Category Archives: Feelings

On Children

I had always expected that once I was married and around the age of 30, there’d be some talk on the very delicate subject of the creation of those tiny human creatures that sort of look like you. Aka children. However, I was not warned that this is what all my girlfriends will ever wanna talk about, all the freakin’ time.

Last night, I had dinner with my friend Cat, who I haven’t seen since April. We hugged, she mentioned she was exhausted from a long week of work, I added that I knocked out for a freakish 12 hours the night before. She gasped. “Are you pregnant? Do your boobs hurt?” she asked. This was before we’d even gotten our menus.

No and no, by the way.

Literally every conversation with literally every one of my (married, 30-ish, still childless) girlfriends somehow turns to, “So when are you guys gonna have kids?” I’m not at all offended by the question as those who ask are typically good friends whom I like to share things with, and child-rearing just happens to be on their minds. I’m just, as I am in many other areas in life, confused. I never know how to respond, so I usually throw out, “Oh, like in a year, I think.” A year, to me, just sounds, I dunno, like a reasonable amount of time to figure out what the hell I’m doing with my reproductive future.

The truth is, we have no idea. Kids. Yeah. They’re really cute. And they’re all up in my Facebook news feed. I want one! Or a pair. It’d be fun to have a little friend to name and hug and dress up like lobsters and take to the Grand Canyon. (I’ve never been and Matt says we can go when we have kids.) Asians do make ridiculously adorable munchkins. But do I really, really want one? I do. I think.

Do I?

I do in my head, but it pains me that the desire does not rage in my heart. I’ve wanted jobs, boys, heck, even greasy pizza (OK, I was probably drunk) more than I want a baby in that visceral way. I think Matt feels similarly. Recently, we were talking about infertility, and he asked me: If we for some reason can’t have children naturally, would we go to great (very expensive) lengths to keep trying? We both didn’t know the answer.

For me, because I used to watch too many movies and too much TV (I don’t anymore because I’m crazy busy), I always just assumed that even women who don’t have that maternal rush suddenly develop it the moment the kid pops out, you know, like with Miranda in Sex and the City or Keri Russell’s character in Waitress. It will all suddenly make sense. So I just have to go for it.

But honestly, I’m scared. Could I possibly be a suitable mother? I drop a lot of things and I require a lot of sleep and I have a deep phobia of vomit (true story). And I love the way things are right now between me and Matt. Will a baby change that?

Also, I’m tired of life running me instead of the other way around. I want to want this. I want to be ready.

But how do you know when you’re ready?

Too Fast

I am currently sitting in a half-empty apartment. We still have a full month on our lease, but we were looking at our calendars the other day and our weekends in April are completely booked, and then Matt happened to get a hold of a U-Haul yesterday, so on a sort-of whim, we moved half of our stuff to the new place.

It’s sad, in a way. While packing up each dish and sofa pillow, I was like, “Wait! We have to remember this.” This past year has been so busy, so dizzying, I feel like I’ve had no time for reflection, and a girl’s gotta reflect.

Sure, this apartment is shitty—the kitchen cabinets never close, the bathroom faucet leaks unceasingly and it feels like there’s a small-magnitude earthquake every time our upstairs neighbors walk across the room—but it’s our shitty apartment. For the next couple weeks, at least. This place will always be our first home together. And that’s a big deal, not because it really is a big deal, but because I want it to be a big deal. And so it is.

The stories I have of this place are nothing extraordinary. We sat at the kitchen table with our laptops. We tried to cook (and both succeeded and failed). We watched entire seasons of HIMYM and Modern Family in one sitting. We played Angry Birds and Words With Friends side by side. We had friends over. We drank beer and wine. We danced in our PJs. We argued about furniture. We got each other glasses of water before bed. We tucked each other in.

But I just know we’re gonna look back at this time one day and think, yeah, that was something.

Life is moving so fast. Is it just me? It’s like, I have to do this and this and this before THIS, and it’s sort of freaking me out. For a moment, I just want to stop and take it all in.

“It hurts at first, but then it mostly makes you wanna win.” —Finn

Lately, I’ve been experiencing something I’ve never really experienced in my entire writing/blogging career. Haters. It’s interesting. I see filth on the internet all the time, but once the name-calling and attacks were directed at me, it was like, wait, what? What’s going on, internet? Why aren’t you telling me I’m smart and pretty and I smell like flowers? Isn’t that what your purpose is? As a chronic people-pleaser, I’ve been feeling rather crumpled, which has been especially frustrating because confidence is what fuels my work.

Anyway, I’m not sure if any of you guys have experienced this. If so, I sympathize—it’s not fun at all! Tim Ferriss has some really great advice on dealing with haters, and so do those Glee kids. Seriously, haters gonna hate. It sucks, but what-ever.

“Nothing is fun until you’re good at it.”

These are the words of the infamous Tiger Mom, the words I’ve been trying to engrave into my brain. Without getting too specific, the past couple of weeks have been anything but fun. I’ve taken on some new challenges, and for the first time in a while, I’ve been struck with serious self-doubt. I hate it. I can’t wait to be me again. The me that is awesome. Baby steps, I suppose.

I miss you, too.

Advice to My Right-Now Self

As a birthday post, I wanted to write some words of wisdom to my younger self, like I’ve seen other bloggers do, a list of Things I Wish I’d Known Then. But I tried and it was so hard. Because so many of the lessons for Young Michelle are ones that I am still learning. And then I felt bad. Have I not mastered anything in my 29 years of existence?

But life is a work-in-progress, and just knowing what you have to do is an empowering step. So I decided to pen some words and advice to my right-now self. Some of it may be cliche, but it’s all stuff I need to remember.

Hey me, listen up.

People are no longer going to hold your hand or give you direction. Get over it. You have more power and wisdom than you think.

Be patient with yourself. It’s not a race.

You don’t have mono and you won’t be cured with another venti green iced tea. You’re tired all the time because you’ve stopped exercising since the wedding and you eat like crap. Get back to the stairs, chubster.

What part of clean-as-you-go don’t you understand? And no, the way to a clean purse is not to switch purses.

Don’t root your worth in your accomplishments. You are not what you do.

No matter how much you hate this about yourself, you’ll probably always care what other people think. That’s just how you’re wired. But if you  keep doing what makes you come alive, your insecurities will slowly melt away. I promise.

No, you don’t want another shot for old time’s sake. Your slow-healing, 29-year-old body will hate you tomorrow. And probably the next day.

Make time for and be nice to your husband. Continue to be in awe at the fact that marrying him was the most life-fulfilling thing you’ve ever done and that marriage is everything you never knew you wanted.

One of these days, you should probably stop biting your nails.

You can’t do it all. Stop trying.

It’s not who you know, but how you treat them.

Breathe. Always, always breathe.

Instead of comparing yourself with your life idols, take inspiration from full-on stalk them and find out what they’re doing right. (But don’t be creepy.)

Remember that avoiding big tasks only makes them bigger.

Call your parents. Call your sister. Call grandma.

Live in the now.

Learn when to say yes, and when to say no.

Smile more. Laugh at yourself. Life is pretty funny.

Photo by Raya Carlisle

On driving

People always make fun of my driving. (I took my driving test four times, yada yada yada.) I remember one time, Matt sort of stood up for me, saying my driving isn’t “bad,” it’s just that when you’re riding in my car, you don’t really feel like I’m in control. It’s as if the car is driving me. I’ve been thinking about that lately and how it’s a good metaphor for my life. I oftentimes don’t feel like I’m in control. I just kind of go where the road takes me. But I’m learning that when you just go where the road takes you, you don’t go very far. To get anywhere, you need a GPS and maybe some iPhone traffic alerts. And most importantly, you need a destination. They always say life is about the journey, blah, blah, but you can’t just hang out on the road, singing along to your roadtrip playlist forever. You’ll eventually get a cramp and get cranky. You need a destination before you can sit back and enjoy the scenery. Otherwise you’re really just a passenger. And that’s all I have to say about driving.

Let’s just run away

The thing about wedding planning is that it makes you think you can put off real life. It’s ridiculous, I know. Because while there are indeed a lot of things to plan (oh crap, I just remembered I have to figure out how to make heart-shaped jello-shot jigglers), it’s not like you have wedding stuff to do every day. No, it is very possible to be a fully functioning member of society while also sorting out your cocktail hour playlist. And yet I have successfully used this distraction to push aside the hard stuff, the reality of, I have no idea where I am going in life. I keep promising myself that I’ll figure it out after August, when my brain is not dancing with paper pom-poms. But it frustrates me that I still haven’t found my thing, the thing that I will make stick. I mean, I’m a writer, I know that. But where is it taking me? Or better yet, where am I taking it? There are possibilities out there, and I am hopeful. Though it’s times like these that I wish I had it all figured out.

P.S. Thanks for all your sweet comments on our engagement photos. You guys make me smile.

2009: An Assessment

So I wrote this last week but was about to delete it because I was like, it’s sooooo boring, who wants to read about my boooring life? And then I thought, hmmm, well, this site is called Michelle Woo (me), so I guess you all do. Which brings me to my first goal of 2010 (and beyond): STOP CARING WHAT PEOPLE THINK. Oh, by the way, I’ve decided that every day this week, before I answer your questions (keep ‘em coming!), I’m going to write about one aspect of my life I’d like to work on. I was kidding myself when I thought I could cruise through the new year without some emo self-reflection. So stay tuned!

For now, here’s an assessment of my 2009, with ratings from 1 to 10.

Career: 6
This score may seem a little harsh since this past year, I 1) left a position that was weighing me down, 2) created my own part-time position (at the same company) that I’m enjoying 100 times more, and 3) declared I would also be a freelance writer and have actually—knock on wood—been getting steady work. So overall, 2009 seems like a mondo WIN. The thing is, and when it comes to my career, there’s always a thing, I feel so far from where I could be. And I don’t quite know how to get there. It bugs.

Love: 9
So, I got engaged. If that doesn’t boost my score in this department, I’m doomed. No really, I am loving this stage in our relationship—we’re building a life together, piece by piece. (Did I tell you that Matt and I are now on Verizon’s family plan? Isn’t that the sweetest thing?) It feels wonderfully natural, like oh hi, you’re gonna be my husband. Grin.
(I didn’t give myself a 10 because I suppose there’s always room for improvement. Maybe Matt can make me French toast in bed sometime, ya think?)

Friendship: 7
I can do a lot better in calling—not just gchating and Facebooking—my best pals, but overall, I feel really blessed to have people in my life who know me (and like me anyway). I’m excited for what’s in store for us: More trips! More dinner dates! More nights we can’t remember!

Family: 9
Family rules! (Though Ma keeps nagging me to take my clothes out of the dryer, even if the buzzer went off just an hour ago … for the 42th time.)

Appearance: 5
While I wouldn’t call myself a grenade (Dude, I don’t even watch Jersey Shore and I kinda love that term), my appearance has taken a downwards turn. Yes, we all get older, I know, just deal with it, but this is the first time I’ve noticed some “signs.” Ew, that word! My undereye area is kinda dry, my cheeks are not as glowy as they used to be and my eyes make tiny creases when I smile. Oh, and we’re not even gonna talk about my hair. It’s all okay, though, I’m just gonna have to put more effort into this important area of life, you know, bring out the power tools. I just invested in good mascara and fake eyelashes (I’ve never tried them!), and my mom bought me this secret gel that she says will make me look five years younger (23, can’t wait to see you again! I have missed you!)

General happiness: 7.5
I have a good life. Now I want more.

The Takeaway

az

Sometimes I think about Arizona. I haven’t been back since I moved to LA nearly three years ago. I think about the evening drives, the majestic sky, the warm, still nights. Mostly, I think about my old job there, how it challenged and fed me, how I was surrounded by some of the most talented, passionate people I’ve ever known. I think about who I was then, so young, so overwhelmed, so lucky. When I think of my short time in Arizona, I think, yeah, that was good.

It’s funny. I never really thought of myself as the super positive type but when I think about my past, I only remember the good. When I think about Arizona, I don’t think about how out of place I felt at times, how I would sit on my bed for entire weekends straight, with nothing really to do, no one really to see. I don’t think about how hard it was to be away from Matt, the hundreds of “I miss yous,” the tears that always came every time we pulled up to the departures line at the airport. I don’t think about how miserably hot those summers were (oh sweet Jesus, those were temperatures no human should ever have to bear). I don’t think about my frustration with everything in the end, how I just wanted to go home for good.

No, I don’t think about those things. I only think about how good my life has been, how many opportunities I’ve had since college, how many amazing people I’ve met. I guess this is a just a reminder that all the things that suck won’t really matter in the end.

When I look at my life now — living with my parents, planning a wedding and stressing about my career (as always) — I wonder what I’ll remember. What will I carry with me? What will I take away?

I want to know, so I can embrace it as it unfolds.

(Photo credit)

Get behind yourself and push

When I first entered journalism, a lot of people told me I would be successful. Those voices of encouragement were my fuel. I aimed to please, and every time I did so, I wanted to do it again.

Now those voices have been quieted, understandably so — there’s no encouragement in journalism right now — but my own voice has not risen within me as a replacement.

It’s pretty quiet around here. Oftentimes, I don’t know what the hell I’m doing, if I’m improving, if any of this means anything to anyone.

Sometimes I yearn to go back to school or work for a big company with lots of bosses, but I know that it’s only so I can get someone to say, “Yes, you’re doing it right.”

Can’t I just say that myself? Is it possible to be brilliant even if no one else utters the words?

It sucks to live like this, to be a praise junkie. (Ha — why do you think I started a blog?) Your worth is dependent on the opinions of other people, who can be oh-so unreliable.

There’s some genius in me, I’m sure, but finding it means looking past what’s going to get me comments and pats on the back and instead looking for what makes me come alive. That’s a much more difficult task.

But frankly, I’m tired of the silence.