News!

You should know my readers, that it is not often that I have actual news to report on this here spot of blog or blogspot, whichever nomenclature you prefer. I comfortably assume that you would admit to atleast being mildly entertained from time to time with stories of my personal humiliations, tests of my character and attempts to defy the status quo--but witnessing the posting of actual news? Isn't this itself news...

Today, given that 'all immediate family have been notified' I can share with you my plans to soon repatriate myself to the good 'ole U.S. of A. Yup, I am leaving Hong Kong with all intention of arriving in Seattle shortly thereafter.

I've come to believe that it may perhaps be true that in getting in touch with one's adult feelings, you simply become more confused by them. But never-the-less, what are my emotions surrounding this life change you ask?

Mixed. My life is particularly complex right now. It's a hypothetical tapestry woven of hypothetical spaghetti noodles, but genuine horse hair. If after reading that last sentence you have an unclear, less than pleasant visual, your imagination has constructed a fairly accurate 'representative image of my recent life' - completely abstract and as confusing as my life, or life in general sometimes is.

Knowing that I have a) given the boss notice, b) begun collecting boxes, c) perused HK to Seattle flight options, d) stopped caring about anything relating to corporate banking - it should not be a surprise that my heart is now in Seattle, despite the reality that a month of living and working in Hong Kong lies before me.

Making the decision to rejoin fellow Washingtonians did not necessarily result in my being ready to leave Hong Kong. I am used to Honkie life after nearly 2.4 years, and upheival to one's routine is usually not free of stress. And this polluted island does have it's attractions. I expect however, that this change will be similar to the removal of one really large band-aid, and that once it is done I will not look back, even if the bandage takes a little skin with it.

Hong Kong has seen a different me. I became a Beth different to the one I was before I moved here, and I am not right now the Beth I will be once I return to what I know as home. Not that I am claiming to live by 'What happens in Vegas stays in Vegas' as though I can seperate myself from anything I did or was here, whether longer lasting or temporary.

See this is exactly where adult realities become difficult, I both am and am not the person I am here. It was always evident upon my vacations to Washington that my life there was quite the opposite of life here. But some facets of the me here will stick with me as I travel back. How do I feel about these many changes you ask--assuming you even followed that last almost algebraic paragraph.

Mixed. I've matured on the professional front. I've learned how to happily be less confrontational. I've learned how to keep my mouth shut more often. I've learned to do more research before speaking. I've confirmed unflexible is my middle name. I am taking ownership of my sometimes diva-like attitude. I've learned to have more confidence in my ideas. I've learned I can give a speech without trembling. I've learned I am smarter than I used to admit. I've learned most of my smarts have little value in the typical corporation. I've learned my memory is very faulty when it comes to business, stellar when it comes to people. I've learned I can make presentations without dissapointing my audience. I can now ignore alot of office politics and drama. I've settled that I could be a good leader.

I've matured on the emotional front. I've learned to quietly ride out gossip. I've learned that most of the people I interact with aren't that important in the grand scheme of my life. I've learned to not be hurt as easily. I've learned to not share myself with people who won't value what I am sharing, ie be an open book, but always start with page one, and go from there. I've learned to be less analytical and less suspicious. I can now look people in the eye.

I've matured on the self-esteem front. I don't need to be the popular girl. I don't need to look like the popular girl. I don't need to say yes just because someone offers to buy me a drink. I don't need to fit in to every group. I can talk to more types of people that I could before, but that doesn't mean I need to be everyone's friend. It's ok that I find the one quiet nerd interesting and the informally elected hunk repulsive. My body shape is far from perfect, but it's good enough. I have great eyes, I like my face. I am not junk just because I do not look perfect. I do not cry when someone I want to like me does not.

I previously lived life being my own worst critic. In early life my parents, sisters, people whom I wanted most to approve of me, often did not for various reasons. I learned the only way around personal guilt and dissapointment was to try to obtain perfection. I thought if I could remain three steps ahead of everyone, I might ensure that I would not be given poor marks. To want perfection is to be your own judge and to hand down a sentence which you suspect other would later say you deserved had you not.

I have finally, thankfully, found success in seperating myself from many insecurities of 'Little Beth.' I've given myself permission to rethink labels and conclusions made long ago regarding what I can and cannot do. Perceptions developed believing there really was only one possible conclusion.

I've traveled a good part of the world, sometimes by myself. I've gone under the sea, despite that every nightmare I've had attests to my deep fear of the water and/or things living in it. I've leveled the field with experienced bankers, lawyers and Harvard degree holders. I've lessened my fear of foreign languages, foreign food and religions.

I've become a runner. I can wear pretty dresses, and look cute in them.

I've learned what an Irish Car-bomb is. I've learned that I don't really like to drink anything other than wine and fruity cocktails. I've learned I have the capacity to drink too much. I've learned my body is not forgiving when I do so. I've learned I had good things in Seattle which I want back. I've settled that the inside IS more important than the outside.

I've learned I have the ability to act completely shallow. I've learned it's ALOT easier than you think to become the person you say you never want to be. I've known, but now know first hand, that you don't know who you really are until you have the opportunity to be what you say you aren't. I've learned I am capable of being bought. I've learned morals have a selling price which is often lower than one would like to think. I've learned that to prevent this reality I need to focus.

I've learned there is a time for doing what you believe you ought to, even if your heart doesn't immediately follow. You have to be able to be your own parent.

I've learned I am capable of discarding important things. I've learned I often undersell myself. I've settled that Beth isn't going to ever feel passionate about the world of finance, not even a bit. I've grown in my ability to walk forward with my head high, even during times where I've dissapointed people important to me. I know the power of money. I've felt the lure of things. I know the power of hope.

So, what I have after 2.4 years are some positive permanent changes, perhaps more confusion, and a knowing that there is more work to do on myself. It's all part of the tapestry of me.

Here's to believing that all things can work for our good, and to walking forward with hope of continual improvement and knowing exactly, for sure, what it is we want to improve and who we want to become.

Guilin China

My Trip to Beijing!

Tiananmen Square. I did have a tour guide, however she seemed a little annoyed at my questions regarding the events of 1989, "The government, the students, who can say who is wrong?" She said. I find it interesting that the government reports around 200-300 deaths where other sources quote 1 to 3k. And keeping talk of massacres all hush hush--doesn't that point to the guilt of the censor-happy government--that they don't want it talked about?

Inside the once 'Forbidden City' - which in my opinion is highly dramatizing nomenclature. It is the historical equivalent of the modern Buckingham Palace, a leader's secure residence. With the word 'Forbidden' given as a name I expected stories of angst and bloodshed and lovers torn apart, but my tour guide reported no such events, simply the life of the emporer which had no drama until he was ousted in favor of the first president.

What follows are pictures of me in, on and around the Great Wall. I visited the 'Baddaling' entrance, which I must admit to saying to the concierge, "I don't want to go to Baddaling," not knowing it had any relation to the Great Wall which of course was my trip's main purpose.

These kids just may have never seen a 'whitey' before. Beijing was full of tourists from other parts of China given the long holiday weekend. While it is not common in HK to be stared at for one's pale skin, in other parts of Asia you just may be urged to jump into a family photo as was the case here. Though the parents thought it a good idea, I don't think the kids had any idea what to make of it all.

The sign in the hills on the right was placed there approximately 2 years ago I was told in anticipation of the Olympic games heading to Beijing. If you can't read what it says: "One World. One Dream."

Given these are not evergreens I feel lucky to have visited during a time where the hills were not brown and crunchy! But next time, perhaps visit while it's snowing?

I found the pollution in Beijing to be absolutely disguisting although here at the wall (about 90 minutes outside the city) it was moderate and tolerable. Up on the wall there was a lovely breeze, which I am all about air flow given I tend to sweat easier than the average joe. I love cool air and will jaunt out to 'the wall' again some day if for no other reason than to enjoy the sweeping breeze!

The 'Bird's Nest Stadium' - built for? You guessed it, the 2008 olympics. I am wondering if it was designed by the same dude who collaborated on Seattle's EMP. Both seem to be a part of the 'curvy metal movement.'

Ladies Night Out

Alexis, Beth and Harmony rockin at the Dragon-I.

An Amendment

So, to maintain any self-respect I do have--despite posting my flaws to the world--I will clarify that my reference to 'squashed hamburger bun boobs' was in no way reflective of mine. I am in perfect 28 year old form (ha ha) albiet not in the preportions I might wish for (ha again)

Oh, and the ass. I guess I don't need to give the skirt ALL the credit. I've noticed running has plumped it up just a bit, and how thankful I am for that...

More of Beth's thoughts on fashion

I’m not what you’d call a fan of ‘the Miracle Bra.’ I don’t have any particular disdain for the creation, but to insinuate any brassiere can perform near magic is just one more instance of cunning ad execs taking hyperbole to the nth degree, in my opinion.

Should you argue that donning this specific boob harness does actually alter your upper body in ‘miraculous’ ways, good for you. So call my fears elementary, but I’ve always been the girl afraid to wear super cushiony, squishy, or lifty type bras. I mean, assume the thing can cause ‘positive improvement’- its only false advertising. And who wants to be the girl lookin like she’s got a pair of gravity proof perky C’s when what she really has would make up a Mc Donald’s dollar menu hamburger bun, after the both sides have been mangled by an impolite and hungry 4 year old…

Here lies a potential ‘problem’, what do you do if while wearing said misleading apparel the opportunity to ‘be intimate’ presents itself. Don’t you kind of ensure that you will leave your company disappointed following the disrobing phase? How many guys would be grateful to find your chest is actually flatter or lower than they thought?

Alright, so no go on the shape shifting garments. But, if an item naturally enhances, without superfluous material, lifters or movers-it’s all good as far as I see it.

Being the self-deflating kind of girl that I am, it isn’t at all private information when it comes to discussing what about my person is not pleasing to me (and probably everyone else alive). Physically, that’d be my calves (although now almost acceptable due to exercise regimine) and my ass, or actually my complete lack of an ass. Not only do I not have even a median amount of ass flesh, but the kinda girl I tend to think is gorgeous is of the Kim Kardashian type who has far more than the median. Perhaps that preference is partially a direct result of my having almost no ass-age—who knows—but her face ain’t hard to look at either.

In any case, back to body enhancing (not altering, etc) clothing… I found and bought the other day, a very snug, knee length black skirt. Sounds all good, normal, professional, right? Good night, this thing clings so closely to my backside, somehow I actually appear as though I have ample rear-side cushioning.

I am in love.

Can I make this my superwoman suit? Do I really need to wear anything else?

Again being self-deflating, I will go ahead and share that generally speaking I have to look hard to find pants (or skirts) not constructed in ways that only remind me of my most noticable deficiency. Most jeans and trousers seem to yell out, “See this extra material sagging back here? That’s where your ass would ‘sit’-if you had one.”

It’s depressing. So, I look for ‘poorly constructed’ (as other women would likely call them) pants which allow for near nil rear padding. And for extra measure, the bigger the back pockets, the happier I am. Adding bulk in back is a little trick which I hope helps to give the impression that my butt is not just an extension of my back while not also sending any arse-loving dudes in my direction. See the fine line one must walk?

So yea, LOVE the new skirt. But I’ll probably have to pair it with my ‘well-worn and to-the-point t-shirt**’ which reads… ”I hope you’re a face man,” just to keep things real.

**T-shirt doesn’t actually exist. Just like my ass.

A little passion for fashion

Many people associate Hong Kong with edgy, competitive fashion. They expect upon arrival to find great shopping, oodles of well dressed people and just a general feeling in the air of eliteness. Milan, New York, Paris, Hong Kong... To hear these similarly described cities grouped together is not unusual.

I think every social layer of Hong Kong is intricate. To illustrate, you know those cake recipes where you're instructed to mix 'Ingredient X' into half the batter and 'Ingredient L' into the other half and then 'gently fold' the two together? If you have any idea what I am referring to you'll conjur up images of the resulting item which is blended, but yet not blended... There are very distinct layers or flavors to Hong Kong which both stand out and blend together.

This is true of Hong Kong's fashion. You have the younger, lifer generation who are sold on Bathing Ape clothes and as far as shoes, it's high-tops or flats. They love baggy cotton shirts paired with tight leggings or jeans.

The average middle age professional loves gray, black and navy suits and keeps things pretty simple and (wrongly I think) uninspired during the week. For the weekend, which consists largely of bar hopping, this group is likely to own a few pairs of very trendy jeans, nice shoes and atleast 4 or 5 expensive accessories.

I remember a conversation with my baby sister Abby (miss you bunches dear) had while we were walking around a mall back in Washington. Now Abby speaks some Korean, for which I am very proud of her, my attempt to learn Mandarin has not gone so well... Back on topic, I found it interesting to watch her pick out from amongst the 'randoms' around us the Koreans she thought would speak the language... Meaning, of course those who are not 2nd or 3rd generation Korean Americans who only speak English.

At first I thought it an absurd idea that one could tell what languages a person spoke by what they wore, or their hairstyle, etc. But now, as a semi-knowledgable person where anything Chinese is concerned, I know exactly what my sisters claim was. How true this reality is. There are style nuances unique to each culture, which you may not at the surface or without study pick up on. Without international experience you may find it difficult to tell the difference between a foreign flair and simply 'odd' fashion taste when comparing say random Koreans in small town America.

Here in Hong Kong, one of the ways in which women would stand out should they transplant themselves to Washington state, would be their very specific uses of lace, of ruffles, of details on single colored or striped shirts. Or their love of dresses, which might be directly related to the 'party culture' here, as one must own several dresses... And there are certain materials more common to clothing here..

Sure, yes, women in America wear dresses, but oh so differently than they do here and maybe not as often. And while I'm not a huge fan of much of the clothing available to me in HK, I have been awakened to a new appreciation for the most feminine of apparel. One can look sweet in trousers, but there is an unmatched gleam (IMO) when a little lady 'rocks' a nice dress, and no it need not be backless or cleavage heavy or any of the similar to make a girl glow.

Think what you want, but I've been reading a book about gender differences, how we ought to exhibit and celebrate them, nurture them, etc. Don't take this as me saying women don't belong in the workplace, etc, etc - but I'm one girl who will forever feel sexiest in high heels, a dress that sits above the knee and maybe an apron, baking something for my manly man who should arrive home at 5:30 (<-- showing my west coast of America roots there in daring to not say 8:00pm) in of course a sexy, sexy suit and tie.

I think pretty dresses celebrate the feminine best. And 'serving' a manly man celebrates the feminine. As a side note, I tend to offend people with my speech when I least expect it, so perhaps any questioning I have of whether saying the words 'women serving man' will evoke disagreement will prove to solicit the opposite.

In any case, to wrap this up, while I am not in love with many aspects of the local fashion influence (which can also revel in the very very cheap looking and plain) and while I think Hong Kong's 'shopping haven' reputation is misunderstood, I am enjoying a heightened appreciation for feminine attire, which is not only a result of what is easily available locally in the mid range shop, but it's also thanks to my new body which lacks about 40 pounds it had when it first moved to Hong Kong... How amazing a feeling to not hate one's legs which is essential to 'rockin' the dress, isn't it?

One last note, which addresses the more uppity side of Hong Kong fashion, I want to point out that the true fashionista not need rely on Gucci and Hugo to dress them. One with real talent can walk into Zara (eg Banana Republic or Ann Taylor back home) and find a stunning piece which can be elevated even more by perhaps somewhat spendy jewelry and look every bit as sexy as one whos entire ensemble is courtesy of some bizarre looking 60 year old Italian man (aka 'a designer') who's definitely had atleast one facelift, paid for by you who gave him $600USD for one pair of shoes.

When it comes to fashion and make-up, for which I am sometimes complimented, I tell my girlfriends you gotta know when to go thrift-store (aka vintage), when to go designer and when to go basic. It's the combination (ie CoverGirl mascara and DIOR eyeshadow) that keeps you looking fabulous while not financially destitute. Pay more where you get more, but no, more is not just a popular label. IMO, don't buy $20 earrings unless they are plastic and you want plastic. Don't bother with funky metals which may go green or bend. Don't buy $6 eye shadow that's gone by 11am. Know where to put your extra dollar and make investments rather than smaller purchases which widdle away $5 here and $10 there and in the end leave you with less.

Well, my few male readers... Did you make it this far?