Digressions

Super proud of Youn Yuh-Jung's Oscar win. She's a veteran actress, and while most people probably saw her for the first time in Minari, she's been acting since 1966.

Personally, I've only seen a few selections from her long list of filmography, most memorable ones being The Housemaid and Ruler of Your Own World. She's been finally recognized on an international level, and couldn't be more blasé about it - which makes everything even better.

The sentencing for hate crime seems too lenient imo.

A man needs to assault three people to get arrested? Why not get arrested on the first one? 

A few people in my past, had shared their darkest memories with me. Despite entrusting me with such close-held secrets, most of them are no longer in my life. Why tell someone you’ll never see again, what you bury inside yourself?

For the most part, they only shared their story with me after I opened up to them first. Maybe it was that they felt it was only fair to reciprocate - a fair exchange.

An old boss once told me that “you have to let yourself be vulnerable in order to be loved”. 

2020 sucked. I lost my job, and as the breadwinner of the house, it was devastating.

Thankfully, and at minimum - I’ve always been a bit of a clean freak. My arsenal of Purell wipes, Lysol disinfectants, and some masks were stocked up well before anyone could say corona. I credit my cleanliness and severe social distancing to keeping us virus-free so far (pats self on back, knocks on wood). 

Moving out of the city and back into the parent’s house saved us. A company decided to hire me mid 2020 for an on-going freelance gig, which has been keeping us afloat. Recently, they’ve reduced my hours and although it sucks to be back to paycheck to paycheck, I’ve decided to use the time to get back to writing (along with looking for full time jobs, which is a full time job...)

Are blogs still a thing? Do people still read blogs? Is it all about vlogs and ‘content’ on Youtube now? I do occasionally get sucked into watching stuff on Youtube, watching influencers go about their days - shopping, eating, working out... But that’s just it. I’m watching someone else live their life, while for those minutes watched, I’ve stopped living mine. Don’t get me wrong, there are great things about Youtube - you can learn entire design programs through Youtube.

But on vlogging vs. blogging, I guess one can get inspired by or aspire to the picture-perfect lives presented through film, but I feel there’s something much purer, more raw about writing. No filters, no fancy lighting, just the mind and words on the page. 

I’ve kept a journal pretty consistently for just over ten years. Mostly through my teenage years. I’m re-reading and transcribing all of it. Perhaps I’ll learn or discover something about myself.

A white male sporting a cap to cover his shaved head, in an orange jumper turned around and started to tell me off. Somewhat audible through music playing on my noise cancelling headphones, I caught his words:

“So nice of you to be helpful to other people. It must be so hard for you to help others”

which translates to-

“Get out of the way and make room for me”

I stared at him as he took out his anger out on me, but didn’t say anything. Wanted to see how much longer he’d continue with his passive aggressive asshole-ry before he shuffled off. The two women standing next to me smirked. Did they agree with him? Did they enjoy witnessing some guy telling some girl off? There’s no way it was a grin of consolation because, this is New York. To my defense, the guy got on the train from behind me, and unfortunately for him, I do not have eyes on the back of my head. 

Dear white guy on the subway today : sorry I didn’t get out of your way when you were squeezing into the car behind me, the world must be so hard for you. Your genetic lottery ticket to life of privilege didn’t afford you ample space nor eyes on back of human heads to make room for you on the crowded subway. Shame on the world. How dare it.

Every commuter on the subway experiences this first hand, or watches this happen one time or another. It’s part of this ungrateful city that makes you and breaks you. You grow thicker skin, while building up rage that you’ll bestow on another stranger shortly thereafter. You’d likely text some friend(s) and vent about it and position yourself above them, but inside you are seeking ways to stop yourself from throwing the finger or stalk that person home so you can see where they live to later revisit with necessary tools of revenge. 

You start thinking and talking about how much you hate the city as you revisit every asshole that you had to encounter in the past.

The guy who groped my ass. (For that one, I did tell him off) The black lady who was getting racist on me, an asian, “you can’t see? you can’t see through your small eyes? you blind?” 

I vow I will make it one day that I won’t have to deal with the subways and the assholes that come with it. I vow I’ll never step foot in that subway even if means twenty streets takes an hour. I will be helicoptered into and out of the city. I will have a driver at my commend. 

Until then,

Pepper is name of my cat

She farts often

I can hear his snoring from the kitchen. Shouldn’t have given him that Nyquil, so he can groan with pain and request more water or whatever else his aches aches for. That’s my honest selfish self speaking.

Q got a few days off from work, four days in a row in fact. One of the rare chances we can pretend we’re in a ‘normal’ relationship. I’d finish work, commute home, and we’d eat dinner, sip some wine with a dose of TV, chatter, or perhaps a card game before retiring to the bedroom. But that was asking too much, wishful thinking, silly me.

Scrolling through instagram and my feed is cluttered with vacation photos, wedding snaps, and trendy things of the past. It’s #tbt day. I scroll through my iphone camera roll and consider the candidates, but quickly dismiss the idea of participating.

Instead, here I am. A blog I’ve been meaning to start for a while... Who reads blogs anymore? This in itself is tbt. While the rest of the world snaps, tweets, and whatever else temporary and quickly forgotten-s, I resort to an older form. I’d publish a book if I could but doubt any publisher would invest in my crap writing. 

And on this tbt platform, and serve thee my tbt dose - A song that used to give me all the feels. Zero7 at its prime, Sia before the wig.