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

The Game of Fate

Flashback. It was night. A summer night, to be exact. The month and day unknown but the weather was warm as the conversation we held in his aged Nissan. We were driving down the empty 57 freeway, just two exits away from returning to our apartment, a space we shared for two consecutive years. The discussion on the car ride back was about destiny and fate. My former roommate, A, and I were talking and trading ideas of what we thought about life.

Could one’s destiny be altered? Is fate an undefeatable force that can’t be stopped, only felt and experienced? If you were told your fate, would you believe it? Would you change it? 

For as long as I can recall, I’ve always believed that everything happens for a reason, what is meant to be, will come, and if something is not fated to connect, then that’s life. The cards we’re dealt can result in a win or no wins, depending on perspective. For example, if we lose touch with someone in our lives, is it always a loss?

If the cards we are given is our destiny, then we can change it by getting new cards, putting some items at stake and taking risks, gambling some hope and faith in exchange for some answered prayers, or perhaps, we can accept the cards we receive because that’s just how the deck was shuffled.

The reason why I see life as this game with unpredictable cards isn’t because I trust the universe to give me what I want all the time but because I welcome disaster and almost anticipate adversities to come my way. However, it’s not as if I yell to the world, agitating it and beckon the spirits to rattle my life, it’s because I know life will remain a nonstop rollercoaster for me. I’m not a negative person but I’m positive that life will have its ups and downs. Not all the best cards can be played at once.

As stated in my karma post, we cannot choose what happens to us. We can only dictate how we react, so we could rejoice or revolt when we get a card we don’t quite appreciate. But isn’t it the bad times that help us appreciate the good times anyway?

C’est la vie.

This is a tangent, but a necessary tangent, so I’d like to wish a happy 23rd birthday to the friend I shared this conversation with: Andrew. We were meant to have that conversation at that moment so that I could curate this post. Also, thank you for your friendship, time, text messages at obscure moments, and for always having me in your thoughts. Today, I have you in my blog, and if that isn’t a sign of affection from me, then, I don’t know what is.

Fighting Anxiety: The Invisible Battle

One aspect of my life which feels never-ending is the conflict between my heart and my mind. Daily, I find myself in situations where I have a desire to say or do something, but my brain says, “No.” But, it’s more than just a quick rejection of my own wishes. It comes along with fear, stress, feeling stuck, and wanting to escape. However, these things are invisible to the naked eye and only I can feel them, though I wish I didn’t.

From elementary school to the beginning of my first year in college, I had the assumption that I was “strange” and not in the hipster sense of being different and cool, but because I could not handle social situations as well as the people around me. Was it normal that I would occasionally cry before I had to go somewhere and then continue to cry because my anxiety stopped me from going to places I had wanted to go? The fear of leaving my house would sometimes be strong enough to hold me back and I would stay in – does that happen to any regular person? My anxiety symptoms include: rapid heart beats, sweaty palms, trembling hands, my throat closing up, not being able to talk, and my face heating up. When I was younger, this felt like impending doom, now, I know it’s just my anxiety acting up.

I recall a specific memory from middle school, I was not yet 14, perhaps 12 or 13, and I was walking home one afternoon. I lived in this complex that was near the school and there would sometimes be people from my school who’d play in the playground, which was right in front of my apartment. When I approached the gate, I saw at least ten people I had recognized from my middle school and this wave of fear took over. I couldn’t go home. I didn’t want to see them and I definitely did not want them to see me. What I did was walk around my complex, spent time in another area far away from my home, and waited it out until everyone was gone. That was just in middle school. In high school, I remember I had so much anxiety about a competition that I flaked out on it, disappointing my coach and former teammates. Now, it’s not as easy to just wait it out or to run away.

Whenever I’m entering a new environment, or a place I’ve deemed uncomfortable, my anxiety goes through the roof. New work places and social situations I did not intend to attend are a couple of examples. I remember at one of my internships, at the beginning, I found myself with my words stuck in my throat, struggling to say the simplest greetings, and couldn’t even ask for the smallest favors. I felt as if my words were always on the tip of my tongue yet there’s a blockage so I never spoke when I so desired to. It took me a few months to get comfortable at my internship and before I knew it, it was time to leave. I wish I wasn’t so rigid and could have let down my walls faster, but it’s complicated when my anxiety doesn’t allow me to make the first move.

I’ve been tied to these chains of worry that never go away. My constant paranoia is a sidekick I’ve never wanted. But, I am stuck with my anxiety for what feels like the rest of my life. My anxiety masks who I am and because of this, I can be seen as standoffish, anti-social, or rude (all of which I completely accept). When you’re me and you’re mentally fighting against yourself, it’s not surprising when my face is full of frowns and there are no smiles to be found. Strangely, I must admit I find comfort in not having to be forced to smile and look delighted at all times.

However, one lesson I’ve learned is being comfortable means being stagnant. If I stay in the same place for the rest of my life, socially, career-wise, or academically, would I ever rise to be the woman I wish to be? The answer is no. Stepping out of my comfort zone is what spikes up my anxiety: meeting new people, going to somewhere unknown, having to bond with strangers, and so on. But nothing great comes from standing still in calm water. Overcoming the angst means traveling into treacherous tides. Is anything safe ever worth the drive? As someone who loves the rush of adrenaline, I have to stop taking flight and fight.

Fight against the anxiety, fight against the worries, and fight against the desire to give up.

Drive Safely

A haunting view I regularly see (but wish I did not) is the remainder of what’s left of a car tire each time I enter the freeway. During my trek to Northern California this past July, I consistently saw a torn apart tire that once was positioned perfectly on a car. What happened? What are the stories from these leftover pieces of rubber? Were they all deadly car accidents or were some parties saved by a miracle? These are questions where perhaps the answers can never be obtained.

On my way back from San Francisco, I saw a bumper of a car near the wall of the carpool lane. It makes me think – how often do we pass by visible damage and not do anything about it? Sometimes, there’s not much that can be done. On the freeway, I can’t just get out of my car and try to assess the debris. I’m not part of CSI. But in reference to our own lives – how often do we avoid obvious destructions, both literally and figuratively? There are moments of chaos where I know I will probably cry or fume about it but I push those thoughts, emotions, and energy aside, to an extreme distance, to focus on another item on my checklist. But, like the broken car parts on the freeway, the not so pretty moments of my life existed and sometimes still remain. No matter how far away I assume I am from my problems, it does not guarantee that my issues will dissolve on their own.

The rubber on the road does not disappear into the atmosphere within days or weeks. There could be a chance that someone will come to pick it up but there’s also the strong possibility that it will remain on the side for an undetermined period of time, perhaps months or years, perhaps forever. As we disregard the messiness of our lives, are we moving on, avoiding the wreckage, or accepting the mayhem? Like an unkempt room, items left behind in a certain position will remain there until we put it back where it belongs. Our clothes cannot wash themselves. Books cannot travel to their proper location on the bookshelf automatically.

As I pass by the remnants of what once used to be part of a car, I pray that I will never be part of the road in that same manner. But now, with this gained perspective, as I drive past rummage, I’ll think about the clutter in my life. As much as I wish I could just ‘drive past’ my personal issues, some problems are inescapable and some fears must be faced. As someone who is hooked on running away from her problems, I’ve found myself not ever being able to mend the wounds and repair the difficulties.

Sometimes, time does not heal everything. Sometimes, healing is working on the dilemma and conquering the obstacle.

This post was inspired by seeing some ripped up tires on the road. It made me think about how interesting it is to see that what we see in life can be a parallelism to our individual lives.

Black Lives Matter

Earlier this month, I was eating my breakfast and talking to my mom. Of course, the topic of my romantic life (or lack of) came up, and my mom gave me a list of men who I could not date. She preferred Chinese men for me. She made an unfair and untrue remark that all black men were criminals and did no good. I told her to not be swayed by the media when she fired backed saying it was true because she sees it in real life. With the area we live in, I can see why she made that statement but I refused to back down from my belief that not all men of color are the same. Now, it’s my goal to make my mother less close-minded and more understanding.

It’s easy to assume one’s intent behind a certain action but the easy way out amounts to no wisdom and results in a lack of understanding about others.

An intricate reality is that people commit crimes because they have no other choice. For some, it is impossible to just “get a job” when there is a system that discriminates against one’s skin color, name, and how one speaks. Getting a degree is not an easy task for everyone and for some, it’s not plausible. But wait, how does this relate to the recent deaths of Alton Sterling and Philando Castile?

If someone said, “Racism is gone,” it is due to the fact that they do not experience it themselves in the same manner of other people who experience racism daily. The systemic racism of America is why people of color are judged in a harsh manner and given unequal treatment. Because of this, people assume and have this bias engrained into their heads that if one person of color is a criminal, then they all are, which is not true at all.

I strongly believe the media (movies, TV shows, news stations) plays a substantial and firm role in the misrepresentation of non-whites. With the improper and inaccurate displays, people become misguided from the truth and are tangled into a web of lies. In this chaotic world, we need facts, not the fabrication of the people who lost their lives, to lead us towards the proper light.

The movement of Black Lives Matter is not, in any manner, saying anyone else’s life matters less, but it is a movement to showcase black lives need to matter as much as the privileged whites’. Saying “All Lives Matter” erases the message behind Black Lives Matter because of course, all lives do matter, but if that were the case, Alton and Philando would still be alive today. Black Lives Matter is a movement that’s focused on black people, because with the recent deaths and many prior, it’s apparent their lives did not matter. The racial profiling and discriminatory targeting needs to end because #BlackLivesMatter.