Well, it looks like we've got some bad news and good news.
The bad news is that I may need to take another break from blogging. Not a full-on break where I close the site down or anything; on the contrary, I might actually post a few things once in a while when I'm not stressing out over whether or not I should come up with content. Somewhere along the way I might end up rethinking the creative direction for the blog, but I'm going to keep things the way they are for now.
The good news, however, is that I'm going to take my break to work on a non-blog, non-school independent project - specifically, a novel that I wrote (as Not!Meimei) three years ago, which I have neglected until recently. It's now in the middle of a major rewrite, and I mean major. I've already edited out entire characters and story arcs to make the manuscript more readable, and possibly more palatable.
(Here's how I'd put it: If my novel was a baked good, my old manuscript would be a Christmas fruitcake.)
It's funny because it wasn't until just last week that I suddenly got inspired to work on the book; usually I have a problem with picking up where I left off with my writing, but somehow I was able to get past the writer's block and roll up my sleeves for the rewrite. Like I've mentioned in my previous entry, however, it's still a matter of time and confidence before I could share more about the book. And since I'm doing this while I'm going to school, it's too soon to tell what I'm going to do with the manuscript as soon as I'm done and satisfied with the whole project.
Anyway, I just thought I'd share the great news. Until the next update...
Friday, October 28, 2005
The Domesticity FAQ
Because it's about time I did one...
You sound so familiar. Didn't you used to write under another name?
Of course I did, and I don't regret it. Now if you're wondering what was so horrible that I've decided to post under a different name, well, I just thought I could use a change, so I decided to go with Meimei. Now, if you think I could hide my identity forever, well, I can't - I've already outed myself on Technorati. But that's as much as you're going to get about who I am when I'm not using my online identity, so if you want to ask me any more questions about the things I don't talk about online, I suggest you get a hold of me some other way, because I'm not interested in opening up my private life to scrutiny.
Come on, you already did that not too long ago in your old blog.
And old habits do die hard. Maybe I would do that again too, someday. Right now, though, it's a matter of confidence.
So why go with the whole Domesticity concept? Why blog about makeup/fashion/home decor/ pop culture when you could've been blogging about, you know, God or politics or whatnot?
Let me put it this way: It's already tough enough for me to get into arguments about how I'm supposed to change the world with people I already know in real life. At the end of the day, the last thing I want is to go on my blog and get into another stupid flamewar with people I don't know about things that cut too close to my heart. So I've decided to make it easy on myself.
And what is this that I hear that you're actually a Christian? None of your entries sound particularly Christian to me.
Let's get some things out of the way with the Christian question, shall we? First of all, I don't profess to have any mind-blowing expertise on theological matters, so I'd rather err on the side of caution and diplomacy. (In fact, I'd be happy to point you out to other bloggers who are more qualified to handle these kerfuffles than I am.) More to the point, though, is my own belief that being a church-goer doesn't mean that you have to swear off the makeup and the pop culture altogether. In my case, I feel like I still have a responsibility to challenge what the world tells us about what's supposed to be beautiful - and that includes certain standards of beauty and aesthetics. Again, that does not give me any authority to lecture you about what is theologically correct in terms of hemlines and high heels, but I am more comfortable telling you about what works for me and the lifestyle that I've chosen. Whether or not you agree with my motives, however, is not for me to judge.
You sound so familiar. Didn't you used to write under another name?
Of course I did, and I don't regret it. Now if you're wondering what was so horrible that I've decided to post under a different name, well, I just thought I could use a change, so I decided to go with Meimei. Now, if you think I could hide my identity forever, well, I can't - I've already outed myself on Technorati. But that's as much as you're going to get about who I am when I'm not using my online identity, so if you want to ask me any more questions about the things I don't talk about online, I suggest you get a hold of me some other way, because I'm not interested in opening up my private life to scrutiny.
Come on, you already did that not too long ago in your old blog.
And old habits do die hard. Maybe I would do that again too, someday. Right now, though, it's a matter of confidence.
So why go with the whole Domesticity concept? Why blog about makeup/fashion/home decor/ pop culture when you could've been blogging about, you know, God or politics or whatnot?
Let me put it this way: It's already tough enough for me to get into arguments about how I'm supposed to change the world with people I already know in real life. At the end of the day, the last thing I want is to go on my blog and get into another stupid flamewar with people I don't know about things that cut too close to my heart. So I've decided to make it easy on myself.
And what is this that I hear that you're actually a Christian? None of your entries sound particularly Christian to me.
Let's get some things out of the way with the Christian question, shall we? First of all, I don't profess to have any mind-blowing expertise on theological matters, so I'd rather err on the side of caution and diplomacy. (In fact, I'd be happy to point you out to other bloggers who are more qualified to handle these kerfuffles than I am.) More to the point, though, is my own belief that being a church-goer doesn't mean that you have to swear off the makeup and the pop culture altogether. In my case, I feel like I still have a responsibility to challenge what the world tells us about what's supposed to be beautiful - and that includes certain standards of beauty and aesthetics. Again, that does not give me any authority to lecture you about what is theologically correct in terms of hemlines and high heels, but I am more comfortable telling you about what works for me and the lifestyle that I've chosen. Whether or not you agree with my motives, however, is not for me to judge.
I just read your entries about your celebrity crushes, and... I'm sorry, but you have bad taste in men.
Hey, I apologize, too. Let's just agree to disagree and move on from here. And same goes if you disagree with anything else that I've reviewed.
So... do you get paid for this?
No. And frankly, as much as I need the cash, I'd rather keep it this way: outside of corporate interest.
No. And frankly, as much as I need the cash, I'd rather keep it this way: outside of corporate interest.
Tuesday, October 25, 2005
The Case for the Shout-Out
Okay, now that I've been playing with Technorati (check out the new tag below!) it has finally occurred to me, three to four days later, that I have earned a place on the blogroll of none other than Spirit Fingers.
Oh. My. Goodness. What have I done to deserve this?
*pauses, takes short, sharp breaths*
EEEEEEEE!!! I can't believe it! One of my favorite blogs now has a link to me!
At this point, this is as good as a review. Thanks so much, Spirit Fingers; you're the best.
****
In other news, I'm already anticipating the backlash following my entry on This Old House, considering that most people still consider it to be Bob Vila's show. I'm going to hold my tongue about Bob Vila, but I'll also admit that I deserve a few brickbats thrown at me for not giving everyone else on the team credit for their expertise. Especially Norm Abram, who I will allow the privilege of torturing my boy Kevin.
And what I would give for a This Old House/ Extreme Makeover: Home Edition crossover! Preferably one where Kevin and Ty are forced to road-trip together (complete with inevitable bullhorn sequence) while Norm and Paul DiMeo bust out the mad carpentry skills, Tom Silva makes the cutesy girls work on the demolition, and Eduardo Xol stays shirtless.
Oh. My. Goodness. What have I done to deserve this?
*pauses, takes short, sharp breaths*
EEEEEEEE!!! I can't believe it! One of my favorite blogs now has a link to me!
At this point, this is as good as a review. Thanks so much, Spirit Fingers; you're the best.
****
In other news, I'm already anticipating the backlash following my entry on This Old House, considering that most people still consider it to be Bob Vila's show. I'm going to hold my tongue about Bob Vila, but I'll also admit that I deserve a few brickbats thrown at me for not giving everyone else on the team credit for their expertise. Especially Norm Abram, who I will allow the privilege of torturing my boy Kevin.
And what I would give for a This Old House/ Extreme Makeover: Home Edition crossover! Preferably one where Kevin and Ty are forced to road-trip together (complete with inevitable bullhorn sequence) while Norm and Paul DiMeo bust out the mad carpentry skills, Tom Silva makes the cutesy girls work on the demolition, and Eduardo Xol stays shirtless.
Sunday, October 23, 2005
The Case for Better Eye Makeup
Those of you who are eye-makeup challenged should find this article on Beauty Addict super-helpful. Might as well do away with the speculation and get to the bottom of this eye-makeup business once and for all.
A note: If you live in Honolulu, you can go to your favorite Korean makeup store at Keeaumoku Street and put together your own eyeshadow palette - at the store where I go, a three-shadow case costs $10, and that's not including the shadows, which are $3 each. Drugstore and Wal-Mart fiends may also find the customizable cases from Cover Girl to be equally nifty, and Rimmel has a 3-color eyeshadow kit that contains nothing but sheer, pale highlighter shades.
Whatever you do, if you've got a tan complexion with gold undertones like me, it is never a good idea to wear any sort of pale baby-blue eyeshadow in any formula whatsoever; it distracts from the eyes and makes your skin look really ashy, which in turn makes you look cheap. Trust me, you won't want that.
Carry on...
A note: If you live in Honolulu, you can go to your favorite Korean makeup store at Keeaumoku Street and put together your own eyeshadow palette - at the store where I go, a three-shadow case costs $10, and that's not including the shadows, which are $3 each. Drugstore and Wal-Mart fiends may also find the customizable cases from Cover Girl to be equally nifty, and Rimmel has a 3-color eyeshadow kit that contains nothing but sheer, pale highlighter shades.
Whatever you do, if you've got a tan complexion with gold undertones like me, it is never a good idea to wear any sort of pale baby-blue eyeshadow in any formula whatsoever; it distracts from the eyes and makes your skin look really ashy, which in turn makes you look cheap. Trust me, you won't want that.
Carry on...
Wednesday, October 19, 2005
What's Your Fantasy, Part 2: Get Out of My Dreams, Get Into My Front Loader
(Note from Mei: In case you missed Part 1, check out this entry from the August archive; also check out the "Gorgeous Men of Decorating" entry as a point of reference.)
For all the talk about home makeover shows and the hot handymen that populate them, it's easy to understand why This Old House doesn't get as much press. Compared to the younger-skewing shows, which promise swift, miraculous results in no time at all, This Old House is about gradual change, hard work, and small fixes so your house won't end up like a candidate for demolition. You have to sit through the whole season to see what the house will look like, from mockup to moving day. And the homeowners don't holler and burst into tears as soon as the house is unveiled.
All of these reasons, however, are enough to explain why I make it a point to watch the This Old House Hour every Sunday afternoon. Especially since - let's face it - none of the professional handymen featured in the show are anywhere near giving Carter Oosterhouse a run for his money in the hotness sweepstakes.
Wait, I take that last statement back. Because I think Kevin O'Connor is cute.
Of course he's married. Of course he looks more like the kind of guy who fetches the building permits for the other home-makeover guys while they sort through steamy love letters from the ladies. And even if he does scrap the plaid shirts for leather jackets and artfully disheveled rock tees, well, there's still no way he's hiding a six-pack under there, so there goes that fantasy.
That said, there really is something endearing about Mr. O'Connor. The guy's like a more laid-back, non-ADHD version of Ty Pennington: you could tell that he's passionate about his projects and he loves working with the guys, but not so much that every episode ends up becoming All About Kevin. There are times when he could be a prankster and play cute, but this is a guy who lets the project, the homeowners, and the experts speak for themselves. There is no way you would ever find this guy running around the construction site with a loudspeaker so he could harass the contractor for laughs.
(Not bad for a guy who used to be a bank executive before the TV gig came along.)
Like I've said, there's not a lot of things about this guy that makes me want to throw myself at him. And yet, what's so attractive is that I could watch This Old House and find myself sighing about how fun it would be to get together with a guy like Kevin - not just with the handy-round-the-house stuff, but because he just comes across as a guy with a certain kind of passion, who knows what it truly means to have a home. Even when he's talking about how his wife gives him grief about keeping the toilet seat up, he still comes across as the kind of guy who understands his passions and priorities - the kind of guy who will bring you breakfast in bed, even if said breakfast is a chocolate donut and a grande house half-caf from Starbucks...
...What? We've got an entire season's worth of home-building here! Wait till you see what they do to the house!
For all the talk about home makeover shows and the hot handymen that populate them, it's easy to understand why This Old House doesn't get as much press. Compared to the younger-skewing shows, which promise swift, miraculous results in no time at all, This Old House is about gradual change, hard work, and small fixes so your house won't end up like a candidate for demolition. You have to sit through the whole season to see what the house will look like, from mockup to moving day. And the homeowners don't holler and burst into tears as soon as the house is unveiled.
All of these reasons, however, are enough to explain why I make it a point to watch the This Old House Hour every Sunday afternoon. Especially since - let's face it - none of the professional handymen featured in the show are anywhere near giving Carter Oosterhouse a run for his money in the hotness sweepstakes.
Wait, I take that last statement back. Because I think Kevin O'Connor is cute.
Of course he's married. Of course he looks more like the kind of guy who fetches the building permits for the other home-makeover guys while they sort through steamy love letters from the ladies. And even if he does scrap the plaid shirts for leather jackets and artfully disheveled rock tees, well, there's still no way he's hiding a six-pack under there, so there goes that fantasy.
That said, there really is something endearing about Mr. O'Connor. The guy's like a more laid-back, non-ADHD version of Ty Pennington: you could tell that he's passionate about his projects and he loves working with the guys, but not so much that every episode ends up becoming All About Kevin. There are times when he could be a prankster and play cute, but this is a guy who lets the project, the homeowners, and the experts speak for themselves. There is no way you would ever find this guy running around the construction site with a loudspeaker so he could harass the contractor for laughs.
(Not bad for a guy who used to be a bank executive before the TV gig came along.)
Like I've said, there's not a lot of things about this guy that makes me want to throw myself at him. And yet, what's so attractive is that I could watch This Old House and find myself sighing about how fun it would be to get together with a guy like Kevin - not just with the handy-round-the-house stuff, but because he just comes across as a guy with a certain kind of passion, who knows what it truly means to have a home. Even when he's talking about how his wife gives him grief about keeping the toilet seat up, he still comes across as the kind of guy who understands his passions and priorities - the kind of guy who will bring you breakfast in bed, even if said breakfast is a chocolate donut and a grande house half-caf from Starbucks...
...What? We've got an entire season's worth of home-building here! Wait till you see what they do to the house!
Monday, October 17, 2005
The Case for the Good Housekeeper
Last night I ran out of detergent - or did I lose my gallon again? - and I had to run to the store and get something. Unfortunately, the store ran out of my usual (All with color-safe bleach - I usually go for the foofy scents in the colored bottles) so I grabbed the next best thing: whatever's on sale.
Sounds banal, right? That's not even covering the part where I realized that I'd probably never find the brand I REALLY wanted to wash my clothes with: Method Triple Concentrated Detergent. I mean, look at it! The bottle's not clunky! The scents are not corny! Why, oh why, won't I ever get my butt down to Costco so I could reactivate my membership and see if they already have Method in stock? Why didn't I buy this on my last trip to the Mainland, where I spent most of my holiday season shopping at Target? Why doesn't Safeway have this in stock? WHYYYYY?
And this, my friends, is the kind of moment that drives the point of the Domesticity blog home.
(WARNING: Lots of personal touchy-feely whingeing in the next few paragraphs. I 'd break and fix myself a drink right now before continuing, if I were you.)
The first time I had an online journal, all I wanted to talk about was my life in college and the boys I was dating and how life was so unfair, blah blah blah. Like I've mentioned so many times earlier, I was young and I didn't know any better. But after a while, even I had to admit that it was getting really boring. Yeah, I wrote about a lot of outrageous things that were personal and profound to me, but so was everyone else, and there was only so much dilly-dallying that I could take.
Meanwhile, the dirty dishes were piling up in the kitchen sink, the laundry was going unwashed, and I was still wearing the same grungy hair and baggy clothes day in and day out. And sometimes without underwear, because I was too busy to take out the laundry.
Yeah, I get it, I told myself back then: I don't live with my parents any more, so I don't have as much time to devote to being cute and fabulous like I used to when I was younger. I still don't have the time, to be honest with you. But that doesn't give anybody an excuse to not take care of themselves - or, worse, to compromise on beauty.
All the shopping in the world can't make up for the laundry that's languishing in the hamper. All the makeup in the world can't cover up a life without priority. And while I did seem a lot more glamorous back when I was younger, my life was still a mess.
So if sex, drugs, politics and rock'n'roll gets boring after a while, then what's the opposite of that? Housework. Proper grooming. Good manners. A world where I could be proud to have a home - and stay there, if I want to.
I remember a tidbit from film class where the come-uppance of the femme fatale in early film noir often came as death or domesticity: if she didn't die by the time the movie ended, the next best thing was to subject her to a life where she would not have to live her life on the edge. If she didn't go to prison, she would have to renounce her evil ways and accept a proposal of marriage, where it's implied that she would have to trade in her allure for the white picket fence and the 2.5 kids. In real life, it doesn't always have to end this way; not all housewives turn out to be so desperate, after all. The older I get, the more I find the Zen in the mundane - and yet I don't feel like I've lost my edge.
Domesticity. It's the opposite of drama.
In the meantime: You know what I'll be using once I'm finished with the detergent I got last night? All Small and Mighty! Wheeeee!
Sounds banal, right? That's not even covering the part where I realized that I'd probably never find the brand I REALLY wanted to wash my clothes with: Method Triple Concentrated Detergent. I mean, look at it! The bottle's not clunky! The scents are not corny! Why, oh why, won't I ever get my butt down to Costco so I could reactivate my membership and see if they already have Method in stock? Why didn't I buy this on my last trip to the Mainland, where I spent most of my holiday season shopping at Target? Why doesn't Safeway have this in stock? WHYYYYY?
And this, my friends, is the kind of moment that drives the point of the Domesticity blog home.
(WARNING: Lots of personal touchy-feely whingeing in the next few paragraphs. I 'd break and fix myself a drink right now before continuing, if I were you.)
The first time I had an online journal, all I wanted to talk about was my life in college and the boys I was dating and how life was so unfair, blah blah blah. Like I've mentioned so many times earlier, I was young and I didn't know any better. But after a while, even I had to admit that it was getting really boring. Yeah, I wrote about a lot of outrageous things that were personal and profound to me, but so was everyone else, and there was only so much dilly-dallying that I could take.
Meanwhile, the dirty dishes were piling up in the kitchen sink, the laundry was going unwashed, and I was still wearing the same grungy hair and baggy clothes day in and day out. And sometimes without underwear, because I was too busy to take out the laundry.
Yeah, I get it, I told myself back then: I don't live with my parents any more, so I don't have as much time to devote to being cute and fabulous like I used to when I was younger. I still don't have the time, to be honest with you. But that doesn't give anybody an excuse to not take care of themselves - or, worse, to compromise on beauty.
All the shopping in the world can't make up for the laundry that's languishing in the hamper. All the makeup in the world can't cover up a life without priority. And while I did seem a lot more glamorous back when I was younger, my life was still a mess.
So if sex, drugs, politics and rock'n'roll gets boring after a while, then what's the opposite of that? Housework. Proper grooming. Good manners. A world where I could be proud to have a home - and stay there, if I want to.
I remember a tidbit from film class where the come-uppance of the femme fatale in early film noir often came as death or domesticity: if she didn't die by the time the movie ended, the next best thing was to subject her to a life where she would not have to live her life on the edge. If she didn't go to prison, she would have to renounce her evil ways and accept a proposal of marriage, where it's implied that she would have to trade in her allure for the white picket fence and the 2.5 kids. In real life, it doesn't always have to end this way; not all housewives turn out to be so desperate, after all. The older I get, the more I find the Zen in the mundane - and yet I don't feel like I've lost my edge.
Domesticity. It's the opposite of drama.
In the meantime: You know what I'll be using once I'm finished with the detergent I got last night? All Small and Mighty! Wheeeee!
Friday, October 14, 2005
The Case Against MySpace
Or: I Said, GET OFF MY LAWN, You Pesky Rugrats
Hey, kids?
I've said it before and I'll say it again: Stop lying about your age on MySpace, OK? And quit posting those naked photos of yourselves already; it's tacky, and I'm telling you this for the sake of decency.
While I'm at it? Let's not forget that the Internet is still a public domain, so no matter how many times you write "Don't Tell My (Parents/Teachers/Anyone Else) HEHEHE" on your blog entries, or how many times you decide to delete your entries, the world will still know you wrote it anyway. There's a reason why search functions and the Wayback Machine exist in the first place. Ask Uncle Greg to teach you how to write your own secred-password entries, or don't write it in your blog. Better yet, get your own freaking notebook, because at least you can hide that in your sock drawer and you'll get less spam from nasty pervs living across the country that way. Do I have to show you how to make a scrapbook?
Trust me, it's better than having somebody snatch you off the street and putting your parents through so much heartache. And it's cheaper than suing the blog service for not protecting you in the first place.
And don't look at me like I don't know what I'm talking about. I wouldn't be writing this if I didn't go through this myself. No, I didn't get stalked by a perv, but I did a lot of tacky things that ended up online, and... let's just say that my family was not happy. But I'm alive, aren't I? That's why I try to edit these posts like a fiend before I post them; you'd be surprised about what doesn't end up getting published in the first place.
Repeat after me: MySpace is not a private space. MySpace is not a dumping space. I will not use MySpace to post anything that I will regret for the rest of my life.
There you go. Now, where did I put my afghan?
Hey, kids?
I've said it before and I'll say it again: Stop lying about your age on MySpace, OK? And quit posting those naked photos of yourselves already; it's tacky, and I'm telling you this for the sake of decency.
While I'm at it? Let's not forget that the Internet is still a public domain, so no matter how many times you write "Don't Tell My (Parents/Teachers/Anyone Else) HEHEHE" on your blog entries, or how many times you decide to delete your entries, the world will still know you wrote it anyway. There's a reason why search functions and the Wayback Machine exist in the first place. Ask Uncle Greg to teach you how to write your own secred-password entries, or don't write it in your blog. Better yet, get your own freaking notebook, because at least you can hide that in your sock drawer and you'll get less spam from nasty pervs living across the country that way. Do I have to show you how to make a scrapbook?
Trust me, it's better than having somebody snatch you off the street and putting your parents through so much heartache. And it's cheaper than suing the blog service for not protecting you in the first place.
And don't look at me like I don't know what I'm talking about. I wouldn't be writing this if I didn't go through this myself. No, I didn't get stalked by a perv, but I did a lot of tacky things that ended up online, and... let's just say that my family was not happy. But I'm alive, aren't I? That's why I try to edit these posts like a fiend before I post them; you'd be surprised about what doesn't end up getting published in the first place.
Repeat after me: MySpace is not a private space. MySpace is not a dumping space. I will not use MySpace to post anything that I will regret for the rest of my life.
There you go. Now, where did I put my afghan?
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