...Work in Progress

I am not an emotional person. Those that know me know this to be true about 95 percent of the time (the other 5 percent is made up by daily road rage). These past few days have been both the highlight and lowlight of my year thus far. So do you want the good news or the bad news first? For loss of better reasoning, we will go chronologically.

So the good news. Matt & Suje are finally "The Foulkes's!" I can honestly say the entire weekend was awesome - two nights and five hotel rooms full of people I've grown to know and love, whether it be over a few years or just a few days. The wedding itself was beautiful, and darling Kevin delivered what Sandy Foulkes's friend called "the best toast I've ever heard" (and he wasn't a young guy). I loved every second of the weekend, and wish I could go back. But no fear - we'll always have Pala. ;) ::smooches::

On to the not-so-good. After speaking to my brother for the first time in days, he informs me of the recent death of a Rice University student (cause of death pending autopsy). As you may know, Rice's entire undergraduate population could fit into some of the larger high schools down here (about 4,000). Derrick's met the kid before and is friends with his brother and two of their cousins. A quick Google-search came up with two blog posts mentioning the deceased within the past 24 hours. One - a mere cut and paste of the Associated Press article that's appeared in all the local papers. The other - a first-hand account of the weekend from a Rice alum back in town for the annual Beer Bike (yes, Rice has an offical Beer Bike). It was this second account that mentioned the rumor of an overdose.

Now, growing up in sheltered Orange County, we've been protected from a lot of realities like this. I remember kids in high school passing away from cancer or a stray bullet, but never self-inflicted harm. I remember rumors around UCI about which campus building has had the most suicides committed off of it, but can't put any names. Most recently, I remember the guy from the neighboring apartment building that jumped from who-knows-how many stories up into our trash alley at my last apartment in New York, where our apartment was the closest one in the building to the back door.

Funny how selective memory makes you forget the bad. On a normal day, if you asked me about college, I'd respond "It was the best four years of my life! I had a blast!" But when these things reappear in your consciousness, you remember. You remember the time you hated your life. You remember the time you wished it would end. You remember how you thought no one would understand. It's just a fact of life, and most people go through those depths. College is a breeding ground for those types of thoughts - you're on your own for the first time and you have the space to be depressed (it's hard to do at home without a lock on your door - not that you don't do it anyways). But there's also the space to be forgotten. The freedom to do what you wish, when you wish. Don't get me wrong - college is a great place that everyone should experience. As much as I dislike the way UCI is run academically, socially it flat-out rocked.

After being out of college for a few years, however, you realize, there is always a way back up. Many of those that I began my adult life with have gone through their depths, some more heartbreaking than others, but now have found their place. It's heartwrenching to be reminded that not everyone makes it out.

For those of you reading that have made it out, I'm glad you did. Love y'all.

I turned down a full-time staff position at OC Metro magazine.

The things I do for love.

(note: title does not say OC Register's racism)

I typed out an entire blog for this but it got erased. To make a long story short, check out these underreported articles and the bigoted comments. It makes me sad to think that this is where I'm from and where I (used to, not so much anymore) want to raised my family.

Baby Locked in Auto, Mom Arrested
Harsh Words For Mom
Mission Viejo Backs Law to Weed Out the Undocumented
Asian-Americans Making Their Voices Heard

I realize that I've been seeing Orange County, the land that I love, through rose-colored glasses. Walking the HB Pier just a few weeks ago reinforced that I wanted to raise my family here eventually. Reading these appalling comments makes me think otherwise.

I gotta get outta here. Any suggestions?

Yup. It's only the second week of March but spring is in full fling down here in So Cal. It's hard to believe that less than three months ago I was holed up in my tiny UES room not wanting to leave because of the cold outside (and that was in December, before NYC got any snow or below 40 degrees). Ahh, it feels good to be back.

My days have been filled with sun, wedding planning, and most of all, working. What have I been up to? Realizing that you can have a job that includes your passion (writing) and making enough money to eat food everyday. I've found a common ground that makes even my parents happy, and that is not easy to do.

*****

The Happy Medium: writing & editing internal & external publications for the City of Irvine.

What's in it for me? $$, one publication I write and layout (monthly), one publication I write, edit and produce (quarterly) and one small article in the local paper I write, edit and take the headshot for (weekly). Exposure, experience and my expenses covered. In-building employee gym. Added bonus: because I carpool w/ my dad (in my car), he pays for my gas whenever he's there. And with gas prices nearing the $3.00 mark, that is definitely a perk.

Why my parents love it: Government job = security (Dad's happy), $$ (Mom's happy), carpooling to work w/ Dad (both happy).

Frequently Asked Questions:

What do you do?
See above.

Can you get me a job/give me a reference for a job with the City?
No.

Want to meet up for lunch?
Give me a date and I will tell you yes or no. I work out in my gym (::gasp::) 2-3 times a week during lunch - sometimes MWF, sometimes TT - so let me know and I will let you know my schedule for that week.

*****

So have I given up my dream of becoming a magazine editor now that I'm pretty much editing a magazine? Not one bit. As always, I have a plan. And also as always, that plan could possibly change. In less than five short months I will have to begin thinking about more than just fending for my survival - I will be fending for Kevin's survival as well. My student loan interest continues to pile up; it's what the debtless Kevin refers to as my "negative dowry."

There are several regrettable things that have stemmed from being back at home and having a full-time job: lack of free-time to wedding plan, it's already March and I have no sign of a tan, I've managed to use my (new) 24 Hour Fitness membership an average of once per week but won't give it up because I *heart* TKB, someone is always asking where I'm going and when I'll be back (usually "out" and "later"). Most of all, however, is the lack of time, energy and inspiration to blog as consistently as I did all last semester.

So, my dear reader(s), here goes a push. I'll put this out in writing so that you can check up on me (if I ignore your pressure, don't be offended).

I, Angeline Grace Huang (soon to be Evans), pledge to blog on each of my sites at least once a week, so help me God.

Ciao

Also known as "the sh*t has hit the fan" or "the eagle has landed."

Definition: Angeline has officially finished her Master's Degree, changing status from "student" to "unemployed." A never-before-seen phenomenon that will (hopefully) never recur in my lifetime (well, i guess it's sort of impossible to re-graduate, but at least the unemployed part).

And thus ends my New York story. I'm sitting here in my tiny little Upper East Side room surrounded by boxes and suitcases. I've coiled up my mesh hampers (your typical Bed, Bath and Beyond fare), and thrown away my hole-y socks. My Franklin Covey organizer is zipped and in my giant airplane purse ready for flight. I've been eating leftover pasta carbonara from my Happy Hour snack break - you know, the kind that turns more into pure oil than sauce when you reheat it?

Just two days ago, a little more if you're counting in hours, I sent out my last two final papers. The culmination of a year and a third (if you're counting months) of pain, depression, agony and little bits of hope. At the end of it all, I think I came out on top (if only by a smidge - not to be confused with Barbie's friend Midge).

I wish (just a little) that I could sit here and tap out a 2,000 word reflective essay on closing a chapter of my life that was, to be cliche, both the best of times and the worst of times. I've found my career niche (well, at least figured out how to do it), lived my dream NYC life, and have everything in the world to go home to after it's all done and over with.

But I can't. It is closed. I am finished, and that's that. I've never really been one to dwell on the past, and I'm not about to start now.

So to the present. I am presently feeling a large gap in my brain where "worry about homework," "writer's block" and "reporting anxiety" once was. it's not that they don't exist (I'm fairly certain that the last two will rear their ugly heads for decades to come), but they are not part of my present.

Presently, I am waiting for my uncle to come in from Jersey with his car to move my boxes and suitcases to his house near Princeton. There I will commence unpacking and repacking more boxes to ship, some to the parents' house good ol' El Pizzle, some to the future abode in Davis aka BikeTown (really, there are no cows. I'm a little - but only a little - bummed). Then I will hop on the plane for the last time this year (I've averaged one trip a month), thus ending my jet-setting bi-coastal everybody-should-be-jealous life. No longer can I say I live in New York and California, two of the most glamorized locales on modern television.

I go back to a slew of vendor meetings, holiday parties and job interviews (just one so far but I'm sure the slew will follow eventually). I have not even started thinking about Christmas presents or what I'm making for the Carpenter family Christmas party (Kev's mom's side). This will be my last Christmas as Angeline Huang, a member of the Huang family and Huang family only. My last seven months as an OC resident. Oh how things will change.

Since we're still not looking at the past, let's look to the future. The next year is one of the most insane years I will probably have. I'm moving back to OC this Wednesday. Looking for a job. Planning up a storm. Watching my baby bro graduate college and enter the real world. Tying the figurative knot (unless someone brings a giant rope to the wedding). Moving my re-tanned OC self up to Davis. Looking for a job. Cooking for Kevin through his comprehensive exams in the fall. Heading back to So Cal to spend holidays with both families. I'm exhausted and sweaty just thinking about it (but of course I'm really not sweaty).

Darn. There goes the fingers again. Let's keep this short and sweet:

I'm done with school. Where is my pat on the back?

Yes, it may be quite a heavy selection for the Saturday after my sabbatical, but it's on my mind after last night's Trading Spouses.

Growing up relatively "conservative," last night was one of my worst nightmares on national television. Trading Spouses switched two wives, obviously of differing opinions: one, a Conservative Evangelical Christian Sunday School teacher, the other an agnostic Roller Derby-playing tattoo artist.

The show then proceeded to center around the religious aspects of the conflicts for the part that I saw (it mysteriously cut off at 10 for the news). Choice confessional quotes such as "I think it was Satanic or something," and "They need to believe in Jesus," were stressed from the religous woman. Now, I don't have a problem with her religion (for the most part, she stayed true to the Bible), but the way they portrayed it on television.

Shows such as this and WifeSwap (usually a cleaner watch, in my opinion), have taken it upon themselves to comment on the wider social question of how to raise children. These are to be differentiated (slightly) from shows such as SuperNanny and Nanny 911 (apparently Fox and ABC have dominated the parenting market) which offer a more tutorial tone: more "how to," than "how could you." I understand that, in the name of television, parenting is something everyone has endured (the tail end if not the giving end), so its great to get the viewership, etc, etc.

Last night's show, however, barely touched on the parenting. The conservative lady's husband was absolutely uninvolved in their childrens' lives - the first morning, the "new mom" had to bundle the kids up and take them to church while the dad never woke up! He stayed home from everything. Meanwhile the tattoo artist/piercer dad (he owns two parlors - screams businessowner to me) was so loving with his child when the kid threw a tantrum and got so frustrated he almost cried, but never yelled. Super-touching.

I know, I know, television isn't perfect - and I still watch it. "Good" television doesn't usually mean good for those involved (in these reality TV things).

To clarify, let's point out the differences between WifeSwap and Trading Spouses. Trading Spouses is just one week, and the new parent decides how to spend the money that week. WifeSwap is two weeks long - the first week they live by the existing house rules, and the second week the "new mom" imposes new rules, many times remedying things she sees lacking during the first week. More often than not, the kids in WifeSwap get to try new things with their "new" moms, and the two couples sit down and discuss what they saw in each others' houses afterwards. Much more judicial, much less frivolous "lets pitch religion against non-religion." Granted, I've never seen a WifeSwap involving a family as religious as the one last night.

But you know, the participants know how things go before they sign up for it. Who am I to tell them to be careful?

SSB

No, it isn't really Super-Sonic Boom. It's a Monday morning and my brain is already tapped out (as are 2,033 words towards final number 1, due on Wednesday). It's from last night's rerun of Sex and the City, and it means Secret Single Behavior.

As a soon-to-be-never-single-again gal, I'm starting to see the traces of single life behind me. My last birthday as an unmarried woman, my last semester of school before I have to support more than just myself, my last holiday season as a Miss rather than a Mrs. You'd expect I have a lot of SSBs for someone who was constantly single prior to this relationship. I do, but you won't hear about them here.

Or at least not all of them. Kevin knows my habits. I like to peel off my nail polish, but I'll do that in public. I paint my nails obsessively (because of habit number 1), and cut my split ends too. Somehow I'm convinced that it will help my hair grow out faster if I spend enough time hunched over every strand that is even thinning at the tip. I browse through thousands of wedding dresses, sometimes more than once, although that shouldn't be an issue once I'm not planning a wedding anymore.

I stress over my pores, something Kevin has heard about, but never seen. All the hidden primping, puffing and buffing will come out into the open, although I'd say my morning routine is less extensive (but more OCD) than most. Wake up, pee, wash hands, put in contacts, wash face, acne treatment, day lotion, eye cream, wash hands. Every day. I only wear makeup when I go to work or church, but that's because I rarely go out anywhere else anymore. I finally bought a "real" brush to replace the free mini-brush that came with my curling iron six years ago. It was suppose to be "anti-static," but it is the exact opposite. I brush my hair only when it's still a tad bit damp from air-drying, and with a copious amount of shine spray.

I could go on and on about my weird OCD-tinged SSBs, but I won't. It's almost 10:30 and I have to work. There are probably a million little SSBs I won't even notice until they're exposed, but that will just be a nice little surprise, won't it? I hope Kevin thinks so, too.