introspect ][ 吐露

Unreliable

2009-06-20T12:50:00.004-10:00

As is typical, it's been months since I've last blogged. And as is typical, I'm going to skip over the details of most of my existence to blog about one specific topic.

This time? Being unreliable.

A few years ago, someone I was dating told me that I was unreliable, that he couldn't count on me. I was hurt since I feel as though I go out of my way for the people I care about -- and I liked to think that most of the time, I did so without expectation of reciprocation.

At the time, I was working 18-hour days and had an unpredictable schedule -- I never knew if I had to work until the day prior. And when I did know I was free, I let him know.

But this made me unreliable because I couldn't confirm anything until absolutely last minute.

I thought he was being unfair because it was a situation I couldn't really control. I felt like I was already doing everything I could to be there for him... and that he wasn't making the effort on his side to understand that.

But lately, I feel like I've started to WANT some kind of reciprocation -- some effort from the other side. I've realized that I have a ton of really uneven relationships. Relationships where I feel I put in the effort -- I try -- but there's no effort from the other party, or minimal effort at best. Or relationships where I seem to be at someone's beck and call, or they're present at their convenience.

I mean, I know I'm horrible at asking for help. But there really are some situations where asking isn't warranted, since there would be no reason to ask for help if the person had come through to begin with. I want the people around me to stop being unreliable. I want to know that if I need them, they'll be there. Or that they won't put me in a situation where I'd need to seek outside help.

On top of that, I want to know that the sacrifices I make for people are appreciated. That they keep me in mind the same way that I keep them in mind. That I'm not being taken advantage of.

And I think lately, I've been too giving. I need to take better care of myself -- and ask that the people around me take better care of me, too.

My Mommy told me recently that one of her fears is that I'll never find someone who will take care of me. She feels like I'll always be the one taking care of the other person in any relationship. Heck, even with family -- I tend to be the one taking care of the others. I don't even rely on the members of my family to be there for me. I try to do it on my own -- because there's been one too many times where they didn't come through for me. And I'm over it.

I'm over people not being there for me. Or not coming through. Or not appreciating. Or not realizing that I'm not going to be here forever -- just as long as I can stand to be. Just as long that I feel that this is all worth it.

I guess that does make me unreliable, doesn't it? Since I can't guarantee that I'll always be here. Just as long as I can stand it...

Damn.

/me.

Birthday Apologies

2009-03-01T22:16:00.006-10:00

My birthday was yesterday, February 28. I am now 27 years old and am certainly feeling older than I was.

Last night, I experienced something I had never experienced before -- and apparently, in the experience, I upset some of my friends and people I care about.

I have always said that I don't get drunk. Almost everyone who has ever partied with me knows this -- and most people will vouch for me, as I can generally go drink for drink with them.

But I guess I was wrong, because last night, I was not well. Maybe it was the mixing of alcohol types, maybe it's that last week I only slept a total of 7 hours and so my system was weak, but whatever it was, I experienced what everyone else has been talking about. And I didn't like it.

And in my first REAL omg-I-drank-so-much-that-I'm-sick experience, which was quite embarrassing, I found that I hurt some of the people who attended. (I did get sick recently once before this -- but I wasn't drunk. I just didn't feel well in general... this time, I was completely gone.)

It came across that I didn't care people had come to celebrate with me because I often wasn't in the party room with everyone. I stayed outside of the room for the majority of the time... either sleeping at the table outside, sitting on the bathroom floor, and for a time, was in another room altogether as a friend of mine was having a going-away party since he flew out today to move to the mainland, never to return. I also worried people and inconvenienced those who decided to take it upon themselves to take care of me.

I want people to know that I did appreciated that you were there to celebrate with me. And that I'm sorry for my non-presence, both physically and mentally.

There is no excuse in what is or isn't done when under the influence, even though what's said and done isn't in right mind. So, I will not make excuses for anything I did or didn't do that may have upset my friends and loved ones.

Instead, I'm just going to say I'm sorry for upsetting, worrying, hurting you and I love you.

/me.

Sacrifice

2009-02-21T12:58:00.005-10:00

It's been nearly 3 months since I last blogged. Needless to say, my world hasn't stopped moving -- it's still spinning out of control.

Changes and challenges, irritations and frustrations.

Most recently, what's been hard for me is the change to that which I cling to -- my freedom.

For the last 9 years, I've not lived with my family. I've lived abroad, in dorms, with friends, with significant others... as I've mentioned on multiple occasions, as much as I love my family, being in close-proximity with them is unhealthy for me. The freedom and mobility that I didn't have when I was younger is something I value above many things now -- and I was asked at the end of December to give much of that up.

My grandmother on my dad's side, on Christmas Eve, fell. She, until then, with the exception of taking a reaaaaally long time to walk anywhere due to Arthritis-ravaged knees, was still rather sprite and active. She drove. Went to weekly water exercise classes. Cooked. Whatever.

The fall was the beginning of a significant downturn in her mobility and she is now bed-ridden. As such, she needs 24-hour care -- she needs diapers and bed-baths. She needs to care-taking. And unfortunately, our family cannot afford to have outside help significant enough to not truly disrupt our schedules... so my dad asked me to move in and help.

Give up my apartment. Give up going out. Give up freedom. In exchange for a curfew, zero privacy, and no sleep.

I didn't jump at the opportunity. I said yes because I have a sense of familial obligation... and because I knew I didn't have much choice in the matter since we're financially unable to hire the help for the number of hours I am expected to cover.

So, I moved out of my apartment of 4 years and into my grandmother's house in Manoa. And I try to be home by 10 pm, daily, so that I can take care of her evening needs. And I wake up several times throughout the night to check on her. And the only other person who is making any kind of significant sacrifice is my dad -- who, at this point, has it worse off than I do in terms of lack of freedom.

And you know what? It sucks and it isn't fair for any of us involved (dad, grandma, or me).

Grandma deserves the best care possible -- not whatever it is her tired son and selfish granddaughter can provide. Daddy deserves to SLEEP -- he works overnight and has to be awake throughout the day to give her lunch/dinner and meet with the care-people who visit. And honestly, I think I deserve to play.

I've always tried never to be jealous of my friends, but as of late, I find that I get more and more upset when I look at their lives compared to mine. Many of them have honestly had it easy (at least through my eyes) -- they are well-off or have rarely had to struggle financially for anything as their families can provide for them. Heck some of them don't work. And many haven't really had to sacrifice... ever.

And while my life isn't horrible at all -- especially when I think of all the people in the world who know nothing of the luxuries that I have -- I still get jealous that it seems like I've worked so much harder than so many people and yet, I keep struggling and keep having to sacrifice.

My dad understands that I need any possible shred of freedom I can get my claws on and he pays for someone to come in a few times a month so that I can go out with friends and forget for a bit. I wish I could give him that same courtesy.

But frankly, I'm tired and frustrated with it all.
And it's only been a month and a half.
And I keep asking myself...

How much longer do we have to do this?

My grandma is healthy, short of the lack of mobility. No eating restrictions. No mental health issues. Nothing. She'll be 90 later this year and she could live another 10 years!

But I can't last 10 years doing this.
I don't know if I could even last one.

But... with no other obvious outs...

/me.

Everything Changes

2008-12-06T08:25:00.003-10:00

My world is changing at a million miles a minute and I'm trying my best to keep up.

As many of you know, Yoshi and I are no longer together. It's complicated and despite what his blogs may say, the hurtfulness and "wrong-doing" goes in both directions. There is no one person to blame, although in many ways, I do believe a lot of what's happened is my fault. Of course, he would say otherwise.

We're still trying to maintain some kind of relationship. Right now it's a strange muddle of "we're 'friends'" and "i still care for you" and "rawr, death!"

In 2004, we bought a car together: a black, 2004 VW Jetta that we named Kuro-chan. Only recently did we pay off the loan. To be honest, he paid for the majority of it as I always took care of the rent, so when we split up, I said I felt best if he took the car. So, currently, I am rideless save for a little red bicycle that I use to go to work and to the grocery store down the street. I didn't think having no car would be too bad -- enter economy-driven changes at work.

The Honolulu Advertiser recently went through another series of early buyouts, lay offs, departmental realignments and they're now eying up significant pay cuts. I'm lucky to still be there, considering how many people are no longer with the company. This last bit of departmental restructuring affected my position as Online Coordinator and I will be moving into a Digital Media Sales role to help drive revenue. The change is effective immediately and will actually be a good opportunity for me in terms of my financial situation (of course, assuming that the proposed pay cuts do not come to fruition). However, to use a phrase that my friend Vraxx always uses, "the gotcha is..." that in order for me to do this job -- I need to have a car.

Did I just say that I need a car and I currently don't have one due to my personal relationship issues? Did I just say that this change is effective immediately?

*blink* Uh-oh.

So now, I'm on a car search. Gotta spend money to make money, right? And I think I found one that I like. Now it's just a matter of qualifying for a loan and convincing the dealership that they love me enough to give me a really great deal on the car. Thankfully, my year and some change of working closely with the various dealerships on the island via being the local Cars.com technical support contact may aid me in this.

But I need to buy a car... now.

Furthermore, with all the changes at work, plus the uncertainty of more imminent layoffs and a possible pay cut of 31.5% looming over us, it make for some very unhappy coworkers and sometimes, an extremely stressful and frustrating work environment.

Emotional stress. Work stress. Financial stress. Not happy.

I know that what I need to do is roll with the punches and move forward. I know that 我慢するしかない。頑張るしかない。But I think I'm actually having a hard time of all the changes. And as is typical of me, I'm not good at seeking help. I'd rather withdraw and stew a bit and give myself time to process all the issues at hand -- then force myself to accept and move forward.

But first, I need to get used to the fact that I'm still standing still while everything else in the world is changing.

Then once everything stops spinning, I can try to catch up with the rest of the world.

/me.

The Town Called Selfishess

2008-11-10T00:24:00.004-10:00

Inspired by the emotions of the moment, since this is the only way I can say what's on my mind without saying what's on my mind.

I don't even know if what follows makes sense. I didn't reread it. I'll try to read it tomorrow morning before I head out to work --

-----

Long inhale, short release
Screaming, trying to find our peace
In the cacophony that splits our ears
Our minds, our hearts, brings forth our fears
Floods our eyes with tears that blur
The lines of faces, reality. Anger stirs
From years of puffy eyes and aching breasts
Trying so hard, but not good enough yet
Or ever. Loving, leaving, loving, leaving
Half-truths to find the truth, leads to deceiving
Cycle of pointing fingers never ending
Praying for strength, transcending
Those fingers pointing in all directions,
especially in this one.

Blood runs so red, the crimson stains
Our outward stretched fingertips, reaching despite the rain
That steadily washes away the foundations set
By the dreams and wishes and hopes. Forget
All those dreams and replenish the vermilion pond
Filled with depression, accusations, guilt. Respond
Not to those reaching palms and slap back
The soft touches, warm lips that hold, trap
Keep back the doubts, worries, pain and lead
Us back to a place that lays between Denial and Greed,
where Greed is another name for the destination known as
Selfishness.

The monster that lives there that makes the weak hold on
To that which should be released - Let go! So dawn
Can come to the darkened land we have built for
Our own with the Love and Pain that can come only through doors
Built by two who want nothing more than to make the other
Happy. Two who want nothing less than everything good to cover
The World that was supposed to be Theirs. And failed
At doing all that they had intended, building trails
That wound round and round and ended up at Dead Ends
Both fighting hard not to end up in the Town of Friends
The Selfish monster who refuses to release us from its grip
Laughs at we who fell, who stumbled, who tripped.
But truly, despite the bruises, cuts, and bleeding hearts,
The failure at which Selfishness laughs was not complete, just parts.
Because the two succeeded at one thing that it could not attack.
Loving.
Each other.
Forever.
And saying goodbye...
But staying together...

11.04.01 - 11.09.08
Sayonara.

/me.

Silence

2008-11-03T22:12:00.002-10:00

Inevitably, when there's a long hiatus between postings, something's amiss. It's rare that I choose not to blog simply because nothing's happening. That's not how my life works. Something's ALWAYS happening, whether I like it or not.

Generally speaking, whether it be personal, professional, or whatever -- long breaks between blogging mean that something is happening that I can't really discuss in a public forum. Not necessarily "can't." Sometimes it's "won't." Other times, tis "not ready to."

This is all of those times. Actually, the past several months has been "one of those times" at every point along the way.

I won't go into detail. It's not always good to air one's dirty laundry. Let's just say that I'm really good at making mistakes when I should know better. I'm good at hurting people I care for, sometimes knowingly and sometimes not. As selfless as I like to think myself to be, I'm selfish. I want what I want -- and while I often will sacrifice my wants for the needs and wants of others... sometimes, enough's enough, and I take what I want for my own. Or, at least, I try to...

What do I want?

Heh. 自分自身も知りたいな～。

I guess the blanket answer to that question is happiness. Tis a cop out response, I know.

I guess happiness is pretty relative and certainly, I've been at lower lows. I just need to make a decision about how I want to achieve and/or receive the thing that I want. That happiness thing.

But I can I make the right decisions? Or should I just remain silent and see what comes?

/me.

P.S. Twitter is stupidly addicting. Check me out at http://www.twitter.com/monchalee

P.P.S. I came across a poem that I wrote on 05.22.06. It was in response to a poem that a friend of mine wrote about friendship. I shall post my friend's and then my response.

Friend's Poem: Oasis

Tired wanderer, scorching desert: Crying, burned, jaded, worn
Wounded heart, pain and hurt: Come to me, bruised and torn

Desert oasis, illusion not: Comfort, healing, mending, rest
Recover from life's battle's fought: Water clear, refreshing, zest

Friendship deep, forgiving, pure: Tested by life's desert heat
Standing strong, whole, and sure: Drink stranger, take a seat

Once a wanderer, now a friend: One more drop in the oasis
Will another come along: Different hearts, many faces

Oasis in the desert sands: Shelter from life's toughest wrath
Healing hearts, healing hands: Friendship found on journey's path

My Response: Mirage

A barren desert, hot and dry
With little life and shelter none
A stranger comes, wandering lost
Parched and baked by blazing sun
Sees shimmering water, blessed hope
Crawls toward the distance, cross the dunes
Reaches living, lush Oasis
Can't believe that this is true
Reaches down with dirty hands
To take a sip of cooling life
And finds, instead, a mouth of sand
A mirage -- an illusionary knife.

-----

I guess that says a lot about me and my experiences, huh? Oh well.

Virtual Predators

2008-07-08T20:01:00.009-10:00

I've never had a problem meeting in real life the people that I've met or known virtually. I tend to spend a lot of time online -- I have since the advent of affordable dial-up. And despite the dangers, I find that I tend to "trust" personalities of a digital nature.

One of my old bosses, Joy, never understood why I could "make friends" online so easily. Neither did she understand why I would choose to blog. To her, it's dangerous. To her, there's no privacy. I've always written her paranoia up as "Generation Gap."

I find that so many people find that hiding behind a computer screen makes them brave -- and brutally honest. And because I think that I'm generally that way, with or without said computer screen, I tend to respect the people on the other side.

I've been lucky in that the majority of people I've met in person have been exactly as they were online. Or at least close enough. With the exception of a stalker or two, I've managed to make some really good virtual friends. Heck, I even met Yoshi online back in the days before Yahoo! owned Geocities. And because I'm a fighter (or something like that), I have managed to finagle my way out of potentially bad situations.

Over the past half year or so, I've made friends with a sweetheart named Rumi. We met online through http://www.mixi.jp, a Japanese social network site much like MySpace. She contacted me and said she planned to come to Hawaii and wanted me to be her friend. She was traveling alone and wanted to have someone local with whom she could hang out. I had no problems with this.

We met up and I took her around a bit. She wasn't here long, but we got on well enough and she posted all about me in her blogs when she returned to Japan. I was her Hawaii sister.

She recently was back in town, again, traveling by herself. And for whatever reason, we had a hard time catching each other. A lot of missed calls. We managed to get together last night for dinner -- she left this morning. And I found out part of the reason why she'd been so hard to get in touch with.

She, like me, makes friends online. And meets them in person. And stays with said virtual people when she visits Hawaii. Last time, she encountered no problems. This time, the person she stayed with was one of those people that everyone warns you about. One of those virtual people that's nothing like they pretend to be.

As an aside, she'd actually met this person face to face in Japan, when they hung out for a week, but the original meeting was via Internet. From what she knew of the guy, he was nice. Trustworthy. Safe.

She came to Hawaii and aside from stealing her money -- he beat the shit out of her. Punched her. Kicked her. Bit her. And she didn't call the cops because she doesn't speak English. And she didn't call her other friends in Hawaii because she didn't know what to say. And so she stayed half a week -- and then ran away when the guy went out one evening.

Rumi told me all this last night -- as we ate her last dinner in Hawaii for this trip. She showed me some of the cuts and bruises she'd accumulated from the experience. She held back tears and said that she had intended never to return to Hawaii -- it's too scary.

And all I could think was about how I couldn't protect her. How I had no idea that someone was hurting her. How vulnerable she was because she didn't know who she could turn to. And how this is exactly what Joy was talking about.

And I hate to admit it -- but the Internet is a scary place. And I have honestly been lucky that something similar has never happened to me.

Does this mean that I'm going to stop blogging? Of course not. Does this mean that I'm going to stop "making friends" with people online? No.

But does it make me scared that maybe I'm setting myself up to get hurt? Does it make me want to tell all my friends to be careful -- because you never know who you're really chatting with? Does it make me want to Google the bastard who hurt Rumi and find out every detail about the jerk, so that I can ... do ... something?

... Rawr. I'm speechless.

It's been said a million times: The virtual world is full of real life predators. I was just too obtuse to see that it was true.

/me.

Unhappy Meal

2008-06-10T23:53:00.006-10:00

I had a bad day Tuesday. It started off with me in tears and didn't get much better at work. I won't go into the details of why today was what it was, but know that it brought me down and made me completely antisocial.

Several people asked me to go to the gym -- and while at first, I didn't want to, Rob was nice enough to drag my ass out of the house and force me to go to 24 hour fitness.

I hadn't eaten dinner yet and was starving. But he pointed out that I likely wouldn't go if I ate first. I'd either get sneepy, or I'd simply stay home and mope. At least in not eating dinner, it made me seem lighter when I weighed myself. I weighed 121 lbs -- my goal is to be between 113 and 116 lbs.

By the end of the work out, I was famished. Our choices? Go to Safeway to pick up ingredients for cooking... something. Or McDonald's 24-hour drive through. Of course, we chose McDonald's and undid everything we had done at the gym.

I decided to order a Happy Meal in a lame attempt to do something "positive" for myself today. Happy Meal = Happy Me, right? Wrong.

Why?

No toy.

The world obviously doesn't want me to be happy right now. It won't even give me a stinkin' Kung-Fu Panda McDonald's Happy Meal toy.

Frickin' sucks.

/me.

Holding Back Dreams - Part III

2008-05-31T08:49:00.004-10:00

My big baby brother is graduating from Punahou on Saturday and of course, the question of the moment is: "Where are you going for college?"

His dream? New York University

That's where I wanted to go. And that's where my littlest brother (now 16) wants to go.

I didn't go. I went to Mount Holyoke College and wasn't even allowed the opportunity to apply to NYU. In the end, MHC was fine and I met beautiful people that made the whole experience worth it.

But there has been a lot of drama within the family lately. Talks of unhappiness. Of suicide. I've always said my family was disfunctional. It's not empty of love. We all (most of us) love each other. But maybe with the exception of one person, who of course has her share of downs, there is not one of us who is happy.

Not my mom, dad, stepdad, grandparents, brothers. Not me.

And now it looks like my brother may not be going to NYU. The final decision has not been made -- but the outlook is grim. And why will he not be able to go?

Because of one person standing in the way.

And I watch as another person's dreams bite the dust.

/me.

Holding Back Dreams - Part II

2008-05-31T08:35:00.003-10:00

Did I ever tell you what my dreams were?

I wanted to be an artist. Of any kind. I wanted to draw. To create. To design. To do something that wasn't along the lines of a young urban professional. That was my first and foremost dream.

When I was young, I was a state sponsored Honolulu Academy of Arts student. I went to weekly art classes, free of charge. I guess my teachers saw something special in me in terms of creativity. I was working toward my dreams.

What happened?

One day, I drew something of which I was really proud. The average artist is rarely satisfied with their own work -- so to say that I was proud of it is to say quite a bit. I showed it to a particular member of my family.

And they said it sucked. They asked me why I was even drawing. It would never amount to anything. It wouldn't pay my bills.

That day, I threw away every piece of art I had ever done. I put away my crayons, pencils, and cray-paas. And I have never done a serious piece of work since then. Doodles don't count.

And I moved on.

I picked up music. I was a percussionist in band. And at my peak, I was considered the 3rd best mallet player (xylophone, marimba, vibraphone, etc.) in the state. Playing music was wonderful. It moved me. I imagined continuing to take music through college and eventually play for the symphony or ... broadway shows... or something.

What happened?

I was told that I have to quit band. Quit playing music. Why? Because my brothers wanted to play baseball and soccer. And I needed to take care of them. I needed to go to every practice. Every game. It doesnt matter that no one in my family came to my practices, games, concerts. My brothers needed me, or so I was told.

So I quit band. I put away my mallets for good. Never to touch them again. And I threw myself into my brothers' lives. I joined the PTA so that I could take a more active role in what their school was doing for them. But because I was young, my opinion wasn't taken seriously. And eventually, my brothers quit soccer. Quit baseball. And I was left with not much, in terms of dreams.

Then I started dating Yoshi. And I dreamed of being with him forever. And marrying him. And making a life with him. Four years later, we were broken up. I was laying on the floor each night, sobbing my heart out. I'd lost my final dream.

And now we're together again. But I'm not dreaming anymore.

And I don't think I want to dream anymore.

It's not worth the piece of yourself that you lose when you give up on that dream.

/me.

Holding Back Dreams

2008-05-31T08:10:00.004-10:00

A friend of mine recently had to make a decision of huge importance -- whether to stay with his girlfriend or pursue his life-long dream of becoming a tattoo artist. His sister, his ex-gf and I pushed him to "ditch the bitch," so to speak, and follow his path to greatness.

In my mind, I was appalled that she would even consider asking him to choose her or his dream, because to me, if you love someone, it is your place to push them toward their dreams. Even if their goal is not one that is particularly savory or important to you.

In the end, he took our advice. He approached his gf, told her he wanted to continue pursuing tattooing... and she conceded and realized that she was stupid and selfish for having asked him to choose in the first place.

Victory. He got love and dreams in one fell swoop.

Yoshi has always pushed me to be more than I am. He so wants my business to take off and I know he gets frustrated when I don't work on it. But to me, I get frustrated BECAUSE he's pushing me -- when he should be pushing himself.

He's always wanted to sing. To be a singer. In Asia, specifically. And I honestly, truly believe that he can do it. And it pisses me off since I've found so many opportunities for him to move closer to his dream. When I lived in Japan, I had a friend who was following his dream to be a jazz singer/songwriter. He is still pursuing that dream and had offered, at the time, to help me send out Yoshi's demos, since he already had all the connections.

Yoshi never gave me a demo.

In more recent years, Yoshi has had the opportunity to sing in front of Sony executives with ties in the music industry. They heard his voice. Loved it. And told him to submit a demo. We never gave them a demo.

And today, when I talked to him about it -- I found out part of the reason why he hasn't moved forward with his dream. Because if he does, he won't be able to give me the attention that I need.

Admittedly, I'm an attention whore when it comes to relationships. I'm needy. (Totally shitty realization when it hit me.) I think that in so many situations, I've found myself being put on a back-burner when compared to other things, that now, I demand being number one. I need to be the most important thing in my significant other's life. Because, no matter what I'm doing, I try to make it a point that THEY be the most important thing in MY life.

And when I'm put on the side -- even if they don't mean to put me there -- I feel it acutely. And I begin the self-hate thing. Totally unhealthy, I know. It's the years of being told "you're not good enough" and being put on the sidelines within my own family, I'm sure, that makes me the needy thing I am.

So then it hit me. I'm holding him back.

He always said he was holding me back from realizing my dreams. But he asked me today,"what is your dream?" And my answer? "I don't really have one anymore." And it's true. I don't. So obviously, he's not holding me back from anything.

So it made me think about my friend's dilemma. Girlfriend? Or dream? The difference is, that she was making him choose, hoping that he'd choose her. In this case, because I love him, I want him to choose his dream. Even though it'd suck to be me when that day comes because I know that I'd be losing him.

I realized today, while we were having that conversation, that it was almost like asking him to leave me.

Of course, that wasn't my intent. I fought so hard to be with him. I've been fighting for the last 7 years to keep him. And I wouldn't have fought so hard if only to have him leave me again.

But I believe his dream is... right.... there. And the only thing standing in the way... is me.

I guess it's a subject we'll deal with when he returns from Kuwait. He'll be back on the island in 18 days. It'll be good to have him home again.

I wonder if, in the end, home = with me... or on the road.

/me.

Stress

2008-05-04T05:52:00.006-10:00

For quite a while now, I've been really stressed for various reasons. I've mentioned some of the different sources of that stress in previous blogs, but in the last few weeks, the stress seems to have truly compounded -- causing, in essence, a not-quite-as-genki, rather-sit-in-the-corner-and-not-interact, don't-wanna-go-out kind of me.

My self-confidence has plummeted (again -- ha!) and what I originally thought to be some kind of cold or bug has actually turned out to be stress-induced coughing, accompanied by untimely spotting, some kind of weird rash thing on my torso and lack of appetite.

I don't feel the urge to do anything, except for maybe sleep -- and I haven't had a good night's rest since... I actually can't tell you when.

I force myself to eat at least once a day, not because I'm hungry but because I know I need the sustenance. But no longer am I eating healthy. Instead, I'm eating what's easy -- which is rarely ever good for me.

I don't work out, which is setting me back in the Muffin Wars. Total, I've lost like 20 lbs and I've at least another 10 to go before I'm satisfied. But in the not exercising and the not eating (or not eating healthily) I've begun losing the muscle mass I'd gained and have begun regaining the fats.

And while I can't tell you here what has been the main root of my problems -- let's just say that whatever it is has severely affected my self-confidence in other areas as well and left me completely unmotivated.

And there's always the issue of who I can trust and who is a wolf in sheep's clothing.

I've been very lucky in that I have many who know I've been stressed and who worry about me and want to help in what ways they can to alleviate what stress I have. I appreciate it, even if I don't seem as though I do. I'm very much aware that some of you have gone out of your way to try to take care of me and I love you for it.

The universe is out to protect me, probably as much from myself as from the things that seek to cause pain and unhappiness. Lately, Buddhas and protective amulets keep finding their way to my side -- many in the form of gifts and some in the form of circumstance. If you've given me anything to try and help me -- bracelets, amulets, cards, hugs, prayers, massages -- it has helped. I'm not completely self-destructive and that, let's just say, is an amazing thing, because there was a time in the past where I would have easily taken a knife to my skin to "alleviate the pain." I think the praying and chanting I've been doing also helps me to stay sane and realize that this isn't that bad. I know it's not.

Yesterday, I bought myself an amulet of sorts and I pray that it's a sign that things are to get better.

In 2001, a Wiccan friend of mine gave me an unshaped piece of black jade wrapped in silver wire that served as my protective amulet while I traveled. She imbued it with all her love for me and her wish to keep me safe. I wore it as a pendant for a few years, never taking it off. In 2003, the pendant disappeared. It just fell off one day, leaving the silver chain around my neck. I guess its work was done, but I've always felt funny that it was no longer with me.

Since then, I've been looking for black jade. Ask anyone who knows and they will tell you it's nearly impossible to find. Many will say that they've not seen anything made of black jade in years. Over the last 5 years, whenever was appropriate, I'd look. And so would my mom. And my dad. And we've never found any. (Well, I found some on the Net, but wasn't sure if I could trust the source.) Anyway, yesterday, when I was out with my sister and my dad... I found black jade. In the form of a pendant. In the shape of a happy Buddha.

And with the help of my family, I bought it (since I didn't have the cash on me to buy it myself). According to the woman from whom it was purchased, her mom brought it over from Hong Kong 10 years ago. And it was the only black jade one she had. And I guess it was waiting for me.

So, at least that's one positive turn. Surely, a needed one. It would be great if the Universe could send a few another positive things my way. I mean, I guess it has... but it's all stuff for the future. Nothing for the present.

I guess I just have to be patient.

/me.

P.S. Congratulations to Leah on her engagement to Mark. I love you both and will try my best to make it to Atlanta next year to be by your side. I miss you and send alll the love I can to you and to Mark and to One-Two and Three-Four and your parents and Kyle and Bubbie and your weird grandpa with the dented head. I love you!

Check out their site: http://www.leahandmark.com

Lost Friendship

2008-03-23T07:53:00.004-10:00

Yoshi came home on March 14 for his two weeks of R&R. We had originally intended to spend those two weeks in Japan, having me meet him half way, but the military is a changeable thing and couldn't give him absolute dates. Without those, planning on my side was impossible (or at least, very pricy) and we opted to just have him come home and hang out.

And hang out we have been. With as many of our friends (and acquaintances) as we can. Dinners. Karaoke (lots of this). Random talking story.

What has been hard with this is inevitably, people begin to feel left out and hurt because an invitation wasn't extended to them... but was extended to others they knew.

As many of you know with my get-togethers, it's usually a toss up with either everyone showing up or no one showing up.

Most recently, it was an (almost) everyone showing up situation. Only a handful of people were invited. Mostly my friends who are karaoke-going regulars and a small group outside of that were originally to come and were originally invited. Then because of circumstance and proximity and relevance to conversation, more people were invited. And people invited people. And the originally meant-to-be-small event wasn't that anymore.

And people who weren't invited caught wind because their friends were going. And got hurt. And angry. And all I can say is I'm sorry.

In the last several days, aside from having my car's rear windshield demolished by a car battery (a whole different story altogether), having that person who damaged my car continue to be a threat, getting hives (from what? I don't know), and now completely losing my voice... I have also been screamed at, accused of being full of b.s., and have ultimately lost a friend (maybe forever?)... someone who I care about tons, but no matter what happens, I seem to only continue to hurt.

This person said they gave up on our relationship. Gave up. And I don't know how to make it better. I don't think I can. No matter how much I care for that person and want them to be part of my life... no matter how much I enjoy their company and the memories we've made (the good ones mostly, the bad ones make me depressed as hell), I can't undo the hurt I've done.

Ever.

And so... I guess amongst all the craziness this week, I'm losing one of my closest friends. More than a friend, really. So, whether or not the person reads this, I wanted to at least say thank you for everything they've done for me. For the memories. For the sharing. For the teaching. Learning. Comfort. Laughs. Love. For taking care of me. For making me feel special. Beautiful. For everything small and big, good and bad, dumb, stupid, ridiculous, amazing, happy, sad. For being a part of my experience and letting me be a part of theirs.

I'm sad that it's ending like this. Ending at all. But I wish that person all the happiness and brightness and love this universe can give. Because that person deserves all that.

あなたの上に星が降りますように...

さようなら.

/me.

Lack

2008-02-29T07:49:00.002-10:00

Greetings all,

Sorry I haven't been posting.

Really, I've wanted to. But I'm always faced with the "what can I write without hanging people out to dry" issue. I often want to say so much, but I don't feel it's appropriate for me to name names or make things obvious, especially when I have something negative to say.

And often, I blog because I have something negative to say.

Here's a super basic update of life.

Work: We might go on strike and I'm still having basically the same issues I was having before about getting along with my coworkers. I've basically decided there's not much I can do about the coworker issue. Certainly, there are people I work with whose company I enjoy. I'm going to try to focus on that, for if I didn't, surely I'd go crazy(er than I already am?).

But it's the strike I'm worried about. Last year, I was out of work for several months after I was forced to leave Lost. (Randomly, an update to the Lost story is that I heard the woman who fired me was also fired shortly thereafter. I hate to be petty, but I'd like to think karma bit her in the booty.) At the time, Yoshi had not worked in a month because he took time off before his deployment. This wasn't such a big deal when I was working, but when I wasn't and we were living off our savings, I was scared that we wouldn't make it.

Then I found this job at The Honolulu Advertiser. The pay is good for Hawaii (although I can think of a certain paralegal in DC who makes as much as I do for making copies). And the hours certainly weren't upwards of 14 a day, so it looked like I was going to have a life. I made my probation, started trying to build up my savings again, and just joined the Hawaii Newspaper Guild as is required of my position.

And now we might strike.

I really hope it doesn't come to that and it looks like the company is finally willing to talk to the Unions about other options, so that's positive. But man, I don't know that I can take another financial hit. Because I work in an online department, many of my immediate coworkers aren't very concerned because in the worst case scenario, they can go out and freelance.

With my skill set, I don't know that I can do that. Ah well, I guess I'll figure things out.

Personal: I'm still trying to lose my stubborn muffin tops. I am, indeed, winning the Muffin Wars to an extent. I've lost a total of 20 lbs and I've another 10 to lose before I'm satisfied. I've changed my diet considerably and I've continued to work out at 24 hour fitness. But honestly, I've been slacking on the working out. I was doing really well with going 3+ week at first, but since then, it seems that I come home too tired to do anything or my gym buddy, Rob, doesn't want to go because he's too tired from work. Hopefully, I can get back into the swing of things.

I don't know if it's because of stress or diet or whatever, but I've noticed that I've been really moody lately. If you've been a target of my moodiness, apologies, although I can't really be certain if I snapped because of my moodiness or because I was actually irritated but couldn't control myself. Often, I try not to let on to my irritation because I'm usually irked by something that cannot be changed or is unintentional, and thus not really worth the fuss. But lately, I haven't been able to hold my tongue very well. And my facial expressions easily display my annoyance.

It bothers me that I'm beginning to lose emotional self-control. With the exception of extremely emotional situations, I've always been able to hold myself a certain way while in public. I wonder if it's the lack of carbs in my diet. Ah well.

In other news, I want to take up fencing, art and singing again. But at the moment, life neither affords me the time or the money to do these things.

The art, one would think, would be no problem. But my beloved HP laptop on which I had planned to do the art has recently died... given me little options for digital art. Singing, of course, I can do at home, but certainly it isn't the same. (Although needless to say, I do sing in the shower.) And fencing... well, practice times are never when I need them to be and I'm pretty sure my blades have rusted. I'm not even sure if I can fit my jacket, knickers, or lame. Perhaps I should try those on.

Oh, and yesterday was my birthday. Thanks to all of you who sent me well-wishes. On the one hand, I was amazed at the number of people who messeged, texted, and called. But then I realize that they all have access to Facebook, Mixi, and MySpace... all of which offer reminders of people's special days and a quick button click to send one's love.

Thanks to Rumi-chan in Japan who called exactly at midnight (though I was sleeping and didn't answer). Thanks to Yoshi who called and woke me up and gave me a bday present that I didn't know was my bday gift which I accidentally opened in January. Thanks to Josh Borje for being the only one who wanted to go out to dinner. Thanks to Ian for inviting me out with his other friends, although I couldn't make it. Thanks to my coworkers who didn't know it was my bday but figured it out and got me a Hotwheels cake from Sam's club. And thanks to Eric for wishing me happy bday 3 bajillion times during the day. All of that meant a lot.

Somehow, despite all the love, I was still really depressed at the end of the night. I went to sleep at 11 and woke up through out the night to yell at Kira for misbehaving. I don't know why I was so blah.

Again, maybe it's the lack of carbs.

/me.

Karma Chameleon

2007-12-19T05:07:00.000-10:00

Dammit.

I began writing this blog and Kira managed to walk across the keyboard and delete the majority of it permanently. This will just add to the frustration behind the post, I'm afraid.

As I was saying, one of the things I find most frustrating is when I cannot find an outlet for my emotions. Generally, blogging would be the most obvious way for me to find release, but unfortunately, not everything can be talked about on a public forum for fear of possibly severe repercussions.

This is one of the topics that I can't blog about. And it sucks. If you ask me about it in person, I may explain it to you. I may not.

In high school and at the beginning of college, before the blog really existed or took off, I used to write poetry. Tons of it. All the time. That was my way of expression. Now, I don't write nearly as often as I'd like to. I don't have that kind of creativity in my blood anymore. No passion for it. But on occasion, I do write poetry. And I still post it online. Just not here. Not in this blog. I have another blog, also linked to my personal site on which I post just my poetry. You can find it here or go to my site and click on Expression. I most recently posted there last month.

I think I'm going to change that, though. I'm going to include my poetry here since this is the more often read forum. Maybe through a more metered form of expression, I can still write about the un-writable and pray that it is vague enough to let me off the hook.

So here it is. It has no name and it has no dedication. Just an expression of my frustration.

brand new, like dew in the early morning
trying hard to blend in, chameleon conforming
conform to unbending, to ignored and broken
ignored's two-faced smiles support, voice unspoken
complaints to unbending. chameleon pushes
rising up and onward beyond its own bushes
ignoring what's two-faced and breaks its own branches
while leaves surround and in hushed whispers dances
congratulates chameleon for blending right in
right in the same breeze, while ignoring self-sinning
leaves rustle loudly, but chameleon aloof
incapable of showing loud leaves the truth
continues to meld as dew turns to darkness
hopes unbending sees chameleon as leaves' hidden target
targets chameleon for turning color so well
chameleon thinks leaves should all go to hell

/me.

Tag, I'm it

2007-11-21T15:59:00.000-10:00

I have an audience at work. Co-workers, or at least, work-friends who read my blog. That's dangerous, because it limits what nasty things I can say about them. It's also dangerous because that means I can't hide who I am. The "non-professional me," if you will. They know everything that I was, or am, willing to say on this semi-not-so-anonymous forum. Who knows what that means in terms of acceptance? o_O

It's scary, really, since I actually don't know who of my fellow Advertiser employees read this. I know that more people than have come forward do and that they've even brought up concerns about my personal character with some other co-workers. Apparently, some of what I write or say or do upsets the conservatives. I guess I already knew that.

Although, obviously the fact that SOME of my audience continues to talk to me proves that they've accepted the me of my ramblings. I hope that the rest of them follow suit. If not, oh well. Heh. =)

But the main reason why having a work audience is dangerous is because they do things like VIRTUAL TAG ME DURING WORK. *waves @ rod* This means I must do the responsible thing and play the game while the "game" (i.e. work) is in session. Of course, it's easy enough for Rod to do because he has his own cubby where even if the higher ups walk past, the computer screen is facing AWAY from them should they decide to stick their heads in for a hello. In my case, in my half-cubby, my back (and thus my computer screen) faces a very much used walk-way and those coming in through the door can get a great view if they happen to glance over.

And thus, I must be ninja when I play tag... *poof*

Here are the rules:
1. Link to the person that tagged you and post the rules on your blog.
2. Share 7 random and/or weird things about yourself.
3. Tag 7 random people at the end of your post and include links to their blogs.
4. Let each person know that they have been tagged by leaving a comment on their blog.

1. For many years, I thought I was a boy. Because of the unique quality of my name, my parents didn't know how to romanize it. So, to accommodate the Thai L vs R thing, they decided to put both letters in the spelling of my name. Moncharlee. Charlee for short. And being that I looked like a little Japanese boy, my sister went around introducing me as her little brother, Charlee. Then, when I was 3 or 4, at Mother Rice Pre-school, I was enlightened. There, the boys and girls shared the same bathroom. On a trip to said bathroom with then friend, Ross Nakagawara, I noticed a veeery interesting difference in our equipment and in the way we relieved ourselves. I pointed and asked, "What's that?" He said, "My peepee. Boys have it." It was then I realized that I was female. I just thought it was normal for boys to wear dresses like the one I was wearing that day...

2. I have a hugely bad temper. I blame my Thai heritage. You know what they say, Thai women's temperaments are like their food. Hot and spicy! And I do have an insanely quick temper and if in the right situation, I also have a very quick physical response to it. A great example was in college. My roomy at the time, Laura, can attest. I was angry after a phone call with an unnamed family member. So I picked up a butter knife, threw it across the room, and it embedded itself into the CONCRETE WALL. Laura ran over to pull it out, probably mostly so I wouldn't direct the next throw at her. She couldn't. And mind you, she's 5'11" and was on the crew team with muscles as big as my head! (Well, maybe not that big.) ... but over the years, I've tried to curb that violent, angry streak... if anything, I release at home, behind closed doors, where no one can see.

*blink* Ok, I sound crazy. I'm really not. I promise.

3. When I listen to music, I know it's a good song when I can relate it to the elements. You know, Earth, Wind, and Fire, etc. Not the band, the elements. I can picture the scenery that best matches the feeling of the song, to me... Can picture how it would look in a video sequence and can sometimes even associate smells and such with it.

4. I like feeling other people's woogies. Woogies are the soft, triceps area of the arm that wiggles when you wave. The sound effect, in my head, that comes with that wiggling is "woogie, woogie, woogie." I find the gentle squeezing of woogies to be somewhat therapeutic. Try it sometime.

5. I don't like to kill things because I feel bad. And by things, I mean cockroaches, ants, etc. I believe in karma and in killing these animals, it reflects badly on me. That doesn't mean that I *don't* kill them. I just feel really bad and when I do kill them, I apologize before, during and after for taking their lives. The only animal I feel less bad killing is the mosquito. Those are evil. Really.

6. When I'm really cold at home, I like to make myself a burrito. Not one to eat, though. One to wear. I'll roll myself into a blanket or two so that my arms are trapped and just my head and feet are sticking out. And if I have to go somewhere, I hop there. I think it's a little like swaddling babies. It's comforting and warm. Except that I have mobility (sort of) and the babies don't.

7. I *hate* the game of tag. As an uber-plump child, I wasn't one for running. Try as I may, I could never catch anyone I chased. And thus, once I was tagged... "It," if you will, that basically meant game over. That doesn't mean that I didn't try. And it was in my trying that most mean-hearted kids got the most enjoyment. I mean, how funny is it to constantly be juuuust out of reach of the fat-kid! So, in the spirit of tag-hating, I shall not do what this game demands. I will *not* tag 7 people and force them to answer. =) Or, let's change that... my issue with tag when I was little was that I was singled out. So instead, I will do a general tag. I will tag EVERYBODY and not just the 7 people who will be forced to respond. So... if you're reading this...

TAG! You're IT!

... and it's not my fault. Tis Rod's... <3

/me.

Living on Borrowed...

2007-11-04T11:40:00.000-10:00

Internet.

Winter has arrived in Hawaii, marked by torrential rains, big waves, flash flood warnings, and more importantly...

by Internet outages (caused by torrential rains...)

My Roadrunner connection has now been officially out for 6 hours. Despite the fact that my digital cable is alive and well... despite the fact that there are at least 5 live connections in the area (because I can see their wireless networks), *MY* beloved Internet connection is down.

And that has forced me to do the unthinkable. Piggy back off of someone else's wireless. The connection is weak. I can't even watch YouTube videos.

But I can blog. And chat.

And that keeps me sane.

Of course, I should really be doing more productive things instead of stealing other people's life blood, I mean, Internet connection.

I should really be... cleaning. Or something. But that would be the responsible thing to do.

I called Oceanic to check on timing. They've apparently already fixed the majority of the island's Internet. It's really just mine that's left. But of course, that's according to a recording that was up-to-date about an hour ago. No live people to talk to, so they could be lying, and I would never know because I can't press anyone for information.

I guess I'll just have to continue to be a virtual vampire until further notice.

/me.

Stronger - Part II

2007-10-30T19:53:00.000-10:00

When I talk to people, I tend to be very open. I generally have no qualms talking about my past or embarrassing moments or periods of strife. I share them because I have nothing to hide, and often, I don't care what the listener thinks about what I am saying or about who I am, as a person. I'm me and I try not to apologize for it too often.

Because I am an open person, people tend to be open with me in return. They tell me secrets and know that I won't tell anyone. I generally don't judge. And often, I've gone through something similar so I can empathize.

And because of the fact that people feel comfortable with me, they often come to consider me as a close friend and confidante. And cold as this may seem, I often see them as no more than an acquaintance.

That being said, I know that I am blessed. Despite my somewhat aloof take on "friendship," as I've aged, I've managed to collect a group of friends on whom I know that I can rely if I so choose. They don't judge me. They love me for me. And if I so needed it, they'd fly to the ends of the universe for me. I haven't seen many of those people in years. I rarely talk to them.

Any of my many acquaintances, I believe, would also be there for me if I asked them to be. The offers are there and I appreciate them. But as I've mentioned before, as open as I am, I find that I have a hard time talking out my frustrations. I don't like "burdening" people -- yes, yes, I know many of you are shaking your heads and denying that my venting would be a burden at all.

Today, I remembered part of the reason why I don't generally open up with regards to what's really bothering me. I remembered why I choose to blog instead of chat or talk to someone living. It's because my blog won't slam the door in my face, on purpose or not.

I mentioned to a friend today that I'd been depressed. My friend read my previous blog posting and I decided that I'd discuss my present state of emotion with him. His response? "Stop emo'ing." Heh. Stop emo'ing.

Of course he's right. I *am* being overly emotional. That's part of my frustration and I admit to that. But that's not what I needed. I didn't need someone to throw my emotion back in my face when I decided to make myself vulnerable. I didn't need my concerns belittled or made light of.

I know that my frustrations are nothing in the grand scheme of things. That's yet another reason I don't often bring them up.

I told him that I lack a good support system. My best friends are not here (and I refuse to lean on them for such minor things -- although they'd welcome it). My friends that are here often don't understand where I'm coming from (or do, but don't react the way I need them to). My family has their own stresses (and often, manage to make me feel worse). And so I'm left with my cat, my blog, and myself.

My cat's insane. So scratch that.

All the openness in the world and all I can do is talk to no one but this small virtual space in an endless virtual world. I just hope it doesn't slam the door in my face.

/me.

Stronger

2007-10-30T05:33:00.000-10:00

The last week and a half or so, I haven't had much opportunity to chat online with Yoshi. It seems I have the worst luck of it. If I wake up at 3 or 4 am, he doesn't come online. If he comes online later in the day, I'm either out of the house or at work. If I'm at work and happen to have meebo on, I'll be away from my desk when he IMs me and he'll be gone by the time I return. And this morning, I woke up late with a start (by late I mean 5:30 am) to realize he'd been on for two hours and that Kira had put my computer on mute so I didn't hear the AIM sound that is specific to Yoshi when he logs on.

And right when I came on to say hi, he said he had to go.

And I burst into tears.

And now I'm depressed.

As many of you know, I've had bouts of anti-social behavior since he's been gone. But today is the first time in the two months he's been in Kuwait that I feel as though I'm having an emotional breakdown because of his absence. This is the first time I really cried since dropping him off that rainy night at Schofield.

And I feel like shit.

And all of this feels silly to some extent because it's not like we haven't spent time apart before. I went to college in Japan and Massachusetts and was basically gone for those four years, with just a few return trips here and there. But I think this is different.

Maybe because this time, he's unhappy about being away. He isn't there by choice, but by obligation. He's unhappy and there's nothing I can do about it. And that sucks.

Maybe it's just the frustration of knowing that I have the opportunity to have contact with him right at my fingertips and because of my luck, I can't seem to make it happen.

Maybe it's because I'm just pathetic and needy.

Well, whatever it is, I'm sitting in my room at 5:45 am in tears that won't seem to stop -- ignoring a hungry, whining Kira.

Stupid emotional breakdown. Go away already. I'm supposed to be stronger than this...

/me.

P.S. I just realized that our "anniversary" is on Sunday. *sigh*

Racial (In)Sensitivity, ESL, and My Own Racism

2007-10-28T11:05:00.001-10:00

A highschool friend, MJ, a young, bright, beautiful Filipina woman posted an article as a bulletin on MySpace this morning that was originally posted in the Star Bulletin (a local paper). The article, entitled ‘Housewives’ angers Filipinos in medicine (original article) stated that a racist comment was made on the popular show, Desperate Housewives, that has the US Filipino community up in arms.

The quote:

When a gynecologist suggested Terri Hatcher's character (Susan) might be reaching menopause, she said: "Can I just check those diplomas because I just want to make sure that they are not from some med school in the Philippines."

While I agree that this is, indeed, an inappropriate and offensive thing to say, I think that this, like many "racial issues," may be taken too far. ABC, Inc. (my former employer, heh) has issued a formal apology for its stupidity. After receiving notice from the Filipino community that they had pissed a lot of people off, they recognized their insensitivity and tried to make amends. But apparently, sorry isn't enough.

The Filipino community wants more. They want ABC to "... produce shows recognizing Filipino [contribution to society]" ... or else.

I'm sorry, but that's ridiculous. There are tons of ethnicities, minority and otherwise, who have contributed to making this world what it is... who have helped the world move forward... and not everyone gets a show about their ethnic triumphs on primetime. To demand such a thing is ludicrous. Where does an ethnic group get off making such a demand? Are their contributions to society that much more important than everyone else's? Isn't that a bit elitist and self-important and quite possibly... racist?

I guess racial insensitivity doesn't stop at big corporate productions.

Furthermore, I'd like to point out that one of the statements quoted in the article from a Dr. Fernando Ona (who I am sure is a bright gentleman with a great education) makes absolutely no sense. "[It was a]... reprehensible insult to the racial diversity... of doctors of Filipino ancestry."

I'm sorry. What?!

Ignoring the fact that there is only the human race and everything else breaks down into ethnicities, doesn't "racial diversity of doctors of Filipino ancestry" seem to contradict itself? Or is that just me being nit picky and looking too closely at semantics? What is he trying to say? Granted, I've cut up the quote a bit, but even in its entirety, the meaning is lost.

Can anyone explain this to me?

In talking to another close friend of Filipino ancestry, when I brought this quote to his attention, he told me that, "...one thing I think is common with 'educated' Filipinos is that they have a tendency to want to use 'big' words and 'flowery' phrases...that don't necessarily make sense. It's part of the Filipino culture to be flamboyant...not in a malicious or mean-spirited way, but it's just their way."

My response?
But that makes them look stupid.

And I'm sorry, but his saying that DOES make him look stupid. And if that's the norm, no wonder the editors and writers for 'Desperate Housewives' let that quote slide. While it's never good to base things on stereotypes, they exist for a reason. And that reason is that there is some truth to it.

I'm horrible. I know. And I know that lots of people use big words inappropriately. It's not just Filipinos. I want to say that people who learn English as a second language do it more often than most because they want to demonstrate (often subconsciously) their true fluency and harness of the English language. I want to say it, but hell, I know LOTS of English as a FIRST language speakers who butcher English all the time, in ignorance. I'm sure I'm one of them (although technically Thai was my first language... I don't remember a lick of it). But I think it's just more blatant when the speaker doesn't have English as their mother-tongue.

I personally am of the mind that everyone's a little bit racist. (Ha! Avenue Q was right.) I am no exception. I know that I am quite racist, and unfortunately, because I went to a high school where I was the minority in a world of what was often called "Little Manila," one of the ethnic groups toward which I harbor the most animosity is Filipinos. Ignore the fact that some of the people I love most are Filipino. Heh. (*Waves at all my Filipino friends who KNOW I am often anti-Filipino*)

And it is because I have always felt that the Hawaii Filipino community is too self-engrossed, too close-minded, and too culture-centric. I think it's healthy to remember where you come from. To have ethnic pride. But what about welcoming other cultures and learning from them and embracing them? What about expanding one's world and accepting that people are different and stopping the jamming of your own culture down someone else's throat until they gag?

It's not happy to gag on someone else's culture.

Mind you, this all coming from a girl who knows well not to eat the chocolate pork, but to steal all the banana lumpia, who understands what it's like to pack and ship balikbayan boxes to the family, who loves patis, who laughs at the barrel man, who has sung "Dahil Sayo," who has done tinikling in two states, who has gotten into a fist fight for not being Pinay and to DEFEND Pinay, who has taken friends to get Alibata tattoos, who looks for the Fork & Spoon, the Last Supper, and plastic runners when she goes into a Filipino house, and who understands the meaning of "Mahal Kita."

/me.

Work, Weariness, and Muffin Wars

2007-10-22T05:26:00.000-10:00

Since I began working at The Honolulu Advertiser on October 9 as the Online Coordinator for cars.com, many of you have asked me how it's going. Rather than continuing to answer you all individually, I'm going to take the lazy way out and do a mass answer here. Work is fine.

Originally, I was at a loss as to what I'd actually be doing. My first week was filled primarily with reading about the cars.com product and becoming familiar with some of the technical aspects of the position. Basically, to sum up, I'm technical support for the car dealerships who utilize the cars.com product via www.honoluluadvertiser.com and the liason between clients, our sales staff, and cars.com support.

The work itself has been, for the most part, rather easy. It's mostly about handling personalities and putting out fires. In that sense, it's not much different that Lost or PacRim Marketing Group. It comes down to making people happy. I think I can do that effectively.

My co-workers seem to be a neat group of people. The Online Department is comprised of 12 people, including myself. 8 men. 4 women. My manager is a brilliant woman who I'm convinced is smarter than me by far. I don't meet people like that often, so I love it. I'm of the general mind that most people are stupid (how's that for condescension and modesty), so it's always a thrill to find someone who is on equal footing or who can overstep me. Well, at least that's how it is with me... heh. And I think a good percentage of my coworkers can fall into the equal footing category, so I'm excited.

I've begun decorating my half-cubicle. I have my Yoda head, a few lava lamps left there from the previous employee, and a few pictures. If any of you have anything you want to add to my display area, feel free. I have lots of space left.

In other news, I'm tired. MAN am I tired. As I mentioned in a previous blog, I wake up at 4 am everyday to talk to Yoshi. Which is fine. And I love that I get the opportunity to talk to him. But waking up at 4 am, going to work, going to work out, and then coming home and basically NOT SLEEPING WELL is beginning to kick my ass. I'm no longer having nightmares, so that's a plus. But I'm still waking up every 20 - 40 minutes. I wonder what's on my mind that is making me sleep (or not sleep) that way. It's slowly killing me. I just hope it doesn't affect me on the job. I wake up each day completely exhausted.

And I think I'm getting sick. Shit.

So, that basically updates two of the three topics from my last blog. Last one? Self-image. I'm fat. Shut up. I know, I know. I'm NOT fat. But gunfunnit, I AM fat. Since high school, I've gained at least 30 lbs. I don't fit into the majority of my clothes and can't afford to (and don't want to) buy a completely new wardrobe that'll fit my fluffy body.

A few weeks ago, in looking through some old photos, I finally realized how frickin' disgusting I look in comparison to the younger, more fit me of years past. So I joined 24 Hour Fitness. And work out at least 4 times a week. My goal? To lose at LEAST 20 lbs. (ideally 30) or 10% of my body fat by the end of February.

I've called this my "Muffin Wars," in reference to the ever hated "muffin top" that I've seemed to develop. For those of you who are not familiar with this term, "muffin top" refers to the belly fats that folds over the edge of one's pants as a muffin top would "bloop" (sorry for the sound effect) over the muffin's paper cup.

Here is a visual:

That's my goal... and whether or not I'm achieving it is a completely different thing. Because I've GAINED weight.... please let it be muscle weight. Bleh. So if any of you have a 24 membership and want to work out in the evenings, call me. Rob's been good about coming with me, but I need all the support I can get.

Help me combat the evil that is the muffin top. Join me in my Muffin Wars.

And then maybe the self-image issue will fix itself. Let's hope so.

/me.

Nightmares and New Starts

2007-09-27T05:26:00.000-10:00

So, for the past several weeks, I haven't been sleeping well. Rather, I just haven't been well. Everything from random waves of nausea (generally in the evening) to troubled sleep to lack of motivation and antisocial behavior.

I guess the combination of Yoshi being gone, frustration in job searching, and a general frustration with myself, overall, has literally been keeping me awake at night. When I sleep, I sleep in short stints... waking up every 20 - 40 minutes or so. If I manage to sleep longer than that, my dreams are riddled with nightmares -- nightmares mostly about job searches gone wrong, failures, and death. Since I'm generally one who doesn't dream at night, dreaming at all can sometimes be exhausting. But dreams that just... are negative... well, let's just say it's been rough.

And my lack of sleep hasn't made me the best friend or the best family member. I've been irritable, antisocial, and generally blah. So, if I've slighted you at all in the past several weeks -- turned down invites, snapped at you, canceled, not answered calls (not that I'm good about answering calls anyway), not helped to celebrate -- I'm sorry. I wasn't in the right frame of mind to be good company anyway.

Hopefully, though, things will change soon and I'll start sleeping better. Since my release from Lost, I've been living off my savings and off what Yoshi is making, now that he's in Kuwait. Lack of money is yet another reason why I've been MIA. I can't afford to live right now, let alone play. But today, I received a job offer and accepted.

I've been job searching for weeks and weeks. Went to a job fair. Went to countless interviews. Some for which I wasn't qualified. Some for companies that I didn't think deserved me. Some that would be great jobs, but paid next to nothing. A big issue for me has been pay. I swore that I wouldn't take any steps backward, paywise. And I didn't.

Starting next week Thursday-ish, after a drug clearance and some paperwork goes through, I will be the new Online Coordinator for The Honolulu Advertiser. I'm not sure of the nitty gritty, but it sounds as though I will be heading up the coordination for their online cars search engine via cars.com. It will be my first job where I work semi-normal hours. A mere 37.5 hours per week, average! Considering that I'm used to working 60+ hours per week, this'll be nothing!

I'll probably walk to work everyday, which will help, I'm sure, with the self image thing.

And as for Yoshi, all I can do is make due with what little contact I have with him. I've been waking up at 4 am, each day, to chat with him for an hour. That's more than I was thinking we were going to get, so I'm grateful. We may also have the opportunity to see each other next year, assuming he gets leave. (By the way, if anyone wants to start going walking at 5 am-ish, let me know.)

So... things are looking up. Which is good, because I needed that.

/me.

Departures - Part III

2007-09-17T07:25:00.000-10:00

Part III

Yesterday, after having awakened from a troubled sleep, wrought with nightmares, I received a phone call from my Dad. He said that he, my grandma, and the rest of that side of the family were at Queen's Hospital, in room 541 of Queen Emma Tower, to say goodbye to my Great Aunt Nobuko before she passed away.

I immediately walked across the street to the hospital to join my family. Aunty Nobu, youngest sibling of seven, was originally admitted to a different hospital for pneumonia. They discharged her that day, but she was readmitted, this time into Queen's Hospital, as her condition had worsened.

By the time that I'd arrived, Aunty's vitals were already headed downhill. She was on a respirator, had lost conciousness, and despite being on two IVs, the doctors and nurses had already cut off the drip. Everyone had already been there for several hours; I was only there for two.

It was heartbreaking watching her two daughters and their husbands, HER husband, and their dog, gathered around her, hugging her and talking to her... watching her husband, Harold, generally a rather stoic Japanese fellow, kissing her and whispering in her ear... crying.

I was there when the doctor came in and asked the family's permission to give Aunty an extra dose of morphine, to lessen her pain. Asked if the family would approve of not giving any resuscitative measures should she take her last breath (CPR or defibrillator), as it would only bring her more pain and wouldn't bring her back.

I didn't catch the exact time she flatlined as they turned off the in-room monitor when the time neared, so the family wouldn't watch the monitor. But I was there when she took her final breath.

I watched the entire family (except for one person) cry. My grandmother, shaking silently as she watched her youngest sister die before her. This is the second sibling she's lost this year. They were both younger than her.

Now, there's just my grandmother and my Aunty Pat left of the seven. And my grandmother doesn't want to be the last of them.

Anyway, Mrs. Nobuko Minami (maiden name: Ishimoto) passed away the afternoon of Sunday, September 16, 2007, in the Queen Emma Tower, room 541, of Queen's Hospital. She is survived by her husband, Harold, her two daughters, Susan and Sandra, and her two sisters, Patricia and Jeanne. She also has many nieces and nephews, grand-nieces and grand-nephews.

Departures - Parts I & II

2007-09-13T09:23:00.000-10:00

Part I

Last night, I silently watched Yoshi put on his military uniform. I've seen him leave several times already. And with the exception of the first time, that brought me to tears, it's gotten easier and easier to watch him leave because his departure to Kuwait seems less and less real as he kept coming home to my doorstep.

This time was real.

We drove our way to Schofield to drop him off by midnight. Mid-way there, our gas light came on, as in our rush we'd forgotten to refill the gas tank, adding to the anxiety already thick in the air. We talked about silly things -- and complained about people and their goats and stuff that doesn't really matter in real life.

We arrived at Area X exactly on time. On time, in military time, is actually late... but it seemed everyone was running late. I guess everyone knew they were really leaving this time and were trying to prolong the inevitable.

He unloaded his stuff and prepped it for his departure. And I made mine, not wanting to get in the way. I hugged him tight, kissed him and told him to stay safe and do his best (頑張って、気を付けてね.） I told myself I wouldn't cry as I walked away back to the car. And I didn't, nor did I need to because it started to rain... like the world was crying because the human race is so stupid... sending people off to fight a pointless war.

And now he's gone. Here's to hoping he comes back soon, unscathed physically, emotionally, mentally. And here's to the rest of his unit returning in the same way.

Part II

In other news, I was offered a wonderful opportunity to work as the APOC (Assistant Production Office Coordinator) for an upcoming television series. The job would have taken me to San Fernando Valley, CA for 9 months, and would have allowed me to work under a wonderful woman, Michyl-Shannon Quilty (see IMDB for details about what she's done).

I did a lot of searching. Apartment searching. Subleaser searching. Ticket searching. Soul searching.

And today, I told my beloved Michyl that I wouldn't be going. Not because I don't want to take the position. Quite the contrary, I do. But because I don't think I could afford it.

So to all of you who were helping me apartment search, helping me find subleasers or who were simply cheering me on, thanks. I appreciated it and I feel bad that I'm not following through with the move, despite your help. But I think that this is the right choice...

So, long story short (now that you've reached the end of this entry), departures: completed and averted.

...now to find a job I want to do here in Hawaii.

/me.

Fuckin' Genius

2007-08-30T13:57:00.000-10:00

I've been backlogged on the blogging topics from all the nothing I've been doing. (See previous post.) I meant to type this the day after it happened, but got sidetracked as Yoshi was here and making me WoW on a PVP server. Vashj. Join it. If you're on it, let me know. I'll /friend you.

Anyway, a little over a week ago, I was confronted with an event that put me in a situation where I felt insulted enough and threatened enough that I'd pulled a knife -- albeit, not an OPEN knife (yet) on a person. Let me give you the background and you can all judge for yourself what you would have done in the same situation.

---

I was always close to the security guards at Lost. George, Kevin, Josh, that whole lot. They've always been good to me and we've shared some great talks. But with the new season came new guards. George and Kevin decided to quit Securitas to return to school after more than 10 years of being out of that whole lifestyle. And Josh, poor Josh, was the sole guard who remained from the original acquisition of the Lost account.

Securitas brought in several new guards and unfortunately (or fortunately?) I wasn't able to get to know them all before my own departure, but they all seemed friendly enough.

After my release, I received an email from one of the new guards saying that he'd noticed my name had been crossed off of the studio access list and he wished me the best... keep my chin up, that kind of thing. Not really knowing him, I was cordial and sent an email back thanking him for the support. He contacted me a few days later saying that he had plans to go to Japan and wanted to talk to me about it. I gave him my number, not thinking anything of it, and told him that it would actually be best to email me about it, as many of you know that I'm poor at answering my phone or giving call backs. He emails saying that he'll contact me later.

---

Later comes. August 22. Wednesday.

I'm at my sister's husband's best friend's house. He's moving to the mainland in a few weeks, so we went over to pick up some furniture we'd purchased... and also to help him with any last minute cleaning. The guard calls me. I tell him that I'm busy and that I'd give him a call in the evening. Twenty minutes later, he texts me: "Got somethin for u.meet me for a drink.say,6ish.u pick the place." I reply: "I'm scheduled to go to dinner w/a friend tonight." Actually, I'd had plans to go to dinner with my sister and the friend we were helping.

A few hours later, he calls. My sister and I are at the Kalihi Salvation Army, donating some of our friend's stuff. The guard calls me again. I tell him, again, that I can't meet with him because I have a dinner planned, but that I'll call him after I'm through with all my previous obligations. He says he has something to give me, but is extremely vague about what it is. Just that I'll understand when I see what it is and that he believes I may have something to "contribute" to it. He also mentions that he has a new job and is no longer with Securitas. By this point, I'm a bit irritated since I feel that he's being rather pushy also being evasive as to why he wants to meet me.

Dinner at Shokudo goes well.

Afterward, I go walking at the UH track with Jolene. We walk about three miles, during the course of which, the guard calls me twice and texts me once. Again, I'm irritated; I told him I'd call when I was finished with my previous plans that day. I drop Jolene off at her Aunt's house and call the guy. He asks that we meet briefly so that he can give me whatever it is he has to give me. "It won't take more than 15 minutes."

I meet him in the parking lot of the Pali Hwy Longs/Safeway. He hops into my car and we drive down to a dive downtown called Amy's Place. He drops a stack of papers onto the table in front of me and asks that I read it. It's a script -- location, Japan. I read through about half of it before he approaches me to talk about it.

Basically, he says that it's a film script and he wants to use my expertise and my connections in the industry to get it produced. He says the producers at Lost are unable to break into feature films because they don't have the talent or opportunity or whatever. Condescension drips like venom from his mustached lips as he speaks negatively of the people there, and then says that the script in my hand is a "fuckin' masterpiece..." and that he's a "fuckin' genius." Kids, let's make note of the phrase "fuckin' genius." We'll be hearing it for the rest of the night.

He then proceeds to tell me how he knew from the moment he laid his eyes on me that I'd be the one to bring the project to fruition. I could help him get money from the Lost producers, get them involved. I could use my Japanese skill in Japan. He "fuckin' chose [me]. The script is a fuckin' gift. [My] life fallin' into [my] lap. [He's] a fuckin' genius." He's drunk.

I tell him that I need to read the entire script before I decide if it's something that's worth my time and effort. He tells me that there's nothing to decide. He's TELLING me.

Heh. I'm sure you all know how well that goes over with me. TELLING me to do something? I don't think so.

And then I become the target of his condescension. I'm young. I don't know anything. I'm turning away the biggest opportunity of my life. He's a fuckin' genius (the only genius I'm ever going to meet, according to him, mind you). But he needs my help to do this. And he CHOSE me. I'M the ONE who is going to make this. Oh, and P.S. He's a fuckin' genius.

Anyway, an hour later, the bar is closing. I'm still telling him that I'm undecided as to whether I'm interested. He insists that he knew from the moment he saw me that after I read the first page, I'd know I'd be part of the project... because it's a fuckin' brilliant script... oh, and let's not forget he's a fuckin' genius. I tell him I've read the first 50 or so pages and I'm still not convinced. And he's pissed.

I tell him that we should go. I'd already stayed MUCH longer than 15 minutes by that time, since it was after 2 am. We jump in my car and I drive back to the Long's parking lot so that he can retrieve his vehicle. We pull in next to his van and he doesn't get out. He proceeds for the next 15 minutes to argue with me... to convince me that he's a fuckin' genius and this film is going to take Sundance 2008. I ask him to get out of the car. He doesn't. Every other sentence I say is "get out of the car." He ignores me and continues down his tangent. He's upset and getting closer to me. All of a sudden, he looks at the back of my car and then looks at me and says, "Hey, do you want to go somewhere and fool around?" My response? FUCK NO. GET OUT OF THE FUCKING CAR RIGHT NOW. I'd had it. And I also had my MUSHROOM KNIFE in hand - blade still tucked away. (Click on the link to for an example of what a mushroom knife looks like.) Of course, the drunk bastard probably didn't even realize I was armed.

Anyway, he looked at me incredulously and asks "Are you kicking me out of your car?" I'm aghast. I'd been demanding he get out of the car for 15 minutes! I tell him again to get the fuck out of the car. I was scared and seriously considering cutting the guy if he didn't leave immediately. He gets even more upset, declares that he's no longer interested in working with me. Turning this away was the biggest mistake of my life... blah, blah... fuckin' genius... blah. He gets out of the car, I thank him for the opportunity. He slams the door and I peel away -- grateful that he hadn't hurt me. It felt like he was going to.

And I thought things were over. I was wrong.

The next day he calls and texts over and over. Saying how he knows me because of this very blog and thus understands me well. Saying how he understands my predicament with my boyfriend being gone... And then sexually propositions me AGAIN.

And I've decided to ignore him. As much as possible. Josh at Securitas thinks that I should file a complaint with the police and with Securitas since the guard had originally gotten my email address from the confidential crew list at Lost. I'm not going to take that route, yet.

Instead, I'll just pray that the guard will go away. And if he doesn't, then I'll take further steps to ensure he no longer bothers me.

After all this, I'm still amazed that he believes his behaviour that night would convince me to help him with his production. I told him on multiple occasions that his attitude was insulting... disgusting... and that if he truly wanted my help or the help of anyone else on this project, he was going to have to learn the concepts of respect and reciprocity. I told him MANY times. His response, "What?" I would repeat it and he wouldn't hear me. I would say, "You're not listening." He would reply he is. I'd ask him to repeat what I just said and he'd reply, "That I'm a fuckin' genius."

Fuckin' genius? Try fuckin' idiot.

/me.