Journal

life back home is simple. i do operations and finance...run bank errands, stock the office, take out the trash (just like old times!), import documents, etc. i'm still feeding the dog 3x/day, watering the lawns, walking the dog, loving Netflix, reading voraciously, and working out in my "home gym" which consists of a yoga mat and free weights. weekends, i have puppy obedience class, movie nights, church or temple, lunches with the girls, bar hopping with the boys, etc. is this the simple kind of life my mother always imagined for me?

talking to an old friend, we referenced the good old days of "working like a dog" for about 60 hours a week...i wonder if i miss it. do i miss stress? working crazy hours, wasting away my nights online, freaking out about companies tanking, gaining and losing friends, allies, coworkers? it's a different kind of stress. the...parental kind, even though they're across the pond right now enjoying their semi-retirement. i feel...like i'm 14 again. like there are invisible electric wires around every move i make. maybe i'm projecting, but i always feel like my parents doubt me. they doubt my ability to think, reason, function, and act. every time i talk to my dad on the phone about the business, he always sounds surprised that i'm actually working. he's pleasantly surprised that i get things done. he worries that i won't do it right. my mother is another wonderful case in point. she has low-to-no expectations of me, but gets explosively mad if i ever err or make a misstep. even with such a "low" bar, if i don't get things right the first time, it's a fucking tragedy. why oh why did i not make the right choice the first time. shit like that, i'm sure it's considered normal for the fragile mother-daughter relationship.

despite my rant, i have a deeper appreciation now for my parents. the things they've done for me, how they raised me, and the amount of trust they've bestowed in me now with the business. it's fucking legacy, this family business thing. i'm learning new things every day (did you know the US Postal Service does not deliver mail to businesses with dogs on the premises? LAME!!) and i can feel my love for chucks growing every day. adopting Molly was a sign of my commitment, that i am home again. i am home, for now, for good -- HA! that is, until i get into a graduate program that will take me. i feel like my relationships are reflective of my lack of (not inability to-) commitments. Molly is the sweetest thing that's ever happened to me, and she makes me want to be a good mom. today, she FINALLY learned "down" and i was sooo ecstatic. she makes me so proud when she *gets* things. it's deeply rewarding, the care you put into them, the time spent teaching commands...input/output = feeding/pooping, heh. just like carrie underwood says, "the more boys i meet, the more i love my dog." my dog is my commitment, my move home is my commitment to my parents and the business, and my goal is to get the fuck out of here again and expand my mind. or, i can just try to create my own happiness and achievements at home base, trying to spread my wings and fly, even for just a little bit.

random list of aspirational goals, so i don't forget:

- take a real vacation this year. (Japan in August, or Paris)

- continue to work on my fitness.

- take the GRE and get recs.

- start blogging, or start writing. (strange fiction or memoir)

- take an art class. (oil painting or jewelry making)

- start volunteering again. (habitat for humanity, or Tzu Chi Buddhist Foundation)

- join an orchestra. (violin)

- be a good person. (in progress)