It is finally done. It only took 409 days, but it is complete. I have finished listening to The Wheel of Time on audiobook. What an experience. It was well worth the almost 450 hours that I spent listening to it. I probably could’ve read the series in less than half the time, but I have to admit that I was intimidated. Fourteen volumes. One of the greatest fantasy series of all time. A modern day classic. I had tried to start them several times, but for whatever reason, I was not able to get into them. I guess part of it was knowing that reading this would be a big commitment. I’m the type of reader who likes to read a series from start to finish if it isn’t still ongoing. There’s just too much going on in fantasy novels for you to jump back and forth from multiple worlds. I do have a habit of reading multiple books at once, but no more than four or five at once, and no more than two or three epic fantasies. Otherwise, it’s too overwhelming, too confusing, what have you.

That being said, listening to audiobooks is a new medium that I want to get into. But they are so damn expensive. An Audible subscription is $15 a month, an individual audiobook is $45-50 each. I just don’t have that type of money to throw away especially considering e-books generally cost no more than $8. Plus Audible limits the amount of books you can listen to each month, and the version offered with Prime has a small rotating selection of free books. I don’t want that type of restriction. I do have the Dark Tower audiobook files so that will be next after I listen to the WOT prequel. I’ll have to figure out what I want to do after that though. My logic behind listening to audiobooks is two-fold. There’s a lot of wasted time throughout the day such as when you’re driving, or when you’re playing a mobile game. And it’s much easier to multitask listening to a book as opposed to reading it.

The auditory voyage began last year, the week before Memorial Day. We were going to Montréal to visit our extended family. My parents and my sisters had taken a day or two off of work and were driving up from Massachusetts. I had a solo drive from Long Island. Due to the trouble I was having beginning the series, I planned on listening to the first book to “jump start my interest,” and afterward intended to read the e-books. This never materialized. At some point I decided to forego reading, and just listen to the entire series. I fell in love with the world, and the characters, in a way that I don’t think would’ve been possible without the superb narration and storytelling. I could strongly visualize each description, and event. Don’t get me wrong, I still love reading traditionally, but audio reading is a completely different experience. Some stories are just too rich, too dense to digest fully via text alone. A significant part of reading is comprehending the words that you’re feeding into your mind. This facet is not as involved in audio form. Many of the novels I read are not anywhere near as elaborate as WOT, ASOIAF, and the like. And with how expensive audiobooks are, I will not be spending heavily in this area. But to maximize the value of my dollar and to get the most fulfilling experience, I will find a way to acquire audiobooks for a number of the most comprehensive sagas.

I’ve occasionally referred to the last 7 years of my life as a fantastical journey. It began when I started reading Game of Thrones for the first time, and I feel it will continue on until the day I die. That’s what reading is for me. It’s part of my lifestyle. There is no end. I don’t foresee a time when I stop reading completely. There are new worlds to explore, new conflicts to spectate. New writers and old writers to discover. Escapism in portable form. One of the wrongest statements my mom ever made was, “people don’t really read anymore,” in response to me telling her that I wanted to become a writer. Writing, world building for me is still a work in progress. I’m still in the brainstorming, infancy stages. An ignorant, insensitive statement won’t stop me from pursuing my dream though. I will one day become a published fantasy author. I am willing it into existence. It will happen, because I will make it happen. And I’m not doing it for fame or notoriety or money. I’m doing it because it’s how I want to, and how I know I will make an impact. So what does that look like? It requires me to write, to read, to think, to research.

Without sounding like a broken record, out of those four aspects, writing has for years, been my biggest weakness. I made excuses instead of making content. I gave reasons for not writing, instead of actually writing. That’s as much as I’ll say about that, without repeating myself too much. The other three all go hand in hand. In order to gather ideas, to brainstorm plot & device, it involves reading, it involves thinking, it involves research. Someone recently asked me if I had given up on my novel. But it’s not like that at all. I have a premise, I have a few characters, I have a setting, and I have loose ideas. The glue is not yet there, nor is the meat of the story. But it doesn’t mean I’ve given up. Giving up sounds too much like finality. But how can we call the story finished when it’s barely just begun? It may take years, it may take decades, but I will help birth this tale, no matter the cost.

So for right now, I have taken a step back. I’ve been a step back for the last three months, but it doesn’t mean I’ve been wasting my time. I’m gathering info, I’m gaining inspiration, I’m bouncing ideas in my head. What character archetypes do I want to use? What real life cultural influences am I drawing from? What is the conflict? Who are the factions? These are a few of the many questions that I need to consider. Research must be done, especially for historical and/or societal texture. But that doesn’t mean I can’t have fun while conducting my research. Inspiration for stories, for new worlds, comes from everywhere, ranging from everyday life, to books, to movies, to videogames, to history. So for now, I am gathering information and making mental notes.

And that, like much of the rest of my life, is a subtle but major change that occurred in the last two years. Fear has played a significant role in my life throughout the years. One of the ways it revealed itself was in my decision making, especially when it came to reading selection or meal choice. I was always afraid of being disappointed, and thus would hold myself back from trying certain things. Your fear of disappointment is directly proportionate to the amount of risk-taking you inhibit. And boy, I can tell you, I blatantly obstructed any thrill-seeking. I used to say that I was spontaneous and adventurous, but that was far from the truth. I’m working on that, and I’m better about it now. But like many things, it’s still a work in progress. One way that I’ve progressed is in the type of fiction that I read.

For years, I’ve been hesitant to try new authors or different genres. But in order for my stories to be as immersive and complete as possible, I need outside influence. I need to explore my surroundings. Take in more of what I see, what I read, what I hear. Genre in a way is a binding concept. It sets expectations for outside consumers. If you like this, you will probably like that. It has its positives and its negatives. Yes, it promotes clearer organization, it helps to classify like items. But don’t let it paint you into a corner. Don’t let it trap you, and prevent your story from flowing naturally. There is much disparity within genres. Nothing is homogenous. Each author has their own take on many of the same tropes. Each author has their own style, and each individual sees the world differently. That is the basis of humanity. We have free will. We are not robots. That being said, why should our writing be robotic? Why does it need to be formulaic? Why does it need to fit in a box? Writing is an artistic expression of humanity. In order for your writing to be genuine, you need to let it flow. Let what’s important to you invigorate your stories. Let your passions show through. Don’t be afraid to genre bend.

Earlier in the year, I decided that I wasn’t going to be afraid anymore. That starts with risk-taking. That starts small. That starts with a conscious thought to try different things. To not be afraid of being disappointed by a new author. Nobody is telling me that I have to like every book I read. I don’t have to finish every book that I start. If something dissatisfies, it’s okay to let go, and move on. Log it in my mind to skip that author next time. After all, I won’t know if I like them, until I try. I do know that I can’t just continue with the status quo. If I truly want the lessons I’ve learned in therapy to take root, some change needs to occur. It doesn’t need to be wide scale or wholesale, but something needs to happen. It’s good to try new things, and to broaden your experiences. So instead of the same old epic fantasy or sword & sorcery, I’ve been checking out various things. After all there’s a lot more to unearth in speculative fiction. There’s sci-fi, horror, dystopian, slice-of-life. Some of it is nuanced, but some of it is as different as left is from right. Broad scopes, different strokes. There’s a lot to draw from. Magnum opuses from different mediums, different times.

That being said, I want to devote more time to reading classics. Literary giants like Mark Twain, Charles Dickens, William Faulkner. Feminist literature such as Jane Austen, Charlotte Brontë, Virginia Woolf. I want to consume more sci-fi and urban fantasy. And most importantly go back to the 80s and 90s to explore the fantasy landscapes that I’ve been too afraid to traverse. To visit Discworld, Malazan, Ere, Osten Ard. I’m no longer dominated by fear. I’m no longer dominated by intimidation. For my world to thrive, I have to constantly take in more from things around me. Build from the bottom up. Some authors can create multiple universes. Jump from story to story. A quick in and out. Enclosed stories within limited worlds. But that ain’t me. I’m a one world type of guy. I have a grand vision. A universe existent in my mind. The pieces of the puzzle are lying within. All I need to do is uncover them.

So I will range far and wide to find the perfect elements to incorporate. I will weave and build and create a masterpiece. I expect nothing less. The building blocks are there. The influences are there for me to uncover. It will be a monstrous task. But I need to look within. Gather from without. Weave, craft, and work some magic. It’s a coming, and it may be slow. But somehow, some way, some day, the stories in my mind will come to life. They tell you in school to let your imagination run wild. And truth be told, that’s never been an issue for me. The issue has always been making good use of it. Being productive. Not being stagnant or apathetic. Using my God-given ability to create things that I’m proud of. I didn’t always know it, but I was meant to be a creator. I’m meant to be a builder of worlds. A dreamweaver. I’m waiting patiently for my own Big Bang. Crafting it slowly. Years of thinking, years of processing will one day culminate in a great work of art that I will be immensely proud of. You best believe it. The mind of Justin will be epic. Work needs to be done for my ideas to come to fruition. But one day, my story will be complete, and I will be pleased to share it with the world around me.

You know that thing your parents and your teachers used to tell you? “If you don’t have anything nice to say, don’t say anything at all.” Well, you can replace the word “nice” with quite a number of different words. Today, I will use the word “constructive.” Constructive: serving a useful purpose. Before I begin, let me preface this by saying I am not bashing, hating on, or criticizing your efforts. I’m not sub-posting or targeting anyone. I’m writing from the heart, writing what’s been on my mind lately. Unless you’ve been vacationing on another planet or living under a rock, you know what’s been going on in recent days, so I’m not going to rehash it. In response to the protests and the BLM movement I’ve seen numerous posts from white individuals and non-black POC starting with, “I’ve been struggling to think of the words to say,” or “I don’t know what to say,” or something along those lines. It was touching and endearing at first, coming from celebrities realizing that they are extremely blessed and have the opportunity to use their platform to promote change, growth, and equality. But honestly, I’ve gotten quite sick of it. If it’s taken you two plus weeks to think of the words to say, then maybe words didn’t need to be spoken in the first place. Sometimes the best thing for you to do is to shut up and listen. Take a moment of silence.

Think, reflect, and try to understand what is going on. If you can’t understand, then at least try to learn. Take a moment to collect your thoughts, and meditate, and focus on what you can change and what you can do differently. The first thing you have to acknowledge is that if you weren’t born black, you will never know what it’s like to live as a black person in America. Likewise, unless you were born Latinx, you will never know what it’s like to be Latinx in America. The same rings true for every single ethnicity and culture. Unless you belong to a certain group you will only see things with your limited scope from the outside looking in. So the best thing you can do as an ally is listen, first and foremost. Don’t try to speak for others, don’t make it about yourself and the way you feel. How you feel is irrelevant. It doesn’t matter if you’re sad, empathetic, or angry. As soon as you say “I…” you’ve misdirected the focus. 

As an Asian American I know what it’s like to conform to stereotypes or play up to your designated role. Honestly, it’s kinda who we are. It’s our identity. We avoid conflict. We’re passive aggressive. We’re obedient. We listen to authority. It’s in our nature. When it comes down to it, our moral code is mainly derived from Taoism. There is no philosophy stressed more in Chinese culture than filial piety. Respecting your parents, elders, and ancestors. As such, it’s been easy for us to accept our role as the model minority. We know who’s in charge, we obey, and we listen. It makes us the safe race. It makes us the perfect group to sit at the white man’s feet. We don’t rock the boat, we don’t rattle the cage. We’re perfectly content with where we are, because it’s not so bad. It could be far worse. That, my friends is a trap that is far too easy for us to get sucked into. For years, we as a people have subconsciously been telling ourselves and others that this is not our fight. On the one hand we know that there’s racial injustice in the world. We can see it. On the other, we’ve been saying that we understand the black man’s struggle, but do we really? Or is it just lip service? Do we say this just so that we look good? Do we say it so we can get a pat on the back? Good, we acknowledge that there is racial injustice in the US and in the world, so what are we going to do about it? If this is “not our fight,” then when is it our fight? We’re the white man’s toady, when will it actually get worse for us? Let’s be real here. We’re in a unique position where we can effect change without experiencing the majority of bigotry stemming from racial and social disparities. If only we’d get our priorities straight.

I don’t know what types of conversations you’ve had with others. I don’t know what your intentions are. I don’t know what your beliefs are. And I’m not going to pretend to. I’m not a mind-reader. In the end, the only person who truly knows is yourself. You know the thoughts running through your brain. You know your intentions. You know your passions and you know your convictions. You can say what you want people to hear. You can say what you want people to believe. For all we know, it could be a disingenuous front. But only you, know what is actually going on in that noggin. I’ll be the first to admit that for too long, I’ve been far too silent on issues such as social inequality, racial injustice, and the like. But there’s a reason I stuck with being a sociology major. A decision that started out whimsical, progressed into fulfilling a requirement, concluded with making an impact. My mindset, my values, my way of life were deeply and thoroughly changed. Everything happens for a reason, the results of which, you may not see for years down the road. I’m sorry to say but for half a decade I squandered my opportunity. I took in and took in, but never put out. My educational background should’ve given me the (not so) unique opportunity to speak to, discuss with, and educate others on hot button topics featured prominently in sociology classes. But I was always too focused on my own issues. Too busy self-deprecating and feeling sorry for myself. Too busy looking at all my flaws and insecurities with the most powerful microscope. I didn’t understand the sort of impact I could have on those around me. But it always starts with you. Change starts in your heart and your brain, and permeates out. You may feel small, but never forget that you are the catalyst. You might not be able to change the world, but you can change yourself and hope to change those around you. Positive energy is contagious.

For most of my life I’ve been a glass half-empty kinda guy. I always saw the bad in every circumstance, I took things for granted, and I wasn’t counting my blessings. My mind was poisoned. Poisoned with negativity and cynicism, seasoned with doubt, anxiety, depression, you name it. Changing your mindset is half the battle; it’s tougher than you know. But it can be done, and it needs to be done. Each and every day is a learning process. Each and every day is a chance for you to grow and shine. In order to do that, you need to strive to be the best version of yourself. You need to accept that you don’t know everything; accept that your way is not necessarily the best way. You can seek knowledge, or you can seek help. There’s no one right answer. But you need to understand that change is necessary for growth. Growth is necessary for maturity. This is what it means to be human. We learn from our mistakes and we seek to lessen our ignorance. Once you conclude that there’s always more for you to learn, it becomes easier. In layman’s terms, this is what it means to be open-minded.

So what does that look like? It starts with listening. You’ll never be able to visualize life in someone else’s shoes unless you listen. Listen to what they’re telling you, pay attention to what they’re showing you. If a black person tells you about their experiences, believe them. Just because what they’re telling you is not what you’ve experienced doesn’t mean that it isn’t true. Each person is unique. No two people are exactly the same. We are all individuals. It seems so simplistic but why don’t we see it? Because we don’t spend enough time listening. We feel the need to butt in, to put in our two cents, to muddy the waters with our opinion on someone else’s reality. Shut up and listen. Which leads me to the second thing that’s irked me lately. We’ve been hearing the words, “silence is violence,” and “if you’re silent, you’re standing with the oppressor.” I mean I pretty much said those exact words last post. Please note that I’m not walking back my comments; I’m not regretting words that were said. But let’s be very clear here. Not being silent ≠ Posting on social media. You can “not be silent” without shitposting. I’ve seen people posting new resources, new BLM content on their IG story. Good on them. But I’ve also seen people posting the same damn thing day after day. Your intentions may be golden, but know that if you’ve run out of new things to post, it’s time for you to shut up and listen. Your voice is not the voice that needs to be heard at this moment. Amplify the black voice. Let the black activist who is more knowledgeable and experienced than you speak. Let the world hear their voice. Now is the time for you to be silent.

Let the black voice be heard. So what does that mean for you? What can you do to “not be silent?” As most things in life, there are different roles for different people. That’s how society functions. Not everyone will be an outspoken activist; not everyone will be a promoter. Not everyone will post on social media. Not everyone will march, not everyone will protest. But there is most definitely a specific role tailored to fit your personality, fit your needs, fit the needs of those around you. Some people prefer to donate in the background. Others seek to educate. Some facilitate deep and intimate conversations with their loved ones around them. There is no one way to speak out, there is no one way to speak up. Each person is free to express in their own peculiar way. And it is important to show your support in the way(s) that feels most comfortable for you. Be genuine in who you are, and what you say and do. Don’t feel pressured to say something just to say something. Don’t say something just to appear woke. Don’t open your mouth or your fingers just to keep up appearances. You may not know the words to say, but others do. Let them do the talking.

Call me old school, but I’m not the biggest fan of social media. There’s too much fishing for likes, too much attention seeking for my taste. Sure, I’ll post every so often, or go on there to view content, but posting incessantly is not my cup of tea. It’s too much. Some days I feel like social media exists solely for people to prove to their friends that they lead interesting lives. To be used to keep tabs on others. On social media, appearances matter, way too much. It ain’t that serious. With that aside, I can see where the statements originate from. Bullshit statements like, “I see your silence,” or “I see what you’re not doing.” Like damn, you don’t know me. Don’t fall into this trap. Don’t believe the lies. Just because you’re not posting, doesn’t mean that you’re being silent. If you’re not the type to post much on social media, don’t feel peer pressured into doing so, without purpose, just because. You’re welcome to support, speak, protest, etc. in your own manner. Don’t ever let anyone tell you how you should be expressing your feelings and emotions. Don’t let anyone tell you how you should protest or how you should speak out. This goes both ways. The only thing you can control is yourself. If you don’t like the way someone is doing something or saying something, then do better. Don’t criticize or call them out. Do better. Lord, knows we all can do better.

Be confident in who you are. Be unwavering in your beliefs and convictions. Words are just words, if they’re not backed up by action and resolution. It starts with you. But it doesn’t have to start with anything groundbreaking. Life begins with the smallest of molecules. Likewise, change can be initiated with the smallest of steps. A giant leap is not necessary for you to begin your path towards enlightenment. It starts with a seed. A seed of truth. What the seed looks like is up to you. How it blooms is up to you. What it becomes is up to you. Seek justice, find truth, uncover ignorance in your own way. Start small. Make mental notes to alter innate behaviors. Start conversations with friends and family. Take a deep dive into the history of systemic racism in our country. Pray or donate. Start thinking and learning. It’s up to you what kind of difference you want to make. It’s for you to determine where the right place to start is. But in your journey, be willing and open to learn, from yourself, from others, from your environment. And never be afraid to defer to others when you can’t think of what to say. It’s okay to be speechless once in a while. Take a moment of silence. The absence of your voice gives you a chance to listen to the voice of the unheard, to listen to humanity, to listen to the universe.

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.