Cancel Culture

I think the scariest part about the last 4 months (March to present June) is the absolutism of everything. You cannot deviate. Ever.

How dare you thinking that the lockdown is awful. You valued profit more than human life.

How dare you thinking that the riot and looting is unnecessary. You valued big companies more than human rights.

How dare you not denouncing the police. You valued your own privilege more than systemic injustice.

How dare you not speak up with the predetermined hashtag and show us your ignorance for the cause. You valued your lily white ass more than those who are in need.

For the record, my ass is what Indonesian called as burik (mottled) and langu (bluish black). It is still pretty, but definitely not lily white.

It is most visible in social media and the news. You say something against the grain and you got swamped, schooled and made as if you are the worst person alive. Hashtag cancel culture. You delete the comment, apologize, and all is well again. One more person finally understand the gravity of the situation. Yay!

The problem is, they don't. Just because they delete the post and apologize doesn't mean they changed their mind. Just because they don't speak their opinion publicly doesn't mean they didn't share their opinion or news that reinforced their opinion with trustworthy like-minded people. Just because they are publicly banned for their belief, that doesn't mean they will stop believing it.

If you take away the context and see it as it is, what does it tell you? It is the lost of free speech. The argument is you can say what you want to say but others have the right to feel a certain way about it, and thus your free speech is not without consequence. But where does that consequence start? For attacking other people or for having different opinion?

It reminds me of the time where Indonesia was ruled by the tyrant Soeharto. We can only whisper among ourselves of the injustice he did, while the government-controlled media keep blasting how great the country condition was when it actually wasn't. Or the current time when the religious majority keep forcing us the religious minority to feel a certain way and government backed them up.

The penalty for speaking against these ruling parties could be severe. It could cost you your job, your family, and even your life. We've had police chief made to beg for forgiveness to a religious leader for breaking up non-sanctioned mass prayer activity during the Covid-19 pandemic. When the threat of 'consequence' such as this is hanged on top of your head, is it really free speech?

US and its cancel culture have moved steadfastly towards this. A single comment against the mass and woosh, there goes your life. This is not only reserved for celebrities or public persona. I have seen friends, all commoners, who have to delete their social media posts because the backlash they received. I have seen friends who got unfriended and branded as 'Bad Person™ ' because they questioned the general beliefs.

This absolutism does not educate. If anything, it is pushing people away further from your cause. If somebody in real life is yelling at your face about what you should do and how you should feel, you will most likely just shrug your shoulder and walked away. What's in it for you to stay and be yelled at?

Worse, you will start gathering evidence to justify your belief to defend yourself, and without a proper check and balance (why should you, people don't bother check and balance their cause without yelling it at you) you can easily turned into another absolutism. This time for your own belief.

You can't make someone believe in your cause, in your belief, by telling them it is wrong to not believe it. If you really want to convert someone to your cause, you listen. You talk to them and allow them to tell you what they think, their fear and worry. Then you use that knowledge to see if your belief actually fits to their perspective, and if yes, tailor-made your explanation to ease their fear and worry.

This is true across the board. Whatever party you choose. Whatever belief you have. It can be as simple as why pineapple shouldn't be on pizza or why you need to show support for a cause. It also, however, requires us to be humble yet in full understanding of our cause. If you don't want to talk about it for fear of being challenged, then you are an issue.

It is easier to brand somebody as 'Bad Person™ ' than to do all this. But why would you? If the issue is something that is important to you, won't it make more sense to gather more ally than to dismissed it as We vs You? I know that it will make you feel like you are in the right, and thus a sense of control. But is this about your cause or is it about your ego?

It also reminds me of the phrase "Let him who is without sin cast the first stone". How do you know that you did not do the same sin or act the same way to other people? I have seen people who despise people that are against LGBTQ and honestly they are acting more hateful than the actual people who, well, against LGBTQ. You have people who are "Well, I don't agree with it but I won't treat them differently" and people who are "BOYCOTT THIS ANTI-LGBTQ PERSON AND LET US NEVER SPEAK OF THEIR NAME AGAIN".

We have gone so far as a species. We want equality. We want justice. We want all of this even when we are not the ones that are hurting. This shows how much compassion we have for others, something that most species can't comprehend. We just need to make sure our ego does not take us away from our cause and learn to respect other people's opinion. And yes, we can agree to disagree.

Blackout Tuesday

Black Out Tuesday

A fellow Asian immigrant confessed that she doesn't understand about Black Lives Matter. I told her neither do I. 

We don't care what your color is, to us you are all strangers. It is also very confusing. Black has their own groups that no other race can join (so does Asian and pretty much every race/ethnicities), so why would you want to be in the white people's group? And why only blacklivesmatter? I am not black, so I don't matter? I don't understand what it's like being black, but I don't think anyone other than ourselves know what it's like to become an Asian immigrant.

But I still put that black profile pic up. #BlackOutTuesday

This is for the people I met on my commute to work in Los Angeles, the homeless and the vagrant who are disproportionately black. That one man whom I met several time and asked for a hug. That one woman whom I was annoyed with because of the body odor, which quickly turned into horror seeing the diabetic gangrene on both of her legs. The people who has to try to sleep on the bus and on the train to keep themselves from the element out there.

This is for the people I met in my apartment. The old man and his wife who called us and gave my stepson banana every time they hear his voice down the corridor. The young man with his pretty little daughter that stays with him every weekend. The prostitute (?) who made me blush when she said earnestly, "You are very beautiful" and I wished the night won't be so rough on her.

This is for the man I went on a date with, probably one of the most well-spoken and well-mannered men I have ever known. The partner of my ex-husband's coworker who put it bluntly to him during dinner "You are disrespecting your wife" when my ex-husband was busy flirting and making sexist remark during our casual dinner. The opera singer that made me squeal with joy when I saw his name on the cast.

This is for all the feel-good stories, all the overcoming-challenges stories that I have read. Stories like HONY's Mott Hall Bridges Academy. Stories like the teen that got a wrong text invitation for Thanksgiving dinner and it becomes their tradition, still going strong after fourth years. Stories that shows a true character of a person and how well their parents and/or community taught them. Stories that should be applauded regardless of the skin color of the do-gooder.

I don't know much about being black, but I know much about being privileged. I know the privilege of having a smart brain and a stable household that allow me to develop the said brain. I know the privilege of going to a swanky nerd school and was able to hone my social skill to the max. I know the privilege of looking attractive enough to let people lower their guard down (this feature only work in select countries). I know the privilege of knowing that come what may, I will survive.

Am I oppressed? Oh yes. I was oppressed, but not the "They all will come to get us!" oppressed. An ex of my ex told me that he is hurting us because of his white supremacist mentality. I just think he is predator and will prey on people who are weaker than him, regardless of their skin color. Yet what a horrible way to have to feel or think that way all the time, to be chained to where you are and unable to be free.

Black lives matter because, well, it matters. Because the people I met matters. They deserve a life without fearing prosecution. They deserve to be able to hope and dream, to be someone instead of just number in the statistic. They deserve to be themselves and not seen based on their skin color. We all do.

Someone posted what happens after this. That's a good question. Realistically, no amount of scholarship or preferred hiring will help if we don't give a chance for the kids to grow. No matter how much fertilizer you put the chance of a rose garden blooming from a patch of asphalt is pretty darn low. What they need is what we have right now: access to good education, access to financial services (bank instead of check cashing or loansharks), access to a safe community where children can be adult and realizing plus utilizing the options they have.

And it's a team effort. There is so much others can do if the other party does not help. We have reached this fork on the road where we need to ask ourselves: what can we do for ourselves and for others. Because this circle of violence has to stop, and smiles and hashtags are just not enough. They need hope. They need a way out. 

A way to do this is to vote. Vote for people who actually care. Vote for people who have the right goal in mind and able to tell you steps to achieve that goal. Vote for people who will fight for those in need without fearing losing their seat/position. And if your champion can't or don't have what you want, tell them what you want to be done. 

Remember we need structural changes, access to opportunity and safe community. We need to make what is available to others available for them too. Because after the fire dies down, we still need to build that way out, that stepladder for equality. We've got a long way to go, so roll up your sleeve and let's do this.

Sharing Misery

I moved out from my apartment and it was an exhausting rollercoaster ride. Pack a bit. Cry. Pack a bit. Panicking. Pack a bit. Went to BF and ask "Do you really want me?". Pack a bit. Repeat endlessly. It took such a toll on him that he slept in this morning.

I have all the right to ask for mental support, to cry and be openly anxious with him without being judged. He decided to be with me, didn't he? That's the whole point of relationship, be it romantic or platonic, to find someone you can unpack your baggage with.

But it takes toll on the other person. There will be times when we, so deeply hurt and broken, can only see ourselves. We can only focus on our pain and hurt and prone to attack the people who tried to help us. In our pain, we sometimes failed to see how far that person has come for us.

Because they don't have to, but they did. It hurts to see someone you love and care in great pain, in a place where you can't reach them. It hurts to see that person writhing and crying and drowned in sorrow. All you want to do is to erase their misery and see their smile again.

And then there's the backlash. There's the "You don't know how I feel!!"  There's the constant questioning and doubts that sometimes made you doubt yourself. There's the emotional cost because you are pretty much trying to carry the weight this person has, like the footsteps on the send.

A lot of people might use this as a reasoning on why they didn't get help. "I don't want to be a burden." "I don't want people to eventually hate me." "I am too broken to be fixed." All is fine and dandy, but notice the 'I'. Relationships are not made with just 'I'. 

It's ok for wanting to be loved. It's ok for wanting to be helped. The way somebody love us and help us through our baggage show their worth, and ours. Doesn't it mean that we worth something, that somebody is willing to go through our hell even though they don't have to? 

The best way to repay their love and help is to try to get better. At the very least recognize when we're going to get bad and stop ourselves from hurting them. It could be as simple as a genuine apology after a bad episode. Baby steps is fine.

It's a privileged to be loved, and honestly there is no formula on 'how to be loved'. How we view ourselves are different than how people view us. What we perceive as a cheap metal trinket may be seen as invaluable rare piece of jewelry for others. 

I am thankful for those who think I am precious despite all my baggage and flaws. It's a journey, and I am grateful for those who stay with me and for those who tried but part ways. Thank you.

Never About The Mask

It is never about the mask. It is about what you can or cannot do with your own body.

It is far too easy to scrape off people that vehemently refuse to wear mask or to gather to protest the shelter-in-place as unintelligent, boorish, selfish. But did you also see the lack of self confidence there? In the guns they carry, in the placard they waved, there's fear there.

Change is scary. It puts you in an unknown territory, takes you away from your comfort zone. When the change is mandatory, it takes away your autonomy and you are in danger of losing control on yourself. Those who know to what extent their capability is (a.k.a. self-assured) will have no issue on this. Others, not so much.

This is why people haggle and scream at fast food employee or grocery store worker or anyone who works in service industry. It is more than just 'wanting my way'. It is an effort to gain a degree of control, to know the limit of what you can or cannot do. 

And here comes the mask. You have used the mask before when you're cleaning up ashes from your grill. You have covered your face before when the winter chill bites the tip of your nose and crack your lips. But now it is mandatory. It is mandatory for something that you don't quite understand. Of course you'll freak out.

It's the same as mandatory shelter-in-place order. Your routine is taken away from you. Your ability to move freely is suddenly limited. Even if you are not an outgoing person, even if it has been months since you last go out, that option has always been there. And then poof, it is gone.

This is not in anyway approving these behaviours. I am not above giving out coupons for penis enlargement surgery to those who protest while carrying firearm. And anyone who is in management position, including government officials, should wear mask because you lead by example.

Yet for us fellow commoners, it will help if we can understand other's woes. Shutting them down without understanding the reason behind their action does nothing but distanced us away from them and devoid us from learning to prevent ourselves from falling into such situation. 

"I would never, ever do such thing!" Maybe you will not do the exact same thing, but it does not guarantee you to not do something similar with the same underlying foolishness. I would not be surprised there are a lot of people who laughed at anti-vaxxer but now adamantly believe Covid-19 precaution is a government sham.

Do not hate the person. Recognize the fear. Pity the lack of self-assurance. Understand the uncomfortableness. You cannot change everyone, but there will be one or two that you can bring back to reality with your cool head and open heart.

"You know what, this is indeed a scary time. We are losing control of our life. Your fear and worry are valid. It is ok. Let us follow the guidelines and we will ride this through together."

Time To Be The Light

I went on an IG live with a friend yesterday, promoting a new initiation called LightUpIndonesia. It is a charity initiation to help provide electricity for people who cannot pay electricity in Indonesia due to Covid-19 related reasons.

Their goal is 100K IDR per low-income family (which Indonesian in their flowery way aptly called pre-prosperous family) for a month worth of electricity, and to reach 100,000 family. 100K IDR is only 6.71 USD. I spent more on MickeyD's fries.

This is a reminder on how Covid-19 is affecting everyone globally. Unfortunately, this illness will take toll no matter what we do. Our action to mitigate this disease comes with a consequence. The health precaution gives way to economic disaster. But this is not about bashing one action over the other. This is about realizing what really happened and how one action will lead to another. 

There are people, even here in the US, who cannot afford to social distancing due to the nature of their life (work and/or living condition). A temporary closure or reduced capacity of a business will affect not only the owner and employees, but also countless others who has relationship with the business. The vendors, the vendors' supply chain, the vendors supply chain's procurers. On and on it goes.

Even in the US there are many that cannot get government's help due to their legal status or lack of identity. It is worse in countries where government assistance, even for their own citizen, is little to none. Where even electricity for an average of 85 kwh per month is not attainable for millions of people. As a comparison, average electricity usage of US household is about 900 kwh per month.

To say we, who still have jobs and means to live normally, are privileged is a huge understatement. But do not look far, 8000 miles away, to realize how lucky we are. There are others near us here in the US that is not so fortunate. 

People who must work because of their essential status like plumbers or public transportation drivers. People who cannot work because of their health made them a high risk for Covid-19.  People who tried so hard, did everything by the book, but find themselves in the verge of losing everything because of the economic impact of this disease.

I cannot urge you enough to donate, to be kind in this calamity. If you still got paid, especially if you are working from home, the stimulus check you receive or even your allocated cocktail allowance can easily go to others who need it more. Even a $20 gift card per grocery store worker in your favorite grocery store can go a long way to light up their world.

The worst is yet to come. We are forced into hiding for the unknown virus and we are about to wake up to closed businesses and crippled economy. Not just US, mind you, but global. The darkness is yet to come. It is time to be the light.

Fear

Imagine if there is 10 people in your dept, and each has to send 6 annoying work-related emails to anyone in that dept within 5 min. The chances are, everyone will end up receiving at least one email. 

The one that will receive the most emails is most likely the one who is most susceptible for it, like the team leader, and therefore most likely went into an outburst. 

The ones who will receive the least email are most likely the ones who people will go an extra length to avoid. Death-Stare Dan, for instance, or Gossiping Gina.

This is an analogy of how virus spread. Change email to virus. Susceptible person is someone with risk (age, immunity, underlying condition). 6 is a mock up virus spreading rate.

With a rate of 6 emails per 10 people each most likely receive at least one email, even the non-desirable people. With rate 3 per 10, it's plausible at least one didn't get any. With rate 8 to 10, it's Oprah mode on: "You get one, You get one, You all get one!!!"

If Covid19 live up to its influencing street cred we could easily already exposed to it, especially those who live in an area that has a lot of international coming and going. If there's case in a place like Ohio, we in LA don't really stand a chance on not ever exposed to it.

This is important because a lot of us seeing the virus as an entity that you can detect. That an area that has a Covid19 case is stained and should be avoided. A Covid19 patient will have Mushu coming and yelling: "Dishonor! Dishonor on your whole family! Dishonor on you, dishonor on your cow"

The truth is, we don't know who has it or not. We could already have it. 

This is why we should stop panicking about what to do to avoid getting Covid19, and instead focusing what to do to avoid spreading Covid19. Washing hands and good hygiene should be our current "You can't sit with us" standard. As well as identifying profiteer and ensure community punishment.

We can live in abundance of caution, but we can't live in fear. Fear combined with 2 weeks of isolation will most likely wreak havoc in your mind, and the insanity will seep through the world through the things you posted or reposted.

Congratulations. You are not spreading Covid19 anymore but you are spreading fear, which btw has a much, much, much higher infection rate and more fatalistic results. 

Understand what we are dealing with. Remove the fog of fear and see through the situation with clear objective eyes. Because in the end, the one thing that will hurt us most is not some aspiring virus. It's fear.

This Christmas

Dear kiddos. This Christmas I didn't think about buying you gifts. I didn't ponder on Amazon toy section or kids section in the clothing store. I just got what I need and left. I am proud of myself.

Don't think that I forget you both. A glimpse of you running in the apartment building, a sight of you in the Facebook post, and I turned to water. I miss you so much it hurts.

I am proud of myself because I learn to take time to be me. This year I got so much gifts that it was mindblowing. Birthday, Christmas, random gifts. I am loved for who I am, and it feels... amazing.

I hope you felt amazing too when I showered you with love and gifts, because you are. I am sorry for the times I got frustrated or losing my patience. I am sorry for the times I could've been better. I am sorry I have to go.

I hold a piece of you with me, like a baby clothes that's long outgrown. You two right now are no longer the kids I hold 2.5 years ago. You've grown. We don't fit in each other's life anymore, but I still love you nonetheless.

This Christmas, I hope you get what you desire. I hope life treats you kindly. I hope you are surrounded by love. And above all, I hope you are happy. Dark time may come but light and hope will never be far behind.

Dear kiddos, I love you then, I love you now. Merry Christmas, angels.

The Ignorance of PC

I know for sure that I was an edgy, angry girl before and I have write and say things that not only stupid, but also insensitive. Not unlike Kevin Hart.

Do I regret it? No. I am sad about it, but I can't regret it. There is virtually no way the younger me have the empathy and knowledge that I have now, harshly earned from my experiences.

Am I a bad person for how I think back then? Yes, if you are so inclined to think so. I know I am not. You can choose to see what I did for others now and how I deal with life, or you can hang on to that moment where I have no knowledge and doesn't understand empathy. Your choice.

I just wish your choice is not cherry picking other people's (old) opinion for the one that suits your agenda the most. 

There are bigger assholes in Hollywood that are still assholes to this day but got the pass because they are anti-Trump, for instance. Abusers, predators, liars. Go hold them accountable.

By cherry picking who to put on the stake you also ensure that people will not change. Why change for the better if what you said in your younger, unknowledgeable days will be held against you? Might as well stay ignorant.

You have the power to make the world a better place and that can be achieved through empathy and encouragement, not through whiplash and stone throwing. Celebrate the growth, not dwell on the mistake.

PS: Before you call me homophobic for defending Kevin Hart, do know that as a published author in Indonesia I pretty much keep my DM open in all social media account for people who wants to come out. Abused women, lesbians, mistresses, sexual harassment victims, they can tell me everything and it will stay safe with me. 

I also have a very visible pro-LGBTQ stance, embracing my sexual side, and an avid advocate for women's empowerment and equal rights. All which will land me in trouble if I ever have to go back to Indonesia for good, and pretty much a stain on my family's name right now.

You can use my credentials as consideration and think "She might have a point." Or you can stubbornly call me homophobic simply because I do not share your sentiment about Kevin Hart. Ignorance is something that we can grow out of, but only if we choose so.

Love

I slept the whole day on Sunday. I woke up at 8, ate an ungodly amount of breakfast, then back to sleep. I was up again at 1, ate a bunch of chocolate and downed it with some beer, then I was asleep until past 4. I forgot how painful broken heart is.

My date left my apartment around 1 the night before. We had 'the talk', and we realized we were looking for different things. I made the cut because I know he'll get hurt in the long run, and I don't want him to get hurt.

The next day, between my sleep, all I can think of was being in his arms again. Of his jokes. Of being in the car with him. Of him stroking my hair and my skin so softly as if I am the most precious girl in the world.  

I wanted to text him and tell him I will change for him, that I will be what he is looking for. But a leopard can't change its spots. Then I wished I am never a leopard. I wished I am not what I am right now. 

It was insanity. Yet as I called out his name loudly in my empty room, I realized it was something else. It was love. Looking back, even though I only met him for 5 dates, I can feel the words "I love you" on the tip of my tongue.

It's sad but it's also good. After my epic failures in 2016, I thought I couldn't love again. I didn't want to love again. I eyed men with distrust and guard my heart carefully, distanced myself so I wont get hurt anymore.

And here I am, seriously considering to change myself for a man I barely know. I can't even tell you why I am willing to do that, what's so great about him that he is worth that change. I don't know. I just want to be close to him.

This is love. Unpredictable. Irrational. Blinding. Maddening. Strong. Beautiful. Pure. Honest. It didn't work out for me this time, but I am glad I experienced it. I am glad I met him. I am glad I can love again.

Dear Santa

Dear Santa,

Can you please fix Stupid? I know you can't, but I am hoping you can. If you can give kids around the world gifts within a very limited time period, you most likely can fix Stupid.

I know, I know. Time travel is one thing, fixing stuff is another thing. Especially when it is born or made like that. Especially if it is not broken in the first place.

I would like to say that it is broken. It just doesn't know that it is broken. How could it be right if anything it does hurt others? Can't you just reprogram it or something?

I think flushing out Ignorance from its system will probably work best. Deactivating Ego is an extreme choice but might be necessary to properly flush out Ignorance. It's also the only way to upgrade Ego to Humbleness.

And maybe, maybe we can install Empathy and Sympathy? I know it costs a fortune, but you can do it, Santa. Let's do one of those newly developed Justice and Fairness too, with Objectivity boost. 

Please Santa, this is doable. We must fix Stupid before it's too late. Before Stupid destroys the world we know, before Stupid nurture and unleash Hate. Please tell me you'll help me, Santa.

You won't help me, Santa? Come on. I think we both agree it is high time you interfere. Hoping Stupid will be fixed by human themselves is like betting on a dead horse. You know this. Santa, please.

----

Dear Satan,

As you predicted, he won't budge. Are you happy now? If I can't fix it, I might as well destroy it. Hit me up if you are interested. I know you are.

The Elder Wand

She looked at the other woman with murder in her eyes.

"How dare you, you witch…" she whispered, her words were hiss of anger.

The witch gave her a contemptuous smile.

"What are you going to do about it?" she smirked, "It has been done. You know the rules."

"This doesn't mean you can do it in a dirty way."

The witch laughed. It was such a confident laugh that she felt a shiver in her back.

"The Elder Wand takes on a new master whenever it has been 'won' from its previous owner. That's what the rule is, and you know it. It doesn't state how and what method."

"It is still mine." She hissed again. She gathered up her energy and look more voracious than ever. The magic was still in her, filling her up and made her look even more beautiful.

"Oh please," the witch said with a chuckle. The witch gave her a wink and right then she knew it was a lost cause. The glowing aura, the relaxed hair that fell heavenly on the witch's shoulder, all the way down to her breasts. She knew it. The elder wand was not hers anymore.

"Yes please," she smiled sinisterly. She won't give up. Not without a fight.

"Have it your way," the witch grinned. 

"Hey babe," the witch called, "You got Facetime from Lisa!" A muffled voice of a man from the other room can be heard, "Oh God just reject it. Come here and go down on me."

The witch said to the phone, "Bye bitch." but Lisa already hung up.

Be Humble

This Thanksgiving, if there's any relative or yourself said "Yeah, I got it at W*lmart," own that sh*t.

You got things from the dollar store and you're "crafty". You got things from WM and suddenly you are the lowest of the low. Heck, even a random Indonesian texted a friend saying she'll be embarrassed to work at WM because all of her family back home has the cushy office job.

We've heard all about people of WM. I met them on the first day I landed in the US. They were… interesting. I hate shopping at WM because of the desolation I feel, the persistent indifference and the general air of "We're all f*cked up here anyway." 

Their online store is better, but they're still pretty depressing. It was a clutter of god-knows-what, not as neatly designed as Tarjay or Immazon. It won't be my first choice unless I can get a good price albeit with almost-expectedly low quality.

And that's the gist of WM. Low price, low quality. I mean, who in the world will go so low for that? The answer is people who actually don't have another option. Accessibility is and will always be the reason.

It only occurs to me when I tried to arrange some flowers to be sent to a friend in Kentucky. Easy, right? Immazon Now? Doesn't Deliver. Instacrat? Doesn't deliver. There's literally no option for a day delivery except to pay an arm and a leg through 1800flowzah. Here in DTLA I have a selection of grocery stores to do it.

Checking the map, there's only one WM in her area and some smaller grocery store chains. All within driving range. In DTLA there's at least 4 major grocery stores in walking distance, plus a Tarjay. And a Burlee. And a Rass. I can get decked out and have my daily things at a fraction of effort (and probably price point) my friend has to go through.  

We don't see it that way, though. We see the 'funny' memes. We see the end of our nose when we snicker about "that person who shop at WM". We see us non-WM-shopper as superior. We're not. We just have options. Options, either in terms of accessibility and financial means, are hard to come by.

This Thanksgiving, be thankful if you can shop at places that suits your taste and preference. Be thankful for people who can still obtain things they need with the limited option they may have. As the famous philosopher once said: "Be Humble. Sit down and enjoy your turkey."

Broken

Do you know what broken is? Broken is when a word, a phrase, an action that might seem mundane suddenly triggers you and you have the instinct to either jump and gutted the person, or to roll up into the fetal position in fear. I don't know the right clinical name for it.

What I do know it sucks to see myself descending to the darkness once again. When I start to black out and my mood swings rocking harder than a pendulum in the storm. When I know I slowly lost control of my emotion and awash in my grim Neverland.

You won't see it because a part of me told me to "Stand still. Smile. Don't let them know." Because people run away when they see negativity. It's natural. Not many have the resilience to deal with that shit. Because I am strong enough to withstand the storm.

At least that's what I said. Off to a date. Then another. House has his painkillers and I have mine. Ride the storm quietly in an extravagant manner so no one will suspect you are drowning inside. The world only needs to see Selina Kyle, not her sorry story.

But you are tortured inside. The moment love seemed to come through you'd lap it up like a man stranded in the desert, wishing fervently that it is real. The moment when there's even the slightest chance that the love is not real, is not equal, up goes the wall like the castle bridge being pulled up.

You give a breath of relief when it didn't work. It shouldn't work, anyway. You are too broken. You shed tears and feel sad when it's over, but you know it's also over because you killed them as Atalanta did to the suitors that lost a race with her. 

You just got off the phone with your building manager. You told him a neighbor cat was on the roof and couldn't get out, and can he please help the cat. He laughed and said they already did. You know you are a good girl. You know people love you. But not enough to keep you.

You know you'll eventually cool down and be happy again, but it won't be the end. The panic attack, the blinding fear, the hands that will go up to protect your broken little soul while sobbing: "No! Please don't hurt me!" Those will come and go as they please.

"Get help." I am trying to. "Forget him." I already did. "Let him go." I thought I have moved on already. Stick and stones may hurt my bones, but apparently words decapacitate me emotionally. Isn't love grand?

I Got Flowers

I got flowers. 

I literally sat here dumbfounded for 10 solid minutes reiterating it over and over again. I got flowers. 

It wasn't a birthday flower or sorry-I-fuck-up flower. I've had those before. I don't know why I got this one. My date just casually handed me those when he dropped me off after our dinner date.

And now I got flowers.

My best friend always told me that the men I met set the standard so low the bar is practically on the ground. My girls will exasperatedly say (again and again): "It's normal!!" when I told them a man was being nice to me.

So, umm, yeah. I might be overreacting right now. It's still amazing, though. I would buy flowers for my friends, just because. Or give away the ones I got to people on the bus. Their smile and astonishment were beautiful to behold.

And here I am, on their end. I got flowers.

Do I expect it? No. My life has been plentiful. My best friend spoils me like a princess. My girls are true "Ride or Die" squad. I have warm bed and full stomach. My family and friends are awesome. I can't ask for more.

Yet life will throw a curveball at you now and then. We know this. We dread this because it usually means bad. In my case, though, the curveball was an unexpected acknowledgement. "Here. You're ok."

I stopped writing to look at the flowers. I guess?

I have to fight off the voices in my head, each with their own version why I don't deserve it, or that it means nothing. I want to cave in because it is easier to crush your hope before someone else crushes it. It's easier to think I don't deserve to be happy before happiness is taken away from me.

I am not going to. Not this time. I deserve to be happy and I shouldn't be scare of it. Happiness is like the flowers, it will eventually died out yet the memories and the feelings linger. I am keeping those.

So, yay! I got flowers!

The Pitchforks

I have to tune myself out from the election news because of the constant vitriol and name calling on my Facebook feed. Some who played it nicely would only vague-booking about how "Democracy matters" and how "Americans have spoken".

The exact same thing happened in Indonesia, where the supporters of the current president valiantly defend the president, and the people who oppose him vehemently denounced his presidency. Both have the same solid argument, both hate each other with vengeance.

We say we shouldn't judge. We say we should see people as people, more than just the stigma and past the propaganda. Yet we call each other in a way that if it's referred to other issues such as religion, we'll be considered insensitive or politically incorrect.

Republicans/Conservatives are people who hate immigrant, redneck idiot who worship the crassness of Trump and his goon, who have no respect of whatsoever to women's body, the egoistic selfish maniac who'll do anything for the good of themselves.

Democrats/Liberals are people who won't accept responsibilities, who thinks the world revolves around them and they deserve so much more than they actually worth, who leech off of other people's hard work, who denounce anything than inconvenience them.

In the same breath, this is exactly the same as saying Muslims are terrorist, Jewish are opportunist, immigrants are criminals, black people are violent, white people are supremacist, Southeast Asian is gold digger, people with HIV have a questionable lifestyle, gays are bad, straights are homophobic, and the list goes on.

We can waste our breath debating on whether or not the accusation is true, a debate that will change nobody's mind. Or we can do better: ask yourself what are you fighting for? Are you fighting for what you think it is right, or are you blindly defending your group by reducing the worth of your opponent?

For some, what I write won't matter because of my stance on immigration. I have been labeled as Trump supporter, so to speak. For others, what I write won't matter because I am an immigrant. I have been labeled as a leech and I don't have any right to speak about the US.

Yet this is what I see. I see people vehemently defending their group and their belief without trying to understand what and how other people think. Not just US, but all around the world. One side will win, but at what cost? The cost will be buried ember ready to burst into fiery anger when the time comes.

Democracy is not about winning or losing, it is not about being right or wrong. Democracy is a system of government by the whole population, which means even your opponent has the right to say on the matter, which means you can't just shut them down by saying "You are stupid!" without trying to understand their concerns.

We can hate-vote. We can fear-vote. We can self-righteous-vote. Or we can vote by clearly and objectively considering which will bring the best of the people, and the consequences that will happen. We can vote for what we believe, not to attack others.

Sure, the other group did it first. But you do not live with 'the other group'. You live with yourself. In times, what you believe can and will change. Being civil and understanding is not done for other, it's done for you. You can do that or be trapped in the shallow muddy pool of stigma, sinking deeper into unpleasantness and anger towards others. Your call.

Dear Self

Dear Self,

You don't owe him any explanation

If he thinks you are a bad person

Then yes, to him you will always be

You don't owe him your story

If he thinks you are making things up

Then yes, to him you will always be

You don't owe him your assurance

If he can't see how much you love him

Then yes, to him it'll never be enough

You don't have to beg him to stay

If he doesn't think you will worth it

Then yes, to him you will never be

You can cry but please know it's ok

Respect his free will and respect yours

It will be ok, I promise you that

Dear Self, I love you.

It Wasn't Me

It wasn't me.

Him on the beach, furious over me stopping to pet a dog. He said I didn't respect him. He said I was trying to flirt with the dog owner. Me with tears streaming on my face. I thought we were there because he felt bad for yelling at me the day before. Yet now this.

It wasn't me.

Standing in front of the ATM. Only have $20 in my bank account and home is 8,000 miles away. Strengthening myself to ask for cash to strangers. I need another $10 for a ticket back to my apartment in Orange County. I could be there by midnight, and I will just stay at the station until the break of dawn before going on a 3-5 hours walk home. It is better than going back with him in the car.

It wasn't me.

Saying the vow in front of the civil servant. Looking at him with a mixture of pain and fear from the lashing I received the night before, and with intense love that can move a mountain. It will be fine, I told myself. He looked at me and smiled lovingly, trembling as he said his vow. It will be better, I assured myself.     

It wasn't me.

My solo train trip to San Diego ripped me open again. The view of the beach in Oceanside. The place where I stop to get the ATM. The cliffside overlooking the beach that was similar to where we got married. "It will get better, right?" I ask my best friend over the phone as the train passed Encinitas. "It will," he assured me, pretending he didn't hear me trying to withhold my sobs.

The day before was a series of "You don't understand how hard it is for me," "I tried my utmost best for you," and "We're just not compatible," from another ex. I told him maybe I do understand and I care so much for him. I told him I only ask for what's important for me. I told him non-compatibility is a lazy excuse. 

That night I couldn't stop crying, even well into my sleep. The debate had been a repetition of my married life, minus the abuse and the lashing. I had brushed him off and end the debate by saying "I'm difficult." I keep telling myself that as he sat awkwardly beside me on the train home. I am just difficult.

Between the debate with my ex and the San Diego trip the next day, I feel like I am cut open and nasty, gooey pus is flowing out. It's good, I told myself, it is how the healing process work. Only then I realize how much I truly care for them, and how much I love them. Only then I realize how much pain I was in. Yet it doesn't feel like it's getting better soon.

"You just have to stop dating guys who are not as strong as you are," my best friend said. "Or I should stop being difficult," I replied. "That's because you have standard. There's nothing wrong with having a standard." He looked at me in my eyes, "You deserve to be happy. It wasn't you." I fixed my gaze on the floor to hide my tears. It wasn't me.

I am Home

I love my bed.

It's a crinkly old fold-up futon frame with second-hand mattress that gives me back pain on worst days, but I love it very much.

I love my apartment.

It's so small that it hardly fits for one and includes neverending battle against bugs and dust, but I love it very much.

I love my teddy bear.

It's a cheap mini bear with picture hoodie that I ordered on discount on Rite-aid. It's not soft at all and pretty ugly, but I love it very much.

I love my home.

By home, I mean my tiny buggy apartment with the crinkly futon bed and that ugly teddy bear. Can I do better? I can. It's just scary to leave 'home'. And yes, I love it very much.

I am not the same person that live with my family on my idyllic island. I am not the same person that live with my ex-husband and his kids. Those were 'home' too, but now they seemed so vague.

People change and people grow. Experiences and interactions mold and shaped us like the beating and heating on iron shaft to create a sword. Sometimes, it means new home.

My family will always be my home, as well as the people I love the most. That includes myself, too. Please excuse me as I need to give myself a hug and say: "I am home."

Good Morning, America

Good morning, America.

Good morning to the restaurant manager that sat next to me on the 6 am bus to Covina. Your eyes were still blurry, face puffy from the sleep. "What time the restaurant open?" I asked. "9 am," you said, "But I have to be there early to check if the restaurant is clean and ready, and balancing the book."

Good morning to sleepy passengers with all your possessions in the train and on the bus. The cold foggy morning offered the blissful protection against the impending heat of the day, and the subsequent beating on your pride from the judgemental eyes of passing strangers.

Good morning to the lady who sells tamales. You sat there under the tree, knitting something with a pink yarn, and casually advertise your fare: "Tamales, tamales! Champurrado!" It's a cheap, affordable breakfast to many, a warm reprise from the chilly Pomona morning.

Good morning to the senior who sat next to me on the bus. You had to leave at 4.30 to get to your job by 8.30 or earlier and won't be back home until after 8 pm. All for a job who won't even provide coffee for the office, let alone other amenities.

Good morning to the 70-year-old man who kindly greeted everyone at the stop with "Bless you, brother!" You asked me is it hard to operate that whatchamacallit smartphone, as you spent the last 10 years in prison and was way behind in technology.

Good morning, America. Good morning, I say, to these people with toils and hardship ahead of them. Neck deep in life's challenges, there's simply no time of dreaming. So much for the American Dream. So much for the feeling you got it good. So much for feeling, period. You just have to keep on swimming.

Yet you smiled. You chatted happily with me. You are alive. Your eyes full of gratitude that you make it to another day, or full of determination that you will make it another day. Some of you are the walking dead, though. For that, I wept for you. 

Good morning, America. I love you.

Online Dating Labyrinth

Online dating sucks, and I think being a man in the online dating world is not pleasant. There, I said it.

Being on online dating websites on and off, I see the insecurity in full display. The carefully curated photos, for instance, emphasized their strength (good abs, cool car, fancy vacay, even the house they owned). It's akin to the girls' thirst pics and filters.

Then there's the keyword. Nice words to describe they want an Instagram model. Words to describe how financially stable they are, or how satisfying they are in bed. Words that speaks volume of how shitty they've been treated in the past.

I would read the profiles and just feel sad for them. The ones that I met told stories about unending bot messages, sex-for-hire offers, the fine dine demands. You also need a nerve of steel to keep messaging all the people, knowing you might not get any reply.

And then the actual date. A lot of times I see the doubts and the awkwardness. The more experienced ones will carry themselves at ease or hide their feeling better. Some were surprised at the basic hospitality I showed them, and this breaks my heart the most.

For those who are just in it for the good times, it shouldn't be much of a problem. For those who want a relationship, it could be painful. Add girls like me in the mix, who looks nice and normal but has major commitment issue, and it's a perfect recipe for distrust and heartache.

In retrospect, the exact same thing happens with girls. I can't tell for sure because I never date a girl before, so I can't really read them. However, I think the premise is the same: Here's my offer, what's your offer? We do the mating dance and ritual like our animal cousins, ours was just done online.

A big chunk of it is expectancy. We expect a certain someone with a certain characteristic, and too often we weed out vigorously and missing out the hidden gems. Sometimes it is necessary because we are not comfortable or just not interested. Yet we hope and expect. And sometimes we get angry over it.

Another chunk is how ourself reflected to others. In online dating, with such a minimum time together we can easily come out as the worst of ourselves because we don't feel any obligation to accommodate our date more than what we are willing to give. Guys come out as *ssholes and girls come out as b*tches.

Online dating sucks but we still do it. It's an answer to modern fast-paced lifestyle and can be a blessing if you manage to find the hay in the stack of needles. At the time being, though, you will get pricked and beaten down and feel like you are the most unattractive person in this universe or that people are sh*tty AF.

Don't let the bitterness get to you, though. Be nice and genuine and it will shine through. Whether it is enough to the people you want to impress, that I cannot say. I just don't think it will hurt to be the best you can be. And if you really are just not nice and full of yourself, well… umm.. yeah…

You are all Prince Charming looking for that one perfect girl with only a glass shoe as a clue, and we girls are all Cinderella trying out all shoes to find the perfect one to wear. Here's well wishes to our endeavor and hope we'll find what we're looking for. Cheers.

[Yea some of us can also be Hannibal Lecter and/or human version of financial/emotional Praying Mantis. Not really wishing you well on that. Do no harm, fellas.]