Today, I made it to the end.

   I'm not gonna lie, readers, it's been an interesting year. I've done so many things that I only ever imagined; leaving my home, relocating, pursuing acting, singing, dancing, modeling, everything. Though here's the thing, my New Year's resolution for 2013 was to follow through with whatever I say. With this resolution, I followed through; I did everything I said I was going to do. Of course, one of these choices was leaving my home.

     There is never a day that I don't think about my home with family and friends. On the other hand, leaving Winterfell was one of the best decisions I've ever made. I finally got to live the life I have always dreamed about (not being broke with no job; that was a nightmare). Now, as my final resolution, I have made it my duty to visit back home and loved ones across the U. S. Granted, I am very limited on my availability and how much I should spend, but I'll find a way to make it work.

     As I mentioned, there are so many things that I am grateful for, but my gratitude extends to two wonderful people who allowed me to stay over at their place for the New Year; Sheep and Screeching Cat.

     I started my day off around 9 AM. My body was actually up by 7:30 AM, but my mind was not; so I was pretty much in vegetative state. When I finally developed enough will power to get up, I headed up to the kitchen to begin helping out. First thing I did, I made sugar cookies from scratch. Now, when I attempted to make a batch long ago, it was the most disastrous thing ever created; I was positive that one could instantly get food poisoning as soon as it touched their lips. Somehow, though, everything was going fine, aside from the fact that I was baking like I was in the early 1900s.

Screeching Cat: You could have used the Kitchen Aid, y'know?

Asian: ............

Nala: I was actually wondering about that.

Screeching Cat: Or the electric mixer here in the drawer?

Asian: Y'know what, I just felt like going old school! I felt like being Julia Childs today!

Screeching Cat: Julia Childs uses a Kitchen Aid.

Asian: Whateva!

     As soon as I finished mixing the ingredients, I put it away in the fridge for an hour and waited for Screeching Cat to pick-up food. Nala, Screeching Cat's mother, and I grew to be impatient even though ONLY ten minutes had passed and decided to have a couple slices of Persimmon's Bread, that she baked, and cups of coffee. From there, we went out to the back patio, sat comfortably in our chairs, and let the rays of the eighty degree sun warm/tan our bodies. We had such a lovely time just chatting and then my alarm goes off, indicating that the dough was ready for cookie cutting. Screeching Cat's timing could not have been more perfect; he arrived with the food just as we had gotten up. He had been informed about how we couldn't wait for the food anymore since he was being so slow.

     When I got back to my station, I attempted to cut the cookies out, but had forgotten to lay down flour.

Nala: Um, you didn't lay down flour, did you?

Asian: .........Nope.

Nala: That's what I thought. I don't think your cookies are going to come off easily...

Asian: .........Yeeeaaahhhh...I knew I was forgetting something!

     So, Nala had tapped me out and allowed me to eat my two breakfast sandwiches. The shapes of the cookies had turned out fine when she took over and we baked them right away.

     When we had taken care of all the food we could make at the moment, Screeching Cat had wanted to move around the furniture and set it up in the courtyard' to allow space on the balcony and seating near the fountain and by the wall.

Sheep: You're gonna set up the chairs outside?

Screeching Cat: Yeah! So that people have a place to sit and talk outside.

Sheep: But Honey, we're in California.

Screeching Cat: It'll be fine.

     Without heeding his warning, Nala, Screeching Cat, and I continued moving chairs and tables. Now, moving these pieces did not involve us carrying them into another room. Instead, Screeching Cat had developed a pulley system using a dog chain to secure the furniture as he lowered it down rom the balcony. Then I looked over to my right:

Sheep: *sigh*

Asian: It wasn't my idea! This is your husband's doing!

Screeching Cat: Hi!

     And then he walked away.

     As soon as we managed to move out all of the chairs and tables, I volunteered to sweep so that Screeching Cat could arrange everything as he pleased. Worse decision ever.

     Readers, you may not know this, but they live in a mansion. So I had to sweep from top-to-bottom: rooftop, stairs to the rooftop, balcony, patio, four sets of stairs to he patio, and a sitting area next to a mini fountain. Not only was a I killing my back and giving myself the most intense arm workout known to mankind, but I was dying in the heat. There came a point that I took off my shirt, not to show my horrific, flabby body, but to assure myself that I did not end up having a heat stroke. Whoever said that slavery and indentured servitude lied. Educators are obviously misinforming the youth of America.

     As time had drawn nearer to the party, we hustled and popped in whatever needed to be cooked so that everything came out fresh. Mind you, the food we made were mostly finger foods due to the fact that we were serving up courses for the gays.

     Most of you have probably seen me eat and some more than likely not. I am not the person you want to compare anything against. Everything about me is off; I'm not cold, this isn't spicy, yatta yatta yatta. Basically, I am the worst gay ever; especially when it comes to food. When I watch what most gays eat, I feel like I'm witnessing these men starving themselves to death or close to dying of malnutrition. Granted, I understand this whole concept of eating healthy, but really, as long you stay active, you're body will do just fine; sometimes I just want to shove a steak down their throats. Any who, the point of this observation is that I eat like a pig. You throw food in front of me, it's gone. You have enough food to be able to fit into your hands, I have enough to feed an African village. But do I care? Absolutely not! Say what you will, but don't you dare get between me and my food.

     When we had finally finished cooking everything and prepping the table, the hour had come to finally greet the guests into their home. As Nala and I hovered around the background, we just found ourselves lounging and relaxing, waiting for midnight to strike so that we could go to sleep. Don't get me wrong, readers, I did have pleasant conversations with some people, but nothing I would call "blog worthy"; just a good time for me.

     So when the clock hit that time, I finally had my first New Years kiss.

     Did I skip some parts leading to that? Yes. But that was intentional. All you need to know is that I had a kiss.

     With that in mind, I can't wait for what this new year has to offer me and to what adventures I'll have the opportunity of exploring.

HAPPY NEW YEAR, READERS!

Sincerely,

An Asian

Today, I became the unthinkable.

     As a child, I always wondered what it would be like to be famous, to be a model. I had looked through various magazines of Vogue, Vogue Italia, Harper's Bazaar and seen what male models appeared like; Greek Gods. Growing up, I never had that confidence because I used to be fat. You may be thinking to yourselves, "What? You used to be fat? No way! You're lying!" No, readers, I was indeed fat; my mama just knew how to dress me well. So my body image and the image the American society has set as a standard for what male models must look like always brought down my self-esteem and only ever let this be wishful thinking. Until today.

     I had received an email stating that I had been chosen for a charity fashion show as one of the models. Shock. My mind could not comprehend this fact. I mean, I have never looked as great as I do today, but I know that I still have some work to do before I could ever consider my body to be model ready. Still, though, I replied with a definite, yes. Little did I know, this was going to be an experience of a lifetime.

     To start off, Siri is on crack. I don't even use the past tense, was, because she's still on crack. When I arrived to "The Show", Siri had informed me that my destination was to my right. False. It was not on my right. On my right was, which I'm very positive about, a commencing drug deal in front of a run down apartment complex. Either these people were trying to play me or it was the day I was finally going to get mugged, shot, and/or sexually assaulted. As soon as I parked, at the top of a hill mountain, I had walked down questioning whether or not I should turn around and go home. Then I saw the crowd of people and the venue itself.

     When I walked up, I was greeted by the Creative Director, France. You know those movies where there'd be that one character that recites a phrase at the end of everything they say; they exist. France's special word was "Fashion".

"Are the models ready? Fashion."

"I love your outfit. Fashion."

"Ok, we need to go downstairs? Fashion."

"Fashion!"

     As cooky as this may sound, he was still an amazing person to work for; full of fun and energy. I didn't know what to expect, especially since this was my first runway show. There has always been this imagination where I thought the models would be bitchy, catty, and stand-offish that I worried every time a took a step near them. Throughout the evening though, I learned how down-to-earth these ladies really were; they were nothing like how society perceives models. In actuality, there were only two guys that disgusted me.

     In meeting the ladies and some of the gentlemen, I thought that this was going to be a very laid back and fun fashion show. Then these two blockheads arrive; the Tweedles. Everything about them was very stereotypical; they're approach to the job, how they treated the women/designers, their "masculine" personality. They were the worst.

     When I first met them, I overheard the following conversation:

Tweedledee: Oh, hey man! Check out that chick. Look at that ass!

Tweedledum: Mm! She's really fine too. Look at that body!

Tweedledee: Yeah, I'd like a piece of that.

     Um, sorry boys, but you can't treat women like a piece of meat; this isn't the early days, we've progressed from that, you should too. But of course, it got better.

Tweedledee: Do you know how much we're getting paid for this?

Asian: Um, nothing? It's a free event.

Tweedledee: What?! Um, no. There is no way in hell that I would have done this for free!

Tweedledum: Yeah!

Tweedledee: Are you sure that we don't get paid?

Asian: Yeah.

Tweedledee: Do you know if we get credit for this?

Asian: I'm pretty sure. They're gonna take our pictures and I think there may be a dvd copy of the show.

Tweedledee: Oh, ok then. Then I probably remember submitting for this because I don't do anything free; it has to be paying or give me credit.

Asian: Ah, I –

Tweedledee: Yeah, but I don't remember submitting for this...you sure we don't get paid?

     Needless to say, their level of professionalism was nonexistent. So not only did they treat the girls like meat, they were also pissed off that they were doing this event for free. Boys, reality check, you are in the fashion industry. Yes, the girls may be hot, but they are your coworkers; have some dignity. I'm sure your mama did not raise you like that! Then came the tipping point.

France: Hey boys, this is another one of the designers, Arab. Fashion. He's got clothes downstairs and needs help bringing stuff up. Fashion. How many people do you need? Fashion.

Arab: Just one.

France: Fashion. So which one of you guys can help him bring up his stuff? Fashion.

     Now, France was not looking at me at all. I know this because I was watching his eye contact gazing upon the Tweedles. Why, you may ask? Well, they obviously had larger biceps than me. I definitely had the better body, but their biceps were so much better than mine. When I looked over at them, they immediately looked away from the designers and seemed as if they were trying to force the other to go help because neither one wanted to. It was at this point that I swiftly volunteered. Funny thing was, Arab only had one rack of clothes and it wasn't even that heavy. Finally, it had come to the point that I was over their negative and horrific attitudes.

Assistant: I want you to wear this. *hands Tweedledee a sequin blazer*

Tweedledee: Naw man. I need something else? I can't wear this. I'm not comfortable wearing this.

     Hold up! Did you just deny a designer's clothing?! Get out. You would be kicked out of the show if you were modeling for a top designer like Posen or Kors and had an attitude like that. Moeling is not about what makes you comfortable, it's about the client. I understand if somebody has morals or standards, but that would only ever be an issue of crosses certain boundaries and ethics. It's not like he was asking him to be nude or to make out with another male model.

Assistant: He doesn't want to wear this.

 Ms. Designer: Why not?

Tweedledee: I don't feel comfortable in this. It's whack.

Ms. Designer: Why don't you feel comfortable in this?

Tweedledee: I don't know... I just don't.

Ms. Designer: Here, try it on. See, it looks great on you!

     She eventually got him to say yes, but then he didn't end up wearing it because he was being a diva again to Mr. Designer. Then, of course, there's Tweedledum's.

Arab: Would you be comfortable wearing underwear?

Tweedledum: Just underwear?

Arab: No. You'll also be wearing a jacket on top.

Tweedledum: Um, not really.

Arab: You sure? I mean, I don't want you to do something you're not comfortable with, but are you sure?

Tweedledum: Yeah, no. I'm not comfortable doing that. I can't do it.

     Granted, I did just say that I had the better body, but he wasn't fat or anything; he was just bulky. Still, it was really annoying that he wouldn't walk for this designer because as an unknown model, you want to walk for as many designers as you can. Who knows, you may be walking for the next big designer known to mankind.

     Anyway, it was already 10:30 PM and I've been there since 4:00 PM. I was dying and losing steam. My youthful innocence started to dissipate due to the fatigue the other models and myself were experiencing, but most of us kept it together. When it came time to walk, I was so scared. I had talked with a few of the female models, Arab, and a hair stylist. They were kind enough to give me tips and support for my first runway. What was especially nerve wracking was the fact that in my first show, I opened for a designer. Fear knew no bounds. I trembled and quaked before I hit the runway.

     As soon as I finished my walk, Pita, the hair stylist, congratulated me on my walk. Then I quick changed into my next outfit. After that, we did our final walks and I changed into my last outfit for the evening. I did my final walk and had a quick pictorial with France and was ready to leave. As I was packing my things and saying my goodbyes, I traded information with various designers, models, and Pita. She was definitely one of my favorites that evening because of the hope she gave me.

Pita: You are so humble and sweet and you worked it out on the catwalk! I can't wait to see you grow and be a top model. I know that I'll see you in LA Fashion week soon!

     If you told me that I'd be a model when I grew up, I would have laughed at your face. There would have been others that would have done the same thing. Modeling, for me, was always just wishful thinking. What this experience has taught me, though, is that dreams do come true if you try. As long as you don't give up on yourself, others won't give up on you. So stand strong, readers, and follow your hearts! And know that you have at least one person that believes in you; me.

     Here's to more future adventures and experiences!

Sincerely,

An Asian

Today, I realized how out of shape I am.

     I auditioned for the Disney Cruise Lines. Now, I've been on a cruise and know the quality of their shows. In my mind, I thought that I was capable of performing at a decent level and getting me that nine month contract. During the audition, every hope and dream I had was shattered.

     To prepare for this audition, I did a nice little warm-up, some extensive stretches, and brush-ups on technique. The styles I had to keep in mind were musical theatre, ballet, and tap. When I first decided to audition, I thought that I would have this in the bag; I could rock two styles and be sub par for the third. So I didn't think much of what I would be doing. This didn't stop me from completely warming my body, though, so as to avoid embarrassing cramps during the audition.

     We started with Musical Theatre; Newsies. I thought this was gonna be easy. WRONG! The moves were intricate, the counts were fast, and I was dancing in socks on a hardwood floor. All of this just wreaked with disaster. The worst part, every phrase we did, there was always some sort of leap. We would walk, then leap, then turn, then leap, then pose, then leap, leap, LEAP! It got to the point that my high kick at the beginning of the piece, and audition, slowly started to lower farther and closer to a ninety-degree angle due to muscular fatigue. When I started to feel this way, I was very glad for two things:

1. That I did not eat breakfast. I was starting to feel sick and close to throwing up, but I luckily had nothing to throw up.

2. That I FINALLY remembered to bring a water bottle to an audition. If I did not have that water bottle, I would probably end up on a stretcher in the back of an ambulance on my way to the unwanted service and doctor's bill awaiting my arrival. No joke.

     So on top of feeling this fatigue, I was having a hard time keeping up with the choreography. Things weren't piecing together fluidly, I was forgetting steps; it was a disaster. So then comes the actual audition. Mind you, only twenty minutes has passed at this point, twenty minutes. At this point, my body was ready to give up and throw-in the towel. Bt my mind was strong and I was determined to show the panel what I had. Then horror had struck. I was everywhere, literally everywhere. There was a couple of times that I was encroaching on the other auditioner's space and one directly at the end where I had almost smacked the guy, behind me, in the face as I opened up my arms not because it was the choreography, but for the joy that I survived and didn't end up killing anybody with my monstrous movements. It was then that we were asked to do it again and I was told:

Tap Judge: Can you make sure to stay in your own space this ?

     Oh. Dear. Lord. Kill me now. I thought it was bad enough the first time, I didn't want to see what happened the second time through. So come second round, I had improved. I remembered the choreography a lot better than before and I didn't almost kill anybody. Score! Then came ballet. I was terrified as to what combination this woman had created.

     When we went through the choreography, it actually wasn't bad; it was one of the easiest combos I have ever learned. Except, this one had a plethora of turns. I felt like I was on a never ending carousel; we just kept turning every time we had the chance. It was kick, turn, then leap, turn, now walk, then double turn. I thought that I was going to throw up all the water I had previously consumed from the prior experience of hell. Still, though, it wasn't as bad. If anything, I would have given my performance an eight out of ten; minus two for lack of point in my feet and technique. Then we had to demonstrate one of my worst nightmares: Fouette a la Seconde.

     Readers, if you have no idea what I'm talking about, Google it. It's the worst. Basically, I was just a spinning top of death. At first, Choreo Woman just had our legs up in second and hopping around; that, I was fine with. The rest of the judges, on the flip side, had other things in mind. So when we started, I was doing well for the first three turns. Slowly and slowly, though, I saw myself creeping up to the man I had almost smacked during the first round of auditions. I knew that I was not his favorite; heck, I wouldn't like me. It got to the point that I was starting to get so close that if I did one more turn, I would have taken him out with a powerful kick. So, I did my horrible double turn and stopped. I profusely apologized for almost taking him down, again.

Auditioner: Haha. It's ok...

     In his mind, though, he was probably thinking.

Auditioner: You little b****, get the hell out of my face.

     If the first time wasn't enough, they had us do another round. At this point, I was so close to giving up, but I tried again and failed even more miserably than the last. The only difference was that this time, I did a few less turns and cleaned my double pirouette. Did I show them that I could it? Absolutely not.

     We were almost done with the auditions and it had finally come down to the last, most horrible combinations of all: tap. It wasn't the fact that I hate tap, quite the contrary. I admire tap and tappers for being able to create a wonderful rhythm through their feet. In reality, I am horrible at tap. If anything, I went back to being the horrible tapper I started out to be. So come combination, the only thing I could do properly were flaps and bits and pieces of other basics. When it came to presentations, I faked it. You know the saying, "fake it 'til you make it", I was the living embodiment of that phrase; both times. Then they asked if we could tumble. I was done. That, for sure, was something I could not do. So I went in to the other room to change, get my measurements, and the rest is history.

     I could say that this was one of the most horrific experiences I have ever had in my career as a dancer and performer, but it was one of the most hilarious and memorable. If anything, this experience reminded me how out of the game I was and that I needed to get back into serious dance classes. It's not about the gains that you learn from the most, it's your failures.

     So I can't wait for what my future adventures and experiences hold.

Sincerely,

An Asian