nomad'z land

for being bffs, it may come as a surprise that i never get to observe nadya in top form as she was at her 30th birthday partaaayyy. ive heard many a tale (usually from syleste and juli) but i finally got to see it for myself. i even got to change her at the end of the night! yay. hahahhahah. it was by pure kismet that i happened to see her in my peripheral vision crawling up the stairs, after which i called after her, found her in the midst of undress in a bedroom (alone), and asked if she needed help. “yes,” was her matter-of-fact reply. 🙂 “janani gave me a shirt that says ‘flirty and 30,’ i need it. i need it. i need that shirt.” i also helped her into what im pretty sure was just underwear, but before i could finish asking if she wanted to put actual clothes on as i looked for anything longer than boy short underwears, she had vanished. you can always tell a drunken nadya is around the corner because youll hear a crash then see her stumbling towards you, a perpetual shit-eating grin affixed beneath that beautiful drunken gaze. ❤

“people hold on tightly to culture when there’s a threat of it being taken away.”

i’m currently sitting in my culture class, paying as little attention as i can possibly muster. we started this class with a video entitled “where are you from” or something like that.

to summarize, the video is of a white man and an asian woman meeting through happenstance on a hiking trail. he asks her where she’s from. she responds that she’s from san diego. he probes further, asking where she’s from. she recognizes what he’s asking, but responds to his literal question, that she was born in orange county, but never lived there. he ignorantly (i’m assuming, shoot me) probes further: “no, i mean before that.” “oh, before i was born?” “like, where are your people from?” and so on and so forth, [insert racial microaggression upon racial microaggression here] until he has immersed the both of them in an invisible and maddening coating of teriyaki sauce, pad thai, and sushi. she turns it around, asks where he’s from, so on and so forth, until he’s finally revealed his ancestral heritage as british (after stating he was “regular american” in response to her asking if he was “native american” in response to his initially stating that he was “just american”), when she proceeds to pull out every british/irish/scottish/etc stereotypical accent and action. he responds with dumbfounded (still ignorant, shoot me again?) shock, apparently unable to piece together that she is mirroring his rather offensive words and actions.

anyway, all that to say that (hopefully) thoughtful discussion ensues among my teachers and classmates, and here we are an hour later, conversation still moving steadily and heavily towards i’m not sure what, because i am refusing to pay attention. today i’m paying no attention because i’m tired. with all that i’m piling on with school, practicum, work, not to mention my personal creative aspirations, i lack the desire and mental and emotional capacity to deal with the quickened heart rate, anger, and sweaty armpits that not surprisingly accompanied watching that video, and which potentially could increase if i were to engage in this conversation. i’ve had these talks a million times. they can encompass both futility (i.e., “ugh. fucking people are never gonna get it, why do i even bother”) and hope (i.e., “wow, that person really made me feel understood, the world is not lost”), depending on the day i’m having, with whom i’m conversing, what the exact topic of race or ethnicity or culture is. or maybe i’m just too tired (read: scared) to feel strong emotion right now. the only emotion i feel like entertaining is guilt for not paying attention or contributing to a thoughtful dialogue in which i’d surely have much to contribute, and undoubtedly, learn.

all i know is that, in this moment, i don’t feel like delving into the deeper connections of my culture to my ethnicity to my ancestry, or into what so-and-so might think and feel about it as a member of the minority, or what so-and-so might feel about it as a member of the privileged, and i think that’s okay.

someone recently sent me an article about giving myself permission to feel whatever the fuck it is i’m gonna feel in any given moment, whether it’s positive, negative, blah blah blah. so, i guess this is me giving myself permission to mentally fuck off, to not directly deal (in this moment) with my irritation with people in general, and with my desire to take both a long nap and a fucking vacation.

ps. okay, maybe i am dealing with it. because i just made art about it. art therapy ftw. this reminds me of my being accustomed to being “the lazy one” (grad school, work, practicum, traveling, random awesome achievements? fuck you — by “you,” i may be referring to the voices in my head, so don’t be offended. or be, you have your permission) or my needing “a day to just fuck off” ending up meaning volunteering at awbw for six hours. which could open up another 600 word pile of written vomit, but i’ll save that for another day.

i’d love to end this on any other note that doesn’t scream out “(unjustifiably? justifiably?) angry [asian]” but i’m practicing acceptance.

this time, words to accompany my fasche. i mean face but in german fasche means bandage. you learn something new every day. youre welcome.

anyhoo, im in this month’s mantra magazine, on whole foods (and other) stands nationally! wheee!!

heres a linky to the online version which is not as pretty as the hard copy, but its otay (http://mantramag.com/29-problems-turning-30-aint-one-fingers-crossed/)

i had to cut it down to like 800 words which is difficult for me as i am very longwinded and can talk/type/write for everrrrrr. so heres the full version. so exclusive. shoot me.

I Had 29 Problems but Turning 30 Ain’t One (Fingers Crossed)

I’m right on the cusp of turning 30. The older I get, the younger my chronological age seems, and the more I realize I know so much less than I thought I did. There’s something about those milestone years ending in zero that prompt deeper reflection and, perhaps, added pressure. Reflecting back on the last ten years, I can say that generally, I was loath to be in my 20’s. I liken that period to the cold, deep, dark end of the ocean—and I’m no swimmer (but according to that metaphor, apparently I am dramatic)—and the closer I get to 30, the closer I am to the surface and the warmth of the sun. I just felt so lost (not by any means “found” yet), uncomfortable (not completely relaxed yet), and without purpose (finally found it! I think…). Through this precious but painstaking process of trying to figure out my life’s meaning, here’s what I’ve found:

Stop trying! (Otherwise known as “Acceptance.”)

I semi-recently had this fantastic turning point in my relationship, which really turned out to be a turning point in my relationship with myself. Basically, I was trying to be what I thought was this idealized version of myself in order to say that I did everything on my end to keep this thing going smoothly every second of every day… Wait what?! PLEASE insert needle scratching sound effect here! Just writing and re-reading that sentence is tiring. Living it is a whole other beast. Trying is so tiring. So I had this moment where I either stopped caring or got really, really tired, but I said to myself, “No more! Fuck this idealized version of myself. I’m just going to be who I am, and if my crazy occasionally happens to fall out of all the orifices of my face projectile-vomit style, then people are just going to have to deal.” I realized how much resentment builds when trying to be instead of just being.

It’s all about ME.

There’s a certain powerful vulnerability you access when you’re able to look at yourself without comparing yourself to others. I’m currently working through this fear I have of accepting responsibility for my own feelings. Owning that responsibility means that I can no longer blame other people or situations for my own shit, but it also fosters independence and confidence, both of which are the complete opposite of what comparing myself to others inspires. This whole comparison-is-new-devil thing might also be a reason I’d long ago denounced participating in social media. I’m personally prone to comparing myself to other people on pretty much any level available. Then I get sad and start wasting time wanting a new head of hair or an entire new life. Which brings me to my next point:

Be here now.

There’s a part of me that is the most elaborate storyteller ever, to the point where I’ll catch myself truly upset about a completely fabricated situation. I’m learning to remind myself to see and respond to only what is in front of me. I’ve been obsessively reading Thich Nhat Hahn, and I can’t get over this one line inMiracle of Mindfulness: “Wash the dishes to wash the dishes.” I’ve surely heard variations of this a billion times before, but for some reason, this really hit the core of my deepest understanding just a few days ago. The crux of “washing the dishes to wash the dishes” is that if we are not fully present in every moment, if we are more concerned with the destination than the journey, then we are not fully alive here, now. And if we are not alive here and now, then where and when are we truly alive? There’s so much to miss out on if we aren’t fully present in this moment, and I no longer want to live anywhere else but here and now. I’ve created a mantra for myself based on Hahn’s dishes: “Only what’s right in front of me.” Anything else doesn’t exist, but if it arises, should only be observed without judgment until it passes. Rinse and repeat.

I’m not here to teach. I’m here to learn.

Some are born destined to be leaders of the masses or powerful orators with resounding messages of positivity to send to the far reaches of the universe. I am not one of those people. And I’m okay with that. (See: “fear of responsibility” two paragraphs up.) Maybe one day I will be. But for now, I’m still sinking beanbag-like into my own skin, getting to know all of me, and navigating my way to complete comfort in who I am. I’m here simply to learn. I will myself to sponge-like properties and surrender to the lessons that life has to offer me. I pray for the compassion, patience, and understanding necessary to find the teacher in every being that passes me by, and in every act of goodness or not that I come across. I hope for the ability to see the world in all the shades of gray that exist, where judgment of myself and of others does not. And I’m grateful for every moment of the sometimes-terrible twenties that brought me to this point, closer to 30 and to that clear and brilliant sun.

best fluke ever, that is. maybe this will be the beginning of the end, in the best possible interpretation of that phrase. wheee!! seven page spread, what!! this is cool.

photos: lorraine young (lorraineyoung.net)
sweat equity magazine, oct/nov 2014 (you can get this issue im in on itunes!)