The first time I got high was in my freshman year of college. It was probably late September or October. I had two suitemates that I hung out with regularly, let’s call them A and B. One night B comes up to us and was like, “guess what I just bought,” and he holds up a little baggie. A is like, “do you have papers or something?” B says, “nah, I met someone who has a piece.”

So we go out to the quad later that night, and we meet up with a bunch of people. I don’t know what to expect, but am told that usually the first time you smoke you might not feel high or know that you are. I had no idea what I was in for. I was also extremely paranoid, after all, I had never done anything like this before. Yes, I had friends in high school who were potheads. But I never hung out with them outside of class, let alone after school. Some of them would go out to the woods to smoke during chemistry class, but I never went with them. They would come back to class blazed as fuck, and I could tell. But seeing someone that’s high doesn’t give you an accurate representation of how it feels to be high. As someone who’s never smoked, you see them saying or doing dumb shit, but you just pass that off as them being a dope.

After you’ve smoked a few times, you can start seeing where your dopey friend was coming from. But me back then? I had no framework for what to look for. At that point in my life, I had only gotten drunk once, but I didn’t even drink like that. It was a funny and stupid story. Back in 8th grade, my parents had this thing that they called cell group. Every two or three Saturdays there was a gathering of their church small group at a host family’s house. When I was younger, I was a showoff. I was eccentric, a contrarian, I did things to get people’s attention. But only at church; at school I was quiet and reserved. I think this was a defensive mechanism that I put in place to hide my insecurities and anxieties. I was comfortable around people at church, I wasn’t comfortable around people at school. That’s besides the point though.

Well anyway, it was a summer day, and someone had set up two coolers full of drinks. One of them had sodas & juices — kid’s drinks. The other had Mike’s Hard Lemonade or something along those lines. I decided I would try one since I was curious. It tasted just like juice to me, I couldn’t taste the alcohol in it. I thought this was interesting so I had another one of my friends try it. We shared three between the two of us. This was our first time drinking, so again, no idea what to expect. My skin started feeling hot, so we both went down to the basement to play some video games. We had sat down for maybe 20 minutes, but I started feeling dizzy, and my friend started feeling hot. So we went outside, and we started fanning ourselves. One thing led to another and we started running around in circles in the front yard. Neither of us had any idea why we were doing what we were doing, it was like it just happened all of a sudden. We were very confused, but I now know that we were acting crazy cause we were drunk.

So this was the only experience I had with any sort of substance usage up until this point, so I was very clueless. I was told to puff puff pass. And that it’s easy, just put your finger on this hole, light the bowl, lift your finger, inhale deep, then inhale again. It didn’t make sense to me, so suitemate A helped me with it. We passed the bowl around a few times, until we were all out. A bunch of people got up and left, but a small group of us stayed and sat there for a little bit. I noticed that the streetlight that I had been looking at seemed hazy now, but I didn’t think anything of it. Someone suggested that we go to H-Quad to get food, so that was now the plan. All of a sudden, people started running (I never found out if they were strangers or part of our original group), so my friends and I joined in. I asked someone why we were running, and he told me, “I have no idea, just run.” So I did. We ran all the way to H-Quad, on the other side of campus. At first I wasn’t going to get anything to eat, but I changed my mind after my mouth started watering looking at my friends’ sandwiches. I ordered one, and I vaguely remember it seeming to take way too long to make, and I also remember really enjoying that sandwich. This was my first experience with the munchies.

But after that experience, I didn’t smoke again until midway through Junior year. I was too caught up in other things. The story I told for a while was one that went like this: I smoked once, but I didn’t get high. But that was just me being naive. I know better now. I smoked once, and I got really high. I just didn’t know it at the time.

If you’ve talked to me at all, you know that one of my passions is fantasy. Sometimes I’d rather live in the world of text than the real world. My first experience with the magic of fantasy was when the teacher read us the Magic Tree House books in 1st grade. That shit was incredible! That being said, I’ve been a fairly avid reader most of my life. My mom used to take us to the library on a fairly regular basis: every 3-4 weeks. I would go look at the same couple of sections: Redwall, Dragonlance, and Greek/Roman mythology. This was my zone. This was my first love.

I may have vehemently denied it in recent years. But I am, and was, and always will be a NERD. There is no changing that. But for the first decade of my life or so, the nerd was created and fed by mostly internal factors. My days consisted of reading and playing with Legos. I was in my own head all day. But I have two very distinct memories in my early days, of being affected by outside influences.

The year was 1999, we had just moved to Massachusetts in October. There was a kid named Elijah who took it on himself to be my friend, show me the ropes as it were. One day several months later, I was at the school library with my class for one of our special periods. I was wandering around, and Elijah came up to me, and was like, “why don’t you get something?” Me, being the weirdo that I am, was always hesitant to borrow books from school. I much preferred to borrow from the town library in the center of town. The town library let you keep a book for 3 weeks at a time, the school library made you renew it week after week. I was always afraid that the book would be due before I finished it. But once, just this once, young me decided sure, let’s borrow a book, why not? So I told Elijah, “ok, but I don’t know what to get.”

He said, “follow me. I know the perfect book. Let me find it. I’m sure you’ll love it. Let me know what you think.”

He handed me Harry Potter & the Sorcerer’s Stone. I was hesitant to take it, I knew my mom wouldn’t approve, plus it was such a big book for such a small kid. My mom as did many other moms at my church disapproved of magic and witches and wizards. They thought it was devil worship. Harry Potter was a wonderful scapegoat, simply because it was the biggest thing at the time. But little did she know, this was my introduction to a genre that I’ve learned to love and appreciate throughout my life. I don’t remember what thought crossed my mind, but something caused me to reluctantly take the book and try it out. Maybe it was fate, I’d like to think so.

So I took the book home with me, and I hid it under my bed. I read it only at night (when I was supposed to be asleep), to ensure that I didn’t get caught. I only ended up reading about a third of the book before I returned it, but this was the start of something new, and different, and exciting. What I read ended up sticking with me, so much so that I still remembered the little that I had read, when I finally got around to reading the entire series in 2014.

There were two other catalysts that kicked me into a higher gear of nerd-dom. The first occurred two years later. I had a church friend whose parents had a massive home theater with a projector; before big screen TV’s were a thing. As a collective, we were having trouble picking a movie, so he said, “I’m going to put on this movie. Trust me it’s good. Don’t tell anyone cause it hasn’t technically come out yet.” He put on a bootleg version of The Fellowship of the Ring, and my whole life changed. These movies meant so much to me, and I wanted LOTR everything. I was probably way too young to read the books, but read them I did, and re-read them, and re-read them, and re-read them.

All of a sudden, me and several friends from church were hooked. We roleplayed and pretended at church, at home, on hikes, at church retreats. We were lost in the wonderful world of imagination. Smartphones didn’t exist back then, and videogames were limited. So this was our entertainment: role playing, Pokemon, and Magic cards. What a wonderful and simpler time…

The year is 2002. In comes broad band, out goes dial up. The Internet is still pretty new to mostly everybody, but Xanga and AIM started their respective heydays. The more time I spent on the computer, the less time I spent reading. From 7th grade on, I read only as much as I needed to. My intake consisted of comic books and books for school (I’m not a good liar so Cliffnotes wasn’t enough).

It wasn’t until 2012 that I picked up a book and read for the joy of it. The third catalyst. The day we refer to as The Day Adam Injected me With the Neckbeard Gene. I can’t pinpoint the exact day unfortunately, but it was sometime between spring of 2011 and spring of 2012. Freshman year of college, he showed me the pilot for Game of Thrones. He ranted & raved to me for days about it. A Song of Ice & Fire was his brothers’ favorite fantasy series for more than 10 years, and all three of them were so excited to see it come out in a visual medium. This was before the fame and the fortune got to George R. R. Martin’s head. Y’all know how I feel about him so I’ll spare you the details.

So Adam showed me the series, and I thought nothing of it. But we happened to be taking a walk around campus a few weeks later, and we stopped by the campus bookstore. We walked by a shelf and he was like, “look, look look! Here’s the series I was telling you about. You should buy the first book.” Again, I was hesitant, like do I really wanna read a book? But eventually he convinced me, and I was like, “should I just buy the whole series?” Adam said, “nah, just try out the first one, See if you like it.”

So I bought the book, and I did nothing with it. It sat on my shelf, gathering dust for a whole year, and I was content with that. My interest wasn’t piqued, until the following April, when I read and watched The Hunger Games. I was told I wasn’t allowed to watch it unless I read the books. My eyes were reopened. I figured I would start reading A Game of Thrones, and I fell in love. A couple days after I started reading it, I bought the rest of the series, and started buying used books on eBay. This was the start of my journey. A journey I will follow until the end of time.

All this is a long winded way of saying what I’ve read, what I need to finish, and what I have next. Like I’ve said and realized recently, writing is my talent, and reading is my passion. What’s the point of all this reading? It’s to give me ideas so that I can one day write something or somethings. The thoughts are still stewing, but something will come to fruition one day. If you really really think about it, the fantasy genre is all the same. It’s just each author coming up with their own take on the same tropes. Nothing is unique, but that’s ok. That’s what I love so much about this. We can all tell the same stories, but the twists & the turns and the paths will be different. Each story is intricately woven and spun into something very different. The beginning and the end may be the same, but the path through is distinctive.

This was my path through so far:

• I read the first 4 novels of ASOIAF from May-July 2012. A Dance With Dragons was read in October. I’ve jokingly said that if I was forced to burn books, the GRRM ones would be the first to go. In all honesty, I probably will read & purchase the rest of this if he ever writes another, but I highly doubt he will. I have absolutely no interest in reading Fire & Blood, and I have pretty minimal interest in reading his backlog.
• I slogged through some shit not worth talking about, but it showed me what to avoid when it comes to garbage fantasy. I’ve learned my lesson and I always do my research. I read all the negative reviews, so I know beforehand, whether or not it’s going to be a book I like.
•  The next series was Prince of Thorns/King of Thorns by Mark Lawrence. He has a degree in physics & mathematics, and was previously a research scientist, so anything is possible! He’s written 3 trilogies to date, and I own them all, but I have yet to read past the second book so this is definitely still on the docket.
• Scott Lynch and his Gentlemen Bastards novels are some of the easiest and quickest reads, but he has had some personal issues and his output has been slow.
• Patrick Rothfuss has also been quite slow.
• Joe Abercrombie has some brutally violent books (he calls himself Lord Grimdark after all), but his writing tapered off a bit after 2015, but he does have a new series coming out so I will get back to him.
• Jim Butcher wrote at a furious pace since 2000, but seems to have taken some time with his latest Dresden book. I still have a couple more to read, and will go through the Codex Alera series at some point.
• Brandon Sanderson’s The Way of Kings blew me away in 2013 when I read it during one of the worst summers of my life. This book was the only thing I looked forward to. I have one real book left to read, some YA stuff & misc, and his finishing touches of The Wheel of Time, otherwise I’m caught up. He’s the best author under 50 in the world, don’t @ me.
• Peter V Brett is a quick & interesting read. But a case of “I forgot what the story is about while I was waiting for the next one, and I didn’t feel like re-reading yet.” A typical occurrence for me… I have the last two books (one of which I bought twice by accident). I will do a re-read of the whole series at some point.
• Dan Wells. Not fantasy, more so horror/sci-fi. I’ve read everything he’s published so I will have to wait.
• Harry Potter is over and done with, but was definitely a good read. Will I read her Cormoran Strike series? No idea
• Brian McClellan’s Powder Mage group of trilogies has a unique take. But I’m caught up, even with novellas. Will need to wait
• Brent Weeks’ last novel in his Lightbringer series is coming out later this month. Maybe I’ll pre-order it. I also have his previous trilogy to read as well.
• I picked up a few Tad Williams novels here and there. He’s one of the fathers of modern fantasy, and I’d like to start digging into his bibliography at some point. He was writing dictionary sized novels before it became popular!
• I finished one trilogy by Anthony Ryan. It was quite interesting, and the first book was quick, but it seemed like it took forever to get through the other two. Maybe that’s what happens when this book is unofficially designated as “the one to be read during my lunch break.” I have his other trilogy, so logically this is also on “the list.”
• And last but not least I started listening to The Wheel of Time on audiobook in May of this year. So instead of music, Robert Jordan has been on the air on my drives.

So what am I reading now and what will I be reading?

1. Finishing The Wheel of Time obviously. I am about to start book 8 of 14.
2. I am reading Carrie by Stephen King, and I have created a Stephen King checklist. I’ve marked off everything “scary” for reading later or not at all. I will go through some of the shorter works first, then listen to The Dark Tower audiobooks after I finish WOT. I don’t think most people know, but King is quite a versatile author. He doesn’t just write horror/thriller/supernatural. He also writes fantasy, crime/mystery, sci-fi as well. I’ve read Under the Dome and 11/22/63 both of which are quite good.
3. Whenever I decide to go off my King kick, I will finish reading the Dresden Files. I have two left plus the one that will be published shortly. Codex Alera will wait. I have a habit of reading multiple books at once. I like to be reading one epic fantasy and one urban fantasy at the same time. Sometimes I may do three books at once: a physical book, audiobook, and something on Kindle
4. The Shadow of What Was Lost by James Islington is the “lunch break book”. I like it, but it’s been a slog. I’ve been reading this since July. Depending on how I feel after I’m finally done with the first one, I may finish the trilogy now or later.
5. Re-read the first two Mark Lawrence books, then finish the others
6. I guess you can mix & match the order of the rest of these, as I am undecided on what is next:
   1. Re-read and finish Peter V Brett
   2. Read Miles Cameron’s Traitor Son Cycle. Which funnily enough I had started reading years ago on Facebook of all places. His publisher had a 12 Days of Christmas promo where they were posting daily snippets of his first book
   3. Finish Brent Weeks Lightbringer series
   4. Read Starsight by Brandon Sanderson when it comes out in November
   5. A Little Hatred Joe Abercrombie’s new series and/or The Shattered Sea trilogy which I never ended up getting around to
   6. Blood of Empire by Brian McClellan, the last book in his second trilogy when it comes out in December
   7. Start Anthony Ryan’s Draconis Memoria trilogy or read his followup to Raven’s Shadow trilogy
   8. Switch it up and read Doug Pederson’s autobiography or Charlamagne tha God’s second memoir
   9. Read Nicholas Eames’ Kings of the Wyld. The next lunch break book perhaps?

And finally… further down the line

• The Witcher books
• Michael J Sullivan’s Riyria Revelations & Chronicles. Mix of audiobook (I’m not able to find all of them) and ebook
• Dragonlance and Forgotten Realms (novels based off of two different Dungeons & Dragons campaign settings). I’ve already created a checklist for reading order of Dragonlance
• Tad Williams bibliography
• David Gemmell bibliography, another father of fantasy who passed away too soon
• Neil Gaiman, I’ve read a few but I should finish
• And this is not reading per se, but eventually we will get our D&D group back together and I will DM Storm King’s Thunder

 

 

Part 1

Wanna know a secret? I had a concussion this week. Wanna know another secret? I went to work and I can’t remember Tuesday and Wednesday at all. This week was a blur, it zoomed by. How did I get a concussion do you ask? Well here ya go, it’s a story for the ages!

Last week I turned 28, so like a normal adult I went to Disney World to celebrate with my girlfriend! It was a fun, but tiring week. Fast forward to Friday, and here we are, on our way back. In hindsight, I should’ve known it was going to be a weird day.

We had booked our vacation with Disney World directly, so we had the park passes, the resort, transportation, the whole nine yards. Booking with them, we had limited flight options. That being said, we were put on a 9:05am flight out of Orlando. Per Disney policy, the shuttle was scheduled to depart 3 hours before the flight, and guests are to board 15 minutes before the departure time. Do the math, and that puts us at 5:45am. So we should be outside waiting for the bus right? Nope, 5:45 is when we woke up. So we quickly packed our things and walked there as fast as we could. We just barely made it. 1st Clue.

When we landed at JFK, KD’s mom, was nowhere to be found. Apparently, her sister had erringly told mami that we had flown with Delta. So now we had to wait. 2nd Clue.

Mami drove right by us; we were at the near end of the arrival gate, and she parked at the far end. Of course, as we walk towards her, I see one of those annoying gate guards come up to her and start gesturing wildly. She’s been parked less than 30 seconds mind you, and there’s like 5 other cars there at most. 3rd Clue.

Well, once we walk up to the car, this dude is still being a real shithead, he’s still talking and making weird ass hand motions. It’s like he didn’t have anything better to do than to bother a tiny Salvadorean lady driving a large SUV. In my head, I’m just like, “dude, walk away, we’re getting in the goddamn car already. Just leave us the fuck alone.” But no, this guy is still there, still making noise, and I get rushed, so I quickly put my suitcase in the trunk, and close the door real quick. And in the most Justin way possible, I misjudged the distance, and slammed the door right on my fucking head. This guy starts laughing and calls me “tiny man” and says “hahaha, be careful China man.” Alright, well fuck you too then, fucking loser.

So that there, is the story of how I got a mild concussion. But that’s not the focus of this post. This concussion was one of the top 5 things to ever happen to me #REALTALK. I’m a realist, I see a silver lining in everything. You know those stories, about how someone hits their head and their personality changes? Well, this happened to me. But I didn’t know it right away.

Part 2

I started getting really drowsy on the way back to my apartment. We ended up getting stuck in traffic, so it took close to two hours. I chalked it up to lack of sleep, and thought nothing of it. I came home, took a nap, did some stuff, took another nap. Saturday, comes & goes, life as usual. Still on vacation mode, I go to sleep late, and wake up at 7 to get ready for church.

I meet up with my girl and her sister when we get there. I’m sitting there in a daze, trying to focus on everything that’s happening. Pretty much a zombie in a church. I figure my lack of focus is because of me sleeping late. I think nothing of it. I’m a creature of habit, so I end up taking a nap around 1, as per my Sunday schedule. The rest of the day I spend watching Orange Is the New Black. Before I know it, it’s midnight, so I’m like I should probably go to sleep, I have work tomorrow. I’m laying there for hours, wide awake, thoughts running ad nauseam through my head. I think nothing of it, I’ve had issues sleeping for years.

I go to work, and I have 1500 emails. I methodically go through and delete spam & auto-replies, and I check to make sure everything’s been answered. Ya know, the usual routine after you return from vacation. I’m honed in and focused, so I’m doing this between phone calls, not answering any new emails. I go home, watch Netflix, go to bed. Another night of staring at the ceiling, it seems I don’t need sleep, cause sleep is for the weak.

Tuesday, I wake up, I have a fuzzy feeling in my head, but I feel surprisingly alert. I ain’t even drowsy at all! I certainly don’t feel like someone who was tossing & turning all night. That’s good. Maybe TeamNoSleep, is who I wanna play for. Every conversation I have that day, it seems like I’m rambling; talking to customers, and coworkers. I think nothing of it, the day went by quick.

KD and I go on a little dinner date at our favorite diner, after work. There isn’t a single worker there that I recognize, and I end up getting confused and disoriented. Is this the same diner that we always go to? I’m not quite sure. I think nothing of it, and we get to talking. I’m talking non-stop, about everything and nothing, we leave the diner, and go back to my apartment, and I’m still talking and talking and talking.

I go on a trip down memory lane, and I start to realize that my whole life I’ve been doing what someone else wants of me, and not staying true to myself. When I was a kid, I knew exactly what I wanted to do, but all I got for being me was having my dream constantly shat on, and being told that I wasn’t good enough. But once I started gaining control of my life, I started to lose my way, and forget what it was I wanted to do. Later in the night, I come across a Facebook post that said, “It’s so funny how so much of ‘finding yourself’ in adulthood is simply getting back to who you were and what you loved as a child…” And this resonated with me, this was exactly what I was thinking, exactly what I was looking for, and exactly what I needed to hear.

For the first time in my life, I fully realized my self-worth. I deserve better, I deserve to be happy, and I shouldn’t feel guilty about doing whatever it takes to better myself. No one is going to look out for you better than yourself. People or companies may pretend to care, but they really don’t. THEY DON’T GIVE A SHIT ABOUT YOU. It’s all about looks & appearances, it’s a game of make believe. They try to make you feel good about yourself, so that you’ll be convinced to stay, but to them, you’re just another tool in their toolbox. To be used, and discarded. So in this, I finally discovered what I wanted. I still couldn’t tell you what it is  exactly, but I can tell you that living someone else’s dream is what I DON’T want. And that’s good enough for now.

Life is a constant feeling out process, so even though I’m only now having confidence in myself and my abilities, it’s better late than never. But the thing is, the real ones always knew! The real ones knew my talents, the real ones believed in me before I believed in me! And that means the world.

But real ones also know, I don’t talk much. As someone once put it, “you could be in a room with another person and not say a single word. It’s unsettling. It’s like we’re hanging out, but not hanging out at the same time.” I’m typically a man of many thoughts, but not many words. That’s a clue, ain’t it?

So I drop KD back home, and she tells me that she’s surprised that I’ve been talking non-stop. I ask her, “but you’d rather I talk too much than I talk too little right?” I go home, climb into bed, and think nothing of it. Another night of sleeplessness, damn…

But wait a second. I hit my head pretty hard, do I have a concussion? I google it, and there it is, I have some of these symptoms. I close my eyes, not entirely convinced. In the morning, my mind is even more fuzzy, I google it again. Ok, I definitely have a concussion. Another day of rambling, another day of talking non-stop, another day of new discoveries.

Part 3

My mom, bless her heart, is a crazy control freak. I love her and all, but she’s not good for me. She is toxic. My aunt is the same way. One hides her crazy, and one shows her crazy, but they are two cookies cut in the same shape. In fact, a lot of old generation Asian Christians are cut like this, and that’s the saddest truth.

As you know, I grew up in the church. I was the good kid, the kid who knew his Bible verses, and went to every prayer meeting. The pastor’s friend, and the teacher’s pet. As you also know, I stopped going when I was in college. The new thing here, is that I recently started going back.

I have no regrets in my life; like I said, there’s a silver lining in everything. There’s a hidden order to it all. Without leaving the church, I wouldn’t have the new perspective that I have. Without being the kiss ass that I was in my younger days, I wouldn’t know the error of my ways.

There are 3 things we need to keep in mind. First, I didn’t know it at the time, but the church I went to growing up was extremely damaging to my psyche. I went to a Chinese church that had a Caucasian pastor with serious pride issues and a superiority complex, but this is not an exposé on him. It is what it is, the past is the past.

Second, my dad was distant, in his own world.

Third, and most importantly, I was a mama’s boy. She was the ruler of my world. My everything. She could do no wrong. She was the only one who would ever love me unconditionally, and love me more than I loved me.

That being said, I was easily swayed and influenced. I was brainwashed. What I was taught at church, what I was taught at home, this was my truth. This was what I believed without question, without thought. My mom’s truth was my truth, my pastor’s truth was my truth. Homosexuality is wrong, abortion is wrong, pornography is wrong, illegal immigration is wrong, profanity is wrong. Why is it wrong? Because it just is.

That was my life. Following a construct without question. Following a strict moral code  simply because it was what I was told.

Part 4

August 2018 to August 2019 was a monumental year in my life. I went from the lowest low to the highest high. Around this time last year, I was getting ready to move. My roommate of 2 years had told me he was going to move back home, so I had to find a new apartment. Sure, no problem, but my naiveté got the better of me. To be quite frank, I was rather spoiled as a kid, I always had my mom to do everything for me. It wasn’t until I got to college that I started to learn how to fend for myself. But still, I was a user, just like my mom is a user. And I sincerely apologize for everyone that I’ve wronged in this way.

But this was a part of me. I took the easy way out, if someone else could find an apartment for me, they found it; if someone else could get something for me, they got it. So like I said, my naiveté got the better of me, and I was too stubborn to ask for help. I went into the apartment search blind and without a clue. I fell for a “realtor’s” flowery language and got duped. He promised me a room in a house that never ended up being available. He told me the owner was renovating the house, and would be done in two or three weeks.

The day was August 17th, 2018. He told me he had an update for me about the house, and asked me to call him. I pull into a gas station near home, and figure I’ll call him then, but end up changing my mind. I decide that I should get gas instead, then call him after I get home. I do the number 1 thing you shouldn’t do when driving: reverse without checking your mirrors or turning your head. I end up hitting an old Asian lady.

She doesn’t know a lick of English, and nobody knows what language she actually speaks. The eyewitnesses come to talk to me before the cops arrive and they tell me to feign ignorance. The lady doesn’t know English, the cops won’t know the better of it. The story goes that the lady tripped & fell and/or she jumped behind me and faked it so that she could get money or file a claim. Which I knew was a lie, I had reversed at an angle and thought I had hit the curb. After I got out of my car, I knew for a fact that I had hit the woman.

The cops arrive with an ambulance and I’m standing there, shaking. They ask me my story, and I tell them what I think I know. They ask the witnesses, and they tell them their bogus story. They ask the lady and she doesn’t say anything. I’m told I’m free to go. I’m still shaken, so I pump my gas and leave. I call the realtor when I get home, and my emotions are running wild. I feel so guilty.

I go to Rite Aid and buy some Nyquil and maximum strength Tylenol. I call my mom, and tell her I’m going to kill myself, and I tell her how exactly I’m going to do it, and where. It’s set in my mind. Today is going to be my last day. I drive to Long Beach, near my tattoo artist’s shop, but it doesn’t feel right. So I drive to Robert Moses, and by now, it’s gotten too dark, so it still doesn’t feel right. I drive to the Target in Bay Shore, and park there. There just so happens to be a car parked across the way from me with its headlights on. I don’t want to do it where someone can see, so I convince myself that I’ll do it once the lights shut off. My plan was to end it. There was nothing I wanted more than to rid myself of the pain. But God had a different plan. He sent me an angel.

Part 5

These were my darkest days. In my mind, my girlfriend talking me down from the edge was only a momentary reprieve. I still had my suicidal thoughts, and this was to be my first real attempt of many. My parents were so worried about me that they drove down to me in the middle of the night. This was my lowest point, and I had had many low points throughout my life.

Depression and lack of confidence were things I struggled with for the longest time. Depression was something that I was used to, something my parents were used to. But suicide… This was new.

Growing up, I was a happy kid. But I was also a lonely kid. It happens, when you’re the middle child and the only boy. I was shy and had trouble making friends. I was intimidated by adults, and spent most of my time by myself, playing with my LEGOs or reading my books. I didn’t have many friends, and I didn’t want many friends. But life spent in isolation, isn’t really life at all. Even the biggest introvert, needs some human contact. I guess I was in my own world, spending a lot of time in my own head. I kept everything to myself, cause it was better that way.

The few times, I opened myself, I would get hurt. So it was just better to stay closed. I was a complete enigma. Dark and mysterious, but not in a good way. I didn’t form enough outside relationships to formulate who I really was at a young age. You could say I was misunderstood. I walled myself off to everybody, including my family. But I let the few friends that I had, see bits & pieces of me, but only glimpses at a time. No one was allowed to know who I really was, including me.

Part 6 

But my mom, my mom was a different story. She saw more of me than anyone else ever could. But still, she never saw all of me, she only saw the parts of me that I was willing to share. She grew up in Cambodia, around the time that the Khmer Rouge came into power. Her childhood was cut short. Her education stopped at 3rd grade, when her family started running from Communists. Her parents were well off; they owned a sewing factory that was flourishing, and they had hired maids and servants in their household. But the core ideology of Communism, obviously, is the elimination of private property. So her family was the type of person that was the hunted.

In a constant state of running & hiding, and moving from country to country, refugee camp after refugee camp, there was no such thing as privacy. Everything was out in the open, for everyone else to see. This was a salient point that I didn’t learn until recently.

So growing up, she didn’t know that I was keeping my secrets. She thought that what I showed in the open was who I was. Perfect right?

My mom had an image that she was trying to keep. We were the good family at church; both my parents served as deacons, the three kids were well behaved and went to all the church events. Everything was great, everything was dandy on the outside.

But then I discovered porn. I first looked at it in 5th grade, and this was my biggest secret. After church on Friday nights, I would sneak down to the basement with the laptop, and watch it til the wee hours of the morning. This was an act between me and God. Nobody was to know. There were times I almost got caught, but due to providence or coincidence, the secret never got out.

Until I let it out.

In my junior and senior years of high school, I got to be so misunderstood as an individual, that even me, Justin, didn’t know who Justin was. And that’s where all my troubles started. If felt like all of a sudden, I wasn’t a happy kid any longer. Some how, some way, things went from good to bad; from bad to worse.

My parents had pulled me out of sex ed in elementary school, saying that it’s not the government’s right to teach their kids about sex. It’s the parent’s right. Ok, well that’s all fine and good, but did my parents teach me about sex? No.

My dad attempted to teach me about it once. ONCE. But he being the awkward person that he is, and me being the cloistered fuck that I was, it didn’t go over very well, and we never tried it again. So, I learned about sex from porn. Yes, that’s just about as stupid and fucked up as it sounds.

But that’s what ended up happening, and boy, I don’t even want to start talking about how detrimental that was for my well-being. Suffice it to say, as a horny, awkward, misunderstood introvert, all sorts of random, sometimes contradictory emotions and thoughts started to bubble up. I wanted to stay in my isolation, but I also wanted human intimacy. It was time to come out of my shell. I wanted a girlfriend more than anything. But I didn’t know any of the right steps to take in obtaining one. My view of women was so skewed and distorted that there was absolutely no way in hell anyone would even consider dating me. I wouldn’t have dated me. That’s the honest truth. Swing and a miss, swing and a whiff. That was the story of my life.

Part 7

I pursued girls like it was nobody’s business. But not in a way that made sense to anyone else. I dreamed and fantasized about different situations, about different people. I personified figments of my imagination. These people in my brain, weren’t the same as these people in real life. I would get upset that things didn’t turn out as planned. It was cause I was dream-walking. This girl that you’ve never talked to in real life, rejected you? Well, yeah, no shit Sherlock. She doesn’t even know who the fuck you are.

But I didn’t know that. 17 year old me had been alone for so long, that I didn’t know how to be with other people. I was ready and willing to come out of my shell, but I couldn’t grasp that understanding myself was a pre-requisite for others understanding me. So there I went, opening myself up again, letting people into my little pornscape, and getting hurt over and over when my heavily skewed & unrealistic expectations didn’t meet reality. Every time this happened, I would immediately shut down. So every step forward, ended up being a thousand steps back.

Eventually, the thousand steps back ended up spiraling into a deeply misunderstood depression. I wanted to talk about it, and yet I didn’t. I wanted to get help, but I didn’t think I needed the help. Contradictory thoughts ran rampant through my mind, and I only got worse and worse. But I never sought out the help that I needed. I didn’t know how to talk about it or address it. But my mom, always my mom. She thought she knew the answer to all of life’s questions. She thought she knew how to approach this, she thought what she was doing was the right way. Her way was never wrong. Her first question to me was, “why are you depressed?” My response, as always was, “I don’t know.”

This was never good enough for her. She would say, “you have to know. There has to be a reason that you’re sad.” And that’s just not always the case. Actually, more often than not, that’s not the case. Depression doesn’t deal only with sad emotions, it also includes loss of interest(s), issues sleeping, anger/frustration, anxiety, feelings of worthlessness, low energy. Depression can’t be cured by simply “being happy,” thinking happy thoughts, or something that you can just snap out of. So although, my mom had good intentions, her be-all, end-all approach was the absolute opposite of helpful. So I clammed back up, and I told myself I’d eventually get over it. I wasn’t ready to die yet, so I just stayed content with my negative and depressive thoughts, which I bottled up for years after. Not to be retouched or revisited by another individual.

Part 8

But something I was willing to share, was about my struggles with porn. I reached out to my pastor, and let him know that I was wanting some accountability. I wanted to stop wasting my time with it, and thought that having a mentor keep an eye on me and track me would be the best way to resolve the issue. After all, porn was a sin, and something that was denounced in many a sermon. As Christians, we were to strive to be perfect, in the way that Jesus was perfect. Because I was a goody-goody, I knew what a “good Christian” looked like, and that’s what I modeled my life after. Which is all for the good, except, my prayers in those days were along the lines of, “please help me to stop sinning.” Which, of course, is entirely unobtainable. But this unobtainable goal, was the doctrine that was pushed in this church.

There was an image of perfection that everyone was trying to achieve, and many took great pride in doing so. But in so doing, these so-called Christians didn’t stay true to themselves. They got stuck with tunnel vision. In their eyes, there was only one way to be a Godly Christian: Model A. There was no model B, or C, or D. A “good Christian” doesn’t lie, he doesn’t steal, he doesn’t have pre-marital sex, he doesn’t watch porn. He doesn’t do this, he doesn’t do that. A good Christian reads the Bible, and talks to God, dassit.

What bullshit. But people buy into it, and they look down on others if they don’t fit into this mold. This way or the highway. My mom bought into this hard, so hard. The crazy thing about this mindset and this lifestyle is that in trying so hard not to sin, you end up sinning with your pride, your condescension, and your judgment. Knowing what I know now, I can see that the mantra was, “all eyes on that one over there. Look how bad he is, compared to how good I am. The only reason you should be looking at me, is as a perfect example of what you should be.”

This, as you know, is literally the opposite of what the Bible teaches. You’re pointing out the speck of dust, and disregarding the log. You’re casting the first stone because you think you’re sinless. These types are the modern day Pharisees. I’m sorry I had to wait 15 years just to see that. But this is what formed and shaped me. The years of guilt I felt from not turning out to be Model A, the guilt I felt from sinning, the guilt I felt for being depressed, it all pushed me down further and further.

But if you keep pushing and pushing and pushing, eventually someone is going to snap, and see the light.

Part 9

Seeing the light, started with a breakup. In my sophomore year of college, I guess I had normalized enough that someone was willing to date me. We dated for a little more than a year and a half, and at first it started out great. But it quickly deteriorated after the first year. Nothing against her, but we weren’t good for each other. I had my issues that had compiled over the years, and we didn’t treat each other with the respect that we both deserved. There was a lot of arguing and a severe lack of support for each other. Eventually, she had enough of my bullshit, and she ended it via a text message. It was right when summer break started, after our Junior Year. I was devastated, but thought that I could win her back.

Come the end of June, I’ve been looking for a job opportunity all summer, but have not been able to find one. My aunt tells me that there’s a job lined up for me in California, so I buy a plane ticket and go to live with her for a few weeks. This would end up being one of the worst decisions I ever made, but it showed me the avarice of the real world, and led me on a path away from God.

Sometimes you need time away, to find out what it is you really need. I was hurt so incredibly by the church and by “Christians” that I decided that I didn’t need it. Little did I know, but I would eventually find my way back. Staying in California without work for those three weeks would show me severe flaws in character that my aunt possessed, that I would later see manifested in my mom. My aunt was crazy, and made Christians look bad.  I stopped going to church soon after. This was the first step to enlightenment for me. This was 2013.

The next step wouldn’t come to fruition until another 5 years. It started with my low, and it brought me to my high.

Part 10

Deep down, I don’t think my dad even knew about my depression until the attempt. I kept myself closed, especially around him. But my mom knew, she had always known. But she had never done anything about it, partially because she didn’t know how, and partially because she had convinced herself that I could get better without professional help. This is where my parents differ the most. My mom goes through life acting and thinking like she has nothing left to learn. My dad goes through life acting and thinking like he has everything left to learn.

After 10 years of on and off depression, I finally got the help that I needed. My dad acknowledged that he didn’t know how to help and he didn’t know what to do, so he deferred to someone else. His mentality was, “I don’t know how to fix this, so let me find someone who does.” That being said, I have been seeing a therapist every other week, and for the first time in forever, I feel truly happy.

This was the second step. In extracting memories and emotions that I had hidden and suppressed, I was able to find who I truly am, and find out things I never would’ve known otherwise. One thing that we were able to work on together was unpacking the influence my parents had on me as a child.

As I said, my dad was always distant. He spends a lot of time in his own head, and doesn’t talk much. His hobbies include fishing, reupholstering furniture, photography, gardening. All things that can be done with minimal communication.

My mom, on the other hand, is a selfish control freak. She cares so much about image, that she needs everything to fit in her plan, even things that are beyond her control. She has a life planned out for me. She wants me to date a certain kind of person, work a certain kind of job, live a certain type of lifestyle.

Something that came up in one of our early sessions really stuck with me. My therapist told me that I looked up to my mom as an older female mentor, she was my rock, she was who I confided in; but I didn’t have a male equivalent in my life, and it was important to find one.

Part 11

On my path to finding one, I discovered how much influence my mom truly had on my life. My mom raised my sisters, and I the same. She figured, she treats her kids all the same, they turn out the same. She got lucky. My sisters are very similar people, so using the same techniques on them worked.

Not to oversimplify things, but the Myers-Briggs personality test has 16 different character archetypes. Your approach needs to be altered when dealing with each of these archetypes, because each group will receive and interpret criticisms differently. My mom never understood that. She thought nature vs. nurture was a myth. “I treated them and raised them the same, so they’ll be the same.” In her mind, there is one type of person.

Like I said, my mom got lucky. My sisters responded the same way to everything she did. I responded differently, not because I was the only boy like she thought, but because naturally my chemical makeup wasn’t the same. The most poignant thing I’ve learned so far is that all my life, my mom has been trying to turn me into Model A, when in fact I am Model D. This whole time, I was trying to live her dream for me, because I no longer remembered what my dream was for me.

So distancing myself from my mother, was the third step to discovery.

Part 12

In October of last year, I had gone on a weekend trip to Vermont with my girlfriend. We had been dating for about 3 months at that point. We were still getting through the idiosyncrasies of getting to know each other, and had a pretty big disconnect in communication. And I was still wrapping my head around old emotional issues that had been left unaddressed. That said, it looked like I was well on my way to having the same type of relationship that I had had previously. We got into a pointless argument that I got extremely upset about. I called my mom about it, and she convinced me that KD wasn’t who I was supposed to be with. That she was only an angel that God had put into my life to save me from myself. She told me to break up with her.

So what did I do? I listened to her… And immediately regretted it. She had brainwashed me. Her telling me that I didn’t need KD, when in fact she did not know KD at all. I called my mom back the following day, and I went off on her. She was speechless for several minutes, then eventually said, “did anything happen at Vermont? Did you and her have sex?”

That was the moment. That was the breaking point. As soon as she said that, everything my mom said to me in the past, everything she did, it all became clear to me. Everything she did was for her own purpose. Every time she asked me when I was planning on moving back home. Every time she told me about a girl that she wanted me to meet. Every time she told me about jobs that she wanted me to apply to. I did not speak to her again until December.

My mom showed me her true colors. KD had been telling me that from what she saw, my mom was selfish, toxic, and possibly racist. But I didn’t see it until this point. KD, was the 4th and 5th steps to enlightenment.

Part 13

She shows me my self-worth. She listens to me and confides in me. She supports me and makes me feel confident about myself. She pushes me to be both better for myself and to be better for her. She is exactly who I need, to go through life by my side. She was the one who brought me back to church, which I never thought would ever happen. And I couldn’t be happier with the church that we go to.

They accept you for who you are. There is no judgment there. The main pastor preaches time and time again about breakthrough, and he emphasizes constantly that you reap what you sow. In order to receive freely, you have to give freely. This is the message I’ve been needing to hear my whole life. Some people have mid-life crises, but I’m having a mid-life breakthrough.

I’m tired of living someone else’s dream. I’m tired of being a pushover and getting stepped on. I’m tired of being told I’m not good enough. I’m tired of being under-appreciated, and taken for granted. You’re going to miss me when I’m gone.

I can do better, I can do so much better. I don’t have to put up with the bullshit anymore, cause really that’s some bullshit, putting your time & your all into something and getting nothing in return. This concussion has been one of the top 5 things to ever happen to me. Because it finally knocked some sense into me. I’ve seen the light. Same ole me, but I’m energized and with confidence.

Dear      ,

Looks like I fucked it up again. I can’t seem to ever make it stop. And you know why that is? Cause it’s me. It’s not you. It’s always been me. I mean how many times do I have to rehash old events with new people before I learn?

How much of a coincidence is it that the same thing(s) keep happening time after time? It’s cause it’s not a coincidence. The problem here is me. I don’t know how to communicate.  I don’t know how to act like an adult. Everything comes too easy, and everything has been handed to me on a silver spoon. I haven’t gone through any real hardship in my life. It’s time to change, cause it’s just going to be an endless cycle otherwise. I want to learn, I want to do better. But what if it’s too late?

It’s been 26 years of bad habits, is it possible to change at this point? I feel like I’ve let you down already. I wanted this to work, I really did. But you already have a pre-conceived notion of me, and I don’t think that’s something that will change. You don’t respect me, and why should you? I can’t communicate with you, I don’t act my age, and I am rude beyond all reason. I’m not much more than a glorified child. I have a lot of growing up to do, and a lot of manners to re-learn.

I don’t deserve your respect, your love, or your time. I can try to be better, but I don’t think I’ll ever be good enough for you. I want to be better, for myself, and for you. I can’t ask you to be patient, and I don’t expect you to want to deal with this. This isn’t your responsibility. I have no choice but to change and grow on my own, or else I’ll never learn.

I’m sorry I wasted your time. I’m clearly not the person that you or I thought that I was. I’m sorry for everything. I like you a lot and I want to be with you. I like spending time with you, and although I clearly am incapable of showing it, I love talking to you. I want to make it work, and I want to improve in any way that makes me a better person. But this isn’t a burden that you deserve to bear. My baggage is not something that someone else should have to deal with. I understand if you want to move on. This isn’t fair to you or anyone else.

I have to admit that I am just not good at this and I am not easy to deal with. I’m inexperienced in every sense of the word. I don’t know what it’s like to live life earning everything that’s given to you and taking advantage of every new opportunity. I don’t know how to be a considerate human being, but I can try. I can try to have manners. Say my “please & thank you’s”, greet people, and say excuse me. I can try to stop interrupting and actually listen. I can try to not take things for granted, and try to appreciate the little things. I can try to not act so spoiled and entitled. I can try to do things on my own. I can try to take the time to talk to you and actually get to know you. I am willing to do anything to make this work, because you are special to me. I know these are just words and not actions, but we won’t know if I’m capable of changing unless we give it a shot. Please give me a chance to show that I can change.

Sincerely,

Justin

So, my work BFF is leaving. I mean it was inevitable. I’ve known for the longest time that he’s been looking for a new job, but I thought we had more time 😦 … I didn’t think it’d be this soon. Who am I supposed to talk to about football now? Who am I supposed to rant to about Hip Hop? Who am I supposed to make fun of other coworkers with? Honestly, I’m heartbroken. We had such a connection. He really was more than a coworker. He was more than just my subordinate. I would go so far as to call him a friend and a confidante. I mean I can still text him, and I have him on Instagram and Snapchat.

But it’s not the same. I’m not gonna see him everyday. We’re not going to have those moments of understanding where no words are required. We can’t just sit there complaining about annoying & stupid shithead customers. We can no longer share poop jokes with each other and laugh continuously for 10 minutes. I have a feeling the message isn’t easily conveyed via text. We had a solid year and a half together, but now it’s over. I will always cherish our conversations, the laughs we shared, and the inside jokes that we had. I feel lost and in despair, and this is sad news that is hard for me to bear. But life moves on. I’ll meet someone else, somewhere else, and develop a connection. Eventually I will move on, and maybe the roles will be reversed.

And you know what? People come and go. It’s the way of life. Nothing lasts forever, and you shouldn’t expect anything to. Change is hard, but change is good. You have to do what’s best for yourself. Cause honestly, no one is going to look out for you. No one is going to be there to hold your hand at all times. You need to make decisions for yourself and grind & grind & grind for your come up. That being said, congratulations and good luck Tom. You did it homie! You made it out. You’re finally free and on the up & up. You did what I couldn’t do (yet). You’re making your money moves and I’m proud of you. Eventually it’ll be my turn. The risk is definitely worth the reward, and when I’m ready I’ll make the move. Make the transition. Make a money move. Stop being so goddamn lazy and do better for myself. But until that time, I just have to make it through the next day and the next and the next. That’s just the way it is.

I hope to stay in touch with Tom. I’ve really never met a bigger hip-hop head, and I’m going to miss talking about all the new rap albums as soon as they come out. But at the very least, we’ll be leaving on a good note. And I still owe him a homework project. I had assigned it to him originally, but he had assigned it back. It’ll be a lengthy research piece but will be well worth the time. It started with a hot take that I gave him. A declaration if you will. This is a truth that I believe and it’ll be nearly impossible to sway me from this opinion. I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again, and I’ll keep saying it. Even after 14 years, Get Em High is still one of the top 5 Kanye beats of all time. You CANNOT tell me differently, and Ye has recorded dope beat after dope beat. Some of his tracks are straight fire, but you still cannot tell me that Get Em High is not a top 5 beat. Kanye is a musical genius, and although I don’t agree with everything he says or does, he remains one of the most influential people in my life, and his art is forever.

His music is transcendent. What other rapper who came up in the mid 2000s and rose to such prominence has stayed recording, creating, and rapping at such a high level? Who else has created this much music and has not had a single shitty, letdown album? There has not ever been a single Kanye album that was pure garbage. Sure, he has some tracks that are out there and are just meh, but there is not one album that is just bad through & through. That being said, my top 5 rappers right now: Kanye, Kendrick, Meek Mill, Drake, Big Sean. And back to the task at hand. The assignment is to rank our top 5 Kanye beats, which seems daunting. So I am taking a methodical approach. I will be listening to each Kanye album and ranking the songs on each one. Once I’m done with that, I will take the top 5 songs from each, re-listen to each of them, and rank them that way. Some caveats to this are: I’m omitting all skits and songs shorter than 2 minutes, and included is Kanye’s discography only. There’s way too much Kanye production on other artist’s records, whether it be features (credited & uncredited), side projects, or work for GOOD Music. Kanye music only makes it simpler. Well enough said, here comes part 1.

The College Dropout

1. Get Em High
2. The New Workout Plan
3. Through the Wire
4. Slow Jamz
5. Jesus Walks
6. We Don’t Care
7. Breathe in Breathe Out
8. Two Words
9. Spaceship
10. Last Call
11. Family Business
12. Never Let Me Down
13. All Falls Down
14. School Spirit

Late Registration

1. Gold Digger
2. Gone
3. Roses
4. Diamonds from Sierra Leone (Remix)
5. Heard ‘Em Say
6. Crack Music
7. Addiction
8. Touch the Sky
9. Celebration
10. Hey Mama
11. We Major
12. Bring Me Down
13. Drive Slow