what now?

I’ve recently served as a juror on a criminal case.  The experience was once in a lifetime and I sure hope I don’t have to repeat it. 

The charges were first degree murder and attempted murder.  The defendant was an 86 year old man, in a wheelchair with an oxygen tank.

After 2 days of jury selection, 7 days of listening to testimony and seeing evidence, and 4 days of deliberations, we were a hung jury.

I’ve always consider myself a pretty sane person, one who knew the difference between right and wrong, a black and white thinker.  Being a part of this case was surprisingly a really emotional, reflective experience, one that made me question my moral compass.  One that made me realized that I might not see things as clearly black and white as I thought I did.

Jury Duty

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I understand that jury duty is an obligation for every US citizen but why does it have to be such a painfully slow process?  I hope I’m not selected for this particular case…more to come on Monday.



Morning noises



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Why does the neighbor have his gardener start so early?  Waking up to the annoying sounds of a leaf blower is not a great way to start off the day.

Commuter

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I am a commuter.  On an average day, it takes me about an hour to travel the 32 miles one way to get to work (45 minutes on a really good day, up to 2 hours on a really bad day.)  So, that means I spend (roughly) 2 hours a day, 10 hours a week, 40 hours a month, 480 hours a year, sitting alone in my car.  That’s a lot of time to pass by myself without having anything else to do but look over at other commuters stuck in traffic with me.  Here are some of my pet peeves when it comes to commuter etiquette (if there is such a thing):

If your windows are rolled down, please don’t blast your music to ear splitting levels.  NO one likes your music as much as you do.

If you must chat on the phone (it’s illegal in Cali without an earpiece, but somehow most people think that this more of a suggestion than a law), please pay attention to the road.  I’d like to make it home without getting rear-ended.

If you’re a landscape contractor/gardener, please make sure your equipment is secured to your vehicle.  I don’t want to swerve suddenly to dodge your rake or shovel.

As you would imagine, I don’t always come home in a chipper mood after such a long commute.  Luckily, my wonderful husband has made it more bearable for me by getting me a subscription to Simply Audiobooks (it’s like Netflix but with audio books).  I was resistant to the idea at first because I enjoy the act of reading an actual book, holding it in my hands, flipping its pages, re-reading paragraphs.  But listening to a professional reader/actor read to you is not such a bad way to spend 2 hours.

Any other commuters out there?  What do you do to pass the time?

ate too much again...

Just had the all-you-can-eat Indian buffet for lunch.  It was yummy at the time...now, finding it hard to breathe and sit comfortably.  Not a good sign.  I wish I could unbutton my jeans.  What was I thinking, wearing skinny jeans and eating AYCE?  Idiot.

What am I?

I’ve always had identity issues.  It stems from being born in Cambodia to Chinese parents.  In Cambodia, we were classified as Chinese.  In the United States, we were classified as Cambodians.

Growing up, my parents taught us to identify ourselves as Chinese.  This was probably because while they were growing up in Cambodia, my parents experienced discrimination by the indigenous Cambodians and worst of all, by the Khmer Rouge.  But that wasn’t easy to do.  Cambodian/Khmer is my first language.  We ate Cambodian foods along with Chinese foods at home.  We speak a mixture of what my husband refers to as “Canto-bodian” (Cantonese and Cambodian.)  My Chinese friends don’t think I am Chinese and many Cambodians that I’ve met don’t think that I’m Cambodian either.  What am I?  I can’t say I’m one or the other, maybe both? 

At the age of 18, I became a naturalized American and last year, I married an Anglo-American (Norwegian/Russian.)  If we have kids, will I pass on my identity issues to our child?  Need to stop being so neurotic…

On another note, I realized I need to start adding pictures to my post but pictures of what?  Any suggestions?

As luck would have it...

We stained our deck yesterday after waiting all summer to do it (lazy bums)...and today it rains.  Just our luck!  I don't consider myself an unlucky person but I know my husband thinks he is unlucky.  In fact, he thinks that I am a pretty lucky person.  I think luck is just a matter of perception and personal circumstance.

I was born in Cambodia in the mid 1970’s during the reign of the Khmer Rouge.  My earliest lucid childhood memory is tripping and losing all my candy while trick or treating in my first Halloween ever in Tigard, Oregon (where my family first immigrated to in 1980).  I’m pretty sure I’ve blocked out any memories of Cambodia as a survival instinct.  My mother tells me stories but I’m sure they are an edited version because after seeing “The Killing Fields” my mother said that what we’ve endured was worse.  Yikes!  So, I do feel lucky, but mainly lucky to be alive and living in the land of the free.  Cheesy, I know.

My husband on the other hand was born and raised in South Pasadena, CA.  Being the eldest child, he was raised to be the future president of the United States.  He taught himself how to read at the age of 3.  He was a child prodigy and was even written about in Los Angeles Magazine for his piano skills.  At the ripe age of 5, the world was his oyster until his parent’s shifted their energies to his younger brother born with Autism.  He went from having everything you could wish for to having almost nothing as his parents divorced a few years later.  I can understand why he feels so unlucky.

Lucky or unlucky, it doesn’t really matter to me because I feel blessed.  I married my best friend and we have a roof over our heads and food on our table.  We are blessed.