yes they do care

They meet at Starbucks, one 18, the other about ten years her senior, Kim couldn’t tell. They greet each other and start conversing and then the 18-year-old girl is breakdancing.

Must have told her she was lucky to be 18, Kim thought. That she had her whole future ahead of her and no one cared if she made mistakes.


In the middle of the breakdancing, Kim slips away.   


keyboard laziness

I could move my cursor all the way up to the top and click on the ‘x’, but no, I’ve 300 more words to lay down and ain’t nobody got time for that. So I press Ctrl + W instead.

The things you do to prevent lagging.


Crazy Writer Time #3: You Gotta Eat!

I still feel the same way about relationships as I did a little over a year ago with the exception of now taking it down a notch where I don’t even desire one anymore, it has just chiseled down to if it happens it happens, if it doesn’t it doesn’t and that’s a wrap. All I care about is writing. Good or bad words, just getting that ink on paper. And moving forward, wherever that is.

Last year I also went through a life-changing experience and said I would keep my followers updated on this crazy writer process. Well it’s time for another update. Because my gut told me so and you’re not supposed to ignore your gut. So there.

There is no clear path like med school or law school, but like med school or law school, there are many different kinds of writers you could be. And even though writing involves a lot of sitting, you’d be surprised at how exhausting it can be to get words on a page to make sense in an entertaining fashion. So you have to make a choice: get a day job and work on your creative pieces at night or get a full-time writer job and work on your creative pieces whenever you have some free time when your brain isn’t thinking about work.

There is no guarantee you will publish anything of significance and heck, maybe you will only be known for your pieces posthumously. But what good would that do for you? As Checkers always says, “you gotta eat!”

I suppose it all depends on what’s important to you and what makes you happy, blah blah blah. Either way, this ain’t no easy life, but at the same time, I wouldn’t have it any other way.



Superhero Crossover Episode

In case you missed it, one of my fellow Crusaders, Underdaddy, did this fantastic interview of me not too long ago. Make sure you check out his blog too. You just might pick up some invaluable advice on raising little monsters. You’re welcome.

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Mark Twain once said, “The trouble with fiction is that it has to make sense whereas real life is under no such obligation.” Sometimes life feels surreal and we make friends in the most interesting ways. As many of you know I have been playing around with the dark literary arts in a secret society of awesome internet people. Like Frodo and his band of hobbits with hairy ski-sized feet, we are on a quest that is interesting but ultimately confusing because why didn’t the hobbits just fly the ring to the volcano in the first place? Wait where was I? Oh yeah….

Today is for my friend YuMin (pronounced YuMin. Got it? Good.) We didn’t go to the same high school. We have different backgrounds. We are different ages. We have different paths through life but through the internet we have become friends. There are actually seven of us…

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Pole dancing, meditation legs, and a Chinese wedding

You weren’t bad-looking, but the closet emotion that I couldn’t identify was liking you as a friend. You can’t expect an 11-year-old me to notice male humans. You were, what? 30? I knew you were around that age and I thought I was a pretty cool kid getting to hang with someone who, in my 11-year-old language, was an adult acting like a Big Kid, even if you were my parents’ friend. You stood out because I didn’t feel like a little dorky 11-year-old girl around you trying to study for the SAT by studying the GRE like my father made me do. You disclosed to me that life has a fun side, something I never knew existed.

You came over to our house so you could attend the Friday night meditation sessions. You always talked to me. I don’t know if you did it out of obligation or if you actually enjoyed talking to me, but you made me laugh and that put a smile on your face. We had this pole in the middle of the basement. You knew how to make your body perpendicular to it and I remember my jaw dropping when you showed us. I wanted to learn right away how to do that, and so became obsessed with the pole promptly after. I never did; the best I could do was climb the pole like a monkey and dance around it.

You taught me how to get into position for meditation. I didn’t know how to properly sit, so you told me to sit down, cross my legs like I usually do when sitting, then you decided there were no more words left capable of describing the right way to sit. So you used your hands and lifted my legs and weaved them into place. It’s because of you I know how to get into position for meditation.

You were getting married and as soon as I found out, I knew our closest emotion that I couldn’t identify was about to come to an end. I felt sad, an emotion I could identify. Of course, our family was invited. My mother made me wear a white dress and when we showed up at the house, I noticed you had a lot of guests. You didn’t see me at first. I don’t even remember what your fiancé looked like. I remember she was Chinese like you and it was the first Chinese wedding I had ever been to. You had this game only played at Chinese weddings where an apple was tied with a piece of string and dropped down from the ceiling and you and your fiancé had to bite the apple at the same time while your hands were tied behind your backs. Everyone was laughing, and kind of like my jaw dropping moment, I just wanted to watch.

But you saw and said in Mandarin, “Little kids can’t watch this!” After that, I never saw you again.


Sometimes it’s nice to be complimented on your handwriting.

Because when your manager tells you you have the neatest handwriting she’s ever seen, you get to silently thank the very handsome boy who told you the same thing back in seventh grade and finally confirm that he was right. And that’s a very good feeling.

Sometimes it’s nice to be complimented on your handwriting.

Because it can become the one shred of hope you hold onto that yes, you do have value to offer this world after all, once you and your manager part ways.

Sometimes it’s nice to be complimented on your handwriting.

Because it means when all technologies fail, at least you have the temporary solution and you become the hero. That, or the one who has to do all the makeup work. (In that case, nevermind, it’s not so nice.)