An Anglophile living in Yankee Land

If you have been following this blog for a bit, then you know that it all begin because I got transplanted from what I consider my true home - the UK - to somewhere that I am willing to call home for now - the US. And I have been reflecting on how things are so different now that I have lived abroad and can proudly call myself an anglophile. Even more than simply being an anglophile, I am an anglophile who has actually been to and lived in England. Which probably takes me a step above being just a pretentious sod; after all, I have many reasons to share my love of all things English. And along the way, I am coming to realize there are many invaluable lessons I have taken away from my time in England.

For one thing, I came away from England with a healthy appreciation for portion sizes. I had not realized it, but having lived in England where a dinner plate is really meant to feed only one - and not a family of four - I got used to only eating so much. And not only that; I got used to feeling full after only having had so much. And now I am back in America, and realizing that I can live for a day or two off of one entree purchased when out. Which makes for some cheap dining out options (nothing to be scoffed at) but also makes for boring repetition as well as the taste of food that is never quite as good as when set right in front of you.

Another knack I came away with from having lived in England is living within my means. I am not too proud to admit that being a college student in America and the easy access to credit led me down some wrong turns. But when I left, I vowed to get smarter about my credit choices and my budgeting. And lo and behold, I managed it. And it was not due to some magic willpower gained from being in England - if anything, there were more temptations: more nights out to be had with friends, more glorious, gorgeous shoes to be bought. But gaining credit in Europe is much harder than it is in the States. And a year into living abroad, I started getting offers for credit cards and loans, and realized that I had survived the year fairly well and probably did not need it. Now I am back, I am finding that I like living within my means. Sure, it means I have to be responsible and decide what I need versus what I want. Yet I know it also means that I will reach my goal ever that more quickly when it comes to saving up and setting myself up financially.

There are so many other things I have taken away from England - too numerous to count. I am shaped so much by the choices I made there, as well as the ones I have made - and continue to make - here. But all of that, as they say, is for another time

The Problem with Friends

Last night I has the good luck to catch up with a good friend of mine. To say we have not seen each other in ages is an underestimation of the time that has passed. I was probably ten years younger and going through one of the trying periods of my life when I last saw this person. That is not to say I have not kept in contact and vice versa: the occasional email, phone call, and of course, the ever ubiquitous FaceBook. But it just is not the same as sitting in that friend's presence and talking, face to face.

And it was nice. There were moments where I just sat across from this person, looking at them, and realized how much I had missed them in my life. To say that I adore and genuinely love this person and always have - no matter the miles or the distance between us - is not an underestimation. And I realize that to have that type of friendship in one's life is rare, and I feel lucky that I can count him as one of those friends; a friend that always lingers on the mind and in the heart, a friend that changes us and changes with us, and a friend that will always be somehow in the very fabric of our being, no mater what time and circumstances lead to.

And having a friend like that sometimes means opening yourself to some hard truths. I had not realized before last night how fresh some of the wounds of the past year still are. There were so many times I could feel the tears well in my eyes as I recounted some of my most recent travails. As I told stories both old and new, I suddenly saw how much I had changed and how much things had changed me. I suddenly saw myself as someone that was very different from the girl who left home. The girl who went off and had her own adventures. And the girl who came back, only to realize that she just did not fit into anything anymore.

I am not sad for all these realizations - juts reflective. I think it is interesting that a decade ago, I don't think anyone would have predicted that this was the person I had become. And while I like to cling to that fact that I have not changed, that people from my primary school years can still recognize me in photos today, that is not true. I may look the same, have the same perfectly smile or eyes or laugh, but I am so different from who I thought I would be and I am so far from where I thought I would be. And I am coming to accept - that for better or for worse - I am, for once, at peace with the person that I am.

Update on the Job Hunt

This is not as fun a post as one might expect. I have been job hunting for a month now, and I am surprised by how many resumes I have sent out and how many cover letters I have written, and yet, almost nothing. So despairing. And I realize that in this type of economy, it is to be expected. But still, I know I would be an asset to any company that wants me. Or, at least, so I keep telling them whenever I send off my resumes and letters.......

But there is some good news on the horizon: I have been in contact with one company recently and completed a phone interview, which seemed to go well. It all started when someone from the HR in the company recruited me after viewing my resume online. I took a look at the job description, seemed interesting, and at this point, decided why not. It seemed like a good opportunity and I am ready to try something new and outside of my area of comfort.

I did not really think much about it, but was glad when I was invited for a phone interview. And to be honest, it was only in preparing for the interview that I took a long , close look at the company. And I really liked what I saw. The company atmosphere, what they were doing, and where they were located. And I actually started to get a little excited about the opportunity to work for them.

Well, the phone interview seemed to go well. Well, not just seemed. As I have advanced onto the second round and need to set up a skills assessment. I do well at tests, though I have no idea what this will be like, so it is hard to prepare. But always onwards and upwards....

Analytical Turn of Mind

I am probably not the kind of person who should ever just be left to her own devices. More importantly, I am not the type of person who should have hours to while away, ungainfully employed and with nothing but peace and quiet - oftentimes downright solitude - to dwell in. Because, with the cogs and wheels turn in my brain, thoughts tumble and some long forgotten nugget of reasoning gets exposed, only to be worried at - like a dog with a bone.

I can see why I was attracted to psychology; after all, it is just the way my mind works. And while applying for jobs may occupy so much of my time every day, it is not nearly enough. Instead, I spend perhaps an hour a day making myself sound like the ideal candidate for the job in research/human resources/technology/&etc... not nearly enough time to quell an active imagination. Or to stop me from picking at the thread of thought, perhaps once abandoned for a while, but yet again, it gets picked up again once the boredom sets in.

I know, I know - a life unexamined is not a life worth living. But, perhaps, a life spent under the microscope is not necessary the healthiest way to move forward. Rumination may just lead to repetition, or worse case scenario, may lead to being stuck in a rut. No drive forward; just spinning the wheels and getting nowhere fast. These are the thoughts that sometimes haunt me in the in-between hours.

Family Traits

I tell stories. I know I do. And I don't mean the kind that starts with a white lie and turns into a whopper. I am talking about the way I talk. I have so many things in my past to share; I think of them as icebreakers. There are stories I trot out because they have become my staples - the way to warm the crowd, make people who are strangers feel as though they have become one of the inner circle, and the way to lighten a mood and get everyone laughing. I don't mind if the laughing is all done at my expense.

But on the recent road trip up to my brother's, I realized that I am not the only one who tells stories. In fact, sitting in the car with two generations of Cheong women (my aunt and my mom, my cousin and I), I realized that we tell things about ourselves in a very organized, structured way. And whether I inherited the way I share my tales or else whether I learnt long ago the format of how to start with a "Once upon a time", we seem to share the same knack. We all have these tales that are trotted out for the right company; every tale involves multiple story arcs and can span anywhere from five minutes to a good quarter of an hour. And each story starts out simple, but builds upon itself - inserting minor details so that the listener feels more and more like they were right there with you.

And this realization, more than anything, makes me think about family. It makes me think about why I am closer to my mum than I am to my dad. Hell, I am much closer to my mum's side of the family than I am to my dad's. And I have realized that many of the moments I sit back and think about when I think about family involves the telling of tales and story sharing: listening to my grandmother's folk tales or family history when I was younger, the way my mum and I have stayed close through proper letters - always sharing all the things that are happening in the family - no matter where life has led me, and the way that my brother and I are close because he is the one person I can share everything in my life with. And I have realized the friends that are closest to me are privy to those stories: the injuries that I have sustained engaging in various nocturnal pursuits, that fateful Halloween night (if you have not heard it, just ask!), etc. Sure, my friends can hold many of those stories against me as I am not exactly painted in the best of lights. But then again, a good story always has a punchline - even if the punchline is me!

The Nature of the Beast

It felt like a good time to revisit the idea of jealousy within relationships and how men and women relate to each other - as well as amongst themselves (see prior entry).

My good friend and I were talking recently about the fact that every girl that follows you in the girlfriend string inevitably suffers from jealousy. Does not seem to matter whether you are a part of the guy's life or not at the point where they get together: it just seems to be that the last girlfriend represents some sort of standard or idea that the current one measures herself against, and I guess, rightfully, seems to develop unrepentant feelings of hurt and yes, dear I say it, jealousy. It is often unfounded jealousy - sometimes not so much.

But I am speaking from both sides. I have been the person insanely jealous and I still, in many senses, had a right to be. I was uncomfortable with the relationship someone I dated had with their ex and tried to explain why. But when the ex is the best friend as well, and everything - and I do mean every detail - is shared with the last person your significant other dated, it can begin to make you feel nervous, anxious, and start treading on egg shells. You don't want to do or say anything that might make it outside of the circle of the relationship. And at the same time, you start to clam up with the one person you should be able to implicitly trust and be opening up to, letting them discover all the hidden facets that not everyone gets to see.

I guess that is why I have made it an understood assumption now that should I date anyone seriously, we won't be friends afterward. Maybe it is wrong to put that limitation on my relationships with guys; yet, at the same time, if I cared so much for the person, do I really want to see them moving on? Do I want to be there when they find love again? And would they want to be there when I find love? I assume that with strong feelings, thinsg may fade but they are never truly gone. And so I have limited my relationships: I am more cautious about those I choose to pursue, to date, and to attach labels to. Maybe experience has made me a wise consumer, maybe my values have changed. But more importantly, I have learned the hard way that I don't want to be the one that is hated. And that a good friend, who becomes more, often becomes the one that you regret.

On a break...

Well, after waxing poetic (or, really, just waxing on and on) about the tedious nature of the job hunt and how I was plodding away at it, I am about to leave for parts known on Friday. Once again, I am heading up to my brother's - probably the last time while he is still in Florida - and enjoying some more pool time, some sun (which fair enough, can be had in Miami as easily as where my brother lives), and some family time. I am excited, because it will be relaxing but also means I can explore his neck of the woods a bit more.

And if I time everything right, I might even be able to see a good friend of mine. I figure, I am already a third of the way up the coast of Florida and my friend lives about two thirds up the coast. So, instead of a six hour drive down to see me for him (or me up to see him), it is only about three hours drive for him down to me. I am absolutely psyched about the possibility. This is probably the male counterpart to my friend that I gushed about just a couple of entries ago. This guy and I were so close when we were in university, people eventually thought we were dating (which could start me on a tirade about why people assume that guys and girls cant be friends, but another day, another entry...)

So, I am looking forward to a great weekend. And it seems the perfect way to celebrate the fact that I am almost approaching a huge milestone. Another birthday down, but this year, another decade gone as well. Whew!