Echo

what is it? what is it i’m not seeing?

what if we were all more conscious and kinder, and all the autistic people of the world bloomed like flowers. and it turns out, they’re like the children of atlantis. we’d just polluted this reality too much with pain that they couldn’t function because negative frequencies short-circuited their wiring. and when we clean it up, suddenly, there are these ridiculously unique people living amongst us, who are very likely more intelligent than us.

ohhhh. you know what just made me so sad? when i thought about that little girl whose mother won’t let her talk to her father.

then i thought about how sometimes, you realize the best you have to give someone is a really, really good hug because they need it, but you know that will never save them from drowning. but you pretend you don’t know that, because in a life where miracles are possible, maybe they can turn their lives around. it’s worth believing it in the off-chance it could happen.

so i walk around hoping and believing that the most basic, sincere form of love might just make a difference. that kindness is profound, particularly between strangers. i don’t like to see pain. i don’t like to see the way people hurt each other. there’s no reason why they should be mean but they do it anyway, to people they’re supposed to love, to strangers, even though they know it’s contagious. and yet, so is joy. so maybe it does make a difference. maybe people can evolve. but even if they don’t, even if things are exactly the way they are, that we’re just one giant cycle of pain, then at least it was worth the chance. at least maybe some people will have pleasant memories to hold on to when things go dark. (but to be honest, it’s not. even if one day something happens to me and my mind goes blind and bitter, listen to me now…i’ve seen it. it’s not)

i’m really a simple being in a very complex manifestation, because the world i’ve come into is very complex compared to my basic perceptions. but this whole idea of the real world…the mundane is abstract and non-tangible. money is just symbols. we’ve just all agreed to attach the same value to it. but it’s not even real.yet we’ve agreed that it’s real. so a kinder, gentler, more conscious human being can also someday become the mundane.

we all live somewhere. in our heads, in space, rooted in gravity, we’re somewhere. yet it really doesn’t matter where we each live, or where we each come from. what matters is where we meet.

where we meet should be a mutual decision and be consistent. that’s how realities are created.

so let’s all meet somewhere where we’re not playing out the world’s, our family’s, our childhood pain cycles, and try to be more positive and kinder.

i admit it.

i wanted to love him but didn’t want to be with him because i couldn’t see a future.

but i wanted to love him because his eyes were entire universes of emotion just under the surface, but behind them, all i could feel was an echo.

sometimes i wonder if i’m a human manifestation of the patron saint of young boys lost in the woods.

it’s like a role i have to get away from.

what’s annoying–people who walk around with voice recorders and anytime they say something that strikes themselves as clever, they dictate to themselves that this would be a great book title. though they’ve never in their lives attempted writing a book.

i was rereading the report, the section about my relationship with my father and his rejection of emotional or instinctual needs. i think my mom was more in charge of the rejection of emotional needs. she was always telling me i’m too sensitive and would be disgusted with me when i would cry. she called me weak. i think deep down she both resents and feels responsibility for my brother’s disability as a weakness, though she may not have been conscious of it. but my dad used to make us feel bad when we were hungry. he would kind of taunt us, or eat in front of us but not offer us anything. you would either have to ask for food and risk getting a comment that would hurt, or just suck it up in pride and pretend you’re not hungry. i know it’s because he went hungry a lot as a kid, and a lot of times, people withheld food and he couldn’t say anything.

and he always had to scare us, jumping out of corners, thrusting spiders he’d just squashed with a tissue at us before disposing them. in a way, that’s why i envy 5 year-old edison’s confidence–when my dad tries to scare him, he just firmly says, “i don’t want to play like that.”

i look at it now as kind of a cry for help. like giant indicators of where he was hurt as a kid. he probably went scared and hungry a lot. his parents had abandoned him and his siblings. my mom had to be strong to survive a community turned against the family because of my grandfather, so the only way to survive was to never show weakness. by giving us those experiences, i can understand how they felt, because i’ve tasted the ghosts–i’ve lived with them. but it doesn’t mean they have to keep perpetuating.

my parents are terrified of me blaming them for the past. they’re well aware mistakes were made, so anytime i bring stuff up, they get really defensive. but i think if you got a really close, loving supportive family, you kind of won the lottery. maybe it’s cynical, but i think of it as being realistic. most families have issues because people have issues. i think most families, there are certain things passed down generations, and each generation tries to break the cycle so they don’t pass it down to their kids. it’s not personal to the parent, it’s just this darkness, this perpetuating pain, that gets passed through unconsciousness. it’s part of our humanness.

i’ve always recognized that to break our family’s particular cycle would require conquering this rejection and embarrassment of normal needs. i won’t be able to get close to people until i can feel comfortable with the fact that i have needs and to need is human. right now, it’s still nearly impossible for me to verbalize what i need. if you put me in a position where i need to state what i need, watch me freeze like a deer in headlights. it’s a paralysis. in the last few years, i’ve learned to feel more comfortable with verbalizing what i want without fear that people will know exactly what to withhold from me, or that they will ridicule me. it took a while for me to believe that the majority of people aren’t that cruel for the sake of cruelty. but need is such a different level. want is something you can take or leave. need is something you, well, need. like food, shelter, understanding, compassion, kindness, love. but the code written into my psyche, is rich with experiences where i was rejected or taunted for having needs. i really want to conquer this. i don’t want to feel so terrified anymore about the prospect of admitting something i need. otherwise, i’m going to keep denying bridges that would bring me closer to other people in a way that is mutual and normal.

you know what would be cool? if i had a boyfriend who came to my basketball games and cheered us on. and enjoyed doing it. reggie used to do that. and that always meant a lot to me.

i signed up for an online short story writing class to motivate me to write short stories. my mom is demanding a collection of short stories, fictional or non-fictional, she doesn’t care. i also see myself being most ready to put together a collection of short stories. so the first thing we had to do today was submit bios. here’s mine:

Born in Texas, raised in California, my greatest trauma was the mom-subjected perm I had for 6 years (junior high through high school–the cruelest years). Majored in English and Film at University of Michigan and lived in LA for 10 years, before moving to Amsterdam last year, winning a Cannabis Cup as a brand-consultant bringing a smoking product to market (surprisingly, my Chinese parents brag about it, showing you that Chinese parents will brag about anything their children do). Now living in Seattle on a one year living/writing sabbatical. This is code for moving to a place where I don’t know anyone so I can force myself to talk to lots of strangers and write. I find that writing is 80% paying attention while you’re living and 20% writing. 80% banging your head on your desk screaming obscenities at the heavens (or strangers on the sidewalk below), sometimes curled up in the corner wallowing in self-pity, 20% typing like the wind thinking you’re some kind of chosen one. When I don’t know what to write, I will check the fridge continuously like I’m gonna find some kind of answer there. I hope this writing class will give me more answers than I’ve found in my fridge.

the first assignment? don’t laugh… a 10 minute stream-of-consciousness free-write. little do they know, i’ve got a massive blog and cabinets full of notebooks containing free-writes. i think i can do this assignment with my brain closed.

the worst thing after a hard run or workout–the recovery protein shake after.

the best thing–not being sore the next day.

ran 4 miles, played basketball, 30 minutes on the elliptical to read, then boxing with 5 lb weights last night to strengthen shoulders and core. played all 50 minutes of the game today.

hit our team’s first 3 pointer! 5-9 shooting for 11 points, 5 assists, 3 rebounds, 2 blocks. and again, great leadership, but my lack of focus (was giggling and running around chatting with the female referee) was very detrimental the first half. because of it, we were down 9 to 27, but came back in the 2nd half and took the lead in the final 6 minutes with my 3-pointer. we lost by 4 in the final minute. i think it was 55 to 59.

the irritating girl, she shows up and doesn’t talk to anyone, and after the game, just leaves. she’s a good player but not really a team player. i think that’s why we had the conflicts. when people show up, they’re always happy to see me–their faces light up and we’re joking around, bonding before the games. ethan said that she was going to like me or hate me for her own reasons, so i may as well be me, and i think how chatty and well-liked i am rubs her the wrong way. but i’m really glad ethan gave me that pep talk. i have to have the confidence not to shrink into myself just because one person doesn’t like me. if they’re going to not like me no matter how i am, i may as well go all out being myself. and it’s made a huge difference.

after the game, the girls were talking and saying how bummed they are about me missing the next session because of surgery, but that i should come out anyway and hang out. and that they’d like to get drunk with me (we’d been trying to plan a team outing after a game, but we got really late night games the last few weeks). it was a good feeling. younger people have always looked up to me. i think it’s because i’m both a big sister type and a big kid inside.

i guess you should know i’m somewhere between the dumbest smart person you’ve ever met
and the smartest dumb person you’ve ever met.

but then again, you probably already know that. it’s not like people can’t see me.

i think i’m so good at rhetorical gymnastics that i do myself a disservice sometimes because i lose out on people willing to give me good advice or insight. or i miss opportunities or other people’s good intentions completely because there are certain areas in my life where i don’t expect help or good intentions.

i have to get better at that. letting people help me. not assume i have to go at everything alone and then resent having to go at things alone.