Being a dog is tough.
The year is 2015 and I have good news and bad news. The good news is that the rash finally goes away. The bad news is that Iggy Azalea is nominated for not one but four Grammys. The reason I'm writing to you is because I want to provide some valuable wisdom that would have been really nice to know back in high school. With those braces and that fedora, you really need it.
The very first time I ever ate bun bo hue was two summers ago when I was travelling with a few friends through Vietnam. We had just taken a twelve hour overnight train ride from Hanoi to Hue and despite the fact that we had just eaten a very good lunch, my friend Chris and I asked the waitress where would we be able to get a good bowl of the city's specialty dish. After some aimless wandering we miraculously managed to find it in a dingy, empty restaurant run by some cranky Vietnamese people who didn't speak English. It was delicious. That night, after dining on a rooftop patio, Chris and I went and ate another bowl on the side of the road.
When I was younger, I associated being Chinese with never eating McDonald's, never buying things full price, and never getting to eat with other kids during lunch because my dumplings smelled like a fart. As a result, I struggled with my identity for years. But after eating a feast consisting of lobster, pork belly, chicken, asparagus, noodles, salmon and spending years trying to get over my internalized racism, I can say that being Chinese is pretty awesome.
I was once a wide-eyed kid, certain of my future as a billionaire with six Egyptian cats, four mistresses, and a pack of rotweilers. But I am older now, and I see that I will not be a billionaire, I hate animals, and the amount of mistresses I will have is still to be determined. Unfortunately, I am still just as clueless about what I want to do with my life as when I was seventeen. The only difference is that I am finally at the age where I can see my actual potential.
With one of us just in Calgary for a co-op term and the other working a meagre part-time job, the both of us currently still live at home. While it comes with its disadvantages (lack of privacy, parents constantly asking what you're doing with your life, etc.), there is one very great advantage that almost makes it all worth it: our mom's cooking.
Whenever I mention my love of Taylor Swift people always think I'm not serious. I think what is surprising about my Swiftie fandom is that we are not similar at all. She is very tall. I am about average height. She has blonde hair. My hair is black. She is known for having rocky relationships. I am known for being a relationship expert. We are very different.
When it comes to fashion, the both of us combined probably rotate between four shirts and one pair of pants. Still, I think it's fair to say that we both care about how we look and even though we are sisters we dress quite differently. Some may say that I've been a fashion authority ever since junior high when a popular girl broke into my gym locker and stole two of my sweaters. That's when I knew I had The Gift.