Author: justfiveletters

I love Jesus. ENFP, the "champion idealist." About 99.9% of what I've researched online and read in books about ENFPs are true. So if you want to know more about how I operate, just read about the ENFP. But hey, do get to know me personally. Thanks. I really love traveling. I'm fascinated by the undead. Like they say, zombies were people too. I sometimes think I wouldn't have anything to say if the entertainment industry didn't exist. I'm moderately obsessed. I'll admit it. I am a woman of passion. I'm easily moved and empathetic. I do have a fear of many things. Some of these things include: animals, clowns, sinkholes, and roller coasters. I also have a slight case of paranoia. I'm ready to be helped. Food is both a passion and a vice. My sensitive taste buds lead me to love the edible things in life, but it also has fueled a sort of need for instant gratification of sudden cravings. And yes, I absolutely adore cooking. I like to be creative in everything I do. And lastly, I strive to see the image of God in all people.

Creepy Mustache Dude

That’s what I’m calling the middle-aged man watching me at the park this afternoon.

I like to go to my local park down the street to run laps (and run away from dogs), as well as work on my basketball fundamentals on the court. While trotting through the grass, I noticed this gentleman on a park bench, just sitting there with his sunglasses, cowboy hat, black clothing, full mustache, and a stick that I’m sure he claimed as his walking companion. I remembered him because he looked like a stouter version of Lee Van Cleef from The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly.

Lee Van Cleef from “The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly”

After getting through my iPod playlist, that was my key to freedom. I happily walked to my car to replenish myself with water and grab my basketball. There was a half court open just for me. Some dudes without shirts were playing half-naked on one side (how does it work if everyone’s skins? Hey, but I’m not one to complain about that), rowdy kids goofing around on another, and a competitive couple north of me. This open spot was so meant for me, as the only category left I guess: single, dorky looking Asian-American woman in active pants and foggy glasses ready to hit the blacktop. Non-wealthy baller status.

As I start shooting around and pretending there’s a shot clock to put the pressure on myself, creepy mustache dude comes toward my court and parks himself a foot from the basketball hoop. And there he is, just crouching with one knee up, and watching me. I paused for a half second, and kept doing my thing.

My natural response usually is to either assume the best in people, or be on the other extreme of being super suspicious of them. It’s my dramatic ENFP nature. After five minutes, I was definitely on the latter. This was just too friggin’ weird. Basketball isn’t a sport where you’re just sitting around. I’m running, jumping, shooting, rebounding–lots of body movement that I’m not sure I want Lee Van Cleef’s doppelgänger seeing. I’m not his muse, the niece to his King Herod, or the Jamie Lee Curtis to Arnold Schwarzenegger in True Lies. I’m not putting on some awkwardly pleasurable show for you man. Go find your jollies elsewhere.

I had to leave, so I dribbled the ball off the court and gave him a death stare. He watched me the whole way and was quite unaffected by it.

It’s not fair that I can’t exercise at the park alone without feeling threatened or slightly violated. But I’ll get over it and be sure to take self-defense classes soon.

This is Amy signing off for June 4th, 2012.

June 4, 2012 3

I Still Look Like I’m 16

The aging Asian woman, depending on who you to talk to, will tell you the slow road to facial maturity is either a blessing or a curse. I’m on the latter side.

When you think about it, I guess it makes sense. We always want what we can’t have, and I want to actually appear my age and not younger. And I’d put my next Celine Dion concert tickets on the fact that in 20 years, I’ll want the opposite.

Why, you ask? As a 25 year-old Chinese American woman, being mistaken for a high schooler is just frustrating. That’s like someone going up to me and not being surprised that I still partake in homecoming parades, freak about pop quizzes, and devote a month to finding the most gorgeous prom dress and date (note: I did none of the above in high school. But it’s what I hear to be the common experience.)

I’m 25 dammit, not 16. I’ve been away from home for 7 years, have worked a million jobs including being a substitute teacher for high schoolers, and have a pretty regular menstrual cycle. My last concern is Ms. Soriano’s vocabulary test.

The funny thing is, when I was 12, I had the displeasure of being asked what college I attended. I figure early puberty has caused me to simply plateau in what age I appear to be. I guess it’s seventeen or something. I wonder how long it will last.

I bring up this topic due to the countless times people will approach me and assume I’m my 40 year-old boss’s daughter. But then again, they also assume I’m his wife. People are just not as bright as I hope.

And just today, I was at an outreach event for church to clean up a local middle school. After we were done, the coordinator patted me on the back and yelled “Go teens! You guys did such a great job!” While she stared at me smiling, I looked at the crowd of high schoolers covered in silly bands and multi-colored shoes across the room. Really? Come. On. I’m standing next to my new 30 year-old friend.

The only solution to this slight dilemma is to use big words and authoritative hand gestures. Then people will take me seriously, or find me to be mature for a sixteen year-old.

Dangit, so close.

This is Amy Hu signing off for May 26, 2012.

May 26, 2012 0

It’s A Dog Eat Human World Out There

A few weeks ago, my boss was running late to work. He had misplaced his keys for the store and had to go all the way back home after halfway to his destination. Poor guy. But that meant it gave me time to get a cup of coffee and wait outside until he came to open up the postal store.

As I was waiting, one of our regular customers, Mrs. Hornwood, pulled up in her SUV and noticed my awkwardly standing outside instead of greeting her behind the counter. I updated her on the situation and she invited me to wait inside the car with her. It was a nice gesture, but certainly an interesting position for me to be in. I couldn’t say no, as my alternative would have been to stand right in front of her car while she sat inside it, and for us to pretend to not notice each other.

After about 5 minutes of small talk, she told me she needed to run to the Vons next door and use the ladies room. She stepped out and instructed me to just take the keys from the ignition if my boss Mike got here before she came.

But after ten seconds, she realized she forget to mention one last thing and pokes her head back into the window:

“Oh yeah Amy, don’t be alarmed but my dog is in the trunk bed. Okay, see you in a few.”

O_O This was my face for literally two minutes before I mustered up the courage to turnaround.

When I finally decided to do so after my initial frozen state of fear, there he was, just staring at me, salivating, breathing, ready to eat me and let my death be in the headlines of the LA Times: "25 Year-Old Becomes Chinese Take-Out for Elderly Woman's Dog."

It was the longest ten minutes of my life. I snapped photographic evidence when the beast finally turned around due to a honking horn: