light as a cloud ☁
28 years | 5' 4" | HW: 133 | LW: 102
SW: 124 on Jan.03.2012 and again Apr.09.2013 at 119.5
CW: 102 as of Jan.24.2014
GW1: 115 reached on May.16.2013
GW2: 110 reached on Jun.27.2013
GW3: 105 reached on Nov.02.2013
GW4: 100 doesn't matter anymore.
✰UGW: Until I see ab definition, six pack please :)

OK, so I fainted this morning. This is the first time, I’ve had a few close encounters before but I normally shake it off before it actually happens. It was about 35°C and the sun was blazing this morning. I was dehydrated and I don’t get enough sleep.  I get about 3-4 hours of continuous sleep each day. The area I was waiting at was stuffy and poorly ventilated.I felt it coming. My ears were buzzing, my nose began to run and everything I saw turned into a negative film. The scary thing about faint spells or heat stroke is that, you completely black out, unexpectedly. One minute you’re okay, the next thing you know, a person next to you falls down. You sleep well and it’s as though your body’s restarting itself. Luckily, I hit a lady before I fell down. She broke my fall. I only ended up with a scrape on my right knee and a swollen bruise on my left knee. I have heard how people fell face forward with a broken nose and a nose bleed that just won’t quit.

The moment I regained consciousness, I heard a lady explaining to a group of people what had happened and I heard a man tell someone else to hold my head before I collapse again. It helped that the woman was loud and constantly talking to wake me up. About 6 people were crowding me. I’m so thankful for these strangers. The lady I hit my head on, gave me fortune cookies to snack on and the owner of the store quickly grabbed a bottle of water for me. I didn’t even think twice, I thanked him profusely and drank it. I left my water bottle at home today… sigh. Every single encounter happens when i leave my water bottle at home. STAY HYDRATED. I couldn’t eat afterwards. I felt like throwing up. I had no appetite. My hands were shaky, nose was still runny and it felt like I was going to collapse again.

My dad had left my side just for a few minutes to wait with my mom inside the restaurant. The moment he came out to see what was happening outside, he noticed the crowd of concerned individuals. It actually took some time for him to register that the fallen person was me, “That girl on the floor, looks so much like my daughter but she was fine a few minutes ago, it can’t be her. Wait, it IS!”

What’s scary was, I wasn’t at the gym or sweating profusely. I was just waiting outside, standing upright and this shit happens. I’ve had close encounters at the gym or inside the subway/bus/train before. I must be really, really tired. I’m going to bed now. Good night!

PS: I personally want to thank my boyfriend for taking care of me once I got home. I’m also really sorry that you had to worry about this situation. He was on standby the entire time and he lost his appetite too. He could relax after he saw some colour on my lips.

Update: my left shoulder and elbow are bruised too. I did fall on paved cement. Aching all over. D’oh.

Okay, so mom’s about to go through another colonoscopy.  It’s a pain in the ass to deal with (literally). I remember going through this treatment and losing 6 lbs in 3 days because you’re on a dye-free liquid diet for 48 hours, I did 60 hours to clean out my bowels. That was hell. She tells me she might have another cyst in her womb too… and she’ll get that checked out once the scope is done on the other end. She also stressed how her heart is enlarging and it contracts from the barometric pressure during the winter and wants to ask the doctor for medication. I need to be there for her, as she has for me, all my life. I pray for her health and well being. I suggested that she might want to take a second day off from work  to recover any ailments in her body. Neither her or my father are capable of retiring at the moment. We’re a hardworking middle class family.

Maybe that’s the benefit of having your own child. One day, maybe that child will be able to take care of me. I wouldn’t have to die feeling utterly alone? However, most children and teens have grown to become so selfish, I’m afraid having a child will only ruin me. Yes, I have lost faith in 90% of humanity. LOL. There’s a Cantonese saying, “giving birth to a BBQ pork would have been a better investment than a child.”

I sincerely hope and pray that both our moms become healthy soon.

Here’s to all the responsible children out there who will do anything for their family’s safety.


Anti pasta salad (x)

I do believe in the kindness of people. Sometimes we forget to express it. The act of caring, loving, and being genuine. It’s the little things people do that remind you, you are not forgotten. Right now, I want to jot down the acts of kindness I received just yesterday alone.

BF bought me the Fujifilm SP-1 and told me to refund the one I bought online since he gets employee discount. The perks of working at a computer store. Win. He refused to take my money and said it was a gift. I’ve been trying to ease up his small expenses by helping him save as much as possible for the upcoming surgery. Everything costs money when you’re not a citizen. Last night, he kind of destroyed my intention, which was to make him spend less money. It’s not my birthday or anything. I didn’t want him to buy me that. I was already super happy that he got me the discount but I became really sad after when he said it was a gift. Like, if that’s the case, I don’t want it. It’s not even a necessity. I bought it without your knowledge because I didn’t want you to get it for me.

A few months back, I bailed on a bachelorette party that required 4 days in Chicago. I paid for my deposit which was $200 and I wished her a great time. The bride-to-be never messaged me back or anything. I mean, we really don’t hang out as much as we used to anymore. Yesterday, she drove over to my house with her hubby-to-be to return a bridal shower gift I left in her car a month ago but she surprised me with lemon cupcakes and movie tickets for two. 

Thank you for being thoughtful. Small gestures of kindness goes a long way… for me anyway. Thank you.

My Parents are Dead and My Sister is Disabled







On May 28th, my sister, Edna, turned 31.


Her mental age is about three years old. She loves Winnie the Pooh, Beauty & the Beast, and Sesame Street. Even though the below picture is unconvincing. 


Edna and “Cookie.” I think she was trying to play it cool. 

My name is Jeanie. I’m Edna’s younger sister. I’m also her guardian and caregiver. 


That’s me on the left. (Hey, you never know. After a year of writing a blog about online dating - Jeanie Does the Internet - I’ve come to learn that there are A LOT of fools on the internet.) 


ANYWAY, I’m not “doing the internet” anymore. I’m taking care of Edna full-time, after completing my MFA in Writing for Screen & Television at USC.


May 16, 2014. I wanted a picture. Edna wanted breakfast.

In case you’re wondering where our parents are, they’re dead. Our mom died of breast cancer when she was just 33. 


Us with mom before she died. (Obviously.)

As for our dad, he peaced-out around the time my mom got sick. His loss - we’re awesome. 


Here we are being awesome at the beach. Pushing a wheelchair in the sand? Not so awesome. 

In case you’re wondering “What’s wrong?” with my sister - as a stranger once asked me on the street  -  NOTHING. Yes, Edna has a rare form of epilepsy - Lennox-Gastaut syndrome - but I don’t know if that’s anymore “wrong” than people who don’t have manners. 

Basically, Edna was born “normal,” and started having seizures as a baby. They eventually got so bad that they cut off the oxygen to her brain, causing her to be mentally disabled. Or impaired. Or intellectually disabled. Or whatever you want to call it - except “retarded,” because in 2010, President Obama signed Rosa’s Law into effect, replacing that word with “intellectually impaired.” 

Which is cool and all, but services for the disabled and the people who care for them are SEVERELY LACKING. Also, there’s a bunch of people working in taxpayer-funded positions who are supposed to help families like us, but don’t. (Big surprise, I know.) They just fill out paperwork (whenever they feel like it) with asinine statements like this: 


YUP. I transport my sister down the stairs in her wheelchair, because that is not only safe, but TOTALLY PRACTICAL. Why doesn’t everyone in a wheelchair just take the stairs, for God’s sake? Stop being so lazy, PEOPLE WITHOUT WORKING LEGS! 

But, as it says above, Edna’s legs do work. Whether or not she wants them to, is another story. 


Edna refusing to go inside. 

These are the stairs that I have to carry her up - by myself - on a daily basis. That is, until one of my legs break and both of us are just sitting at the bottom of the stairs, helpless. 


For six months, I have begged - BEGGED - the State of California to help my sister, which they are required by law - The Lanterman Act specifically - to do so. But they’ve told me “these things take time” and that I “need to amend my expectations.” (That was said to me when I refused to place Edna at AN ALL-MALE CARE FACILITY. Because yes, that was an “option” that was offered to me.) 

Prior to Edna moving in with me in my one-bedroom apartment, she was living with her amazing caregiver, Gaby, back in Tucson, where we went to high school and I did my undergrad. Edna’s reppin’ the Wildcats below. 


But back in November, Gaby also died from breast cancer. (FUCK YOU, BREAST CANCER!) This picture was taken a month before she died. She never even told me she was sick because she didn’t want me to worry. 

By the way, we were raised by our grandma. Edna and her were very close.


She’s dead, too. Surprise.

She died when I was 20 and Edna was 21. That’s when I became Edna’s legal guardian and Gaby stepped into the picture to help me out with Edna. 

So, six months ago, after Gaby died, I moved Edna to California, where I tried to get the folks over at The Frank D. Lanterman Regional Center to help me. I’ve told them I’m worried about our safety - that one of us could get hurt on the stairs -  I’ve told them I can’t afford to pay the private babysitters $15/hour because the ones social services sent me who make $9/hour were unreliable (they didn’t show up on time or at all so I could get to school and work), untrustworthy (one of them let Edna go to the bathroom in the kitchen and then took her into the bathroom because “that what I thought I was supposed to do.”) 

But the people over at the FLRC don’t return my calls, they don’t file the paperwork on time - and the first caseworker that was assigned to us actually LAUGHED AT my sister when he came to our home to evaluate her. When I reported him to his supervisor, she told me, “That’s just [insert name of said jackass].” 

He was one of the two caseworkers that contributed to the report I mentioned above, which also included this: 


So let me get this straight - I have to feed, bathe, dress and help Edna in the bathroom and you can’t deduce whether or not she is able to vote? What in the fuck?!

Now I realize I seem angry. And you can bet your balls I am. I’m also sad. Sad for those who don’t have family to stick up from them and who waste away God knows where, monitored by no one. Or monitored by people who physically and sexually assault them

I’m also sad for the caregivers who are SO EXHAUSTED - trying to take care of their loved ones - while also trying to take care of themselves and battling a system that is supposed to help, but does nothing of the sort. And I know a lot of people give up. They let their dreams, their marriages, their friendships slide. All while trying not to resent the very person you’re doing it all for.


Edna wanted to sit next to me the other day while I was writing. Clearly, she’s not impressed. 

Here’s the thing: I REFUSE TO GIVE UP. I’M NOT GIVING UP ON HER OR MYSELF. I’m going to pursue my dreams while taking care of her, AND while ensuring that the people paid to do their jobs ACTUALLY do them.

That’s where you come in. I need you to help me get my story out there. Because I know I’m not alone in this. I want to connect with families who are in similar situations and also show people who have no idea what it’s like to care for someone with a disability (or even a loved one who is sick) that it can be rewarding. Super fucking hard. Exhausting. Painful. Isolating. But, rewarding. 

I’m going to get help for my sister - and others. My hope is that by sharing our story, I can bring awareness to the lack of services and help for the disabled. 

Thank you, 



Twitter: @EisforEdna 

This made me cry



This is a really uplifting and inspirational story of a family sticking by each other and making things work despite a whole lot of shit

They just want to find other people in the same position they are, for a sense of community and to feel like they aren’t alone.

I know out of all of you, some of you have followers who are living with and taking care of intellectually or emotionally disabled family members, and this lovely and unbreakable pair of sisters need to find them.


your love for your sister is such a beautiful thing, your story will be heard, dear. we will make sure of it.

(Source: , via tinyteacvps)

1. Your skin may never be perfect, and that’s okay.

2. Life is too short not to have the underwear, the coffee, and the haircut you want.

3. Everyone (including your family, your coworkers, and your best friend) will talk about you behind your back, and you’ll talk about them too. It doesn’t mean you don’t love each other.

4. It’s okay to spend money on things that make you happy.

5. Sometimes without fault or reason, relationships deteriorate. It will happen when you’re six, it will happen when you’re sixty. That’s life.

— Five things I am trying very hard to accept (via aumoe)

(via being-a-fitter-me)

So I keep asking myself, “Is it worth it?” I end up laughing… bitterly… I did this to myself.


Salad inspiration!