Author Archives: Lynn

“Yours Ever and Always.”

On December 28th, I went into my Mom’s room to look for a photo. It was a photo of her and I in Texas before we trekked over to California. I scrummaged through her closet to find the various scrapbooks we’ve accumulated over the years. I found a stack of photos of her in Vietnam, when she visited my grandmother, and I stumbled upon a photo of my mother and someone else. My mom was younger in this picture, she was at an age I had never seen her, and the man next to her, was someone I’d never seen before as well.

I flipped the photo and saw a small note written in cursive English. It hit me that I’ve seen this photo before. I remembered that I’ve read this note before. I realized this is a photo I had been meaning to find again and here it was.

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“Nothing can erase the memories of the those days we spent together.”
Yours ever and always.
Thanh

The man in the photo is my dad, my biological father, the missing person in my parentage, someone who I think about quite too often for someone who’s not in my life. In the photo, my mother and father are next to each other, standing shyly, looking like two innocent lovers who just got together. I’m assuming the photo was taken in Indonesia, where I was born, because I do not recall my father with us in Vietnam. Overwhelmed with emotion, I teared up for obvious and some not so obvious reasons. For most of my life, I felt devalued and lesser than my peers with complete families so I, myself, felt incomplete. But, now, at the age of 22, I no longer ask, “Am I worth less because my father is not in my life?”

Instead, I ask, “Isn’t his life worth less because I’m not in his life?” I know my worth and it’s not defined by the lack of his presence, him not being here for me has only made me stronger.

A memory that calls to mind was when I was in high school and my mother picked me up to go home. During the car drive, she asked if I was dating someone. I said no. Then, she began to softly lecture, teaching me lessons I would not yet reflect upon, about how men sweet talk to avoid the issues and how words cannot mend actions. On occasion, I would ponder if my mother misses my dad. I don’t miss him, but I hope he misses us.

As an aspiring writer, I devote myself to being authentic. I devote myself to living a life of honesty and documenting the truth. But… the truth isn’t always pain-free. The truth isn’t always easy to accept, but ever so often, beauty can flourish from the darkest and ugliest crevices. To be able to ascend from the murky depths of grime and filth, a blossom of change spreads its petals of perseverance, and when we prosper in an environment of deterioration, that is success. Success doesn’t always come in form of money, it can come in a manner where we learn from the past, take what we’ve learned, and execute it so our future is better, not bitter.

Speaking of bitter, today might be a bitter day for some, but not for myself. I’ve never been sour about Valentine’s Day – despite the fact that I’ve never had a Valentine – EVER – (cue in audience laughter) I actually love seeing all the love being spread today. If you know me, I love pink and today is plastered with pink. I love it!
Happy Valentine’s Day! I hope you have a day filled with sweetness – whether it comes in the form of chocolate, friendship, or family. Enjoy today, be safe and be grateful. Thank you for your time, thank you for reading. ♡

2017

When I was younger, I dreamt of flying cars and being able to teleport. I imagined that by the time I was 21, I would be able to travel from one continent to another within seconds, but alas, science has not yet matched my imagination.

Moving along, it’s been a few weeks since 2016 has ended and 2017, the new year, has begun! I’m not one to make New Year Resolutions because, well, frankly, I have enough goals from last year carrying on I’ve yet to achieve. I know my commitment with the gym and eating healthy will be inconsistent, but, at least I know that and I’m not lying to myself.

Another item on the list of “Things I Won’t Lie About” is how this year, I will focus on my friendships, more than I have ever before. Speaking of friends, this month marks the birthdays of my two best friends since high school, Cali (23) and Christy (22). 2017 also marks a decade since I’ve known these women. 10 years of friendship is quite the achievement in my book. Cali’s birthday was on the 2nd and Christy’s was on the 16th. Quick pop quiz, what’s 16+1?

Apartment 17

On January 2nd, I drove past my old apartment, the apartment where my mother and I had lived together before my little sisters were born. It was where I spent a chunk of my childhood, the almost-casino where my mother held gambling sessions, the one bedroom apartment where I grew my little sunflower plant and my mom tried to grow a lemon tree, and the spot where my imaginary friends and I frequently met.

The number 17 resonates with me mainly due to the fact I was born on the 17th day of October and when I was seventeen, I barely passed my driving test. I was infinite, unstoppable (at least I thought I was), but in all actuality, I was reckless. Fast forward to the present. As of this moment, I’ve been in the United States for 17 years, 18 years this June. I have no insane emotions or any extreme bright hope for this new year, but since the number 17 is in this year’s date, I do feel slightly giddy, but ever just so slightly – because this year could be just like 2016: a whirlwind of emotions, traveling, laughter, departure, new beginnings, and as always, growth. 2016 was one of best years of my life so let’s rewind, reassess, and repeat.

Spring 2016

 Spring 2016 was the last semester of college I spent in Southern California. I juggled two internships and two jobs in which I found myself in a routine – a safety net for five months – I had become an automated student who knew what to do each day and each week. I lived by my Passion Planner, gifted by T, so I was able to know what I was doing each hour of my life: commuting to my internship, at the gym, tutoring, working at PopBar, or hanging out with someone. But, no matter how great of a planner I was or how structured my planner made my life seem – I couldn’t plan on what was happening next in my life after graduation.

Ah yes – I graduated college! I didn’t walk across the stage because I had immense anxiety about this event ever since my junior year of college. In my third year, I had already known I wouldn’t be able to do it. Why not? It’s my anxiety, I can’t explain it. When my mother said she wanted to see me walk for my Bachelor’s – my anxiety went down a considerable amount, but it wasn’t enough for me to walk amongst my classmates. Embarrassed is an understatement – I wish I had been stronger to conquer my anxiety because it truly hindered me from participating in unrepeatable experiences.

Summer 2016

During the months of May, June, and July, I was able to travel to Miami for the first time and Mexico twice. I still question if I ever went there but as I look back on photos and videos, I realize it wasn’t all a dream but a reality. Traveling is a privilege bestowed to those who can afford it and when I went to Mexico, I saw those who did not have the same privilege as me. At some points of my travel, I felt wrong being there due to the fact I could see the inequalities of class, education, and culture. But, it made me aware and appreciate what I had and what I could give to others.

Fall & Winter 2016

I thought I had mentally prepared myself for the move back home. I had decided in Fall 2015 that I would move back home instead of staying in Southern California and pursuing a career in Orange County. But, the move back home consisted of me traveling back and forth to SoCal so often it caused me to not have a solid identity of where I belonged and where I did not – was I officially home in Sacramento or was my home still in Southern California?  I had registered for classes in my local community college for the Spring, got a job at the local mall, hung out with my little sisters constantly, but the feeling of being misplaced and lost only grew as the weeks passed.

I joked about being depressed when I moved back to Sacramento but the joke’s on me now. I never strive to be happy, just not to be sad, but it appears though that sadness struck me in the most unfashionable manner. It made me more anxious than ever, the thought of not living appealed to me, and I started drinking alcohol more often than before because I wanted to feel something else than what I was feeling when sober: dour. Mentally, I feel as though I’ve regressed because I’m back to my former self where my only defense mechanism is to: push people away, run far, far away, build a wall, have my guard up, and then build another wall. President Donald Trump, if you ever read this – a wall is not the answer.

Being distant from people is a path I know I should not take but it’s a path I took instinctively… It’s a road well paved by the copious times I’ve travelled. The further away I seem to be – the better off I presume myself to be – but the verdict is, I only feel more alone. Forgiveness is an area I feign to understand and with my character, I don’t believe in the idea of fabricated friendships, so my situation remains desolate. How do I forget and forgive? Perhaps, it will occur in 2017. Perhaps not. Only time will tell.

* My sorority sister, Melissa, wrote a reflection post about 2016, and I felt inspired to do the same.

“I have a small family.”

The title of this blog post is the title of my mother’s short essay she wrote in one of her English classes.

On the page, she wrote about her family: her father, mother, older brother, younger brother, and her sister. My heart hurt when I read the line, “He passed away.” My mother’s penmanship is lovely, it’s remained the same as long as I can remember. She writes legibly while my handwriting looks like smeared lines.

I’m crying right now as I type this post.

As I read more, I found that she wrote about my grandmother, who had not yet passed away when my mom wrote this piece, and I became even more emotional. As I finished reading her paper, I cried. I felt guilty. Guilty because I did not know about my aunts and uncles. Guilty because I was never curious and seldom asked. Guilty because I stopped talking to my grandmother over the phone when I found out she neglected and abused my mother when my mom was younger. Guilty and ashamed because I eventually neglected my own culture, spoke less Cantonese, and became more Americanized. Guilt has taught me a lot.

When I was in high school, my mother had started taking some English classes at a local community college. I remember she would be at our dinner table, late at night, past dinner time, just practicing her writing. English is my Mom’s fourth language. She can speak Vietnamese, Chinese, and Mandarin. I recall the times I got frustrated translating for my mother, wishing she would just be able to understand English so I wouldn’t have to translate for her anymore. But now, I look back on my selfish behavior with immense shame. I hardly can even speak Cantonese properly and I was becoming annoyed with my mom trying to learn her 4th language.

Thankfully, I’ve learned to appreciate my mother and her broken English. I used to frown but now I smile because my mother is trying – how could I ever ask for more?

Happy birthday, Mom. I love you so much, I truly cannot picture life without you. I know that in life, there are inevitable passages we all must one day walk. The day that we must walk different paths is a day I hope I have your strength, resilience, and courage to continue to make you proud. I may be genetically 50% you, but you’re my 100%.

Give to give, not to receive

As humans, we are naturally selfish. There’s always something we want, and most of the time, it’s never a ‘need’. In this fast paced and instant gratification generation, we have the ability to satisfy our wants but the desire to have more grows rampant, like a virus. I’ve got this, now, I want that. 

Flash back to a few months ago, I was ordering a meal at McDonald’s. I pulled up to the cashier, and I see, D, my former high school classmate, taking my card and processing my payment. She sparked a conversation with me when she remembered me from elementary school. I commend her because I didn’t have eyebrows back then.

But, I also commended her for what she had told me as she updated me on her life. In the our less-than-60-seconds conversation, I learned she lived on her own since she was 18, supports herself and her daughter, and with this small conversation, I felt an ardent desire to do something nice for her. I thought about it constantly – as soon as I left the drive though, randomly during days I cannot pinpoint, and heavily during this month of December. Out of the million sporadic thoughts in my mind, this was a recurring notion that would not settle until I settled with the fact that I must follow both my heart and mind.

On Friday, the 23rd, I had called her work asking when she worked (so that I could surprise her). Afterwards, I realized how creepy I sounded – yikes – and later D called me from her cellphone. I spilled the beans because I can’t lie that well and we met up later that night. I gave her a card and giftcards to: Target, Buffalo Wild Wings, AMC, and Starbucks. We hugged four times and she kept thanking me because this had never happened to her. We conversed for a bit before she went back home and I arrived back home feeling accomplished and fulfilled.

As I type this now, I feel as if… this isn’t enough. I wish I could do more. Not just for D, but the other young mothers, strangers who need help, people who wish they had enough, families who are barely fed at dinner, the list could go on forever. But now I know, there’s much to be done, more to be given, and lots to appreciate. As always, I appreciate you, the reader, for taking time out of your day to read my blog. I hope you have a day full of joy today. Happy Holidays.

This blog is a documentation of my life, my progress, and of course, my thoughts. This is a thought of mine: if you feel like you want to do something good for someone else, and it’s a constant thought in your mind, pursue it, plan it out, and make it go from a thought to a fact. Make it happen. Life has a lot of unopened, unexplored, and disregarded potential. If we all did the good we wished we could do – wouldn’t the world be a greater place? Being kind is a choice and generosity isn’t a trait everyone has – some can’t afford to (I understand) – but those who can – why not?

22 Facts

I can’t believe 2016 is ending already! This year, I promised to myself that I would open up, be vulnerable, and put myself “out there” into the world. I filmed this video in November, took my sweet, sweee-e-t time editing, and had a moment fighting my anxiety because I almost didn’t want to upload this video. But, here it is! It’s uploaded. No going back now. I hope you enjoy and I beg of you, please endure through the first few minutes of awkwardness!

Side Note: In the thumbnail, my hair isn’t the same as it is in the video, hah, I actually forgot to take a thumbnail picture the same day I filmed. So, I recreated my makeup and took the new thumbnail picture a few days later.

Sheep in Wolf’s Clothing

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Arrogance seeks competition in order to win and rise to the top while Confidence knows she does not have to beat the rest in order to be the best. She just has to be herself and only herself. Arrogance constantly compares and is only ever satisfied when she boasts.

Arrogance believes she knows the universe and its entirety. It conveys in the way that the likelihood of her ever being wrong is slim to none – at least, that’s what she thinks. She believes in her own false facts. Confidence does not mind being corrected and embraces mistakes as lessons. Arrogance views others as opponents and not comrades while Confidence knows not to challenge others. In all actuality, Confidence’s only challenge is herself, to be better than who she was before, and not to be better than all of those who share the same space as her.

Arrogance drinks an elixir each day to diminish any sense of being level-headed. She covers up her humility and replaces it with hostility. Confidence clothes herself with the security of knowing being genuine is enough. Arrogance is genuine at times because she is genuinely shameless about her superiority.

But… her arrogance is just an armor. Underneath it all, when Arrogance takes off her mask, the mask which shields her true self, she reveals herself to be… Insecure.

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Author’s Note: I wrote this because like a journal, this blog is a time capsule of memories, epiphanies, the news of my life, and my blog also captures the moments my emotions run wild. This post represents a flash that went off in my head and now the idea of only having sincere, trustworthy, and bona-fide friends is an established amendment in my book. Trust is the defining factor of whether I let someone in my life or not.

Lastly, but not least, this post is dedicated to my great friend, Allie, because she is the definition of a genuine friend. Allie is THE woman who inspired me to write about the woman named Confidence, because a confident friend does not compete with you – she inspires you and makes you better as a person. Allie taught me what’s needed to be done in order to be a proper friend the moment she saw me as a true friend. Thank you, Allie, your presence on this planet is a gift itself. Happy Birthday!

I appreciate you beyond measure and love you to forever.

My Anxiety is My Enemy

There’s a floating answer to a question I seek but cannot obtain. Why does my own mind go against me? There are days where I wish to be a part of something, but something in my head goes off, and says, “No.”

My anxiety is talking to me. My anxiety wants to talk for me. Sometimes, it does. It feels like a voice that wants to become my sole voice. Having two anxiety attacks this year wasn’t exactly what I planned as my New Year’s Resolution. Now, if it were only so simple to find a solution and have it expedited. My anxiety is everything I wish not to be.

Harsh words spewed at those who don’t deserve it,
Regrets chained me as I was the one who served it.
Was it me? Was it, without a fear of doubt, me? Or was it my anxiety?
I’m the one who said what I said but those thoughts –
they do not belong in my head.
Anxious thoughts have taken residency inside my mind,
now my genuine intuition is a lost find.
Impulsive and irrational decisions based on racing emotions,
my heart rate is speeding in a race I know I won’t win –
my hope and faith is running thin.
All I want to do is run away.
/ To escape it all /

It’s conflicting because I want to run away from… myself. I cannot handle my thoughts and refuse to take ownership of them because of how dark they are – this ship of mine has crashed.

violent thoughts collide with terrible endings
I see my future without a future
it starts with d and ends with h
spiraling down into a chaotic state of mind
where my head hurts just as much as my heart
I’m becoming a monster because I don’t feel human.

I don’t feel like myself.
I am scared of myself.
Is this me? Truly?

I sense steps coming forth my way with a shadow I’ve seen before. It is familiar but in a chilling manner. It reminds me of an icy winter where I am once again unprepared and warmth becomes a scarcity and is almost prohibited to encounter and grasp. I seek refuge, a place to hide, because I am now an animal who’s ashamed of her own hide –

my skin feels alien-like
if you compared who I was last week to who I was last night
we are nothing alike.
speaking of feel,
I seek to feel something, anything,
than what I’m feeling now.
It doesn’t matter how.

I don’t feel like myself.

When I was young, I used to fear the monsters under my bed in the dark, but now I fear the monster I lay in bed with every night – my mind. Writing this post was daunting to me because these are the unadulterated words spinning around in my head. I fear not the judgement of these lines, but the consequences. I ask the universe, in this moment, is there yet another battle I must conquer again? I must ask, is my depression coming back?

Victory, not victim

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For what felt like most of my life, I blamed myself for being sexually abused. Maybe it was my fault that I didn’t stop him. Maybe it was my outfit that one day. Once, he called me ‘beautiful’, and instantly, I felt the opposite: disgusted and horrible. Because of my stepdad, for most of my high school years, I kept and cut my hair short because I wanted to look less feminine, in hopes that he wouldn’t come near me. Only in college was I able to grow my hair long.

I also blamed myself for my biological father for leaving my mother and I. As a result of these thoughts, in the back of my head, I questioned, “Am I inadequate? What did I do wrong?” As a kid, I would tell people my father passed away, but to be frank, I’ve no idea of his presence or his whereabouts. Of course, as a human, I am curious, but I’m not losing sleep over him or my stepdad, but I lay awake at night thinking about how they’ve made me feel.

The feeling of not ever being good enough – or even just enough – is an enormous insecurity of mine.

I used to ask, “Why?”
Why did my real dad leave me?
Why did my stepdad never leave me alone?
Now, I know why.

Life is a book that writes itself without reasoning, only meaning. There are hard lessons we will learn (even though we wish we could learn the lessons in another manner, in a fashion where no one gets hurt and scarred). But, the lessons aren’t as easy to forget when there’s a scar of it to remind you each day of what had happened in the past. Internal growth sprouts when one accepts the past for what it is instead of formulating a tactic to change it. Today, I know I am enough, in fact, more than enough, for myself. To wish I could be someone else is an insult to who I have built myself to be – a notion that has taken years for me to learn and embrace – but better late than never. Thank you for reading.

– Side Post –
Someone I follow on Instagram, Vanlizza, she too has her own blog, and wrote a beautiful piece recently. Check out her writing! It always blows me away. I learned from her that October is National Depression Awareness Month. I’d like to take a moment to say that depression takes form in different fashions, sometimes it’s subtle and slow, sometimes it’s painful and pulsing, and we should never be ashamed of how we feel, for depression is something that cannot be controlled and configured. If you or someone you know is going through a tough and dark time, here are some numbers to call. Your life matters.

Depression Hotline: 800-273-TALK (8255)
Suicide Hotline: 800-784-2433
Crisis Call Center: 800-273-8255 or text ANSWER to 839863

Graphics all by yours truly.

We blame society

Yet, we are society.

As an advertising major, I was shocked that in my advertising classes, we seldom talked about how advertising affects the demographic we often ignore: adolescents. Kids these days are growing up with iPhones, iPads, and other mobile devices that didn’t exist during my childhood, so it’s a no brainer that children nowadays are exposed to much more advertising than previous generations. There’s ads before YouTube videos, underneath all the free games, and during their favorite TV shows. During my projects, we’d target the most profitable demographic: the millennials or the baby boomers, but we never stop and think about who were unconsciously influenced: the younger generation, Generation Z.

As I returned home, I learned the details of my younger siblings bickering with each other, and I was absolutely livid when I found out one of my younger sisters called my other sister “obese and disgusting” along other vile words. Knowing my mother would never say such words to my sibling, I quickly made the assumption that my sister gained this thought process from the media or society (friends, classmates, etc). My hunch is perhaps 70% true since my sister wouldn’t say anything when I confronted her about her mean words.

But the main focus of this post is not about what one sister said to another, but it’s why she said those remarks, why she thought that way, and how we can change the way she thinks. Another thing to note is that millions of young children and teenagers think this way, too. The perspective that a skinny body is a pretty body, that being pretty is all a girl should be, and looks determine someone’s value can be credited to the media and societal standards. Something I learned in advertising is that the best form of advertising is word of mouth advertising – we all trust our friends more than commercials, right? So, when we hear a friend say something that’s not so positive about body image, it can make us think about our own body and how we perceive it.

Certainly, this post is not a self-love post because I am not the proper teacher for that subject, but we should all focus on how we influence our friends, whether we know it or not and whether we believe it or not that we do influence our friends. What we say about ourselves, others, and objects can negatively or positively change one’s opinion. As the oldest in my family, I recognize the influence I have on my siblings, so because of this, I am cautious of my diction, behavior, and attitude towards life. I’m now a teacher – and we all are – so we must teach, not only ourselves, but the ones around us, to be better.

This post was made in dedication to my younger sister, Lily, who turned 13 in September! Happy birthday, my little artist.

The Summer of Robbery

As I returned to Sacramento, I was engulfed by massive amounts of bad news that it makes me wish I did not. Recently, there’s been a high increase in robberies this summer. In fact, it’s gone up by 75%. During the summer, it’s more likely for someone to get robbed or have their house burglarized. Usually, these crimes happen when it’s dark, but as of lately, there have been high amounts of people who are robbed during the day. Most of these reports, some I heard from friends or a family member, had the victim being held at gun point.

I recall from one afternoon, I was driving home after running errands, and I saw a man driving with his backseat window busted and completely shattered. I didn’t think much of it except a quick moment of remorse for the man – I was curious for a moment about what had happened and hoped he’d get his car fixed soon – but later, one of my close friends, C, texted me and told me what had been going in our area. She also added me into the Facebook  group where many have discussed solutions and also report suspicious activity. Constantly, there are posts about windows of cars being smashed, but, in most cases, nothing was stolen.

It’s crucial and important to not racially profile the people who are committing the crimes. It’s hard to say this to elderly folks who are aged and committed to their prejudiced perspectives, my mother, for example. But in the Facebook group, there are posts about uniting, rather than pitting against one another. It’s about fighting and preventing crime, not a specific ethnicity.

This past Saturday, on the 10th, there was a community meeting held at George Sim Park, but Kevin Johnson, the current mayor of Sacramento, was nowhere to be seen.

With Sacramento being the capital of California, one would assume that there would be a higher sense of responsibility amongst the local officers and government, but it seems as though the police are not taking these crimes as seriously as the residents. There continues to be high levels of paranoia all around the community. I, myself, am wondering why are these crimes being committed? What’re the reasons behind these people’s deplorable actions?

KCRA Article 1
KCRA Article 2