Blog

Short blog posts, journal entries, and random thoughts. Topics include a mix of personal and the world at large.

Go see your parents

As more and more people are vaccinated, it’s very heart-warming to see them visit their parents for the first time in over a year. The excitement, relief, and absolute joy is a lovely sight on my twitter feed.

Lucky for me, it’s a feeling I cannot relate to: I see my parents all the time. I was living with them when this pandemic began, and even after moving out of the house some six months ago, I still go home every weekend. I suppose the people who had to take an involuntary year off from seeing their loved ones will never take it for granted again.

I certainly don’t, which is why I still go see my parents every Sunday morning on a schedule. I’ve only moved to the other side of San Francisco, rather than somewhere far. No guarantees that won’t happen in the future, so I take the opportunity to visit my parents often while I still can. Though probably more than someone who have “moved out of the house” typical do.

Nevertheless, it’s already been half a year since I’ve moved out on my own. Routines and things have settled in quite nicely, and I often amazed at this little nest I’ve created. It’s truly wonderful to have absolute solitude whenever I want. In hindsight, I probably should have moved out a few years sooner, but then a Porsche 911 GT3 got in the way of my entire budget. Obviously, the pandemic created great impetus to make the move back in November, and I could not be happier having done so.

Primarily, it’s the massive decrease in stress that makes it worth all the money in rent. Living within walking distance from work, removing myself from a somewhat messy situation back home, and the sense of accomplishment in taking care of myself completely, are contributing factors in lowering my stress and anxiety. Having less disposable income takes some adjusting, but as of right now, I’m at a fine place to live how I want.

The only emotion I want to express, is gratitude.

Four months since moving out

Hard to believe it’s been four months since I’ve moved out on my own. I think it’s finally sunken in that this new place is indeed my home now, and that my previous home is solidly my parents’. When I tell people I’m going home, this place I’ve been renting since November of last year is what I am referring to. It’s wonderful.

On certain days it still feels like I’m off somewhere on vacation, renting from an AirBnb. Exacerbating that feeling is the fact I’m renting from friends of the same age, so this whole thing feels like we’re traveling somewhere, away from our respective parents. How long does it take after moving out of your parents’ house for it to truly feel like you’re an adult? I don’t think I’ve reached that stage yet.

I have to say there’s great advantage to renting from a friend, though I guess you run the potential risk of a ruined friendship also displacing you from a place to sleep. That’s why I recommend renting from friends that you’ve known since high school, and which point the friendship should already be unconditionally lasting. The positive of renting from someone familiar is that the process is far smoother and less formal. The place is also friendlier.

Like I said, it’s like we’re all on vacation somewhere and renting a whole house.

The primarily reason for moving - other than finally striking it out on my own - is to be closer to work. The ability to walk to work within 10 minutes is an absolute game changer, a huge positive to my mental health. The feeling that at the end of a tiring day, I can be home in minutes rather than a slogging commute in a car is worth every penny of the rent I am paying. The difference will be even more stark once the world returns to normal, and I will have to go into the office the regular five days a week.

If I can help it, I am never going back to having a commute.

On my own

It’s been a little over two months since I’ve moved out on my own, and I have to say it’s going quite well. This “new” place finally feels lived in, and completely my own. For awhile it felt like I was off on some long vacation, and living in an AirBnb. That feeling was especially acute when I wake up in the morning. Having stared up at the same ceiling for nearly two decades, the transition to a new one takes some getting used to. These days it’s become rather familiar.

It’s nice to be able to set my own schedule, to eat whenever I want. Back with my parents, dinners is always at 6:00 PM, so I sort of had to schedule my day around that. On my own, I basically eat whenever I feel like eating. Of course, I’m also responsible for buying all the groceries: the milk no longer magically replenishes itself when it runs low. Thank god I’m not a glutton for variety in food. Being content with eating the same thing everyday means I can buy something in bulk from Costco and eat that for a whole week.

Of course, living within walking distance to a mall with a proper food court means should I fancy not cooking, I can always get some take-out easily. Being so close to everything is one of the main attractions of moving to this place. I don’t think I can go back to having a commute to work, now that I can simply walk to it everyday. To be able to take care of most of my life needs all from within walking distance (even my dentist is only a few blocks away) is the stuff of dreams. A lifestyle I thought only possible in super dense Asian cities.

A few years back when I was traveling in Korea, I remarked at how small and efficient our AirBnb is. No bigger than about 250 square-feet, it was fully featured nonetheless: full kitchen, full bath, and a place for a bed. I thought wouldn’t it be great to have something like this in San Francisco, for a reasonable amount of rent. Turns out, in renting my current space, I found it! A studio with just enough space for everything. The small footprint makes it incredibly easy to clean. Whoever invented the Swiffer: I salute you.

I can’t wait for a time when I can actually go outside of the house for fun. I’m rooting for you, coronavirus vaccine!

Short birthday thoughts

In this most extraordinary of years, I nearly forgot that it is my birthday in two days. I am turning 33, which symbolically doesn’t really mean anything within the social schema of significant birth milestones. It’s just another tick in the box until I hit the big four oh. Not for awhile, thankfully.

Society puts certain demands on you in relations to how old you are, doesn't it? By the time we hit our thirties, we’e suppose to have our careers figured out, with steady amount of money, and the beginnings of family starting. Well, I can honestly say I’ve not achieve any of those things. I’ve only just moved out of my parents’ house this year! Something that, by the socially-accepted standards of American culture, has been overdue for a decade.

I go at my own pace, obviously. And so does my friends: only one couple out of the group is married with kids. The rest are getting there ever so slowly. Not me, of course: I am still on my traveling and spending money on cars phase of life. With 2020 being a sort of lost year due to the global pandemic, there’s much catching up to do once the COVID-19 vaccine is rolled out to the masses. Life seemingly have hit a paused button - while the video is still rolling - and I'm looking forward to resuming my previously scheduled programing.

That will hopefully be what age 33 will be about: a resumption of normalcy. I am as prepared as possible, having finally moved out on my own this year. I feel like I’ve already reached the next stage of life, so therefore 33 will be a time for acclimatizing to this new arrangement and see what other changes it may permeate to. Because as of this writing, we are all still confined to our homes, waiting.

I sincerely thank the higher powers for this gift of another year of life. Let’s get after it and make it count.

One month moving update

Welcome to December, everyone! We made it to the final month of this absolutely crazy year. Pat yourself on the back if you and the people close to you are still healthy and employed through all of this. If that is indeed you, then consider giving a helping hand to those less fortunate.

The turn of the calendar also marks the occasion of me having moved out of my parent's’ place for one full month. I have to say it still sometimes feel strange to wake up at this new spot, thinking this isn’t where I belong. As if I am off somewhere on vacation instead, and soon I’ll have to go home to my own bed. In other ways, new routines have set in, and the studio unit I’m renting have morphed into something truly my own. One month’s worth of cooking and living smells have permeated through the place, and it’s recognizably home when I return from work and open the front door.

Speaking off work, the real magic of this new house is how close it is to my place of employment. A 10 minute leisurely stroll is all it takes for me to arrive on campus, ready to rock. Not having a slogging commute is the biggest improvement to well-being that moving to this place have created. Living this close to work is a game-changer: stress is lower, and I get more time back in the day. It was done on purpose, too: if I were to move out, it had to be somewhere nearer to campus.

The other huge benefit is the absolute quietness that my new neighborhood provides. The western side of San Francisco can largely be described as suburbia, and it’s such a contrast from the southwestern side’s bustle and noisiness. I can now read a book without being interrupted constantly by the blaring radio of a passing car (I live in practically a subdivision), and can go to sleep without needing earplugs because the neighbors aren’t playing loud music way into the night.

These two factors alone - proximity to work and the quiet environment - is well worth the monthly rent that I now have to pay. More often than not, I am very willing to trade money for less stress and peace of mind.

Got by with a little help

Followers of this blog would know: I recently moved.

And I could not have done it with my good friends. I don’t have many of them, but the few friends I do have I consider equally as dear as my family. The successful move out of my parents’ house reminded me just how awesome it is to have help from others.

Admittedly, I am a bit of a lone ranger when it comes to things: I prefer to go at it myself. It’s not like I see asking for help as a sign of weakness, it’s just that I’ve always had this mentality that in asking for assistance, I am being a huge bother to people. This is going to sound like I am blaming my mother: she’s the type of person who doesn’t like to owe anyone anything, and is quick to return a favor. She treats relationship with others as somewhat transactional, and some of that no doubt rubbed off on me.

So I was genuinely surprised and a bit taken-back when, without prompting, my friends offers their services to help me move. Things I would have done myself, like renting a van to haul my mattress, was taken care of voluntarily by my friends. In the case of the mattress, one of them had a Tesla Model S with a big enough boot to swallow the entire thing whole. Another friend - who happens to be the home owner I am renting from - saved me a trip to IKEA and got the bed-frame and bookshelves I needed. Yet another friend pitched in to ferry items from one house to the other, and assisted with building said bed-frame and bookshelves.

My stoic exterior belies how immensely moved I was by their gesture. My friend literally cut the time needed to complete the move by magnitudes. We started at 9 AM in the morning, and by noon the major move and build was complete, leaving me the afternoon to unpack and get my things into place.

If they are reading this: you guys are awesome! Thank you so much, with all sincerity.

What's the topic?

This is one of those mornings I really don’t know what to write about, but the show must go on. I try hard to not skip any scheduled writing days, because like missing a workout, the regret of having done so afterwards is rather unpleasant. Nothing should stop me from putting down the few hundred words on this page every day; except for Fridays, and the weekend.

With nothing to write about, I instead picked up a book and read for about an hour. I thought perhaps doing another task first would allow the time for inspiration to hit me and I’d have something to write about. Well, that completely failed on this day, and here I am rambling about particularly nothing just to fill up the word count.

But the show must go on.

The next time I put words to this page, I would have moved to my new spot closer to work, living the solitary independent life for the very first time. I am looking forward to this big life change with humbled anticipation, though with a few days still remaining at what I can now refer as “my parents’ home”, I am trying hard to not fast-forward time with the excitement of the future. It would be too easy to take these next days off and sort of lounge around until it’s time to move.

In those moments, I remind myself the core of what I do, which is plastered on the landing page of this very website: writer, photographer, car enthusiast, reader, traveler. So long as I am doing any one of those five things at a given time, (not so much traveling going on these days, sadly) I can confidently say I am being productive. Not to say one shouldn’t have hours of pure leisure, but for those with a tendency towards laziness like myself, reminders and affirmations are helpful tools to keep me on track.

Until next time, friends.