The Fortune Cookie Chronicles.

I'm mildly obsessed with fortunes. I think this is due to the fact that I'm mildly obsessed with being told how my life will unfold. Only in positive tidbits of my choosing, however, as stark reality in large doses is likely to leave me feeling momentarily dismayed.

I went to the SF Fortune Cookie Company when my parents last visited, and I've been slowly plodding through the cookie jar. Once I get started, I'll eat cookie after cookie. Usually, this is due to the sugar factor, however, fortune cookies are the outlier. I've developed a taste for these crisp wafers, but really, what I eat them for are the folded slips of paper. It used to be that I would eat just one or two before attaining desired outcome. An evolution of Choose Your Own Adventure! without the earmarked pages and the dead ends. 

I can't help but notice that the quality of fortunes has seriously declined over the years. Statements such as Opportunity knocks on your door every day - answer it can at best be described as cliche.  And in case I didn't sense the urgency the first time around, there was: Opportunity is knocking on your door - answer it tomorrow. 

But that's not to say that fortune cookie heirs and heiresses are not trying. It seems that these companies have begun to take into consideration the marketplace success stories. There is the Disney approach: May all of the 365 dreams you have this year come true. And the business sensibility: Your short term goal will soon be realized.  And then there is the previously unmarked territory of punctuation: The world will look a little better with some love given by you! An exclamation point for emphasis!

There are the descriptions: You are expressive and positive in words, act and feeling. And then the adages: Trust is the secret to finding the answer you're looking for. The horoscopes: A romantic mystery will soon add interest to your life. And the imperatives: You have a charming way with words. Write a letter this week. Not to mention the self-help: Your choices at the moment will be good ones. Trust yourself.

And they say variety is the spice of life.

My life, according to fortunes, is to unfold as follows:

You will make many changes before settling satisfactorily.

An interesting sports opportunity is in your near future. 

You will attend an unusual party and meet someone important.

You will soon bring joy to someone.

It's not quite the five or ten year plan, but it'll have to do. 

As my cookie supply runs down to the remaining three, I can't help but wonder what will be next. I've brushed my teeth for the night, so the future will have to wait till tomorrow. Until then, I'll just have to remember: Now is the best time for you to be spontaneous. Serendipity!

Four Letter Words.

About a year ago, I became infatuated with all things Myers-Brigg. Having taken an inventory online, I was presented with a four letter acronym and an explanation of what makes me tick. And as I began to read through that personality profile, I was amazed. Who knew that such an accurate description existed in four simple letters: I, N, F, and P?

The first paragraph was a general description. I had read somewhere that in a focus group where a personality test was administered to a classroom of high school students, the same rose-colored assessment was given to each member of the class. Each student was pleasantly surprised with their results, nodding in agreement, thinking the results had been tailored exclusively to them when really, the same blurb seemed to apply to everyone. Smart in their own way. Potential to do great things. Key themes that could read true for every student in the room. People like to see themselves in the brightest of lights.

But as I read on, so many of the questions I had, things that driven me crazy about myself over the years were instantly illuminated. How was it that I couldn't answer a simple black and white question, but instead see a full spectrum of gray? Could this be reverse autism, where I was unable to take anything literally? And where was this test 10 years ago during my adolescent angst?

More important was the following: could there be others out there?

And that's when I noticed the list. In addition to shedding light on why you are the way you are, Ms. Myers and her mother Briggs had thoughtfully included a list of notable counterparts. Although not many in number, there were others like me, only famous!

As I perused that list, I breathed a breath of fresh air.

With the existence of other fellow INFPs such as Jackie O (I always liked that pillbox hat), young Drew Barrymore's pal E.T., and Mary, mother of Jesus, suddenly, my shades of gray world became technicolor.

Woulda, Coulda, Shoulda.

Not too long ago, I had this irrational notion that I was meant to be a business consultant. Had I listened to my parents, graduated summa cum laude, and done everything right in life, it woulda been me clad in the tailored Theory suits, attending fancy client dinners and becoming well versed in the culinary landscapes of many a major metropolitan city. I coulda been the one with the collection of miniature Bliss samples acquired while hopping from one Starwood hotel to the next, and enough United miles to grant me free transatlantic flights to any European destination of my choosing. Of course I would be much too busy to afford any time off, but one well deserved trip to the Cote d’Azur each year would have to do. While I would be tired of living out of a suitcase, the simplicity of my W Hotel suite and a warm cup of genmai tea would calm my nerves as I curled up on my bed with a copy of the New Yorker. I had myself convinced that that shoulda been my career path, and somehow, that equated to success.

We all have our irrational what if scenarios masquerading as regrets. You know the ones - perceived and supposed epiphanies of success where if you really think about it, it makes no sense at all, at least not for us. Who am I kidding? I would've been miserable. But being the neurotic people that we are, we're convinced it should have come to pass. But despite the shoulda, coulda, wouldas, I'm seeing that life is exactly as it should be.

Lite-Brite.

Thoughts that occurred to me while standing in the microkitchen at exactly 9:49am PST on 2/28/07, contemplating organic yogurt:

Maybe you're supposed to live unapologetically and just give life a chance.
No room for regrets, no predetermining missteps.

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Maybe it was the influence of the fluorescent haze of the Google-branded display case, but somehow, I am under the impression that I ought to run with this.

The Name Game.

In elementary school, your primary objective is to blend in. Any variations - even in spelling - are considered mutations. You discover life beyond the ways of your family, and what you once thought normal subsequently takes on the form of a quirk. Some embrace these differences at an early age, confident and/or indifferent to the thoughts of those around them while others reconcile these differences by quickly sweeping any vestige of irregularity under the rug. I wish I could say I was the former.

As a first born raised by immigrant parents, I wasn't hip to the cultural happenings of the day. There was no one to tell me how to layer my multi-colored tube socks and no older sibling to turn me on to the NKOTB songs currently in radio rotation. While all the other 5th graders were collectively chanting, "Oh my God, Becky, look.." during recess, I was left wondering who exactly was this Becky, and why didn't I know her? It wasn't until middle school that I learned of the curiously-monikered knight named Mix-A-Lot, and due to circumstance beyond my control, I simply wasn't in the know.

It was at this early age that I discovered the pressures of uniformity, even in name. Growing up, there weren't many others who shared my name, and certainly no one who spelled it with a 'k'. Erica's were rare, and Erika's, non-existent. I hated that 'k'. 'K' represented all that was wrong with the world - from Kryptonite to the Ku Klux Klan. I abhored its obtrusiveness, constantly jutting out and disrupting the otherwise smooth flow of my pen when learning to write my name in cursive. I resented that whenever I would scan the racks of 100+ personalized key chains populated with the likes of Emily’s, Emma’s, and Erin’s, all I could see was one glaring omission: Erika. It's not that I was all that particular. Being the ever tolerant nine-year old, Erica or even Ericka would have made suitable replacements.

To be honest, I’ve grown used to misspelling. With a first and last name like mine, it has become the norm. I am often surprised when people do manage to get one of the two correct, and even some of my closest friends still draft emails addressed to Erica. I don’t bat an eye at c’s, though ck’s may or may not raise an eyebrow. And I don’t mind. Really, I don’t. What I do notice, however, is when someone actually gets it right. And on that occasion when I’m greeted with that 'k', I respond with a smile. With college came self-acceptance - weird became unique, while odd became whimsy. And as for that lifelong battle with 'k', I've come to realize that it's not so bad after all.

This Christmas, I received the best present ever - a gift of truly Jantastic proportions. As I unwrapped the twice-wrapped box and peeled away the double layer of festive tissue paper, there it was. A skate, signed by Michelle Kwan, personally written out to one Erika with a 'k'.

The Reinvention Tour.

Reinvention. We do it all the time. It’s a response to a desire for something greater, when you stick your head out the window and scream “I’m mad as hell, and I can’t take it anymore!” Spurred by restlessness, the desperation for something new, we rise up, dust ourselves off, assume new identity, and walk on. There are entire industries centered around this notion - fashion and advertising, for example - and there are even those, like Madonna, who are recognized for being its posterchild. Without it, life would be limiting.

Every year, I ceremoniously compose a set of resolutions. These resolutions are pure theatrics, a whimsical display made in high spirits and even higher hopes. Truth be told, I’m not delusional enough to believe I’ll actually keep said resolutions, but one always needs an outlet and a reason to reinvent. There are the mainstays - to exercise more and to not buy books merely to put impressively on shelf. Then there are the ones by proxy, imposed upon you by parents and relatives: namely, to find myself a husband. And all these resolutions, this wishful thinking of self-improvement, contribute to an overarching theme.

I ran into a friend who is studying fashion design in that cultural hub of hubs, New York City. And as we began to talk shop, we came to the very topic of discussion, of how she likes to reinvent herself every season. Last year was ’savage’, but 2007 was surely to be a more Chloe-esque, pink-lipped and chiffon clad lady. As I listened to her chronicle her various incarnations, I got to thinking about my own transformations. From Bridget Jones neuroticism to Sedaris-like self-deprecation, I found I drew more from literary and cinematic influences. 2004 heralded the year of S.S.S. - a Janerika coined term meaning sleek/sexy/sophisticated. Needless to say, the klutzy and clueless twosome fell quite short of the mark, but had a ball along the way. 2005 was marked by a quiet desperation which led to 2006’s resounding theme of escapism, echoed by books such as The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier and Clay and that all time favorite - Breakfast at Tiffany’s. And by the looks of it, 2007 will be about ‘embrace’.

I spent the beginning of last year quietly recovering, recovering from a traumatic incident that occurred on a remote continent in another hemisphere. And in light of this freak occurrence, no longer was I about to tread helplessly, allowing my life to get caught in the rip tides. And so I returned to the States, quit my job, packed up my bags, and moved on up to the Bay area. “Tabula rasa,” I said.

2006 showed me that there is no such thing as a blank slate, but there does exist potential. I left what I knew and reunited with my best friend, met new roommates, found an amazing community, and watched as my God schooled me in the matters of life, liberty, and pursuit of happiness. And I was in my element. What I found was my future.

One year and myriad broken resolutions later, I usher in another new year, this time among friends and family past. And in this new year, I emerge happy, determined, and ready to embrace the new and shiny things to come.. at least until I assume my next identity.