The Studio

Who have I become? What do you see when you see me?

Do you see someone who spends her time being preoccupied with the "finer" things in life -- fine dining, fine arts? Am I someone who would much prefer to spend an afternoon at the mall than on a good hike or in a park? Would the sight of bugs make me squeamish?

Or do you see someone who spent the majority of her life as a tomboy? Someone who spent many Saturday afternoons helping dad complete home improvement projects and all the other Saturdays fishing? Would you guess that I could operate a ban saw long before I could use an electric mixer or a food processor? Would you see someone who didn't discover small-sized t-shirts until I was about 17 -- my favorite outfit used to be jeans and one of my dad's t-shirts.

What does it say when my friends get a vision similar to an episode of Paris Hilton's Simple Life when they try to imagine me going camping, when the truth is camping is something my parents and I did regularly. I don't think my friends think I'm prissy, but, well, to some degree, they might. I have spent so much time these past 8 years trying to be a class act, being as mature and refined as I possibly could be. To some degree, all my efforts were to help me fit in, and on some levels, to justify all the nice things that have found their way to me. I still try to convince myself sometimes that I am deserving of all the luck in my life, and all the opportunities. Sometimes though, I just feel like a fraud.

Here it is, my confession. I come from very, very humble backgrounds. My parents raised me on a combined income less than what I make now. I have never wanted for anything, material or otherwise. When I wanted a waterbed, I got a waterbed. When I wanted a car, my parents insisted on a new one -- a mustang nonetheless. How they did it? I will NEVER know. Good ole' asian savings, I suppose. I used to be a little embarrassed when my friends asked me what my parents did. But, looking back, I'm damn proud of them.

My father, a man who was studying for a law degree via correspondence because he was fighting in a war, came to America and worked as a custodian in a nursing home. This was long before he and mom met, though. For most of my life, my father delivered air freight. Mom used to always bug him and complain about his lack of ambition. He could have gone to school here in America, gotten a degree, been an engineer -- anything he wanted to be. I sometimes wondered about it myself, why a man who placed second in a national competition of English language and whose grammar was probably better than my own decided not to pursue further education here. I started to understand it a few years back -- when you've seen the atrocities that he had, your priorities change. Ambition, career, wealth are no longer your measures of success. The things that you cherish most are the 15 minutes you spend each morning with your daughter as she scarfs down her breakfast at 5:30 AM, already late for school.

My mother's story was even more remarkable and heart wrenching, though I am probably not at liberty to share all of it with you. But, at any rate, my mom spent her days as the manager of bakeries and delis for large grocery chains, such as Safeway, AppleTree, and Krogers. She was proud of her work, and she was good at what she did. So good in fact, that she was constantly shipped all over town to shape up failing departments. Through it all, she never really grumbled about the commute, even though I could see that it took its toll on her. And each day, when she would come home, she would prepare a three course meal, and somehow timed it so that the dishes landed on the table piping hot the minute my dad walked in the door. And though she was proud of her work, she offered to quit it all when I got into high school, so that she could spend more time with me, driving me to whatever rehearsals I needed. The company, desperate to keep her, offered her a lower position with more steady hours in a completely unfamiliar department. But my mom accepted the challenge, and of course grew quite knowledgeable about all the different cuts of meat.

So you see, there's a complex story to each of us -- what our pasts are made of, who we are as a result of it, and where our futures lead us. I know that I probably try to portray myself in a certain manner, and what you see is not false, but it is only a small fraction of the picture. I am a very contextual person, always doing whatever necessary to fit into my surroundings. So, until you've seen me in every element, don't suppose you've seen all of me. Trust me, I'm full of surprises. If we are to be bosom friends, you must be in it for the long haul. The revelations will come slowly, but they will be honest, sincere, and sometimes raw.

They say in this town, stars stay up all night,
Well, I don't know, can't see 'em for the glow of the neon lights.
An' it's a long way from here to the place where the home fires burn.
Well it's two thousand miles and one left turn.

"Dear Mom and Dad,
"Please send money: I'm so broke that it ain't funny.
"Well, I don't need much; just enough to get me through.
"Please don't worry 'cause I'm all right,
"I'm playin' here at the bar tonight.
"Well, this time, I'm gonna make our dreams come true.
"Well, I love you more than anything in the world,
"Love,
"Your baby girl."

Black jack, blue sky: big town full of little white lies.
Well, everybody's your friend: you can never be sure.
They'll promise fancy cars an' diamond rings, an' all sorts of shiny things,
But, girl, you'll remember what your knees are for.

"Dear Mom and Dad,
"Please send money: I'm so broke that it ain't funny.
"Well, I don't need much; just enough to get me through.
"Please don't worry 'cause I'm all right,
"See, I'm playin' here at the bar tonight.
"Well, this time, I'm gonna make our dreams come true.
"Well, I love you more than anything in the world,
"Love,
"Your baby girl."

I know that I'm on my way.
Well, I can tell every time I play.
An' I know it's worth all the dues I pay,
When I can write to you and say:

"Dear Mom and Dad,
"I'll send money. I'm so rich that it ain't funny.
"Well it oughtta be more than enough to get you through.
"Please don't worry 'cause I'm all right,
"See, I'm stayin' here at the Ritz tonight
"Whaddya know, we made our dreams come true.
"An' there are fancy cars an' diamond rings,
"But you know that they don't mean a thing.
"Well, they all add up to nothin' compared to you.
"Well, remember me in ribbons an' curls.
"I still love you more than anything in the world:
"Love,
"Your baby girl."

Ah yeah.

Your baby girl.
("Dear Mom and Dad,
("Please send money: I'm so broke that it ain't funny.)
("Don't need much; just enough to get me through.)
Your baby girl.
("Please don't worry 'cause I'm all right,
("Playin' here at the bar tonight.)
(Ooh, ooh, ooh.)
Dreams come true.