Drawing Away from the Faceless Gaze

Since the days of kings and queens, the most important thing to the development of society has never been goods or what buys it, but rather catching the gaze of the one possessing it. It has, and will continue to drive people to do things ranging from taking a blow to the groin to recreating masterpieces with Lego's, on top of what no man can currently imagine. Of course, as with many things it isn't just gaining their eyes that drives these acts, but rather what those involved receive from them: validation of their existence. With that validation comes the comfort that the lives of those involved have some sort of meaning, whether it's the ones doing it or those talking about it. Eventually, with the act done and time marching onwards, the question arises within us all: what other meaning can life possibly have?

Although the answer is almost always that we must create our own validation and our own reason, the path to discovering that answer is long and difficult for all involved, each one different from the ones who've walked it before, and those who have yet to come across it. My own path has involved many years of societal isolation and honing my own image, rather than the image those around wish of me. In uncovering my answer I've witnessed many others struggle with finding it, turning to various substances and activities to either help make it more lucid, or ease the pain seeking it ensues. Regardless of how it's done, it all reinforces one key aspect to why many never find it, or at least don't hold on to it for very long: all their strength and sense of balance is placed onto a crutch, and when it goes so does their balance. Even if that does take place, it tends to show those people how important it is to create their own center and keep it within, and not without.

This much I've learned many times in many ways, each one offering me something valuable towards the kind of person I desired to be. I've long ago decided to draw my worth from my acts and what I can offer to others, and have all but given up on the concept of letting other's views influence my sense of confidence. All of us have that very same choice available to us, no matter where we stand or how we choose to be. When we let go of pursuing the high the gaze of the faceless mass brings we free ourselves to discover our own center, where we create the meaning of life we desire and wish to let others share. From there we learn to create the goods that lay for path for the kind of life we've long only seen in our dreams, emotional or otherwise.

Ice Cream Cruise

Sometimes if you want to make your dreams come true you have to be willing to put everything on the line for that goal, and for one particular aim, that is what I did on that night. There's an ice cream truck on Twitter called Cool Haus that I've always heard about on the news, but never got the chance to try since they mostly operate in LA. When I saw on their Twitter they were operating at a 'nearby' event I knew that would be one of my only chances so far to have a crack at it, so on a pure whim and with Google directions in hand I set off on my bike to find it. The 10+ miles of travel went mostly smooth except for one very sketchy aspect: the second to final stretch of traveling alongside a man made river that would lead me to the street where it awaited me.

The first incident involved getting off at the wrong exit point, which lead me to edge of another city and me to asking several people for directions, eventually leading to what would've taken me to my destination...had it not been blocked off by several objects, one being immovable without endangering traffic. The next lead me to the correct exit point, but that exit point was right next to freeway traffic, with the path I was supposed to bike being incredibly rocky; so rocky in fact, that by the time I realized traffic was close enough to squash my bike and had to plot an alternate route, it had worn out the bell crank of my bike.

After reaching the street that would lead me to the event and asking for a few more directions, I had finally arrived. With the ride leaving me extremely hungry, I opted to first procure something close to a proper dinner, which at the event involved a hot dog, small bag of chips and a can of soda. The cost of that simple meal? $5. Though the hot dog was good, I was still very miffed as I went to go order my Cool Haus ice cream. Since I knew I wouldn't be seeing this truck again for a good while I ordered the craziest ice cream they offered at the time: Earl Grey ice cream sandwiched between two chocolate chip cookies. The result made everything that happened from that day on worth my while, and after topping my meal off with a $2 pizza slice I rode home, extremely satisfied with both the food I ate and that I created the necessary courage to undertake such a perilous journey, enriching my ability to do the same with others I may have to take on my path to being independent.

A fork in the Road

In this world exist many things that we, under little to no circumstances, can halt, change or take back. Drunk drivers take the lives of loved ones, something of ours is robbed from under our noses, we state things so vile and cruel they leave marks that cannot be erased on those who hear them. No matter what we do to make these right, they will always remain with us in one form or another. However,what we can do in such situations is control how we let them shape us. The kind of person we grow to be is always under our control, for us to either treasure or toss aside as we see fit.

In my life I've witnessed many things come to pass, each one revealing the question of how I choose to take it into me and change me.  It never grows any easier to make these decisions, but they always show something I'll take with me to the end of the earth, or at least until another event confronts me about the path I've chosen. Whether I lose or gain something precious, I've always seen something there, offering me a piece of to take and shape how I wish, if I choose to take it as my own. I've determined that everything that takes place is a chance for me to create something I can learn from, and in turn pass it on to those I come across in my travels, who may turn out to need it more than I will ever come to understand. Regardless of what comes to be, I know without doubt this path will always be there, and it is the path I will travel until my time arrives.

 This choice, among many others, is something I believe exists for all of us. Regardless of background, upbringing or anything else, all of us hold the power to at the least take steps towards creating our own future. Even if we fail at it, the things we gain from pursuing it can never be robbed from us, and neither can the kind personality we develop as a result. We can cry, laugh, get angry, or any number of things in accordance to how something turns out, but these actions are of our choosing and ours alone, saying otherwise gives control of how to grow to both the circumstances and who they involve. That control is key to traveling a road of many paths and many forks in those paths, and no matter where they lead, we always have the choice to begin anew, or build upon what our travels offer us

AberAsian (Losing Touch)

One of my old OpEd pieces, in which I discuss what it means to stick to your roots and your cultural identity. Read and if you got something in say, drop me a line in the comments


First, an explanation of the term: it is coined, from the fact that most Asian teens are seen donning some form of the Abercrombie and Fitch apparel. And the fact they typically display the intellectual capacity of a stereotypical Valley kid(in other words, dumb as a rock.). From my vantage point, they're also served to display the rather upsetting lack of culture and connection most people have with their roots, in this modern society. 

Everyone around the world seems more concerned with the problems of major celebrities, than with the troubles that face them everyday. A 22' rim seems to have higher value, than the history and customs of their mother/fatherland. Even something as basic as family togetherness is lost in the shuffle of things that are new and shiny. Everything must be fast and responsive, or it is not even acknowledged. Why walk, when you can ride a bike? Why ride a bike, when you can drive? Why drive, when you can have someone do it for you? Ease of use, convenience, and simplicity seem to be the mantra of this overtly complex world we live in everyday.

We can't do the things we did in our childhood, no matter how enjoyable and fun they may be. As we grow, society says we have to shed the things we've held onto then, and let newer, more mature things become us. Don't express, it's ultimately pointless. Don't stand out, then you'll have no friends or influence. Don't speak out, then everybody's gonna hate your guts. In this slow and painful transformation, we become what they consider to be upstanding, respectable, and someone that could have the car(s) they want, go to the places they want, and meet the people they want. All of it can be yours, if you choose to climb the ladder. Unlike many, though, I choose to leave the ladder, for the other attention starved fools to cling on to.

I wear clothes, if they are comfortable(unless my stylist chooses otherwise for me). I do things, because I like them. I'm who I am, because I chose to be it. If I do fall under category, it is coincidence, and never deliberate. I may or may not unique, but I am in no way trying to be anyone else. I am not you, you are not me. I can be the best me, I can possibly be. My roots are stained in despair and regret, but they make me who I am, and I choose to not sever them. They make me strong, and they will give me the strength and will to rise above and beyond. I am not, and never will be a part of the crowd, but choose to be it's observer, offering my words to those brave enough to seek me out. And with my skills, it is my hope to get others, to do the same.

Find your roots. Know your past, and find the will and capability to fully comprehend it. Do not choose to hide your true self behind a mask of vanity, and materialism. Our things do not, and should not make us their own. Rather, we make them into extensions of ourselves, and our own beings, if we find the strength not to fall under it's spell, and allure. Nothing can take away who are we, if we choose not to allow it. It is our decision, whether we want to fall into the crowd, or stand on the strength of our own two legs. Strength may come in numbers, but the group's chain is only as strong as it's weakest link. 

The Mile High Club

Another one of my older poems, back when I was in much less control of my hormones.*laughs* Red and enjoy, and if you have something to say, comment

"I've always wonder what it felt like to fly...
So i decided to join the club called 'Mile High'

It felt like I was floating, free...
No one else but my lover and me.

Our bodies entwined in a frantic dance...
Our souls searching for true romance.

But then, in a flash, his wife opened the door.
And for me, the mile high club was no more" 

Broken arm, but not a broken spirit

One of the very first serious pieces I wrote for any purpose, and where I began my journey into the self and becoming a better writer. Hopefully it serves me ell as I travel the path to bettering my skills and myself.

Something funny happened to me today; i was playing on the inflatable obstacle course the school had on for display, and the minute i entered the hole, i planted my hands frontward to catch myself...and busted my arm like a twig( i could tell that when i heard the *pop-pop-Crack* of my elbow against the plastic) It was one of the worst pains i ever felt in my life. AND YOU KNOW WHAT ELSE? The teacher that watched it all happen said "it was only a sprain." Even as i stumbled around like some drunken idiot from the lack of blood flowin' to my noggin. luckily for me, my friend happened to be nearby and took me to the nurse. I must've tried every number in the records before i finally got a hold of my bro, who immediately dropped me off at the house 'cause he had to go to work. As i lay in bed, staring up at the celing, i thought, 'what now? How am i supposed to write and draw if i can't even use my strong arm?(BTW, my right one was my strongest)' I had plenty of time to stew it over when i went to the hospital and got my arm checked out. for hours i waited and pondered, waited and pondered, waited and pondered about what i was gonna do.it was some time later i came to this conclusion, 'this is bullshit. i cant let some disability stop me from doing what i want to do. Black Sabbath's guitarist lost the tips of his fingers, and hes known as one of the greatest guitarists in all rock history. AC/DC's drummer lost his left arm, and he worked around it to be one of the best drummers in rock and roll history. Hell, Mary(names have beeen changed to protect the innocent) has epilepsy, and she makes one of the best colored webmangas out there. If they can work around their disabilities, then so can I." With the path I'm taking (writer, Japanese voice actor, whatever else i feel like), theres absolute NO ROOM for doubt and setbacks get the best of me. To all that read this, i will only tell you one thing: Don't let the circumstances let the best of you. Learnto take your depression and turn it into your fire to succeed. Learn to make your disabilities work for you. Learn to see the silver lining in every dark cloud. your life will be richer for it, i know mine is. And to mary...thank you for being my constant inspiration and strong role model i never had... (p.s. i wrote all this with one arm, if you couldn't tell that already.)

The Call

This is a short I was preparing for quite a while before I felt comfortable enough to put it up with my other works. In this one the subjects being observed are involved in what happens when the delicate social balance all of us maintain happens to stray out of balance, which of course can lead to dire consquences. As always, read and if you have something to say, comment.

Melanie returned home from cheering the high school football team to victory that night, her wavy brown hair stuck to her face as she reached the front porch. Her hot pink sneakers lightly treaded the oaken steps, her cell phone vibrating in her stonewashed denim jeans. Grabbing the slim lavender phone from her back pocket she flipped it open and answered, “Hello, this is Melly, who’s calling?”

“Someone you should not have messed with.” Pulling up her keys by the small, metallic pink chain they hung on she jiggled the door as she said, “Ugh, what are you, some nerd my boyfriend beat up?” The warped, raspy voice responded, “You could say that. Turn on your living room lights, Melly.” Flipping on her ceiling lamp she saw a varsity jacket clad boy with a flowing blond mane. His broad figure was propped up on the black leather couch. As she approached him she began seeing bits of red around his neck and a gash growing greater and greater across his throat. Her mouth went agape, eyes fixed open as the voice said, “So did you see it, Melly? The lifeless eyes, the pale face, the cut I gladly carved into your boytoy’s neck?” With her hands trembling she held the phone in front of her and yelled, “Just who the hell are you, you freak?”

“Who I am isn’t important. What is important is what I’ve left waiting for you in your room.” Melanie made a mad dash up the stairs to her room, bursting in to see her raven haired best friend face down on her lace trimmed bed, a butcher’s knife pierced through the nurse’s uniform she wore. Her body violently shook as she recoiled, holding the phone close to her ear as the voice said, “Well? Did you manage to find surprise #2?” Soft sobs escaped her as she made her way towards the swinging front door and said, “Why are you doing this to me? What could I have possible done to deserve this? And why now, of all nights?”

“The answer is quite simple, my dear Melly. Your best friend betrayed my trust, your boyfriend broke my heart and you’re the one that stabbed me in the back and twisted the dagger. As for your brother, well…his breathless body will lay on your lawn to remind you of your actions.” At that moment she saw her Frankenstein-clad brother crumpled over, face down in a pile of leaves. Then, as if on cue, the voice said, “But before you call the police listen to what I have to say. You can report me to the cops and give me a chance to manipulate the system and let myself out, or you can grab a knife, come to the park and try and stop me yourself. The choice is yours, so what’ll it be, Melly?” Without hesitation she dropped the phone and ran for the chef’s knife lying on the kitchen table. Keys to her Porsche Boxster in hand she hopped into the car and sped off as she screamed, “I’ll get you, you son of a bitch!” Moments later her little brother staggered to his feet, holding his stomach and saying, “Man, I didn’t know they fed you so much at costume parties…”

***

The roar of the Boxster’s engines echoed through the night air, Melanie pulling up to the swinging gates of the park entrance. With knife in hand Melanie hopped out and yelled, “I’m here to get you, you freak!” She prowled around the park’s forest, her eyes seeking anything remotely human to stab. After an eternity of searching she found an illuminated silhouette at the other end of the park. Without fail she dashed toward it as she said, “I hope you’re ready for me, ‘cause here it comes!” With sprinter grade speed she held the knife high and prepared to put everything into killing the twisted monster she saw in front of her. Just as she felt close enough to run it through she felt several heavy people tackle her to the ground. With polished black hush puppies staring her in the face she looked up to see a crew cut officer say, “Melanie Lane, you’re under arrest for the attempted murder of Kiri Aobayashi” As the officer read her rights she heard a soft, demure voice say, “I always knew you didn’t like me, but I never would’ve guessed you hated me this much…” To the right of the officer she saw a coquettish, pig tailed young girl dressed in a Catholic school girl’s uniform and grew furious, struggling and squirming as she screamed, “What the fuck did you expect? You killed my best friend, boyfriend and brother!”

“Killed? Me? That can’t possibly be right. They were with me the whole night at a costume dinner party. I’ll even call them right now, if you want.” At that moment Kiri pulled out her modest black cell phone, with Melanie letting out psychotic bellows as she dialed. A moment later Kiri said, “Hello, Chelsea? You sound a bit sleepy, maybe you should rest a bit more. Yes the makeup and such was very elaborate, but it did surprise everyone, didn’t it? Well my ride’s coming soon so I’ll catch you later.” As Kiri hung up she saw the police cars pull away with Melanie huddled in the back of one of them. A wicked grin crossed her face as she walked away from the scene and said, “See you around, Melly.”