Keep on Moving Forward

June 6, 2017

WEARING: TOBI OFF THE SHOULDER BLACK DRESS | ZARA BALLERINAS WITH STRAPS | 
LOUISE & ELEANOR SQUIGGLE BAG | H&M EVIL EYE/ITALIAN HORN NECKLACE

THIS POST IS BROUGHT TO YOU BY TOBI AND LOUISE & ELEANOR.

"THE TRUTH IS UNLESS YOU LET GO, UNLESS YOU FORGIVE YOURSELF UNLESS YOU FORGIVE THE SITUATION UNLESS YOU REALIZE THAT THE SITUATION IS OVER, YOU CANNOT MOVE FORWARD."

Moving sucks. You know it, I know it, we all know it. Hence, for my lack of social media posts and overall online activity as of late. I just packed up all my stuff and relocated to Union Square from the East Village, and even though the geographical change ain't too shabby, the process of any move can sometimes be overwhelming, let alone stressful. It can even trigger memories you've stashed so far in the back of your mind from many, many years ago. And because you guys have been so supportive of me opening up more on the blog lately, today's post won't be on how-to-move, or explaining the move, because who cares, really? Instead, I wanted to share with you more on my relationship with my father and my first-time experience moving... across the country.

I was originally born in the Los Angeles area but my time there was brief. As mentioned in previous posts, my parents fought like it was their full-time job. What made matters worse was the way they fought over me. Where to start? It all began with my father's tan Toyota truck. It wasn't anything special. It wasn't even brand new. But he and I rode in that thing everywhere. Anywhere he'd go, I'd follow. You know the arm rests that are located in between the two seats? I would sit right on top of the one nearest to my dad, just so I could literally be as close to him as possible.

During one summer afternoon when I was around 4 or 5 years old, my parents were fighting again when my father asked if I'd like to go for a ride in the truck. Little did I know it would be the longest road trip of my life. He had tricked me into thinking it was a quick trip to the grocery store. For three days straight, he drove from California to Michigan. All I really remember was the miles upon miles of the empty desert and spilling a glass of orange juice from McDonald's on one of the seats of the truck. I remember that accident quite vividly as I had never seen him get that upset before. I believe that was the first time I really started to see his true colors. It took me until my teenage years to finally realize how abusive my father really had been.

No, I was never physically abused. I once got hit a few times with a leather belt (let's just say I REALLY screwed up) but the kind of abuse I had endured was verbal; emotionally and mentally. It has taken me all my life to recover from this. I'm still working on it. I hate him for the damage he's caused. Not just on me, but on my mother, my brother, my estranged family... I almost want to say it's irreparable, but I also want to say I'm living proof that you can get through it. It can be pretty difficult, but with time, patience and the support from good friends, all wounds eventually heal. But just like a scab, you pick at it too long, it'll never have the time to repair itself back up.

Do I have issues with men & relationships now because of my father-daughter relationship growing up? Yes. I didn't have a father who was showing me right and wrong when it came to treating women. He not only verbally abused my mother but physically as well. And we're not talking some minor altercation where he's slapped her once or twice. (Which is STILL never f&%king okay!) We're talking throwing bows, even my mother chasing after him with knives and then some. All the while both of them screaming at me to call the police. I was just a kid and the idea of snitching on either of my parents, whom I both loved very much, was something I definitely didn't want to do. It was never about protecting them, but using me against each other. And therefore bringing guilt and shame into the situation. If I didn't call the cops, my mother would tell me I was a coward for not protecting her. If I did call the cops, which I did a few times, my father would tell me I betrayed him.

I felt like a rag doll being pulled from both ends through most of my childhood. And no matter what I did, I just couldn't manage (or so it seems) to ever be completely accepted by both of my parents. They were constantly competing for my love (i.e; "Do you know what your mother did? She couldn't love you like I love you if she could just leave you like that..." - "Did you know what your father did to me? Even my very own sisters told me not to marry such a monster...") Talk about toxic! I never knew what was completely true or somewhat fabricated.

But why stay together for over 25 years if it was all bad and nothing good? Well, I wouldn't say that either. My brother and I had the best birthday's, Christmas's, and every other holiday of every month because of my mother. She organized everything while my dad was the 'breadwinner' of the family. And even though we never had much, she made the best with what she had. And I truly miss those special occasions where she'd surround us with her warm, pure heart, making everything seem like it was going to be alright. And even though my father was far from perfect, he did manage to be present in my life, unlike some other father's I know.

I guess what I'm trying to say is, despite all the pain and heartache that can go on in any kind of relationship, know that it can't be all bad, and it can't be all good. And when it's like that, it's even harder to walk away from the toxicity, no matter how much you may love that person. I didn't become estranged from my father until my late 20s when I finally said enough was enough when he began to emotionally blackmail me with suicide threats for over three weeks straight. I stood my ground and told him I wasn't going to take any more of his abuse and that if he wanted me in his life, he'd have to get his life in order and be more present in his kid's lives. Unfortunately, we never got around to that.

The irony is the day he passed away was the day he finally was getting his life back on track. He has just left a job interview where he was hired on the spot, where while on his way out of the building, walking down the hallway, he suffered a massive coronary and died immediately after. I will always long to speak to him one last time, to reunite and tell him that even though he's caused so much hurt in my life, I still to this day will and always will love him. No matter what. Because love is about forgiving others and also, forgiving yourself. I still beat myself up for estranging myself from him because I know it hurt both of us too, but I had to do what was best for me at that given time. And I think he too, knew this deep down. So, don't burn every bridge you come across (even though some are meant to be burnt) because forgiving others is almost as powerful as empowering others or yourself. Without forgiveness, there is no compassion. No love. I don't mean to preach, but I've been thinking a lot about the best way to move forward, and to me, I think it all starts with the art of forgiveness.

LOVE & XX'S,

SHOP THE LOOK

FOLLOW MAQ + SUZ

Paint It Black

June 2, 2017

WEARING: TOBI TRENDY BLACK MIDI DRESS | ROSEGAL SILVER BEAD HOOPS | 
STEVE MADDEN LUXE BLACK OPEN TOE PUMPS

THIS POST IS BROUGHT TO YOU BY TOBI.

BEFORE I TOUCH DIRT, I'LL KILL YOU ALL WIT' KINDNESS... I KILL YA, MY NATURAL PERSONA'S MUCH WORSE.

Have you ever had a dinner where the food is really great, the ambiance is dope but the company in which you keep perhaps maybe not as much so? Sure not every outing I've ever been on has gone swell. But sometimes, the people I have to converse with (not saying many but there are a few...) makes me want to scratch my eyes out. And there are all kinds of factors to set in as well. First, do you have something interesting to talk about other than Instagram algorithms or how vapid the world has become, you included? Or are we going to go around the exact typical merry-go-round of shooting the breeze? Am I one not to give a younger person a chance to talk to simply because they don't fall into the same age category as me? Hell, no! In fact, I've gotten very close to a much younger gal who is like my kid sister. She is half my age, but wise beyond her years. Age is yet again nothing but a number. To me, it's all about emotional maturity. I have no trouble relating with an 80-year-old just as much as with a 17-year-old; so long as you're not a complete baboon with nothing to offer me except wasted time. No, I'm not saying no one has anything to offer because we all do. But what really counts is what you do with it and your time while you're here. And nothing irks me more than wasted time. Because you'll never get it back. Tell me a story, share with me your ideas, beliefs, and passions. Secondly, do you know that saying, where it goes something along the lines of being kind to everyone you meet because you never know what kind of battle they're fighting? Seems fair, right? Trust me as I live and breathe it, there are a lot of people who are not kind at all. And if you cross me or do something that's not in the 'kindness' category to me or someone I love? You're going to see the Detroit-side in me that most people never see. And it ain't a pretty sight.

I grew up right smack dab in the middle of Detroit. No, not Bloomfield Hills or Birmingham, not even Troy or Livonia. And my childhood was quite difficult. My parents fought like cats & dogs, and the I grew up always either being afraid or anxious. My father was concerned for me while raising me in Detroit. For one, I'm Asian (where there was literally a total of three Asian families within our entire community) and being petite, my physical attributes had a tendency to put me in vulnerable positions. I was bullied and ostracized until I left for college. And so, even at a very young age, my father taught me how to fight, both physically and mentally. A boxer in his early -teens, he may have instilled too much fight in me. Some of my closest friends have confessed to me that I can come across intimidating, carrying a full-blown "don't f*&k with me" attitude, even up to the point of looking like Lucy Liu's RBF. Which hey, this I won't take as a bad thing... ;)

Which I guess can be one of the reasons why people may find it hard to approach me, but I promise you this - I do not bite... HARD. Ha ha ha! All kidding aside, I'm not going to say I'm the easiest person in the world to deal with. So what is this Detroit thing I speak of? Well, it's amongst a number of things - pride, frankness, and grit. It's all about fighting for what you want in life and standing up for yourself and being fearless with the power of your own voice. I know where I come from and I know who I am, and once people do get to know me, I'd like to think they don't see me as half-bad. What gets me into trouble though is my curiosity and the disappointments people bring because I'm so hard on everyone, including myself. During the dinner I mentioned, in the beginning of this post, I had brought up the question to several bloggers/influences (whatever the heck we're labeled these days LOL) on why they had begun their Instagram in the first place since this is where most of us began as we fine-tuned our blogs simultaneously. The answers were shocking. One stressed validation, another money, and the typical answer - to connect with others. Okay, two of the three I can slightly understand. I too, use Instagram as a platform to connect and make a living, but my sole reason is to attempt to make an impact on other's lives with my creativity and words. I want nothing more than to get you to think and feel; to be inspired. To let you know you're not alone, that others are fighting just as hard as you are and that we're in this together. We will carry on because there is no other way. Because we have to.

Perhaps I don't relate to those who come from money and never had to work a day in their whole life, even though they sleazily act as if they do (eyes rolling, you ain't fooling anyone sweetheart!) don't tell me you earned everything on your own when we both know mommy and daddy still take care of you and your bills. I've been working since I was 12 years old and everything I have achieved so far in my life was honest hard-work. I give my blood, sweat, and tears when it comes to my creative outlets. I also do it for no one but myself. Seeking validation on a social media platform is NOT work, I REPEAT, NOT WORK! And stop complaining about your engagement rate not being high enough when you're not willing to put in the time and effort of displaying high-quality content, remaining consistent while maintaining some sort of discipline in this cut-throat, competitive industry. Sure an iPhone shot suffices from time to time, but if you're really trying to grow and aspire to be more than just basic #sorrynotsorry then I strongly suggest thinking outside the box, but especially reconsidering your strategy when it comes to quality over quantity. People will get sick and tired of just seeing you and your 'outfits'. Give me something MORE, dammit! Mic drop, I'm out.

LOVE & XX'S,

SHOP THE LOOK

FOLLOW MAQ + SUZ

Sweet Williams on Memorial Day

May 29, 2017

WEARING: & OTHER STORIES DENIM JACKET | TOBI LOVE GAME WHITE SHIFT DRESS | 
MAD-STYLE TALL METALLIC GEO TOTE BAG | PUMA VIKKY GREY PLATFORM SNEAKER 
MAD-STYLE TRANSLUCENT CATEYES SUNGLASSES | CLAIRE'S SATIN BOW CHOKER | 
VIP ME DENIM & CHAIN FRINGE CHOKER NECKLACE

THIS POST IS BROUGHT TO YOU BY TOBI.

SWEET WILLIAMS FLOWERS ARE AT THE CENTER OF MANY ROMANTIC LEGENDS.

One such legend is steeped in the poetry of the English writer John Gay, who wrote, “Sweet William’s Farewell to Black-ey’d Susan: A Ballad.” In this piece of poetry, both the sweet William and the black-eyed Susan were depicted as real people – Sweet William as a sailor and the black-eyed Susan as his beloved, who must part from him. The story tells of the two meeting, then having to separate again – sweet William assuring his love and fidelity all the while. Sweet Williams flowers are one of the few blossoms that have symbols that most people associate with masculinity – their predominant symbol being that of gallantry. However, they also represent finesse and perfection and are frequently presented to the recipient as a way to tell him or her that the giver feels they are either quite smooth or simply as good as it gets. They also express the sentiment, “grant me a single smile,” and are sometimes given as gifts solely to make the recipient’s day. Sweet Williams flowers (yes, the flowers from this shoot are in fact, Sweet Williams!) have always reminded me of my grandparents. And the way they came together is not only over-the-top romantic, but fitting on a day like today... Memorial Day.

For those who do not know, I am half-Polish... given my dominant Eastern European last name (father's side). I feel like I need to inject this in now before I get going, you'll understand in a bit. My grandparents met like any typical teenagers do – amongst mutual friends. You see, my grandmother was dating a good friend of my grandfather's, but this quickly changed after they met. But wait, it doesn't end there. Before they could even begin courting each other, my grandfather was deployed to Paris during WWII. He served in the US Army Air Forces as a corporal lieutenant. Back then there was no texting, Facetime or social media. Even a long-distance phone call was pretty scarce. So, to remain in touch with my grandmother, my grandfather wrote her hand-written letters almost every day. Their correspondence to one another is what made them fall madly in love with each other.

At some point, the distance between them became too great. My grandmother could hardly stand it any longer and made her way to Paris to be with him. When they came back to the states not too long after that, they married. They had five children and were together for nearly 45 years. Sure they fought just like any couple, but they sure were crazy about each other. I feel like you don't hear that many legendary love stories anymore. Actually, the whole idea of dating in this day and age is rather frightening to me. While at an event this past week I struck a conversation with a woman who just moved to New York City a few months ago, and after a heart-wrenching breakup with her ex, she opted for Tinder, one of those dating apps, even though now there's so many of them for many different types of relationships, to sexual encounters, FWB, and yes, even 'real' relationships. And though Tinder is known for casual hookups, she ended up being in a relationship with the guy and is quite happy, it seems.

Is it like that for everyone? Definitely not. I was watching a documentary series late one night due to insomnia (over-working, stress & anxiety will do that to you) about the digital world and relationships. 1 out of 4 people who are in dating apps have trouble finding meaningful relationships due to 'too many options' out there. You have more and more women (and men) who are not willing to settle down and getting married. Younger women are more driven and independent than they've ever been. You have men who are literally sleeping with anything that has a pulse because they were the geek back in high school and now that they're all grown up with a successful job, it's payback time. For example, on the documentary series, there's a Las Vegas event planner who's basically in his forties and organizes pool parties for a living. He is single and thoroughly enjoys it being this way.

Was he the geek back in high school? No, but he was the 'nice guy', you know, the guy who wasn't necessarily a stud, but was nice enough to be your friend? Yeah, that guy. And then he went on to appear on a big reality show. After that, the nice guy was history. Women started throwing themselves at him all because he had been on TV (that and being mildly attractive probably didn't hurt) and a dickhead bachelor was born. But what makes this guy not the nice guy anymore is the way he treats the women he 'dates'. He will take a girl out a couple of times, sleep with her and then disappear. It is one thing to set clear intentions/boundaries, but what he did was misleading. He'd get them to believe they were something more than just a few dates, by taking the time to say and do all the right things men are supposed to do while courting a woman. And once he had them hooked, with a potential feeling of a 'maybe', he'd ghost them.

He even went as far as pretending like he didn't know a girl he was sleeping with for a few months. When she had tried to make contact with him after he ghosted her (meaning never responds to any messages) he replied with a, "who is this?" Luckily, the girl laid it on to him thick and told him how cowardly and hurtful his actions have been, going even as far as refusing to leave him alone until she met him face to face (this I would not make the time for), to express herself... and rightfully so! I find that the more options that are being provided within the digital world have caused people to act more selfishly than ever before. And romance? Forget about it, I feel like most of it is all for show. Don't get me wrong, there are plenty of wonderful, good, decent men (yes, I've met some of them!) but in the new times we live in, and with endless choices when it comes to sex and relationships, I'm definitely missing the simplicity of authentic love amongst one another. Can't we write more hand-written notes anymore? If you're not feeling someone, can't you just be honest with them and give them that respect, especially when you know they'd do that for you? Since when did hurting others become a trend?

Now if you're not looking for anything serious and just want to have fun, that's completely okay. Just don't take advantage of people, being a jerk is never cool. How can someone like that guy look at himself in the mirror every morning? Thankfully after that girl confronted him, it made him think and change his ways. (Hopefully, because whatever is said on camera isn't necessarily done off-camera) With intention, this post will potentially give those some hope, that the real thing still does exists because I do continue to see it every day among others and through myself. And knowing you have a conscious – that you could never stoop to that kind of slimy low-level like that Vegas guy says something about you already, that you're better than that and because of it, you will go on to find better too. Never stop believing in love, my friends. Happy Memorial Day. xo.