to self: your car hates you. By some miracle, the Lord brought me home safely yesterday and I pray that he will do it again today. Because today… I need to go to Trader Joe’s. Dan needs milk and I need wine. If I don’t go to Trader Joe’s today, I will become that old lady who only knows how to go to the post office and the grocery store. In my case, not even that. I will be the old lady who only knows how to go around the block.

Dan says prayer and practice will eventually make the fear go away. So Lord, I pray for the spirit of Joshua, the wisdom of Solomon, and the peace of Jesus. Also, may I turn off my left blinker this time instead of driving with it on for almost 1 mile. And may all those other drivers be in good moods today. Amen.

Prize for safe driving?

* AUBS: Awesome Ugly-Blue Saturn

City Mouse and Country Mouse

Nobody would actually consider moving from New York City to Los Angeles as moving from the city to the country. But when you’ve been living in cities for so long and depended on public transportation for so long, you start to believe that ‘city’ is NYC and ‘country’ is everywhere else in the US.

Birds. When you hear different kinds of birds – not just pigeons – it’s because you’re in the country. So far I have seen little birds, big birds, and crows.

Greetings. When people say hi to you with open and friendly dispositions… it’s because you’re in the country. “Hello! How are you today?” says the friendly man who collected my garbage yesterday… HIDE YO WIFE, HIDE YO KIDS. I almost ran to the door to make sure it was locked. WHY does he need to say hi. Peace be with you and everything… but don’t say hi to me.

Trunks. When you can shop for food and dump it in the trunk of your car, not worrying anymore about the weight or size of your items because you no longer have to carry it home, it’s because you’re in the country. Unless you are a lucky city folker who owns a car.

Space. When you take more than ten steps to get to another room, it’s because you’re in the country. Small city spaces make for less cleaning, less storage and less walking. Bigger country spaces make for endless cleaning, cobwebs, and more furniture.

Bugs. When your bug sightings are limited to dust-like spiders and flies, and there hasn’t been a roach in sight… it’s because it’s only been two days.

Finally, when everything familiar is gone; when the sounds of cars, birds, doors, floors, and humans frighten you; when you wonder when you’ll see your sister or friends again… it’s because you’re in the country.

Weddings: The Things They Don't Tell Us In Movies

"Whoever said wedding planning was fun was a LIAR."

My engaged friend said this to me. I'll admit when I first heard her, I felt sorry that she wasn't enjoying herself. Then I realized that I was kidding myself if I thought I felt differently. Though wedding planning has had it's fun, rewarding moments especially for a control freak like myself... it's not really all that fun. The fairy tales and the movies have all lied to us, fellow naive people. Wedding planning is only fun if you've hired someone. Even then, I have no doubt that it's hard.

It's kind of like those 'fun' homework assignments the 'cool' teachers give you. Starts out fun but eventually you realize that the load isn't getting any lighter and you stopped having fun three projects ago. My outlook is a mix of bright and bleak. In the distance, I can see the bliss of The Day After. Everything is finished and Dan and I are on a plane. In front of me, Wedding Minutiae is taking me down. Never mind the big stuff like the dress, the flowers, the music, the program. There are a bajillion little things that are putting me over the edge. The never ever ever ending list of things to do. The chaos behind the scenes. The decisions upon decisions upon decisions... No one really talks about this side of weddings. 

But there's another side to weddings people don't talk about. Enter wonderful fiance, wonderful family, and wonderful friends. In the same way a good cup of coffee opens your eyes, kicks you in the butt, and comforts you all in the same sip, these people can snap me out of my pity party and help calm my ever-anxious soul.

These folks help shift my focus from the wedding to the marriage. And in that regard, I am very much enjoying planning for this marriage. Counseling sessions with my pastor, receiving insight from married people and my parents, and getting advice and encouragement from all of my friends have been the highlights of this experience. There is a library of things I have to learn and the hard truth is I am a pretty terrible student. But so far, what it really comes down to is this: 

When I look into that tunnel, I am failing to see God's abundant love and glory above all the minutiae. I am failing to see the Emmanuel of it all. 

He is right here.

God is with us.

My Engagement: Real or Unreal?

As if getting engaged wasn't obnoxious enough, now I am going blog about it. Play-by-play. Read on, if you dare. Regarding gag reflexes and vomiting on your computer screen, may the odds be ever in your favor.

“You have to come down to the Auditorium. Ms. Q wants to talk to us.” Melissa seems frantic and stressed out, similar to earlier that morning. I glance up at the clock. 10:40am. Ugh, why? I have 15 minutes left in my prep and I really need to get this stuff ready for next week. I follow her down to the auditorium. I wonder why we need to go there. Melissa is walking really quickly. She also won’t look at me. We reach the auditorium and the doors are closed. The few adults standing outside are looking at me. My palms sweat a little bit. Why are they…

 

We go in. The lights are off. Velvet curtains closed. I see a tripod and a video camera. My heart is racing now. Melissa ushers me to the front and sits me down. I can’t breathe. It’s happening. This is it. Why didn’t I take a shower this morning? I feel weak and fiddle with my dirty hair. Then I hear it. My alarm in the morning. One of my favorite songs. “Marry You” by Bruno Mars.

Holy crap.

The curtains open and the greatest man I know stands there. He is smiling at me. He is so handsome. My heart bursts. So do my ocular floodgates. I quickly wipe away my tears so my vision isn’t blurred. I see familiar photo booth pictures on his t-shirt. MINNIE + DAN. 04.27.2012. I would scream but that would interrupt his performance. I point and clap instead. Dan is singing his heart out to me. He looks really happy. And he sounds great. I am laughing, crying, and yelling at myself to stay focused. I do not want to miss any moment of this! He says things like NYU, Giants, Superbowl… and then the best words: I think I wanna marry you.

After the chorus, he stops and says that he needs his friends to come out and help him sing. “Come on out, guys!” Hopping in from both sides, smiling from ear to ear, are my precious first graders. They are wearing t-shirts that match Dan’s. I want a t-shirt! They sing with Dan, following his dance movements, smiling, jumping. “ ‘Cause it’s a beautiful night!” Some are looking at me, some are looking at Dan. Everyone is happy. I am too excited to cry anymore. My students look so cute! My hands are clapping and shaking. There goes my heart again. Burst. 

Dan comes off stage, takes my hand, and brings me up. My legs are completely weak but Dan’s hands are strong and steady. He gets down on one knee, cueing my students to do the same. He says, “Minyoung, I love you with all my heart.” He is tearing up. “Will you marry me?”

YES! YES! Say YES!

“Yes.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t hear you.”

“Yes!” I say again, into the microphone.

We hug, we kiss, and we smile at each other. Words cannot describe the explosions in my chest. 

I am in love. 

I am ecstatic. 

I am engaged.

My Engagement: Worth the Wait

Written By Daniel Phai  (the phaiance)

Realizing the idea, preparing the engagement, and executing the plan were all a part of a great journey with God. We’ve been dating for four years, and I knew that this was going to be the year. When it came to buying the ring, I thought about the rare example in the Bible of a man literally working to marry a woman. I read in Genesis where Jacob works an unholy amount of years for his bride(s). I wanted to experience what it would feel like to go to work not with the mindset of myself but only her. As an actor, you never know when you’re going to audition, book a job, or get paid, so I couldn’t rely on my true career aspirations. Instead, like many starving artists, I went back to my old restaurant job in Republic Union Square. In this job, you meet crazy people every day. They stiff you on tips, don’t know the difference between a lemon and a lime, and finally, blame you for everything that goes wrong not only with the food but with their entire lives. However, throughout the past 8 months of working (not quite Jacob’s 14 years), it was a complete joy to work. All I could think about was seeing her face when she saw the ring.

Last week, I saw her face. It was worth the wait. 

It was a sunny, chilly day in New York, and I woke up thinking, “This is it.” For weeks and weeks, I was working with her principal to see if I could use the school auditorium. She was more than willing to help, but due to the unpredictability of New York City Public Schools, we couldn’t lock down a date. We had a few in mind, but they kept getting pushed back. Like I said, this was a journey with God. I trusted Him. He was going to pick the date. He chose April 27, 2012. After we set the date, it was time to get the students’ parents involved. With the help of Minyoung’s fellow teacher, Melissa Fields, we got the parents to grant me permission.

The challenge: How do we teach these first grade children a song without having them spoiling the surprise to their teacher who they see everyday?

 

The answer: Tell the parents to take care of it.

The parents, using whatever excuse, taught their children the song individually. But wait. Hold on. I’m singing? Uh, I’m a pretty terrible singer. Could I do a monologue instead? Could I lip sync? Could I auto tune myself? Again, this was a journey with God. I trusted Him. He wanted me to sing one of Minyoung’s favorite songs, “Marry You” by Bruno Mars.

After rehearsing with my camera people, the parents, and the children, it’s show time. I’m waiting behind the curtain for my future wife. One of the parents asked me how I was so calm, and I knew it was because I felt God’s blessing and He was going to make sure that--- Shhhhh… I hear foot steps. Melissa is bringing her in. The music plays, the curtains open, and I’m off.

I forget about my inept singing voice, I forget about the children making their marks, I forget about how I’m going to move. All I do is look at her. She’s all I needed to make this work. I bring her up, get down on my knee. I’m choking up. I want to say this quickly, but nothing is coming out. Then, like a runner giving it all in the last leg of the race, I ask, “Will you marry me?”

God is good. The journey is just beginning.

Greatest Achievement Since Learning How To Walk

This is a response to a Vanity Fair survey question "What do you consider to be your greatest achievement?" This was an assignment in my Technology & Teaching Language Learners class at NYU. At the risk of sounding like a complete, gloating a--hole, I choose to re-post because I do not really care and I love to eat lunch.

I pack my lunch every day. Almost every day. That is what I consider to be my current greatest achievement.

I cannot remember the moment it began but it has changed my life as a teacher. Be it the morning of or the night before, I have packed a lunch for school for the past three years saving a modest chunk of money and precious minutes during the ever precious Lunch 'hour'. Though it takes no time at all to run down the street and grab lunch (approximately 15 minutes), for a teacher those minutes can be invaluable. Not to mention the hassle of trying to be efficient when getting out that door. While the students line up with their lunches and jackets, I, too, need to have my jacket and wallet on hand so I can go straight out the front doors which are located right next to the cafeteria. Without my jacket and wallet, I would have to spend two-minutes walking back up to the classroom, a path which inevitably coincides with a fellow teacher on their lunch hour. This teacher is strolling down the hallway, asking about my day, reflecting on how tiring Mondays are, reciting a poem her student composed for her over the weekend. She is able to meander in this way for one reason. She has packed her lunch. I, on the other hand, am nearing a tantrum state of mind as those precious minutes fly by listening to her stories. Now my lunch hour has dwindled down from 45 minutes to 30 minutes. After buying lunch and coming back to my classroom, I look up to see that I have 10 minutes to eat. 5 minutes if I want to squeeze in a bathroom run.

I pack my lunch every day. By packing a lunch I, too, can stroll. And not just that, but I can also plan a lesson, plan a day, plan a week, catch up with a friend, write an email, read an email, daydream, nap... the possibilities are endless with a packed lunch. Because the most invaluable item in a teacher's packed lunch is Time.

Almost every day.
1st grade
PS 199

Keep Calm, Balance On

There are "a few and twenty" things on my plate this year. All great things. Huge blessings, both in disguise and in plain view. But it's funny how we can cloud our blessings by covering them with our own anxieties, insecurities, and inept-ness. A good thing does not remain so for long in the mind of a crazy person. Or anyone. Or everyone. What's crazier is that I have spread these things out onto many plates and am trying to balance them all on those spinning poles. Like those people from the circus. Only I have no training and my plates are actually post-its.

At first, it might seem like having good balance is about multi-tasking and inner peace. Maintaining a routine, keeping to the schedule, and finding a time and place for everything from homework to relaxing... is all it takes. All the plates have a specific position. Find those positions and all should be fine.

Show off.

But the more I consider this and the more I find on my plate, I get the feeling that good balance has nothing to do with agility or skill. Or, in my case, the frantic routine of Checklist, Cross Off, Repeat. Good balance is having core strength and a strong foundation. The acrobat plants his feet and tightens his stomach. The fulcrum always brings the scale back zero. And the Earth spins and orbits but the axis is unchanging.

There is something in every person's core that either strengthens or weakens her. In the same way, there is something in my foundation that either steadies me or trips me. The key to having good balance, then, is to find what steadies, what calms and what grounds. Furthermore, the key to maintaining good balance is to hold tight to those things. Whether it be people or places, emotions or edibles, to any and all of these things I owe a great debt, sincerest thanks, and all of my love.