Home > Work > Oh, Never Mind
1 " In loving my people, I am a late bloomer and feel horribly prodigal for it. "
― Mary H.K. Choi , Oh, Never Mind
2 " I have fulfilled all the base layers of Maslow’s hierarchy of needs and am at the tippy-top. Self-actualization feels incredible. It’s the feeling of being totally ordinary and completely OK with it. "
3 " Certain parts of San Francisco are what happens when white people have no natural predator. "
4 " tired. The meeting is meant to be one of those “go-see” business things where you smell each other’s butts and silently mutually agree never to see each other again—except that she offers me a job on the spot. "
5 " want to live someplace that "
6 " Being kind is how you get happy. "
7 " In college in Austin, I clocked the auburn-haired Asian kids who smoked Marlboro Light 100s and drove Mitsubishi 3000 GTs and Toyota Celicas with swooping, pearlized spoilers. They talked about AKs, were seemingly very good at pool, hailed mostly from Houston, and were decidedly cooler than church nerds or extracurricular-scholastic-group nerds. We didn’t interact much beyond the shade they’d throw as I walked by with my white boyfriend. “He’s half Mexican!” I wanted to tell them, but of course, that proved nothing. The other Asian crews were part of the Greek system, and I was leery of them as well. I knew them only because the housing administration of the University of Texas at Austin automatically roomed you with an Asian kid in a larger suite of Asian kids, and my Chinese suitemates rushed for Asian Panhellenic sororities. My roommate was a gorgeous socialite from Taiwan who spoke little English and dated guys who bought her clothes. She wore only Armani. We all kept a healthy distance. "
8 " I loathe San Francisco. Sure, it looks like Jurassic Park in places, and the fog layer is enchanting with its plumes and trellises interweaving with the leaves and lichen on the redwoods. But everything else is like if New York’s Gramercy neighborhood got a whole town. On any given night there are way too many “going-out shirts” and the women dress like there was a fire sale at some emporium that only sells clam-diggers and kicky little jackets with ornamental zippers. I have never so frequently witnessed pinstripe and patchwork meeting in the middle as I have on the tragic A-line skirts of Valencia Street. Every man who isn’t contemptibly rich enough to be famous for it reminds me of Matthew Lillard’s pigtail-braided Rollerblader in Hackers. I have never tallied so many “Pick-Up Artist” hats or labret piercings outside of 1996. Fashion is no more than an indication of larger trends. Certain parts of San Francisco are what happens when white people have no natural predator. "
