I was puzzled.

Puzzled but very intrigued. This was new. In all our years of knowing each other, we had never done this before. Sitting in the dark, side by side. What would his wife think?

I had to ask.

Why?

"Because I love the king," my dad replies in a matter of fact tone.

Are we talking about Elvis? Oh, nope. We're talking about the other king. The king of pop.

"Because Michael Jackson is a legend and his music transcends time."

It sure does. It transcends time. It transcends culture. It transcends taste.

We may have the same dimples and wide derriere but Dad is all basketball and stock trading and engineering stability and soft energy and I am all about food and artsy fartsiness and doing what makes me happy and crazy laughter. When my dad proposed for us to watch Michael Jackson's This is It on a Friday evening, I got surprised. My dad actually wants to spend money on a movie he most likely will sleep through? I got suspicious. Maybe he's going to force me to find a job at the movie theatre or something. Why else would he ask me along? And finally, I got excited. Hells yes I'm going! This is a once in a lifetime event, my dad asking me to watch a movie with him!

As we drove to the theatre, just the two of us, (My mom refused to come. She said she didn't want to get nightmares staring up at Jackson's face amplified for two hours straight. Yea, she probably would have) my dad talked to me about one of the first places he took his mom, my nai nai, to when she came over from Taiwan, which was a Michael Jackson concert at the Dodger Stadium. "Excited by all the bright lights and excited fans, your grandma had a great time," my dad remembers with a smile.

As I sat in the theatre that night, watching Jackson work his magic, I can absolutely understand his universal appeal. The way the man moves just magnetizes you. The way he knows how to let each moment "simmer" and each sharp gesture hit- only a true talent can achieve that. I look over at my dad and he is mesmerized. Mesmerized, and -amazingly enough - not asleep! He never did fall asleep that night, except for one song in Jackson's set which was so boring even I dozed off.

There are several possible reasons for Jackson's universal appeal. Maybe the man looks and moves so originally, so out of the ordinary, that everyone can like him because no one is like him. Maybe he has good marketing people. Or maybe - no DEFINITELY - he is just one talented musical genius. And talent and genius is universally appreciated.

Check out Jackson's last days in theaters now. Ask you dad 'cause who knows, he just might be itching to watch it too.

Think my dad might be down for "New Moon?" No? Uh...I didn't watch to watch it either.

All in the Family

Some articles are really easy to write. An interview with Jenna Ushkowitz, a star of Glee, a show I not only manage to catch every week but spare two to three tweets every week in anticipation of? Yea. You can bet the article's a breeze to concoct.

But some are a bit tougher. How tough? Think a young single mother undergoing stage 3 of a very rare form of cancer. Yea. You heave that sigh.

When I was assigned this article, all my skills as a journalist was put to the test. I had to conduct extensive research muddling through the complex medical terms and scientific causes to the cancer. I needed to be a sensitive interviewer, asking intelligent, tactful questions and listening patiently and sympathetically to the oft-teary-eyed responses.

The ordeal of this interview took a toll on me physically and mentally. The entire weekend I was working on the article, I was sad, moody and dissonant. And can you blame me? It's a difficult story to tell.

Adding to the challenge was my own family's experience with cancer.

My grandpa had battled with stage 3 of pancreatic cancer on and off for the past 4 years. He underwent extensive surgery 3 times. He underwent chemotherapy. He pees out of a bag now. His butt always hurts.

My family is very close. Like unusually close. Like we all wish we lived right next door to each other and can see each other all the time and are each other's best friends and love love LOVE each other close. To have my grandfather, the grand patriarch of our line, be struck with such a fatal and (at the time) foreign killer was life-altering.

I wish I could write in words how much my grandfather's cancer changed our family. But I really can't. Words won't do. It's in everyday things. Like how my grandma has a really hard time smiling. Whereas before she was a twinkly-eyed, saucy old lady (and I mean that in the sincerest of ways), she now cries for no reason at all in the middle of everything. Or how my parents can't even fathom the idea of taking a night off to eat dinner somewhere in the city, let alone take a vacation. Every single birthday for the last couple of years has been celebrated either at home or at a Chinese restaurant nearby because of my grandpa's illness.

My own behavior has not been the most honorable. I would not win the "Best Granddaughter Award" by any means. I spent the last couple of years rebelling, shedding my overachieving ways, partying (and puking) my guts out, trying this and that out, traveling as far far away as I possibly could every chance I got.

"I just want to lead a normal college life, like all my friends. Is that too much to ask?" I would ask my cell phone emblazoned with my mom's phone number calling me at 11 in the evening and hastily shut it off. I even have the indent of a cartilage piercing to show you how bad to the bones I was.

By the grace of God, my grandfather miraculously overcame his cancer (dude, I have to reiterate, surgery THREE times in the past four year, on anyone, let alone a 80-something y/o man, is a miracle) and I (think) overcame my bad girls ways. He and my grandmother are currently vacationing in Hong Kong right now and for the first time in ages, I actually heard my mom utter the words, "I'm kind of bored." (I submitted her for a commercial to help her kill time, he he).

I'm living at home with my parents full-time and we have this refreshingly pleasant relationship that I cherish to the maximus. Are there times where I want to take the next flight to New York and get away from them as fast as I can? Of course. But it doesn't happen as much as often and I'm-dare I say this-even having fun hanging out with them. My dad's funny. Did you know that? I didn't know he could be. I think I get my humor from him.

Who knows how long this time of peace will last? I'm just grateful it's even here at all.

Everyday Should Be Mother's Day

As I share another story that I helped contribute for KoreAm: the May Mother's Day feature where we had celebrities and their moms share stories about each other, I can't help but to think about my own tumultuous ride with my stubborn, bossy, indecisive, vivacious, kooky, super-cute momma with the movie-star looks and a heart of gold.

My mom is a very special lady. All moms are. Mine has marked every part of what made me the way I am today. The good and the bad. She is why I am the epitome of someone with "mommy issues." And you know what? I don't mind it all that much. We may have a "hate that I love you" relationship but it's one all my own.

Hot Mama

My favorite childhood memories that encapsulates the essence of my relationship with my mom are of a particular kind of road trip.

We didn't drive cross-country to see some spectacular crater or visit loud, distant relatives. The road trips don't even involve a pit stop at some wrecked restroom in the middle of nowhere.

Our family road trips treks all the way over to the good ol' city of Los Angeles. The reason? To accompany me or (more commonly) my sister to an audition. There's so many of these snapshots of our family past that they've all jumbled together but I'll paint you a scenario.

We're on the road. My father's driving, my mother's in the passenger seat. My sister and I are sprawled along the back. It's a usual sunny Californian morning.

"Have you memorized the script?" My mom asks my sister.

"Almost," she replies and hands the script back to me. I pretend to be any of the variety of characters she has to play opposite; a lovesick boyfriend, a wise old teacher, a snide best friend.

We rehearse until we get sick of our voices and the car silences for a moment.

"Are you guys done? Hmmm... you need to start practicing singing then. Why do you always wait for me to tell you to sing? Why don't you sing yourself?" My mom turns on the radio and a crude rap song pops on.

In chinese, my mom laments, "This is ugly-sounding to death" (aka“ 難聽死了”）She shuts off the damn thing. Okay, you guys sing now. Janice, you sing first."

In my annoyance, I purposefully whine my way through a Mandy Moore ballad. I can't carry the high notes, I forget parts of the song, I trail into a whisper after only a few lines.

And that's when the trigger goes off.

My mom starts yelling at me for not caring enough. Her voice is shrill and high and pierces the ears. I stare out at the window and wonder when the dogs will come. I yell back about why she always wants me to sing when I don't want to be a singer. In my anger, what starts off as Chinese collides with words, pieces, then whole sentences of English. My sister interjects. My mom yells at her. My dad chimes in with his own observations of his poor excuses for daughters. Some tears are shed, some voices are lost, mention of my fatness is brought up somehow, all tempers are fuming.

After a few minutes of deadly silence, I begrudgingly apologize. I say I will try harder. Mom tearily says that everything she does is for my own good. "If you weren't my daughter, I wouldn't care if you were dead or not." I tell her I understand.

We get to the audition and my sister does her thing. But not before my mom fusses or complains about why she didn't choose a different top to wear, how she needs to straighten her back, how she needs to give the casting director three different photos of herself. Finally, with an annoyed look on her face, my sister goes in, my mom and I trailing after her. My dad waits in the car. He has this (cute - or rather sad) superstition that his presence is bad luck at auditions. Or maybe he just feels uncomfortable around all the perky blondes and surfer boys. Or maybe a family of four walking into an audition room is a little bit uncomfortable for everyone else?!

As we wait for Jessica's name to be called, all three of us Jann women glance around the audition room, whispering - or speaking loudly in Mandarin - about how there's a majority of blondes at the casting call or how we recognize another actress on a Disney Channel show. Despite not having an agent, my mother pushes me to try out for the role as well. I sigh and sign myself up. Better than to make a scene.

We both try out. Afterwards, my mom asks for every detail of our audition --three times. She has to reiterate, replay and repeat every part of the experience in order to fully absorb it. I didn't perform too well and my mom is disappointed but never discouraged. She lists all the things I should have done that she's certain would have guaranteed a call back. I roll my eyes and say, "okay, okay, next time." After a long silence, my mom sighs. "Yea, okay. Next time. Next time you'll get it." We go get some McDonald's.

As we sit at the golden arches, my mom with her chicken nuggets, my dad savoring his oft-dreamt about, not oft-gets to eat Quarter Pounder, me with a fish fillet and my sister sipping her ever-present Coke as fast as she can so she can get another refill, the dynamics have completely shifted. We chit chat and joke. We get ready to go home, and on the car ride back, my sister and I sleep as our parents listen to some 80's Chinese pop. To the outsiders, we're an enviable family. We're telegenic, we're bubbly and we look like we genuinely enjoy each other's company.

My parents are the cutest when they dance...

The truth is, we really do. We're not putting up a front. A family can be like that. There are good moments, there are bad. The dynamics go up and down like a roller coaster.

I never dwell on the dissonant times. I always miss the road trips. My sister and I both drive now (and more often than my parents) and I'd almost give up my license just so we can revisit those days when our family would all go to support one daughter on her one audition of the day.

And when they hold hands with each other down dark alleys.

Yes, my mom has to pick at every single fault of mine like it's a hard piece of booger. Yes, she has changed my Chinese name 3 times in the past 3 months. Yes, sometimes she makes me stand against a wall to develop straight posture. But she also cooks me special meals and makes my favorite soy sauce braised pork when I used to come home from college on the weekends. She goes shopping and always looks for stuff she'd think I'd wear. She gets really giddy when I go on dates. (Maybe because those are rare occurrences?) And she's really really really pretty. At the end of the day, I know that all she wants is the best for me. She loves and cares for me and just wants me to reach my highest peak. I can't wait for the day when I'll buy her a big ol' house with 30 maids obeying her every whim.

Don't you just hate it when your mother is always right?

My Mom Wouldn't Let Me Smell the Cookies

When my aunt came over to visit from Hong Kong, she brought over one of the most delicious and authentically Chinese delicacies ever: the 月並, a.k.a. the mooncake.

This mooncake is no ordinary fare.

It's not some muddled sugar and flour concoction you can find at any old 99 Ranch Market. No, no, no, this mooncake is Hong Kong's finest. Boxes selling for more than the price of your head. And boxes of them are currently chilling out in my grandma's freezer. So that's like... a bunch of heads hanging out in the freezer, hmm... not an appealing thought.

There were two different types of mooncake. One was the original, with the buttery egg yolk in the center of a sugary brown armor. The other is gourmet: mooncake made out of bird's nest. It has to be chilled like it's an ice cream mooncake.

My sister has already devoured enough of them that her waistline is crying for her to stop but I have managed to miss every previous mooncake tasting event.

And yes, it is quite an event.

Let me tell you what goes down. Basically, all the parties interested in tasting the mooncakes gather around our round dining room table. The mooncakes are placed on china plates and then cut into slivers of ten.

Because I am currently watching my weight, I am on heavy-duty fatty-foodie-watch by my policewoman of a mother. Her general assumption is that I will wolf down anything delectable regardless of the time, place, my hunger level, etc. When I'm sitting at the dinner table, she'd hide behind the counter by the fridge and sneakily drink her green bean soup, for fear that I would pounce on it or something. It's working though. I am 10 pounds down and counting.

So back to the mooncake. Of course my mother was not too happy that I would be placing in my body these little bites of heaven that roughly amount to 100 calories each. (I'm going to remind you that we had already cut them into pieces of 10, so...you do the math for a whole mooncake.)

For the past couple of days, she had been like, "NO NO NO" anytime the remote possibility of me trying a piece of mooncake comes up. But after much persuasion by my aunt, she had finally relented to me trying a piece of the bird's nest one.

I ate that lone piece while my svelt size -0 sister had two of the regular ones and one of the white one (life is so unfair). It was good but too sweet for my taste. For some reason, all the other knights of the round table were hesitant to tasting the mooncakes. Save for my aunt gobbling up a piece, none of the other touched it. So there were a few choice pieces remaining at the table with my sister and I tragically eyeing them.

Finally, at one point of pushing a piece of mooncake unsuccessfully into my grandma's unwilling mouth, my sister surrendered to her demons and, while screaming, "if you're not going to eat it, then I will!" stuffed the piece into her own mouth instead. Luckily, my mom was too busy reading the newspaper and debating whether a Miss Hong Kong beauty contestant had gotten a boob job or not to notice.

Somehow a couple of minutes later, cookies were mentioned, and my aunt, a ginormous foodie closeted within her bony frame, brought out a tin box filled with supposedly some of Hong Kong's best. I was curious as to whether they really did lived up to their names but I dare not even think about consuming it in front of my eagle-eyed mother so I just requested to smell it. My mother said no. I was just going to smell the damn thing!

She gave in after my aunt wisely informed her that inhaling the smell would not go straight to my thighs and uncovered the tin box for me. I stuck my head out and took a deep breathe. Just as the aroma of coffee and mocha was about to waft into my nostrils--my mother yanks the box away from my face.

"That's enough," she curtly demanded and smacks the cover over the tin with a resounding thud.

Yep, my mother wouldn't even let me smell the cookies. Welcome to my world.

Oh, and apologies for the lack of food shots. The pix above was about as close as I could get to the culinary delights.

Daddy Issues

Today, I asked one of my friends, "so, are you guys gonna put a ring on it soon?" And then I was hit in the face with the realization, "oh crap, we're getting old if I'm asking this question!" I mean, wasn't it just yesterday that we were saying stuff like "boys have cooties," or at the very least, "he told me he liked me!"

I started accepting the fact that marriages are looming (not my own marriage, necessarily but marriages around me) when close shots of hands with rings on the fingers and pictures of beaming brides and grooms started filling my Facebook photos stream and friends left and right of me are celebrating 2nd, 3rd anniversaries.  But babies haven't come into the picture yet.

Yet.

I am not a very maternal lass. I don't coo over babies and spend my days doodling nursery sketches. I don't have my babies' names picked out (though Delia is pretty, isn't it?) and I cringe at the possibility of having another human being be completely dependent on me. (That includes you, needy guys)

I would drive my mom crazy when I one-tenth jokingly/nine-tenth seriously say that I never want to have kids.

"That means you don't want to make me a grandmother. You're being so selfish!" She would retort.

So my mother wants me to lose my fabulous pre-baby body (hah!), fabulous pre-baby life (hah!) and spend the next couple of years changing diapers, carpooling, and taking care of a snot-nosed little brat just so she can be a grandma? And she's calling me selfish?! Hah!

But today I re-stumbled upon MetroDad's blog and I might reconsider my family plans. For those of you unfamiliar with this NY Korean-American papa, he has one of the most popular daddy blogs in the blogosphere. Writing about his cute-as-a-button four-year old daughter, with the monicker, "the Peanut," Metrodad is hilarious, delightful and heartwarming. 

Every sentence is witty, (Ex: "However, I'll never forget spending a week in Paris (the city, not the vagina")) and every anecdote is charming.  With the shameless Jon Gosselin running rampant around the globe with his mid-life crisis heavily planted on his bulging belly and Korean dads notorious for being cold, violent, and old-fashioned, it's great to have such a nice father figure to look up to.

This particular entry that he wrote wishing his daughter a happy birthday almost brought tears to my eyes:

Thanks for coming into our world and filling our lives with more meaning than we ever could have imagined. You've taught us that, at the end of the day, the only things that truly matter in life are love, family and a bowl of chocolate pudding.

But in all seriousness, Peanut, I can't even begin to express how much your mother and I both love you. You've brought so much joy and happiness to our lives that it's changed all of us in ways that we could never imagine. I wish I were a better writer so I could better convey all of this. But I'm not.

Oh MetroDad, your writing can't get any better than this.

Breakfast at Bao Bao Ni's

As of now, I have yet to be blessed (cursed?) with maternal instincts.  Sure, I'm a great host when friends come over and if you're sick, I'm there with the tissues and Tylenol Cold but frankly, kids scare me to death.  I know, I know...what??! A girl who doesn't want babies? CREEPY! I'm sure one day my biological clock will start ticking properly but as for now, I'm perfectly happy with admiring from afar (especially if you're going to be changing diapers) and having to only take care of myself.

But my cousin's oldest daughter, Jasmine (above) is the only child that I can handle for over an hour (what, I have a short attention span!).  

A precocious child, she can sing songs from beginning to end--once, she even held a Camp Rock concert all by herself, singing every single song of every single character in the movie and acting like them!  She is able to deduce and comprehends abstract thoughts like the fact that leaves fall on the ground because the wind takes them away and that if you put glue on your eye (for fake eyelashes) then if you get said glue on your fingers and touch something, there's a possibility that your fingers will get stuck to the something.  All this at the ripe ol' age of...three (JUST turned three!)  Shoot, I think when I was three, I was still picking my boogers and chewing table legs.

I told her to re-enact Audrey Hepburn's classic pose last December when I spent Christmas in Hong Kong. Uncanny, isn't it?  Miss her already...hopefully, one day when (IF) I have a child, she'll be as mind-blowingly brilliant and talented as this little one.

Sibling Rivalry

My sister is an aspiring actress.  She's been at it ever since she was chosen out of 300+ kids to play a role in Lethal Weapon 4.  She even has an IMDB page. Check it out here. Feel free to leave a reply about how cool she is.  

So the other thing about my sister is that she is fiercely family-oriented.  She would do anything for us.  So thoughtful her found me going through my quarter-life crisis and said, "hey... why don't I recommend my sister to my agency and see if they'll like her and take her?"

So I talked on the phone with her agents and managers for a while one morning.  They expressed concern that we were too close in age and looks and worried that we would compete against each other for roles.  

As much as I love acting, I know that this wouldn't be the right career path for me to take.  My sis on the other hand, is passionate and good at it.  There's not a doubt in my mind that she's going to be a star.  

So that's exactly what I told her representation.  They should meet with me and if they like me and feel I'm right for their company, take me.  If they think I'm too similar to my sis, don't worry about it.  I'll walk away.  No hard feelings, I'll focus on writing, journalism, food photography, television development or one of the other millions of things I want to do.

This got me thinking, though.  There are plenty of celeb siblings in Hollywood.  Some are more successful than the other.  Let's take a look at some of my most favorite ones (plus or minus a few) and in the Battle of the Older vs. Younger Siblings, who comes out on top?

John and Joan Cusack

He stole my heart when he lifted that boombox up over his shoulders in "Say Anything..." With his boyish charms untainted by time, Cusack is the epitome of the Everyman (even when donning his creepy black trench coat).  His big sis, Joan Cusack, however always irked me a little because she consistently plays these uptight women who always scrunches her face up and is forever yelling and freaking out.  I may be in the minority on my opinion of Joan, though, because she has been nominated for the Academy Awards twice while John has yet to score a nod (a travesty, I say). But who's headlining films while the other is mostly known as, "hey that woman in that one movie!?"  Guess it just goes with the well-known notion that Oscar nods don't mean blockbuster hits.

Therefore...  1 point for the younger bro! Just watch Say Anything..., and then if you still don't get it, watch Serendipity and if you still don't feel anything, America's Sweethearts and if you're still unmoved, you're heartless.

Oldies: 0 Young 'uns: 1

Maggie and Jake Gyllenhaal

Jake wins. Need I say anything more? Yea, I didn't think so.

Oldies: 0 Young 'uns: 2

Warren Beatty and Shirley Maclaine

I was surprised when I first found out they were siblings too. Each one has become such a huge star in their own right, her for classics like, "Terms of Endearment" and "Steel Magnolias" and him with "Dick Tracy," "Bonnie and Clyde" and just being an all-around sexy man.  

"There's no way Warren and I wouldn't become stars. It was bred into us by parents who were in competition with each other. One was driven to believe in success. The other was afraid of it." - Shirley Maclaine

I say...let's hear it for both of them.  They're Shirley Maclaine and Warren Beatty, for goodness sakes!

Oldies: 1 Young 'uns: 3

Jamie Lynn and Britney Spears

Big sister Britney started raking in the dough when she danced her way through the Mickey Mouse Club.  She then climbed to pop royalty with "Hit Me Baby One More Time" and has since remained one of the most fascinating American pop culture figures.  There was that whole mess of two years what with the rehab and all but at the end of the day, people are still rooting for her to succeed, find happiness and stay healthy.  Britney's fame allowed the younger (but much older-looking) Jamie Lynn to star in her own Nickelodeon show, "Zoey 101," which was doing pretty well until...she got pregnant. At age 16.

Who's the winner?  Of course it's Britney, bitch! 

Oldies: 2 Young 'uns: 3

Ashlee and Jessica Simpson

Say what you will about Ashlee and Jessica Simpson but I like the two of them!  Jessica's got more of that All-American gal thing going on with the hair and the boobs.  But she was super endearing in The Newlyweds (you call it annoying, I call it endearing. You call chicken, she calls tuna.)  and girl's got the lungs of a mammoth (I just googled, "animal with big lungs" and that's what they gave me. How'd you like them apples?)  My favorite is younger sis, Ashlee, however. Her music is dancey and less snoozy than her big sis' and she also had her own reality show, "The Ashlee Simpson Show" where she demonstrated to the world just how delightfully kooky she is.  That's my kind of girl!

Oldies: 2 Young 'uns: 4

Julia and Eric Roberts

One is America's sweetheart and the other always gets stuck playing creepy guys in Lifetime movies.  I think it's pretty undeniable that although Eric Roberts has made a decent career out of acting, his little sister, Julia has pretty much got him beat.  When Rourke was receiving his Independent Spirit Award this year for his role in "The Wrestler," he kept asking people in the audience to hire his buddy, Eric.  Not that Eric is unemployed or anything, but many just felt that he is far more talented that the roles he's relegated to. I haven't seen enough of his stuff, to be honest but I do feel that younger sister, Julia Roberts is quite overrated.  She was just very smart and wise in her career choices and got pretty lucky.  Nonetheless, money and fame talks and she's still doing better than her big bro.

Oldies: 2 Youn 'uns: 5

Hmm..looks like it's just not in the "stars" for me to become an actress!  Break a leg, Jess. =)