Knuckles and Buckles

The names of our cars given by Shijie.

Knuckles for her 2005 Mini, because the curves in the hood slightly resemble the back of a hand, and the fist-clenched way we drive it. Buckles for my 2004 R32, because when you get in you must fasten your seatbelt. As a used car, Knuckles is an incomprehensible adopted child that Shijie feels she must learn to nourish and keep safely protected. The R32 - now Buckles - has been my most trusted companion since late 2004, but it lacked the necessary requirement of automatic shifting for a car to learn to drive with.

I can't tell which is the girl car and which is the guy car, yet Shijie believes both cars are in a lovingly committed relationship. I must remind you that she sees this from Knuckles perspective, and Buckles and I have quite a different take on it. We often find Knuckles parked next to one of the many other minis in the garage. When questioned, Shijie counters that they are "just friends."

I would more accurately describe their relationship as "it's complicated." It seems Knuckles only lets Buckles get close when it desperately needs something - like a jumpstart - after which, Knuckles often finds itself back near a shiny blue mini within a matter of minutes.


After Buckles has been "friend-zoned," there is always an inevitable period of soul-searching accompanied by long drives off into the Arizona desert and lone ski trips to Colorado.

Eventually Buckles will make its way to an abandoned industrial complex, have a moment of spiritual enlightenment, and realize that Knuckles fickleness and lack of commitment is not the worst thing in the world for it.


Both cars have their ups and downs. Buckles has sub-par air conditioning, Knuckles has a clutch that slips occasionally. Perhaps they are more like step-children, and they must both learn to like each other, because Shijie and I will be bringing them to many more family functions for a very long time.

Life as a honey badger

Blake got me a pink honey badger T-shirt for Christmas. This T-shirt summarizes how he perceives his lovely, docile, obedient future wife:

"It just takes what it wants."

Pretty much true.

We were in Vegas for three days. We lived in a pyramid-looking building, ate some remarkable meals, worked our leg muscles, spent a significant amount of time in H&M and Zara, and substituted bedtime reading with a new episode of Alcatraz.

In addition, like every lovey-dovey couple, we fought over our philosophies of humanity. This is a fundamental divide between us. Blake is someone who would warm frozen rose petals "with [his] bare hands" according to his outdated blogger profile. I, on the other hand, is a honey badger, and according to the youtube voice man, I would eat a cobra and don't care.

Blake believes people should be treated--first and foremost--kindly. I believe people should be treated--first and foremost--fairly. Blake's operating assumption is that a stranger can do no harm. My operation assumption is that a stranger can be just as dangerous. Blake hates when people get hurt, for whatever reason. I hate when people take advantage of others, for whatever reason. He is a scientist-engineer who works with a group of young and not-so-young dreamers and aspires to save the world one day. I would soon enter an industry that thrives on breakdown of relationships and complaints of misery.

Different as we are, I admire his capacity to trust, give, forgive, and forget. I look up to him as my better half and secretly wish to make emotional connections with people as effortlessly as he makes it seem to be.

And Blake consults me (or I just volunteer my unsolicited advice) as to how to say no to people without feeling extremely guilty before and afterwards. He sees me as a curious observer of the dynamics of human interactions. He trusts my judgment, unless it is based solely on unverified Chinese urban legends. He relies on me to whip him into doing his paperwork and explaining the fine print on various forms that he probably shouldn't be signing. He used to call me "funny girl." Now he just calls me "HONEY---badger."

But I am not a true honey badger yet. I am not thick-skinned enough to emerge unscathed and maintain a good appetite after being stung "like a million times." And I cannot run backwards in slow motion.

I will continue to be fierce, and in a human way.

Thank you Babe.

Outrageously happy

I came across a Peanuts comic a couple days ago. Charlie Brown was chatting with Linus about the future. It went like this:

Charlie Brown: “Do you ever think about the future, Linus?”

Linus: “Oh yes ... all the time.”

Charlie Brown: "What do you think you’d like to be when you grow up?”

Linus: “Outrageously happy!”



Borrowing Linus' words of wisdom, I thought "Be outrageously happy" is a good way to start the new and last semester in law school. Even though most of the time, the excitement of (another) new semester's resolution will eventually wane and give way to the mighty weight of trivial anxiety attacks.

Blake and I went on a spring retreat in Madera Canyon. We coiled on couches in a nice homey farm house and woke up to the fragrance of a hearty breakfast prepared by Cindy. We roasted a train of hotdogs over a beautifully blazing campfire and protected our faces from the strong radiation behind a citadel of chair barriers. We played volleyball, which was but a variance of dodgeball for me. We watched horses strutting around in their elegant hoof-steps, felt the hot breaths of these gorgeous animals, and also heard these beasts blowing their noses loudly in open defiance of the weird species that suspiciously resemble the lowly monkeys. We read Bible verses in some precious private moments, even though I attempted to flap my youngster wings and follow Blake the mother goose whenever possible.

And also, we exchanged secret nods and handshakes with all the new and old GCF couples. It is a horrible generalization, but EVERYONE is getting married or having babies or taking someone home this year.

Literally, everyone.

To all the happily married, happily engaged, happily single, happily in love, and happily still-looking people out there, be outrageously happy.

And also, happy outrageous birthday Carol!

2012 luxury

2012 is the year of dragon.

Blake went along with the dragon theme and revealed the first of my Christmas gifts during my finals, The Girl with The Dragon Tatoo. I finished the book and then watched the David Finch movie. Both were good, not great. It has such a dark and twisty storyline, and I had nightmares afterwards. I always prefer good stories with a brighter outlook.

On our way home, I finished The Hunger Games. That's what I call an easy read. I actually enjoyed the pace of a cliche I-am-oh-so-so-confused teen love triangle. It also reminded me to salute Harry Potter, a true literary giant.

I managed to end 2011 on a fierce note. I went skiing for the first time and hurt my tailbone when someone ran into me from behind. I dropped onto the ground and cried for 20 minutes straight. It was an epic moment when I was tolled away by the ski patrol, like an illegally parked car waiting to be claimed and driven home.


I started 2012 in a full working mode. And so did Blake, rolling out of bed at 8 AM and working straight into midnight, and eating hot wings in between. Occasionally, I had to take one tiny break for wedding brainstorming on his behalf. Inevitably, the exceptions swallow the rule. I ended up spending many hours experiencing modest to extreme adrenaline rush on Modcloth.com. At least I found dress and shoes for the bridesmaids. That's one remarkable accomplishment worthy of a Times Square-scale celebration in itself.

As to the wedding, things are coming together. If they are not coming together now, they will come together eventually. If they still don't come together eventually, no one will remember anyways.

For the new year, Blake got me two fitness orbs, clearly projecting that he needs an immense amount of unconscious exercise. We may have to take some pilates lessons to make our core areas look super photogenic in the wedding pictures. On the other hand, I am slightly concerned that our cores may look too good that they steal the entire show. Oops. Sorry people.

Growing up, I never even tried to picture what my wedding would be like. It is like you go search for a document under the "wedding" tab in my memory index but only to disappoint yourself with the discovery of an empty folder.

To the skeptics in me, finding someone to love is difficult enough. Everything past that is all luxury.

2012 is, by definition, more than a luxury.

It is a miracle.