This has truly been a strange and unprecedented time. This is something we know. This is something we’ve known. Nothing shocking here. What I say next will not be mind-blowing, controversial, or surprising. I miss the little things. That’s the thing I’ve realized the most during social distancing. The greatest lesson has been counting my blessings, appreciating what I have, and not taking anything for granted. I’m someone who likes routine, needs a schedule, prefers structure. What can I say? I’m a creature of habit, I like to keep my mind organized. Having these things helps me feel balanced. Helps me feel a sense of worth, a sense of accomplishment. It helps me not feel like I’m sitting around wasting my time, which I feel like I’m wont to do when completely left to my own devices. I mean what was I doing for the last 5 years? Slowly eroding. Wasting away at the same dead end job, hoping and praying for greater things but not seeking them out. Wallowing in self-pity and regret. Feeling sorry for myself and not understanding that I was made for more than this. So much more than this. Not maximizing my potential or taking advantage of my skillset. I have a gift. You know it, I know it, everybody knows it. But I needed to unlock it and unleash it. Stop giving a fuck about what people “expected.” Stop making up the same bullshit excuses. I’ll write when I feel like it. I’ll write when I’m inspired. I’ll write when I’m in a work environment that facilitates it. SHUT THE FUCK UP!

Stop talking and just write. Write because it’s healthy, write because it’s what you do, write because you have to, write because you want to. Don’t worry about acceptance, don’t worry about approval. As long as I’m happy with my writing nothing else matters. The only expectations that matter are my expectations for myself. I expect greatness, I want greatness, and I need greatness. The person I was before no longer exists. I can’t let it. I’m not happy with that version of myself, and I don’t want to be. I spent so many years afraid of failure, afraid of success. I was, am, and will be risk averse. I accept that. I will never be closer to the “risk-taker” end of the spectrum. But that’s just it. It’s a spectrum, like most things in life. Nothing is ever black and white. Don’t forget that, don’t let anyone tell you otherwise, cause it’s just simply not true. I’ll keep my sights focused on the present and the future. The past is the past. Sure, there has been plenty of lost time, but I’m not going to fixate on that; I’m not going to feel like I need to make up for it. I’ve learned from my mistakes, no sense in holding onto that. Looking backward doesn’t promote growth. You have to constantly look onwards and upwards.

One of the most important steps for me was to realize that I could no longer be content with where I was at. I know I mention this post after post, but it’s essential. For many people routine is good. Having a structure in place keeps your mind busy. After all, “an idle mind is the devil’s workshop,” as they say. But understand this. At some point you outgrow your system. At some point your habitual activity will no longer be beneficial to you. It will happen time and time again, time after time. It’s a part of life. It’ll happen 20, 30, 50, hundreds of times. You just need to know how to cope with it, and not be too upset when the inevitable happens. Don’t think, just act. Every so often you’ll need to step out of your comfort zone. Release the sentimentality you feel toward your daily cycle, and move on. There’s a time for sowing, a time for growing, a time for pruning, a time for harvest. Each season provides a greater and greater reward. And for us as humans, to be the best version of ourselves each and every day we must spend time in each. There are some things that will stick with you, there are some that will leave you, there are some you will have to leave. Each day we are getting older. Each day cells die and regrow. The person you are today, physically is not the person you were yesterday. So why should your mentality be any different? Each day is a new day, each day is a different day. If your mantra is, “same shit, different day,” it’s time for a change. Find a hobby that interests you. Find a job that challenges you. Find something that makes you feel productive. Find a pursuit that’s worth your while. Routine is good. But routine needs to be changed. It needs to be infused with a breath of life.

2020 is a breath of life. There’s a silver lining beneath every hardship. Nothing is as bad as it seems. There’s always a way out. The year 2020 started out strong. This was finally our year, our time. We were fully in control of our life trajectory for the first time ever. Things were on the up and up, we looked better than ever. But along came Covid-19, and it completely disrupted the flow of everything. Life was put on pause, the economy stagnated. But what can we do about it? Medical responders are fighting the battle for us on the frontline. But for the rest of us? We can do pretty much nothing. We just have to wait it out and be patient. Let the virus run its course. But when it’s run its course, we’ll be back stronger than ever. You may not have realized this, but this quarantine was absolutely necessary. Life in the US, especially in the Northeast, is fast-paced, achievement oriented. Making your way to the top is cutthroat and competitive. Sometimes the most efficient path is not the most ethical or legitimate. A lot of times finding new opportunities depends on who you know; it requires maintaining a wide net. This virus has given us a chance to take a step back from it all. Some people were laid off, some worked from home the whole time, others had regular work weeks; but no one had the same environment in March/April/May that they had in January and February. I can guarantee that. Changes were made, precautions taken. Normal everyday life ceased to exist. Some states have reopened, others like New York have a plan in place but remain closed. It will take some time for things to get back to “normal.” They may not ever get back to normal. But that’s okay. We have to accept that. It’s fates way of telling us that change was needed.

And sooner or later, the new normal will feel like the normal normal. And we’ll forget what normal was like before. We’re humans; we learn, grow, and adapt. We’re flexible. We roll with the punches, take what life gives us. But still, we want to feel a sense of normalcy. We want to be able to say that although things are different, we are still okay. The easiest way to do that is to find things that you know, things that you’re comfortable with, and cling to them. But be wary of the things you cling to. Some habits, hobbies, interests are no longer beneficial to you. You and it are no longer compatible. It’s tough learning to let go, but sometimes you have to. In my high school days, I played a lot of guitar. I wasn’t very good at it, but younger me would never have known that. It was one of the few things I was interested in, so I put in a lot of hours practicing. But at some point I outgrew it. I went to college, found new interests, and I no longer had time for it. I left it behind in my past life. I no longer needed it and we went our separate ways. There may be a time in the future when I pick it back up, but that hasn’t happened as of yet. I haven’t had the desire to do so, and it’s okay. Life moves on, I found other things to fill up my time. Things that are more important to me like reading, writing, doing crosswords and puzzles. I adapted, I changed, I found my new normal.

Where’d I learn this from? I dunno. Maybe society. Maybe from my dad. Probably from my dad. Most definitely from my dad. It’s only recently occurred to me that I’ve learned and inherited quite a lot from him. Wide shoulders, skinny calves, I have his exact body shape. His desire to learn, his constant seeking of knowledge, his ranting about his passions. His stubbornness, his shyness, his anti-social tendencies. Growing up I always wanted to be different from him. Even from the womb. My scheduled due date was August 21st, the same birthday as his, but by some twist of fate or incredible fetal desire I arrived two weeks early, on the 7th. And with that, destiny was changed. Or so I’d like to think. As a kid, I looked like my mom, as a momma’s boy I spent a lot of time around her. My dad was always quiet, reserved, and distant. I hated that. I was a bit of an attention seeker. It might’ve been middle child syndrome, or it may have been because I had an incomplete understanding of who I was and who I wanted to be. Either way, I was definitely a contrarian. I was different for the sake of being different. I guess I wanted to be special and unique in other people’s eyes. This is the cost of puberty. You don’t understand that you just need to find yourself and be yourself. You don’t need to try to be someone else or act like someone you’re not. But that’s life. You learn about your naivety and ignorance. You assimilate and you grow.

As I got older, not only did I start to look more like my dad, but I unwittingly started acting and thinking more like him too. As a college student, I became a knowledge seeker, an academic. I started to care about my grades, which may have been too little too late. Before college I never valued myself very highly. I didn’t think I was smart or have potential, so I didn’t push myself. It didn’t occur to me that I had spent a decade and a half coasting on my natural talent. My warped sense of self led to many years of pain and pent up emotion. I was clouded by my unresolved rage and aggression. And I was also blinded by my delusions. Delusions caused by lack of restful sleep, of adequate rest. I spent the majority of my formative years staying up late on Fridays and Saturdays, in the basement, on the computer, unbeknownst to my parents. I’ll leave that up to your imagination. As expected, this twisted and distorted the way I viewed women, and the way I viewed relationships. But it’s not always evident how important sleep is to a developing teen. Your parents constantly tell you how important it is, but the rebellious you doesn’t want to hear it, doesn’t want to listen. But mother’s intuition is almost always right. At the time, not getting enough sleep also greatly affected the way my mind worked. I was convinced that the world was going to end soon, and I bought into other lies that I kept telling myself. I was in my own world, with a complete lack of self-awareness. But playing in the background, it also affected who I would become in later years, and further stunted my growth. I’ve said before that I didn’t know where the depression came from, but I think I can sense the true root of it now. It stemmed from the guilt of my sins, the strength of my delusions, and the false impressions I had of my own character. My mindset was upside down, and my coping mechanisms were faulty. I didn’t know any better, and I didn’t know anyone who could teach me differently. But that’s how it goes. You won’t always have a mentor or a peer to help you along the way. Sometimes you have to figure things out on your own.

This soon became evident as I actually became interested in my studies. When I was young my mom used to take us to the library on a regular basis. I spent a lot of time in my childhood playing with Legos and reading books. But as I got older, I gradually read less and less. When hi-speed internet and PS2 became a thing, you can just forget about it. As a pre-teen, reading was seen as uncool and nerdy (little did I know…). The only reading I did by the time I got to high school were the books that were assigned to us in class. Cause when push came to shove, I was still a good kid who followed the rules, who did the homework. In my senior year of high school, I was lucky to have an English teacher who was overly enthusiastic and excited about the material that he was teaching. He made reading fun, and it piqued my interest. In college after a bad first semester I quickly realized that I actually had to learn for real. There was no more coasting. As a business major I was required to also have a double major or a minor in a separate field. I had chosen sociology on a whim. I had taken a sociology class in high school, and I found it really interesting. Little did I know, but it would change my life. Taking sociology classes, especially women’s studies, flipped my world upside down; tore apart my world views; and broke my misconceptions. It stopped me from becoming the racist, homophobic, sexist bigot that I was well on the way to becoming. Once I started learning about myself and finding flaws that needed to be changed and/or fixed, I started to understand that knowledge is power. The more you know, the easier it is for you to adapt. The more you discover for yourself, the less susceptible you are to being blinded by absolute truth that hasn’t been questioned. The more you learn, the easier it is for you to discern what is right or wrong, what is true or false.

And thus, I decided I wasn’t going to take any easy A classes, not if I could help it. University education requires you to take gen-ed classes for a reason, so I was going to make the most of it. I took the classes that seemed the most interesting, and that fit into my schedule. It didn’t always work out, some of these classes turned out to be snoozefests, but at least I tried them out. Which in a way is how my dad has always approached life. As I grow older, I start to understand him and respect him more and more. I don’t know if I’ll ever truly feel close to him, especially in conversation, but at least we’re trying now. We are too similar in certain ways for either one of us to push the envelope of our relationship. My dad communicates to me in his own way — via email. Which is perfectly okay. We’re both better able to express ourselves via text than we are verbally anyway. Early on in the process, my therapist had met with my parents to get a better understanding of my upbringing and background. One thing that she had told my dad was that he needed to talk to me more. He admitted that he didn’t know how or what to say, but he understood that in order for me to get better, more effort was needed from all parties. She suggested that he try emailing me. That way he could speak to me at his own pace and also give him time to think. He took that to heart, and that’s been our primary form of communication the last year and a half. I feel like I’ve learned so much more about him from our email correspondence than I have from actually talking to him. The trouble is, when I’m with him I just can’t think of the right things to say. We’re both just so deeply lost in thought. But that’s exactly where I get it from, the spaciness and aloofness, the methodical and thorough thinking. But most importantly the desire to learn.

My dad has always found new hobbies. Always. Every couple of months he’s doing something different. That’s what makes him so interesting. For as long as I remember, he’s always had a niche project to whittle away his time. It comes with the nature of being a biochemist I assume. The introvert tinkerer, always wanting to find how things work, and to figure things out for himself. He’s always been pretty handy, so his hobby-seeking has usually revolved around making practical things. There are some hobbies that came and went, such as making our back deck/patio, making Adirondack chairs, and reupholstering furniture. Or my personal favorite:  recording TV movies on VHS and cataloging them. There are some that he has stuck with like gardening, cooking, photography. And there is at least one that he had let go of and is now returning to – painting. I’d like to think that he’s been inspired by his niece who has been painting a lot in these dark times, but I don’t know for sure. All I know is that he rediscovered a passion of his and he’s pursuing it, similar to how I rediscovered my love of writing. Even as a septuagenarian he is following and realizing his dreams, still grinding, still working on new skills, still learning new things. He doesn’t talk much, but I won’t hesitate to call my dad the most interesting person in the world, and who’s to stop me?

And so as our quarantine slowly peters out, I can confidently say that things won’t be the same, but I’m better for it. It’s been tough. At first I thought it would be easy peasy, no problem. It’s not like I go out much anyway, it was an introvert’s dream. But as March turned into April, and as April turned into May, I started thinking enough of this already. The lack of sports hurt. The unexpected extension of the Stay-at-Home mandate in May hurt. I was so ready for it to be over. But just because we’re at the tail-end doesn’t mean you should let up your guard. The virus is still out there, it’s still contagious. Stay wary. We were living too carefree, too oblivious to the hidden dangers of the world. The same can be said of our current administration. We were too ignorant, too in the dark. If anything has come of this miserable four years, we now know where everyone stands. You’re either with us or against us. You’re for the oppressed, or you’re for the oppressor. Life as we know it will never be the same. But we’re better for it. If we’re united, we can fight. #BLACKLIVESMATTER Change is coming. In what form, we know not. And this will be an ongoing struggle, it has been an ongoing struggle. But it will not stop until change arrives. We are not post-racial. Wake up. We talk of the Civil Rights Movement as a bygone era. Been there, done that. But it’s not. We’re living it. We’re gonna be living it until we have equal rights, equal treatment, equal pay for all. Until there is no longer an Other. Until there is no longer an Us and Them.

I cannot speak about the struggles endured by other ethnic groups. As an Asian-American I’ve had it pretty good. Nothing I say or do can make up for the pain, and the hardship that our Black, Middle-Eastern, and Native American brothers and sisters (amongst others) have had to withstand. But the least I can do is try to empathize and understand and support. Yellow Peril Supports Black Power. It’s time for us to stop being comfortable with being the model minority, and take a stand. This is our fight too. If we stay silent, we have taken a stand with the opposition. Being silent is being complicit. We have to question everything. Question the institution. Question the system. Question ourselves. Are we doing enough? Are we using our platform to promote love and equality? Are we speaking up for those who can’t speak for themselves? We were put in this position for a reason. Each group has its own unique struggles, and thus each group has its own voice. But each voice has not been loud enough, each voice has not been heard. The voice has been silenced by the oppressor. But we are POC. We are resilient, we are strong, we are united. We raise our collective voice to the heavens and shout for justice. We just want to be heard. We just want to be treated as equals. We want change. Nothing more, nothing less. In this pandemic and quarantine we yearn for a sense of normalcy, while we experience a sense of loss. But know, that there are things much bigger than this. It’s okay, we’ll make it through. But change is needed, change is wanted. We won’t settle until we get what’s ours.

I very obviously have not been writing very much lately. There’s been an informal and unofficial directive for creatives to be churning out content in these trying times. A call to action. I saw it, and I guess I ignored it. It’s the perfect time after all, right? Social distancing has caused people to stay in, keeping in touch through virtual means only. People aren’t hanging out, they’re not staying out late. Everyone is at home. Makes for the ideal environment to get those creative juices flowing. But that’s not me though.

Everybody knows I’m the world’s biggest introvert. There was a period of time where I tried to convince myself otherwise, but who was I kidding? Clearly, no one but myself. I’m very comfortable on my own. I can find things to keep me busy. I’m not easily bored when I’m left to my own devices. My therapist recently told me that I have the right personality and lifestyle to easily navigate social distancing. And a truer statement couldn’t have been made. To me, this is really just an extended version of my normal everyday life. That being said, the difference between February and March for me has been virtually inconsequential. The writing environment has been the same. I just haven’t been writing. I guess that’s ok considering I don’t owe this to anyone, but I do owe it to myself.

Maybe this is just another excuse, but this whole virus business has left me frazzled and out of sorts. I honestly did not think this would be a thing, as evidenced by my most recent post. Boy, did that post age fast. Things changed in the blink of an eye. Two weeks makes a whole lotta difference. March 7th, I went to see my therapist. She asked me if I was worried about the virus. I told her, “no, I’m not. It’ll blow over quickly. The media is fear mongering and blowing this out of proportion.” And I sincerely believed that.

There was a whole lot of hoopla about this at work the next week. In my head I was just like come on now, this is old news. But it wouldn’t go away. It stuck around. But there wasn’t mounting negativity or fear in the office yet. Up until the following Wednesday (March 18th), it was still business as usual. We were told that management was monitoring the situation, but as of right now nothing would be different. You were welcome to take time off if needed and not be penalized for it, but there would be no action taken at this time. Again, things changed quickly. By Thursday afternoon there was talk of layoffs. And sure enough, on Friday, more than half of the 500 employees were laid off, including me. They went department by department, and after 11:30 there was no work being done. Everyone was just sitting around waiting to be let go.

I have no hard feelings. They really had no other options with the shutdown of non-essential businesses in New York. It didn’t make sense to keep everyone on payroll. I’m in the same boat as millions of other Americans. It didn’t take me by surprise, I kinda expected it, but nevertheless I was still in shock. I’ve gotten over that feeling now, and I feel fine. I just didn’t expect to be unemployed twice in the span of three months. But it is what it is. I’m blessed to have a good head on my shoulders. I’m not in debt. I don’t keep a balance on my credit cards. I don’t live pay check to pay check. I have money saved up. I thought this through when I quit my job at the end of December. I thought this through long before that. These are the types of things I worry about: rent, food, spending money. Over the years, I’ve cut down on costs, and I’ve saved money. I never expected to have to use my emergency fund, but it’s there if I need it. And I might not need it for 4 or 5 months. Right now it’s just a waiting game. It’s getting scary out there. Things have gotten serious. So for me, getting laid off was a blessing. My already minimal contact with other humans, is now at a minimum.

So in the end, I’ll get by, I’ll make it through. I’ll be fine. I’m not stressing. But the same can’t be said for many others. I feel bad for those who hadn’t thought about their finances as thoroughly as I have. I’m optimistically hoping for some semblance of normalcy come end of April or the middle of May. But we don’t know what will happen. After all, we never expected this virus to shut down our economy. I didn’t expect to be talking to my therapist on the phone on March 21st, instead of meeting in person. But that’s what the landscape looks like. So we have to make the best of it. So what have I been doing instead of writing? Well let me tell you.

It’s not to say I’ve been completely stagnant. I did have a post that I was writing before I stopped working. I’ve been tinkering with it a little bit, but it’s only about 75% done. I know what I need to do with it, I just haven’t been super motivated to finish it. I also have another post planned that is contingent on me completing something else, which I’m not close to finishing, so that one is several weeks away. So I do have two posts in the pipe. Three actually. I have one that I started a few months back, but it still needs major work. On top of that, I have a project still in its infancy stages. So there’s stuff to write, and to write about, I just need to find a little willpower to do so.

So what have my brain waves been focused on? As I may have said, I’ve been listening to The Wheel of Time on audiobook. There are 14 books and a prequel. That’s quite overwhelming, starting a classic series that you’ve heard many great things about. What if it’s not all it’s made out to be? What if it’s a bore or a slog to get through? What if this, what if that. I had so many questions. But as luck would have it my parents planned out a short trip to Montreal last year for Memorial Day Weekend. They were driving from Boston a day before I would head up from New York. I figured with all of that driving time, I might as well check out the audiobook. And man, this was the right decision. Yes, listening to each of these books takes about 7 hours longer than my usual reading pace, but it was well worth it. First off, the husband & wife team narrating this series is phenomenal, and second it had me thinking about the story way differently than if I had read it in text. With such a long series, it would’ve been hard for me to get into it. Matter of fact, I tried once or twice to read it, but wasn’t able to do so. Well anyway, I’ve been listening to this for a while. It’s a different sensation than reading a physical book or a Kindle. With a physical book or an ebook all your focus is on it because your eyes are a necessary requirement. With an audiobook you’re using your ears (duh!) which frees up your eyes and your hands to do something else. Something mindless. My main go-to is playing Two Dots while listening to these books, but I’ve also listened to them on my drives and also while putting together puzzles.

Well, the developers of Two Dots seem to understand how bored we are, stuck at home. So they’ve been offering free unlimited lives for three hours each day. That’s what I was doing last week. Listening to the 12th book of The Wheel of Time for 3 hours a day while playing Two Dots. It’s a bittersweet moment. Two books left in the main series. I understand this was not the normal experience for most WOT fans, considering I started this a few years after the series was completed, but 10 months straight of listening to this series has helped me get to know the characters intimately. I’ll be sad when it’s over, but I can always re-read it! Plus they’re releasing a TV series of it sometime in the near future. That’s one thing I’ve been doing in my time off.

Another thing I’ve been doing since January, is watching the interconnected Marvel TV shows on Netflix. That is now complete. Katie and I also started watching the movies in January. We are almost caught up! I understand there is a Phase 4 coming out shortly, but it’s not the same. It’s not bingeing. We’ll have to wait, and with the filming of Black Widow being delayed, we don’t know how long that will be. That being said, my nostalgia crept in. Surprise, surprise, there was a point in my life when I was big into comic books. I know I’m going to be missing the shows and the movies until new ones come out. So what did I do? I found a list of the reading order for the comics, and I’ve been slowly compiling a list. I’ve spent hours on it… Going through each major event and putting down the # of issues and the order in a note on my Macbook/iPhone. I don’t know if I’ve told anyone this, but I love making lists, so this doesn’t seem like a chore to me or feel monotonous. I actually weirdly find pleasure in it. I love lists, and I love ranking things. But that’s besides the point. ComiXology, an Amazon subsidiary, is offering a free 60 day trial, so I’ll be able to read comic books for free for a while. However, in putting together this list, it’s turned out to be quite a monster, and will definitely take me more than 2 months to finish reading, but the good news is that ComiXology is only $5.99 a month. So that’s the second thing I’ve been doing in my time off.

The third thing I’ve been doing is playing Mass Effect: Andromeda. My interest in video games is akin to my introverted nature. I mostly play open-world single player RPGs like Skyrim, The Witcher, Assassin’s Creed, and Fallout. With so many options and opportunities, it makes my brain run wild. But I’m also a perfectionist and somewhat OCD, which is a blessing and a curse. I end up having to play every single mission, loot every chest. It’s like mentally I won’t allow myself to leave a building until I’ve turned over every stone, found every secret. It gets quite annoying. And with games with a lot of repetition, I end up getting bored. It’s entirely my fault for doing everything except for the main mission. That leads to a lot of games being left unfinished. Games left at 65% completion. I finished Mass Effect, and I guess I have the time to finish up a few other games. But then again, the time used on playing video games could also be used on reading or writing. As with everything else, I have a backlog of things to read. Even with the extra time spent at home, I still don’t have enough time to do everything I want to do. So much to do, so little time!

I’m no expert in science, not even close, so I can’t attest to whatever physical effects coronavirus has on people. But just at a quick glance, I can tell you that the issue is far overblown. Yes, it will affect travel for sure, and possibly impact both the US economy and the world economy. It is more deadly than the flu, and should be taken seriously to an extent. But this does not call for hoarding supplies, xenophobia, or mass hysteria. A quick look at statistics shows that as of yesterday March 5^th  at approximately 11:30am, there were 96,954 cases worldwide, 53,983 of whom had recovered and were released. There is currently no vaccine for this virus, but that doesn’t mean there is cause for distress, we’re looking at a 55.6% recovery rate after all. As of April 2019, there are now approximately 7.7 billion humans inhabiting the earth. That is an insanely huge number. To make it clear how large that number is, let’s write it out: 7,700,000,000. 7.7 billion. We have 96,000 cases worldwide. Let’s just do some quick math here, and compare the numbers. We’re looking at between 0.0000125% and 0.0000126% of the Earth’s population. I fully expect the number of cases to grow by the thousands and the tens of thousands in the next few weeks. But there is little reason for extreme concern. I don’t know about you, but I’ll start worrying once that incredibly small fraction of a percentage becomes an actual number. Remember what they told you in elementary school during cold & flu season? Wash your hands, cover your mouth when you sneeze and cough, use hand sanitizer, take your vitamins, stay clean. The same things apply.

I don’t mean to always be negative and judgmental, but sometimes I can’t help it. This is just the cynic and the sceptic in me. I’m doing better with it, I swear I am. That being said, I think you know where I’m going with this. Let’s talk about my mom. She is freaking out about the coronavirus. She bought a special mask for me, she keeps texting me with all sorts of safety tips, and she’s loaded up on cleaning supplies and canned foods. I realize she cares for and loves people in her own way, but I also understand the full breadth of her worrying. It goes high & low, big & small. She’s been this way as long as I can remember, prone to excessive worry. I remember back in my “scene” days she was deeply concerned with some band t-shirts that I bought, because she was worried about the images depicted on them. One of the shirts had an octopus on it, I don’t remember what exactly the other ones had, but I suspect they were equally as harmless. Her biggest qualm was with the brash art style used. When all was said and done, I wasn’t struck down or possessed by demons. I don’t want to know what she thinks about my tattoos, but that’s a different story. I understand that the issue with the virus is something entirely different, but the way that she is handling news of this outbreak seems very Y2Kish to me. Preparing for the apocalypse. Overreacting and then some. She’s not the only one, far from. On Facebook, I’ve seen people say things such as, “be prepared to stay home or work from home for an extended period.” On Instagram I’ve seen posts comparing Coronavirus to The Black Death. Slow your roll. Chill out. It will not be the end of the world. Humankind is resilient. In recent days, swine flu has come and gone, avian flu has come and gone, SARS has come and gone. COVID-19 Coronavirus will come and go. Stay wary, stay safe, stay healthy.

Let me let you in on a little secret. Maybe this will change your life. Maybe this will open your eyes. Maybe this will cleanse you of the brainwash that is mainstream media. All major news networks tell you what the man in charge wants you to hear. You think Fox and CBS are different? They’re not. Not really. All major news outlets are owned by six media conglomerates. Six companies tell you what’s on their agenda. Six companies control what you learn about current events. News is biased. Once you understand this, I hope you will take everything with a grain of salt. Don’t believe everything you see or hear.

I have not watched the nightly news in years. I refuse to. Nothing good comes from it. This was my biggest takeaway from multiple classes that I took in college. Sometimes I forget that I majored in sociology. It seems like so long ago. I have two degrees. How much am I doing with my business degree? Couldn’t really tell you. But I can tell you I’m doing almost nothing with sociology. But I have to say, the lessons I learned in these various sociology classes made a more significant impact on me than business ever did. These classes molded me, and shaped me into the person I am today. They don’t like to tell you this, but that’s the primary purpose of college, the molding & the shaping. College is one of the corporate lies that deprive you of your money. Having a degree doesn’t necessarily mean you will earn more money. Job listings will require you to have a college degree and experience, but pay you minimum wage. Higher education in the United States costs a fortune compared to many places in Europe. But middle-class parents near and far will push their kids towards college. Which is a reasonable and commendable endeavor. But not everyone is cut out for college. Earning a degree for the sake of earning a degree doesn’t mean much anymore. Trade school is a reasonable option. Joining the military is a respectable cause. College isn’t the be all and end all that it’s made out to be. Nevertheless, I don’t regret my time there. I learned a lot about myself, and I matured in leaps and bounds. I took what I learned and I applied it to my life. That being said, I made a conscious effort to take these lessons, and internalize them. So I guess I did in fact make use of my sociology degree.

I remember vividly the moment when I learned that the news is controlled by only six companies. This was in a class called Social Deviance. It was so insane, that I immediately had to look it up. And sure enough, my professor wasn’t lying. At that moment I took a step back, and thought about it. I really took a deep and thorough look. The news programs on all the major networks really are all the same. They’re exaggeratory pieces that center on negativity, and violence. The networks are the predator, and the American public is the prey. They feed on your fear. Fear pays the big bucks. Fear makes corporate America richer. Fear runs the world.

Fear mongering is the world’s most profitable industry. When people are scared, people are rash. When they’re rash, they make startling decisions. When people overreact you see runs on products, and it drives demand. When the dust clears, corporations profit and the economy flourishes. They want you to be scared, because it brings in the moolah. Have you noticed that they never talk about anything positive on the news? Your news program consists of segments about murders, burglaries, epidemics, government smear campaigns, war. How long is the bit about the good Samaritan or the company that’s making a difference? That’s just it. It really is just a bit. Time it next time it comes on. I guarantee it won’t be longer than 30 seconds, and it will either be placed in between two crazy segments (say a robbery and a natural disaster?), or at the end of the program as an underwhelming feel-good valediction to send you off into your night. A scared individual is one who isn’t thinking straight, someone who is liable to make irrational decisions. The perfect target for exploitation.

Many urban areas in the US are safer than you think. Some natural disasters aren’t as destructive as they’re portrayed. Yes, there’s crime; yes people are fucked up; yes bad shit happens, but look at the statistics, look at the percentages. They are heavily skewed. The media only shows you the parts of the story that benefits them. Putting the numbers into perspective is not high on their list of priorities. Numbers without context don’t mean much. It’s better for the establishment, if folks are left ignorant and in the dark. If people know all the secrets, then they’re not going to fall for the scheme, or stay in line with the regime. Stay woke. Don’t trust everything you see, don’t trust everything you hear.

Stephen King knows this. He’s known this. He’s known this since 1982, if not earlier. He finds a way to sneak the things he cares about into his works. Last week, I was reading one of his Bachman books, The Running Man. There were many themes, many motifs running through the book. But the critique flowing in the backdrop of this dystopian drama was something he named Free-Vee. In the story it is a form of public access television that the American people are conditioned to tune into every night. There were multiple instances where he would say something along the lines of, “seeing it on Free-Vee means that it’s true.” It seems a bit absurd when you put it that way, but it’s not far off. We, as a society, generally understand that the majority of movies and TV shows are works of fiction. We see only what the directors and the actors want us to see. The same thing applies to news media. Please understand this. These segments and programs are not works of fiction, please don’t misconstrue my intention. But they do not necessarily show the entire truth. Everything and everyone has an agenda. The corporate agenda thrives on ignorance, because ignorance pays top dollar.

Look at instances of new war or new outbreak. Fear and ignorance reign supreme. It’s an endless spiral down to the heart of darkness. Fear and ignorance open the door for paranoia. Paranoia ushers in scapegoating. Scapegoating clears the path for xenophobia. Racism was, and is, and is to come. Sorry to break it to you. Racism is deeply rooted in the collective consciousness of society. Racism is centered upon fear and superiority. There is always going to be someone who is “less than,” when there is a group in charge. There will always be a new people group to hate. The hive mind runs deep, and strong. It tells you who and what to hate, where and when. The aftermath of 9-11 showed us so. The War on Terror may have been justified, but the distrust, disapproval, and dismissal of brown individuals was not; not to mention acts of violence or words of hatred. These behaviors and mindsets are not acceptable. But they are rinsed and repeated through time. They’re painted with a slightly different veneer, so we view them as completely new phenomena. But they’re not new. Racism, prejudice, and hatred are the same regardless of who’s at the bottom.

Unfortunately, this nation is severely mired in its racism. It started with the subjugation of the Native Americans, and continued on with Irish immigration. We’ve seen it with Jews & Arabs, Africans & Asians, Southern European & Eastern European. Those at the bottom change through the decades, the one at the top is the only constant. Sorry to say, but we can’t change society. We can only change ourselves, and hope to influence those around us. Purge the hive from your mind. Think on your own. Snap out of groupthink. Brush the scales from your eyes. Take off your tinfoil hat. Think before you act, think before you believe. Find the numbers, find the context, find the facts. Follow the story, and follow your nose. What you see at the forefront is usually not the entirety. Don’t stay comfortable in your ignorance. Don’t fall into the trap. That’s what they want you to do. The country wants chaos. The country thrives on chaos. Get outta the stampede, and take the bull by the horns. It’s easy to find the truth, if you just know where to look. It’s not what they’re blasting on the TV, I can tell you that. That’s just noise. Don’t believe me? Think I’m just making up numbers? Here are the facts: Worldometer Coronavirus Statistics.

It’s crazy to think about how quickly technology changes through the years. Life goes on… And on and on and on, and people live more and more efficiently. When I was a kid I had this strange and naïve notion that there was nothing left to invent. I felt bad for inventors. I didn’t think that they could make money or create anything new. We already had cars, airplanes, phones, TV’s, electricity what more did we need? Boy was I wrong.

I’m an early 90s kid so I remember a time without fancy electronics. I imagine growing up was somewhat different for someone born in the late 90s or early 2000s. As the years go by, not only do I feel like I’m getting older, but I just straight up feel old sometimes. It’s almost like time slipped me by, to some extent. For a while I was living in early 20s bliss, then I grudgingly accepted that I was in my mid-20s, but now I’m almost 30. How and when did that happen? I see 5 year olds plopped down at restaurants in front of phones, and tablets, and my immediate thought is, “I never had that as a kid. I wouldn’t buy my kid a phone at that age. They’re too young.” But times have changed. Things are different. Shaking my head, and saying, “kids these days,” is proof that I’m getting old. 

I remember dial-up, I remember non-flatscreen TV’s, and not having a cellphone. Life was simpler. Things were different and yet they were the same. Wireless internet and smartphones changed the game. They make life easier, but they don’t answer all of life’s questions. They don’t completely cut out human contact and interaction. Most people don’t go to work, and operate in complete silence. People still work at stores and restaurants; you usually still speak to a person when you call a help desk. Robots and computers help out, but human interaction is still necessary and effective. As humans, it’s in our nature to seek connection with like humans. We like to be close to other people who think and act the same way as us. Even introverts get lonely sometimes. We weren’t meant to be solitary. We’re social creatures. We were born into packs and litters. We aren’t lone wolves. People need other people. Technology, especially electronics, like anything else has its pros and its cons. And unfortunately, this alters the way humans interact, and sometimes it renders old technologies obsolete. People come and go. Companies come and go. Places come and go. It’s the way of life.

Everything has a beginning, and everything has an end. Many things approach the closing stages of its life cycle naturally, but others have an artificially accelerated demise. Growing up we didn’t have cellphones, social media, or streaming services. If we wanted to hang out with people we needed to either make plans in person or call from a landline. It wasn’t until the early 2000s that we would have AIM, and the mid 2000’s until we had Facebook. We took pictures with digital cameras, we needed to go to the store to rent movies. Nowadays, we have Netflix, we have Disney+; we have Instagram, Twitter, and Snapchat. Things are easier. They’re faster. You want to watch a movie or a TV show? Look it up! You want to see what your friends are doing? Check your phone!

Nowadays we feel lost when we forget our phones. We don’t know what to do anymore when they’re not within arm’s reach. Even when we’re with other people, we’re conditioned to have our phone in one hand, and listen with one ear. We live in a fast-paced environment, and are trained to multitask in all things. Giving something our sole undivided attention is a rare occurrence. It’s amazing how quickly things change. I didn’t get my first cellphone until 10^th grade; that was 12 years ago. I didn’t get my first smartphone until sophomore year of college; that was 8 years ago. I remember the first DVD we ever bought, it was Gladiator in 2000. DVDs are nearing the end of their age. They’re going the way of VHS, and cassettes. How quickly things change.

But life goes on. The wheel keeps turning. Things are different, but things are still the same. Technology changes and improves, but people stay the same. People through the ages crave entertainment and attention. People through the ages seek work and fulfillment. People through the ages look for ways to record history. People through the ages look for ways to make life easier.

My sports of choice are football, and MMA. They are both brutal and violent, and are snapshots of times long past. When I watch MMA I can’t help but think that these are our modern-day gladiators. The concept of MMA or martial arts in general, is crazy if you think about it. All athletes have their own individual reasons for getting into the sport, but the end result is still the same. They get paid to beat the shit out of their opponent in front of a captive audience of thousands and tens of thousands of people. But at least they don’t fight to the death anymore. Some gladiators were paid, some were slaves, but they gave the people what they wanted! Fame, fortune, glory, and blood. In Central America, the Aztecs and the Mayans played a ritualistic game that seems like it was a mix between basketball and soccer. The losing team lost their heads. The games and consequences of losing have been toned down, but the goal still remains: win at all costs, glory still reigns supreme.

Since the beginning of time, humans have been told to work. Work gives them fulfillment. Works gives them meaning, and purpose. Humans cannot reap the benefits of life, unless they have put in the time and effort, worked for their living. Adam, the first man, was tasked with caring for the garden and for naming the animals. He worked for his living. His son Abel was a shepherd, and his other son Cain was a farmer. They worked for theirs. Through the ages, humans have continued this long-standing tradition of working in order to have fun. The more things change, the more they stay the same. Jobs change, careers change, but work remains.

Through the ages people have sought to record history. To pass stories on from generation to generation. To give us lessons to be learned before we make mistakes. We had hieroglyphics and papyrus. Printing presses and typewriters. These days, I do all of my writing on my Macbook in the comfort of my own home, but in medieval times monks literally devoted their lives to copying manuscripts word for word in their scriptoriums. Technology changes, life gets easier and more efficient with each passing decade, but the same goals and desires remain. Humans want to be entertained. They want to feel fulfilled. They want to leave a legacy. They want to be remembered. Humans want the same things, yesterday, today, and tomorrow. Humankind will survive and carry on. Life gets easier, but everything stays the same. Life goes on… And on, and on and on.

So yesterday, my therapist said something to me that caught me completely off guard, but it shouldn’t have. Deep down I knew it was inevitable, but I guess I hadn’t really thought about it. She said, “it’s getting close to that time where you should start thinking about when you want this to end. You don’t have to decide right away, but just think about it.” And she’s right. Therapy doesn’t last forever. It will be bittersweet for sure. But I think it’s time. I’ve graduated to a higher emotional state.

We’ve accomplished our goals. I kissed depression goodbye. I learned how to be in harmony with my emotions, positive and negative. I learned coping mechanisms for dealing with the dark thoughts. I solidified my relationship with Katie. I found a male mentor/peer that I could confide in. I started writing again. We unpacked the influence my parents and my upbringing had on me. We touched on my anxiety. We decreased my risk aversion. We untangled the misconceptions, and the skewed beliefs I had about the church and about God. I quit my job. I found a new one. I started going back to church. I found happiness, self-worth, and fulfillment once again. I found healing.

I will miss these sessions, but life goes on. People come into your life, and people go. Cherish each moment, cause you don’t know how long you have with someone. You don’t know the future. Life is like waves rolling on the seashore. It ebbs and flows. There’s good and bad. You might have bad moments and bad days, but that doesn’t mean you have a bad life. They say, “life is what you make of it,” and it is so true. I used to think that I couldn’t help my depression. I thought it was something I would never get over. People would just tell me to think positive thoughts, be happy. And my internal response was always, “that’s easier said than done. I can’t just be happy.” They didn’t get it. Nobody understood me, but it wasn’t necessarily for a lack of trying. That was on me. I didn’t want to talk about it. It was a part of me that I didn’t understand. In some ways, I didn’t want to understand. It hurt too much. But in order to heal, you have to feel pain. Pain is a sign that you’re human. In order to heal a wound, sometimes you must feel the pain of the stitches. You may be left with scars, but you’re better for it. You learn from your mistakes. Every experience is a lesson.

Therapy was an experience. It taught me so many lessons. When I first started, I thought I would need it for a long time. And it’s somewhat true, it’s been a year and a half. Maybe I thought I would be broken for longer, but I don’t need it anymore. For the first time in my life I’m good. Not just in words, but in practice and action now. This phase of my life is over. My therapist said I could continue on if I wanted to, but we would have to transition into something else. It wouldn’t be therapy anymore. The dictionary defines therapy as, “treatment intended to relieve or heal a disorder.” The disorder has been healed. Yes, I still have my anxiety to deal with. But we’re doing things one step at a time now. I can do this on my own! Therapy was necessary for a time. For a time when I felt helpless, and powerless. A time when I didn’t know how to cope, correct, and control my life. But I know now. I know what I can control, and I know what I can allow. I know how to stop myself from regressing and relapsing. I know the correct methods, and I recognize the bad habits. I can check myself before I wreck myself now. I won’t ever let myself be caught up in the dark tangle of webs that I was stuck in for so long. Don’t ever let someone tell you that you’re not capable of change. Don’t ever let someone tell you that depression lasts forever. It’s hard. It’s really fucking hard. But you can get over it. Healing comes in the morning. Eventually things start to click in your brain. I can prove it. The checklist I made on New Year’s of 2018 is now complete.

• Find a girlfriend. Someone who will be my best friend, and my biggest supporter.
• Find a new apartment. One where I can stay for years. I’m sick of this nomad shit.
• Find a new job. Somewhere I can learn and grow, and further my knowledge base

None of it happened the way I thought it would or when I anticipated, but things came together. God had a plan for me, even if I didn’t listen to Him. He was working the whole time. But there was a lot of pain, a lot of brokenness that I needed to fight through. There were a lot of emotions, and fears that had been repressed, and hidden for many long years. I had to get through the lowest of lows to find breakthrough. It took adversity for me to finally receive the help that I needed and deserved.

I found that in therapy, and I am forever grateful. Instead of running from my problems and hardship I finally addressed them head on. It was difficult at first, thinking about things that were locked in a secret compartment in the back of my brain. But in order for therapy to serve its purpose, you have to be honest, both with your therapist and with yourself. If you hold back, you’re only impeding your progress. You’re only delaying true healing. Therapy showed me many things that I expected, but it also showed me so much more. By the grace of God, I found my way back to church, and I guess you could say this had the more profound impact. Whether you believe in God or not, it’s hard to argue with the facts. In the last year and a half, change in me has been clearly evident. I carry myself in a different way now. Those who know me, know that I’m pessimistic and cynical. I’m prone to judgment and negativity. I’m afraid of failure and disappointment, and care way too much about what other people think. But those are my insecurities bubbling up to the surface. I realize now that it doesn’t matter what other people think of me, cause I know what I’m capable of. I know my potential, I know my worth. I write because it’s good for me. I write because I have stories to tell.

I’ve said before that I was stuck in neutral for a long time. Well, let me expand on that. It doesn’t just pertain to my career, or my emotional well-being. It pertains to nearly all aspects of my life, the most important of which being my writing. It all stemmed from being too afraid to disappoint myself and others. Being afraid of what people would think. This held me back from living up to my potential. This kept me mired in mediocrity. This kept me saying things like, “I should get back into writing,” instead of actually writing. This was what I expressed externally. But what I thought internally, was what if people don’t like what I write? What if my quality of writing isn’t up to par? What if this, what if that. This was just me making excuses not to write. If I want to be a writer, I have to actually write. Thinking about it isn’t good enough! And I guess that’s what’s different. I’m committed to this now, because I’m confident in my ability. I started doing morning pages when I got back from visiting my parents on January 13th. This exercise has been more beneficial to me than I could’ve imagined. Even if they are just random thoughts and nonsense sometimes. It gets me thinking. It gets me in the habit of writing consistently, which is more important than writing well or in volume. Quality and quantity will come with time and practice. If I’m writing consistently, I’m not starting from a full stop, I’m already in gear. You can’t stop me now! Cause I’m going to write and write and write. I don’t give no fucks about who reads or why. I’m doing this writing for me. As long as I’m happy with my writing, nothing else matters. I don’t need the approval of others any longer. People are going to hate you, and people are going to love you. The only thing you can control is yourself. Control for me comes in the form of honing and perfecting my craft.

And so I’m ready. I’m ready to do this on my own. That isn’t to say that I’ll be afraid to ask for help. I’ll ask for help when I need it. But I’ve thought about it, this door is closing, and another door is opening. New life. New beginnings. My therapist said that a common occurrence is for people to end their therapy three months after they get a new job. That way they already have stability. So I thought about it on my drive back. I considered ending in August, it would be nice to say I did therapy for an even two years (I have slight OCD), but that’s unnecessary. I’ll do the three months. If I’m writing, I’m happy. I never want to feel the way I felt, so I will never let myself fall back into old habits. No more regression, no more relapse. Onwards and upwards. They tell you if you love something, you need to let it go. I love myself, so I need to let therapy go. I no longer need to use it as a crutch, cause I can stand on my own!