My Mom=The Asian Sarah Palin

So I've been un-introspective for a long time, and it's time to rewind, reboot, and reminisce a little while in the sphere of social voyeurism. After weeks of feeling detached with the world, I'm starting to miss the untethered, uncensored freedom of being a Facebook-whore/extreme blogger/techcrunch nut that was the me of 3 months past. Being a nerd never goes away, no matter how much MAC makeup I plaster to my freckly, fair skin.

For more drama than My Sassy Girl and Gossip Girl combined. Look no further than the titillating link below

So pretend you saw me on the street, wearing a face full of the most luxurious cosmetics money can buy, wearing a designer label outfit with a teacup pomeranian on my arm. Would you think, I like her style? She must be a rich bitch? or *Scoff* get a life?

Is that who I really want to be?
I think about it more and more..how much image can matter to some people, and to others be the most senseless thing to waste your time worrying about.

That..is one reason my mother and I had a falling out.

On one hand, I wanted her to have the nicest things, do her best to keep up with trends, look younger i.e. feel better about herself. From my point of view, I wanted her to find more meaning in her life than being OCD and wiping the same spot on the same window for the rest of her life. Instead, by filling her life with luxury items would distract her like it has distracted me from the reality of sordid, unending routine.

She thought, "Oh, I'm not good enough", "my daughter doesn't respect me or herself", and "what is the point of material things if it's a way of hiding the lack of morals and principles you have?"

She's always taught me to "zhi zhu chang le", meaning be satisfied with what you have and you will be eternally happy. It's like the saying "Love what you have and you'll have what you love" (or at least that's my version). Sorry for butchering all the common adages. My memory is failing, or it is on a very long vacation.

And when I see people for what they are, naked mole rats swimming in the images they want people to associate them with, I realize, I am more than that. Excuse my language please...I'm a fucking rockstar for having climbed the Mount Everest of emotional traumas and near-death experiences. I don't need a freakin' medal to prove it, and although I've covered up my emotional scars with a big heaping dose of "Forgetfulness Antidote" and some "Positive Affirmations for Dummies", nothing can erase the pivotal years of childhood...where everything that could go wrong did. So sorry, I can't be satisfied with what I have. I've bootcamped myself into thinking I can be better, I will be better, I have to be better.

SECOND REASON for the clash.
I get over things easily, and she harnesses the most hateful, vengeful grudges that surpass even that of "The Grudge". I used to have nightmares that she would attack me in my sleep like the little ghost boy. At least that's how it was when I lived at home.

Now I don't have a home.

Instead, I have a series of rest stops, you could say.

One: Tiffany's. I like the bear "head". I like to wear her clothes. Plus, she makes food for me. I like her roommates. It's almost home. But I don't have a toothbrush, so my rudimentary living style there defeats any chance of calling it a permanent living arrangement.
Two: My house. FOOOOOOOD. Luxury. Except...It's loud, some are unnecessarily obnoxious screaming banshees, and I have no privacy whatsoever.
Three: Westwood/LA/Big Blue buses. Sometimes I like to wander around aimlessly. Let my mind wander. Walk a little slower (that's really hard for me). And just people-watch. Having one-on-one time with myself helps me regain consciousness sometimes, when in the world of nonstop technological stimuli, I feel like a fish out of water..slowly getting the life drained out of me.
Five (cuz Asians don't like the number four, haha): Gardena, adjacent to the most crime-prone area of Compton. Where African-American and Korean gangsters loiter at the 7-Eleven across the street. I'm afraid to go "home" here, and since 2 weeks ago, I've been evicted completely...reason being..."You always say how bad a community we live in, how nothing's good enough, how you hate the decorations in our house. Fine! Don't come back!" - words of the wise...aka my ex-Mother.

*Scoff* "I didn't want to anyway"- but, don't I? Everyone needs a home. It's like an extension of self. I guess my current home, is my self then. Nothing else feels quite as comforting.

Being alone in the world is calming to me..like living in a little fish bowl, exploring the surroundings with my big fish eyes, seeing everything so clearly without the distraction of interaction. As weird as it sounds, sometimes I just want to see everything and everyone for who they are, take it all in, and decide for myself what I want in life, rather than being force-fed all this bullshit.

It's those moments of loneliness, where nothing in the world is bothering me, that I wonder, if I was a lone soul, no friends, no family (I'm halfway there) what would be the point of living? With no one to share in the joy and pains, or have a witness to the life you live, why would any of it matter? I would be a waste of space, a waste of resources, a floater and free-rider.

I wish I could write this junk that's clogging my intelligence into a song. I would sing it until it washed away the all my anxieties and replaced these feelings with a little label "remember to forget". Instead of pretending to forget every 15 seconds like a human Dory, I could wholeheartedly forget the selective things that needed to be forgotten. The day that someone could break the glass of my fish bowl will be the day I finally see the light. Literally.