Recently, I entered a contest to win a coveted spot of hosting for a week on the the local radio station. The number one morning show in Seattle by Brooke and Jubal. To enter you had to submit a 60 second video and from there the producers would pick the top 10 semifinalists. I managed to get into the top 10 beating out 400 contestants. From there I even made it to the top 5 finalists. Each of the five finalist had a day to be on air, a live audition. I was a wreck, but I kept telling myself “just be you” my studio motto and life mantra. My friends and family texted to the studio and to me that I was doing a great job. I actually started to believe it , relaxed and started having fun. By the time it was over, I was on such a high and smiling from ear to ear. My husband (aka my number one fan) called me from work and congratulated me on doing an amazing job. There’s really nothing better than hearing that from my man. He supports me in whatever I set out to do, but I never get tired of his praises. So when I arrived home, I remembered they put up the contestant photo on the studio facebook page. This is where listeners of the show come to comment. I was eager to check it out for the feedback. But holy mother truckers (made a promise to my husband we don’t swear because we have a 2 year old son that repeats everything) there were over 200 comments. First I thought, wow I’m a hit! Then I made the mistake of actually reading them word for word. Hater grenades in every single comment. Usually, I can take a negative comment and even join in on my self deprecation. I have a korean mom. She’s hated mostly everything I’ve done in my life, but she’s worn me down so much now, anything she says to me is hilarious. She once told me I was getting too fat when I was pregnant and would tell me repeatedly that it’s not normal. “Go ask the doctor, you too big!” Who tells a prego that they are obese? Only my mom. I guess it’s also laughable because deep down I know she means well and she concerns herself with my well being. Even though it definitely doesn’t come out that way. But sitting there in my computer reading comment after comment about how my pitchy voice makes people want to jump off buildings and drown kittens… wow it took me to nasty place. High School. EWWWWW. That feeling of totally not fitting in and being in a hell hole where you think this will be your life forever. I Kim Kd it. You know, ugly cried like a Kim Kardashian. It felt like I took a pummeling. I dragged my feet around for days, it was hard to shake off. But then I started thinking, hey you know what? I wasn’t competing to be on the Voice, haters can suck it. I also started getting feedback from friends and even strangers that they admired me for being so ballsy. Screw the haters, I’m a dreamer and I’m gonna keep on dreaming. As Kanye says (yes I literally googled so many Kanye quotes you don’t even know) “Love your haters, they’re your biggest fans.” It’s true, they get you heated but you just have to channel it. They also can’t take away the fact that I was on air for a whole show. How many people can say they did that in their lifetime? Probably more then I think… but still its one of my biggest accomplishments and I’m not going to let some losers hiding behind a computer take that way from me. Naturally, now I’m onto dreaming bigger things. I decided maybe radio is not the best forum for me. People need to be able to soak me in as a total package. I’m going to dive into stand up comedy. Yup, it’s a brave new world and I’m excited to actually say it out loud. Since I’m a constant dreamer, I’ll make one of my dreams a goal to work towards. You ready for this? My goal is to be on Chelsea Lately one day and meet her in person and be sitting with her on the round table and be able to tell jokes. I’d also just settle for filling in for Chuy. He has my dream job. Why her? Because she’s not afraid to be obnoxious, loud and mother truckin hilarious. For so much of my life my mom tried to mold me like a good Korean girl should be, but I’m not made of that stuff. I laughed, talked and walked too loud. Apparently I giver her head aches and embarrass her, but sorry mom can’t help it. It’s just who I am. Chelsea Handler is all the things I am but she’s sorry not sorry. She gives girls (is it weird that i refer myself as a “girl” when I’m 32? what is the age cut off for referring to oneself as “girl”? total side note) like me strength to own who we are. So my haters keep on hating, cuz I’m a dreamer and I’m gonna keep on dreamin!
p.s. note to self remember to buy this phone case immedately