I'm convinced that there are people that are born with the destiny and purpose of being unhappy, no matter how hard they work on being at peace or being at a joyous state.  Christianity definition of joy is nothing but a fucking copout because they really have no answer to what I discovered.  When I read the Purpose Driven Life, it told me that you will find peace and joy once you figured out your purpose and live the rest of your life to fulfill it.  That's the most cockamany B.S. I've heard since someone claimed that there was "weapons of mass destruction." 

I'm serious, there are people out there that no matter how hard they work on trying to pursue happiness, it not only eludes them, but sadness and despair is waiting right there to knock them around mercilessly.  Even with a moment of happiness, there immediately occurs an event that'll cancel all happiness out.  Now before you try and say, "well it's your attitude, and your choice" and all that other crap, I have to rebuke that a positive mental attitude in those situations DO NOT prevent the negative events from occuring. 

So what do you do when you find out that your life is destined for despair and hopelessness?  I think that's how terrorism was invented.  People accept their lot in life that no matter what they do, they can't escape their destiny, so they attempt to make the most of their life in a destructive way.  But from their point of view, is it really destructive?  Think about it, if you discover that your lot in life is to be truly unhappy, and that is your one and only true destiny, how would you live from that point?  How positive would you "CHOOSE" to be?  Let's be honest here.  If you gave someone on death row 24 hours of freedom before you haul them back in to execute them, what would they do in that 24 hours course of time? 

T-minus twenty-four and ticking...

Why?

When I went to visit Singapore a month ago, I came with the intention of having a vacation after my mother's death, and to see whether it was feasible to live there in the near future in case I'm unable to find work as an actor, and if grad school didn't work out.  I was lucky enough to catch a lion dance competition, as one of my hostesses had contact with a local lion and dragon team there for me to watch their practice sessions.  In addition, I was lucky enough to visit a friend there where our friendship went through some major ups and downs during our past eight years.  I also caught RENT there as well as a production of Singapore Repertory Theater's Twist of Fate.  The two latter excursions was a way to see if it was possible for me to create a career in acting and writing over there since I lost most of my motive to pursue it here in the States. 

I do want to clarify some rumors why I was over there.  Yes, that friend of mine wanted to introduce me to a friend of hers who was also another member of my generous hostesses while I was visiting, but let's make one thing clear: SHE WAS NOT THE REASON WHY I CAME OVER THERE, NOR IS SHE THE REASON WHY I WOULD LIKE TO SETTLE THERE.  I would also like to clarify another rumor.  THAT FRIEND OF 8 YEARS AND I ARE FRIENDS, NOTHING MORE OR LESS, AND SHE DOES NOT HAVE A BEARING EITHER OF MY DECISION TO WANT TO MOVE TO SINGAPORE.  And while we're on the subject, I DID NOT GO TO SINGAPORE FOR A BOOTY CALL EITHER.  YES, I LEARNED THAT PROSITUTION WAS LEGAL THERE, BUT I DID NOT TAKE ADVANTAGE OF THAT.  I did not go there to find nor look for "the love of my life."  With over millions of people in my own country, if I'm not able to meet someone here, I sure as hell don't expect to meet someone over THERE.  Personally to me, there's no such thing as "THE ONE" or the "LOVE of ANYONE'S LIFE." 

Was there a lot of caps?  Don't expect me to apologize for that.  I'm very fuckin sick to my stomach right now of dealing w/all the bullshit of the reasons why I came to Singapore.  To be honest, I'm an out of work actor and writer, who's contract work for Google is limited, and besides the Raiders and YKM, there's nothing here for me in the States.  When the Raiders leave Oakland AGAIN, then what?  Also, when I finally retire from lion dance and marital arts, what or how will YKM fit?  I love beach weather, which Singapore has year-round.  The food is spectacular, and CHEAP!  After living in Menlo Park for the past 4 months, I KNOW food is overpriced.  I'm lucky to be working at Google right now.  If I wasn't, I know I'd totally knock myself out trying to find my way back to Singapore permanently or more long term. 

I'm not leaving any family behind, they all have their own families and lives.  That includes my biological family.  Friends?  I consider only friends who were supportive enough to be there when my mother passed on.  There were VERY few of them too, and they too have their own lives and respected families.  So once again what's keeping me here?  Certainly not George Bush.  Church?  I haven't had a home church since July 4th weekend when I showed up to church service shit-faced.  And remember getting into Fuller Grad School?  Well, there was a fuckover from there too. 

Besides, if I'm gone, don't you benefit too?  You wouldn't have to deal w/me looking for work either in a day job or an acting gig.  You wouldn't have to deal with my Raider talk, acting talk, or lion dance talk.  No one would have to worry about my road rage when some inconsiderate fuckhead tries to run me off the fuckin road with their SUV.  No one would have to deal with my complaints about the lack of opportunities for Asian males, especially in the field of entertainment.  So if I'm gone, there's no cynicism of mine you need to deal with. So why bother wasting your time speculating about me and why I was in Singapore or wanting to move there?

Oh ok, I see... you don't have a fucking life?  That's ok, I kinda don't either, but at LEAST I'm TRYING.

The worse crime humanity can commit to each other isn't murder.  It's taking away someone's hope.  Think about it, if you murder a human being, you take their life, they no longer feel, they no longer have any sense in the world.  But if you take away their hope, they live the remainder of their lives feeling every feeling of hopelessness with the yearning to die. 

Terrorists takes their hopelessness to an art form.  They're able to take their final act of desperation in order to at least give some flicker of hope to others.  In fact, looking back on what the meaning of Christmas symbolizes, the average terrorist proves themselves to be more "Christlike" than the average non-terrorist soldier or freedom fighter. 

For that past couple of weeks, I've been attending different churches who emphasized on the "humility" God put himself through by the circumstances of his human birth.  The fact that God didn't put an earthly fanfare in entering this world as an infant and to be born inside a place fit only for farm animals illustrates his "Majestic Humility."  At least we were told that.  And that, should the the emphasis on Christmas. 

If Christmas is supposed to symbolize the humility of a "humbled entrance" into the world, and Easter is supposed to symbolize the humility of a "sacraficial love," then whose lives parallel's Jesus?  Our president or the unnamed, demonized terrorist?  More on the demonization later.  Our president wasn't royalty, but he definitely wasn't born into a manger either.  The average terrorist was born in the front lines of an ongoing war, in conditions not fit for an animal.  Ever been to a third world country before?  Conditions there aren't the greatest.  The difference is choice.  God supposedly "CHOSE" to enter the world that way.  The so-called terrorist didn't have much of a choice to the circumstances of their birth.  Now at some point, the terrorist lost all sense of hope in their lives, but rather than wallow and give up, they heroically give themselves up to give hope to others around them.  Sounds familiar?  Why do we celebrate Easter?  Because of Jesus' sacrifice to give hope to humanity.  The difference is that Jesus didn't sacrifice himself because he lost hope in his life.  The average terrorist had lost much hope by the time they get to their act of desperation.  And let's go back briefly to the "demonization" part.  Throughout Jesus' ministry, he was accused of being a demon from some of the religious leaders.  Likewise, the terrorists or those associated w/terrorism have been demonized by the media. 

By all means, I'm not supporting any terrorists' network nor am I condoning terrorism, but what's more real here?  The "heroics" of the average American?  The "heroics" of Jesus, or the hopelessness, desperation, and reaction of the so-called terrorist? 

What is a Holiday Anyways?

I didn't want to celebrate Christmas this year.  I have my
reasons.  I wondered what happened to me, but once upon a time, I
lost sleep anticipating Christmas.  Once upon a time, I couldn't
wait til Christmas got here.  What happened? 

When I was seventeen, I used to work at the movie theater, and movie
houses never close.  In fact, movie houses traditionally didn't
include holiday pay either.  For some reason, I VOLUNTEERED to
work a double shift that day.  In other words, I had a choice to
work the afternoon shift and spend dinner w/family, or work the evening
and spend lunch w/family.  Instead I choose to goto work and stay
there all day.  Granted, it made my boss to appear as a grinchy
scrooge to my family.  I worked that day, and missed the entire
family event.  From that point on, I remembered dreading
Christmas. 

Over the years, Christmas became worser and worser and more of a chore
for me.  Before I used to countdown the days between Thanksgiving
and Christmas in anticipation.  Nowadays I counted the days for it
"to be over with." 

One of the best Christmases that occurred after my age of 17, was in
2003.  I actually enjoyed the holiday that year.  Went to see
Nutcracker, visited decorated neighborhoods, attended numerous
parties.  Even sent out Christmas pictures that year.  Now,
Xmas 05 is going down as the worse Christmases ever, and it's only
December 21.  I'm back.  I'm back in the "hurry up and get it
over with" mode that has haunted me for the past 15 years.  (w/the
exception of 03)  Not only that, it's back w/a vengeance. 

I walked through the stores to shop for gifts, and I didn't buy a damn
thing.  Not because I couldn't find anything to buy, I just
couldn't put myself up to buying anything for anyone for
Christmas.  It felt so shallow, so empty.  I ended up leaving
the store empty-handed.  I didn't feel right getting
anything.  I just wanted to goto bed and stay there until Jan 2,
2006.  If I had my way, I would. 

Homeless for the Holidays

Happy Holidays from someone who's Homeless. 

Yes, you heard that right, I'm homeless.  Yes, I'm paying rent for
a roof over my head in Menlo Park; yes, I'm working right now for the
moment at a company where people knock themselves out in order to work
there.  Yes, when it rains, I use a key to unlock a door and come
inside to stay dry.

But I'm still homeless. 

You see, like the cliche goes, "home is where the heart is."  For
the past two years, my heart has been kept under lock n key, not
settling at one spot or another.  I've been on the go since the
beginning of 04.  It's almost 06.  I don't know when I'll
find "home," nor will I find out if I'll locate a spot to
"settle."  Having a home means that you're not trying to figure
out where you're going to end up within the next year or so.  It
means that unlocking the door creates a sense of warmth, of security,
of safety.  Being homeless means not knowing what's going to
happen to you in the near future. 

Ironically, for the past six months, I've been officially a
"homeowner."  Yet I'm not at a place that I could call
"home."  I've been living out of boxes, ever throwing away items
one by one because of the lack of space, the lack of a home. 

And I wonder if my heart was accidentally thrown out along w/those items that were once packed and eventually thrown away...

Happy Holidays!

A Different World

Recently, I have had the privilege of spending Thanksgiving weekend
with friends in a different country: Singapore.  Having been lion
and dragon dancing for the majority of my entire life, it was like a
mecca for that activity.  I learned that Singapore has over 300
lion dance teams there, and it's being promoted to unify all the
inter-ethnic groups who reside there.  At one of the government
sponsored lion dance competition I attended, there was a drumming team
put together purposely for unification.  Malay, Indian, Chinese,
Pilipino, Indonesian, Christian, Buddhist, Muslim, Hindu.  These
children worked together for a drumming piece, and the organisers hoped
it would display a sign of unity among Singaporeans.  No, the
organisers will not be nominated for a Nobel Prize anytime soon, but I
have to hand it to them for their effort. 

Compare that to the wait at the airport.  While waiting for my
flight, I heard a request for a passenger with an Arabic name to report
to the attendants.  The passenger was then put under additional
searches.  Upon the conclusion of the search, the passenger looked
towards myself and some other onlookers and commented, "you get used to
it."  I don't know how one could get used to "it" when "it" means
injustice.  And the really big question is: SHOULD WE get used to
"IT?"  Personally, I DO NOT feel any safer because additional
security measures are being put into place at an airport. 
Actually, I feel LESS SAFE because WHAT IF the next hijackers posess
the name JARRETT?  Or CHIN?  Or TONY?  Will that mean
that EVERYONE with those name be put under additional searches?  And does that mean I have to "get used to it?"

If there was anything I got out of my recent trip to Singapore is
this:  humanity is LAZY by nature and as a result, tend to
categorize and label each other according to something distinctive
about them.  What I also got out of my trip there is that we could
combat such laziness by focusing on what we have in common.  Yes,
I know it's a cliche, but I also saw that it works first hand. 

Just follow the drummers, and get into the rhythm...

Grief  

Lets face facts: people could give a rat's ass whether you're grieving
or not.  That's the truth.  People are out for number one,
and that number one aint you.  The world doesn't care nor waits
for someone hurt.  In fact, the world thrives on hurt and wounded
people.  The world doesn't give a shit who died, who left you,
whether or not you lost your job, or your position.  No, the world
only cares about how much it can suck out of you.  Period. 

So why bother giving a shit about the world?  We don't have
to.  In fact, we really can't afford to.  We live in a world
where the name of the game is survival, and in survival, there are no
rules and there is no god.  So don't bother trying to make a world
a better place cause it's not going to happen.  Take what you can
get.  Why should you care who's bleeding, or who's hurting, or
who's suffering.  No one else cares.  Just make sure it isn't
you. 

Oh wait a sec, that's how the world IS working right now, isn't it?

OK, YOUR TURN to hurt.

A Whole New World...

Take me out of Oakland fine, but see if I stop bleeding Silver and
Black.  Put me in an area where there's more whites than
minorities, see if I stop listening to hip hop.  Take me to a
church where the median income is six figures, and see if I feel
"blessed."  The answer to all of this is NO.  I'm still a
part of the Raider Nation, I'm downloading "Old Skool" as I type this,
and I left Sanctuary worship service questioning whether God existed or
not, and if He did, whether he played favorites based on race. 

Officially, I've been out of Oakland for the past month.  So
goodbye Norman Marks workouts, laps around Lake Merritt, cheap rice
plate dinners at Yung Kee, artist community, and "one BART stop away
from the Raider games."  I'm in Menlo Park, though officially 26
miles away from Oaktown, is actually an entire world away.  Mainly
in mentality.  Dishes at inauthentic Chinese restaurants cost no
less than $8, and no L&L in plain sight.  My place is a funky
warehouse on the Menlo Park/Redwood City border.  Ironically, this
is an authentic warehouse space converted to living unlike the newer
generation of "live/work" spaces sprouting up in Oakland.  My
quest to find inexpensive authentic ethnic cuisine is futile, and 
the quest for an inexpensive workout is even less likely. 

It's not that I don't like where I'm at, it's just DIFFERENT in every
sense of the word.  A few months back while attending a friend's
pool party in Hillsborough, (one of the most affluent cities in San
Mateo County) someone actually walked away from me in mid conversation
upon learning that I grew up in Oakland.  And now I'm in San Mateo
County.  Funny how things like that works.  I can't say how
long I'll be staying here either, or whether or not I'll finally take
the plunge to Southern Cali immediately after this stint in Menlo
Park.  I just know that for now, I'm in a place a world away from
the "biggety biggety O." 

Cleaning House

There's so many memories that gets tossed out when you're in a
situation to have to throw things away.  For the past two months,
I've been preparing to place my house on the market for sale. 
This is the house I grew up in, and it's not easy to go through all the
things that invoke so many memories.  I've been living in Menlo
Park for the past couple of weeks, and I know that I'm always going to
be an Oaktown Boy forever. 

One of the most stuff that I've been tossing away are old photos. 
Once upon a time, I thought it was important to be able to keep all
photos intact.  As a matter of fact, exactly fifteen years ago,
upon returning from a family reunion, the Oakland hills had a major
fire and we were within the proximity of being on standby for possible
evacuation.  The only thing we packed with us were our photos and
other memory joggers.  Now here I am throwing photos away that I
once valued as priceless treasure. 

I never mentioned this to anyone because it's so irrelevant
nowadays.  It seems like a different lifetime ago anyways.  I
was engaged once.  Since the marriage didn't take place, it was
pointless to ever mention the engagement.  It was just a chapter
in my life.  I'd often try to tell myself over and over again, it
wasn't important because if it was, we would've gotten married after
all.  As I was cleaning the house this week, I came across the
photos of HER.  It's been
a very long time since I last looked at those photos of Her.  It
wasn't that I felt absolutely nothing, and it wasn't that I was
overwhelmed with emotion either, but it was a given that something
was there within me.  There was a moment of grief, anger,
bitterness, nostalga, sentimentality, almost everything. 
Eventually the memory was thrown into the trash can.  It has no
place in the present anymore. 

Another item that I came across was my high school senior ball picture
and my junior prom picture.  Ironically, my senior ball date came
into contact with me via Friendster. 
I thought it was just too much of a coinkydink that the timing occured
when it had.  It was sorta surreal to be honest.  This past
year, friends from high school have been crossing paths with me after
years of absence.  I'm asking myself, what does it all mean. 

I have two piles of photos now as I'm cleaning the house.  One
pile, I'm saving, and the other pile has a date with the garbage
can.  I can't help but wonder, is it necessary to have to place
certain photos, certain memories into the garbage?  I have no
answer.  I'm just sorting away.

My Fear of Being "It"

We played in our neighborhood on summer days when I was a kid. 
We'd often play the old way of "freezetag" (tagging someone who had to
freeze in that position until someone "unfroze" them.  The
freezetag in referral to this online site is an improve acting game
where someone calls "freeze" during a spontaneous created scene, "tags"
out one of the person, assumes the "frozen" position, and creates a
brand new scene from scratch.)  Sometimes we'd play "hide n
seek."  Other times we'd creatively combined both games.  I
didn't mind playing it so long as I wasn't "IT."  There was
something about playing with friends where when the teams appeared so
lop-sided and you were on the "losing" team, there was a sense of loss
before the game even began.  Being "it" created that sensation for
me because the game pitted me against "all of them."  I hated not
being a part of the group.  It paralyzed me with fear. 
Eventually, I learned not to play anymore because the fear of rejection
was too great.

I haven't thought of those times until recently.  A couple of
months back after a Bible study, a couple of friends, the kids they
care for and myself broke into a spontaneous game of "hide n
seek."  I had a blast.  The reason:  I avoided being
"IT" at all costs.  Even if it meant cheating a 4 year old, I had
no problem doing so.  What caused all this insecurity? 

I used to have nightmares of walking into a party where everyone I knew
and interacted with in my entire life were all present at this
party.  When I find my mom and dad and sister, they looked at me
puzzled asking what I was doing there.  The music and all the
conversations stop and all eyes are on me.  I wasn't invited, so I
had to leave.  The moment I walked out the party, there was this
blackness, and awoke. 

Being "it" during hide n seek and tag and freezetag reinforced my
nightmare when I was a kid, so I eventually abandoned all sense of
"play." 

For the past 3 months, I'm beginning to learn that you need to learn to
play in order to process your grief.  It sound's weird, but play
isn't play per se.  It's a state of being where you are at your
most rawest, trasparent form.  I haven't grieved much since the
funeral.  I've been afraid to.  Sort of like my fear to
play. 

In order to get to where I need to go, I need to play, I need to
grieve.  I need to get ahead of that fear that paralyze's
me. 

To be a kid again...