Anthony, Where Are Thou?

Of my three best friends, just one is married and moved out — Anthony. I’ve known him just as long as everyone else and he’s even the reason why I know the guys. He’s matured a great deal over the years and it’s impressive to say the least. That man got his shit together and it shows.

He’s the biggest jokester of the group, so much so that we all tend to have a hard time taking anything he says seriously. It’s the comedic relief any group of friends needs to have a good time. We’ve never had many deep heart to heart talks for that reason — until last night.

Color me surprised.

Behind the scruffed up beard, hair just inches away from resembling a Jewish fro, and onslaught of pop culture references lies someone who can provide deep insight. Insight on relationships, fears, love, and life goals. He knew the moment he knew he loved Mayra, what he hopes to have in the future, kids, a family, and a 3 bedroom house. It’s shocking the clarity he possessed when discussing everything.

It seems we’ve all been wrong about him. He’s a man who doesn’t take things too seriously, but doesn’t lose sight of what he wants and wants to be.

Maybe we should all be a bit more like him.

Later world.

The Outsiders

To grow old is to grow apart and apart we have. At what point did my friend’s interests and mines diverge? Mayra puts it best, “You’re not like them. Why is that?”

We were at one point.

Shitty B-rated movies, bad comedies, video games, paint balling, guns, and a desire to fuck around everyday without a care. That was yesterday. Perhaps Julian, Anthony, and Garza still do enjoy those interests, but I don’t and far from it. In fact, most of what they talk about in our group chat spanning several years, I have not the slightest bit interest in and that’s unfortunate.

That’s not to say I don’t respect them and their hobbies. They are as they always are — my best friends and brothers. Would I want them to respect my interest in bitcoin and cryptocurrency before saying how big of scam it is or how it’s going to come crashing down on me? Of course because it’s fucking rude. I don’t expect them to understand.

  • “Who do you think you are?”
  • “You’re obviously into status.”
  • “This isn’t the real you.”
  • “You’re overthinking it.”

I frequently hear those comments thrown my way. In their eyes, perhaps my desire and drive to have better life rubs them the wrong way. Maybe my goals don’t sit well with them. Perhaps my planning abilities make them insecure. Hell, I know they are that — insecure. Am I going to call them out on it? No.

To grow old is to grow apart. We’ve gone this far. Why stop now?

To Not Love 07/23/2018

Dearest love from a thousand moons

There is not a shining light that I can bare

From the times we walked and the nights that gone

My heart and soul has no room

Forgive me darling

Forgive me dear

The nights are cold and my hands grow numb

Linger thoughts of yesteryear and troubled seas

My hearts at bay and lost at tide

To love but not love is the tragedy within

My dearest love of a thousand moons

Our time has come and gone so soon

Loving Now and Later

What is love? Is it the cliche Hollywood glamorized version? Set two people together in scenic vistas surrounded by open grasslands. They’re obviously in love. A man from nobility finds a girl from the lower class and falls head over heels for her. It’s her charm, her different lifestyle, and her beauty behind the rags. Is this as good as it gets? The dictionary says this:

1.
an intense feeling of deep affection.
“babies fill parents with intense feelings of love”
synonyms: deep affection, fondness, tenderness, warmth, intimacy, attachment, endearment;
2.
a person or thing that one loves.
“she was the love of his life”
synonyms: beloved, loved one, love of one’s life, dear, dearest, dear one, darling, sweetheart, sweet, angel, honey;
verb
1.
feel a deep romantic or sexual attachment to (someone).
“do you love me?”
synonyms: care very much for, feel deep affection for, hold very dear, adore, think the world of, be devoted to, dote on, idolize, worship;

Romance and affection is love, or so it seems… I’ve maybe been in love 3 times in my life. The feeling is overwhelming. An illness that engulfs the mind and body. It’s the rose-colored filter that alters the world. It’s bliss and enchantment at every minute and every turn. It’s a feeling of wonder and bliss —  addicting even.

My friends asked yesterday night, “What of this girl I’m seeing?”

It’s probably not love. Not yet. Not now. Too soon. She’s charming and fills me with joy. I remember our first date after not seeing her since we first met a month prior. She was the most beautiful woman I laid my eyes on and she was spending the evening with me. Bliss. I don’t think I can ever forget that first glance at her.

 

Untitled 07/20/2018

Somber days of summer nights

The wind unfolds thru the room

Tis this end, this the end

My darling, where are thou?

Twas the past just a dream

Fading as a passing time

Merry days and memories

I yearn for once was

Holding, hoping but you’re gone

The seas and tides crash beforth the shore

Dripping dropping day end and night

Gaze across the pond and find the silver moon

Half in sight but fading soon

Somber days of summer nights

My darling, where are thou?

Chinese Culture, Money, and Happiness

I once did a family tree for a class assignment and was surprised to discover I’m 100% Chinese for at least as far back as 300 years. My relatives never left the small village where I was born… ever. Crazy right?

For as long as I can remember, my family has told me success is directly related to the amount of money someone makes or has. That if have a lot of it, it will bring you untold happiness, prosperity, and a better life. Every new year around February is Chinese New Year. I get money in gold and red colored envelopes. Don’t ask me what they mean symbolicly or culturally. I don’t understand the purpose. Every birthday, I’ve never gotten a present, just the same red envelopes with money stuffed inside. If anything, it made these events less significant and more the same.

I should be thankful. Not every family does this sort of thing. And hey, oodles of money is cool. Right?

If you’re a lil Chinese kid growing up year after year hearing this mantra, you have no reason to believe otherwise. Money = happiness. But does it?

A recent study found that happiness levels increase with income up to roughly $75,000 in annual salary. After that, there tends to be little correlation between income and happiness.

It states that money gives you financial freedom, new enjoyable experiences (that would lead to feeling happy), being able to help those less fortunate, and also your friends and family.

Does money directly make you happy? Heck no. It’s a matter of what you do with it. I think having money can definitely lead to new experiences, such as a trip to a foreign country or a night out at a restaurant you’ve been eyeing. That resonates with me the most actually. The freedom to do and see more is alluring and I’m curious to see the world.

If I manage to go everywhere I wanted to go, what then? If I bought my condo and paid it off, what then? What is happiness really? Do I continually find what makes me happy and obtain it and arguably with the money I make?

Later world.

https://www.entrepreneur.com/article/309814

My Boss: The Man of Guilt

My boss Sam asked me yesterday, “If you had children, would you spank them?”

Fuck no.

“What if they misbehave?”

I will argue children don’t know any better. It’s natural to them to want to act out or be wild. They don’t have the confines adults do. They’re free and they know it. Why punish them for that? Can a 3 year old really know right from wrong? Of course not.

I see no distinction from child rearing and abuse. The action is the same and the result is too: pain. I see it as taking the easy way out. It’s a method of discipline only deserving of medieval times. It’s barbaric and only fitting for those without morals.

Sam agrees with my thoughts and candidly revealed he told himself he too would never do it. But he did. And he feels immense guilt for hitting his two young boys: one 5 and the other 7. He was angry and lost control. His boys resent him for that and he knows it to be true. They much rather prefer their mom than him.

“What do you think I should do?”

Apologize. Tell them sorry. Tell them you know how they feel about you. Admit you shouldn’t have done it. They most likely won’t understand your words now, but keep trying. Later on they will. It’s never too late. The sting passes with time and that’s the beauty of it.

Later world.

Like Father Like Son (?)

I look exactly like my dad. It’s not a bad thing though. Growing up, I thought my dad was the coolest motherfucker there was. He’s incredibly popular, outgoing and social more than anyone else in the family. Sure, he smoked and drank a lot, but I’ll pass that off as a by product of being well known by everyone. Little me just thought that was what men did.

There were two men I closely wanted to be like: my grandpa and my dad. My opinion of my grandpa more or less remained constant the older I got. He was hard working, never had a complaint, and loved our family til the day he passed. I like to think I have a bit of his work ethic in me after years of trying to get my act together and he’d be proud of what I’ve become.

I would argue my dad is nothing like my beloved grandpa. He was angry, loud, uncontrollable, and frightening. I think naturally as I got older, I saw through his bullshit and had a slow realization of the type of man he really was. I suppose that’s the unfortunate thing about growing up, you grew wiser and people aren’t as they seem.

My dad got old, his hair grew gray, and his face grew more tired. Deep down, I know I’m looking into a mirror and that face will soon be mine. It’s only inevitable.

So what if he was a womanizing, flirtatious man that my mom constantly believed was secretly seeing another woman? Am I to believe it to be true? Do I let it “slide” and give him a pass? My existence is because of him after all.

Optimistically, I know my dad is not perfect. Far from it. Grandpa told me himself, “Your dad’s kind of a loser. But he’s still your dad. Family stick together.” He was always too real with me and I perhaps needed that as a punk 16 year old.

I know I’m only outgoing and as extroverted as I am because of those early years watching him interact with his friends. I know my love for nice restaurants and good food comes from him never cheaping out on a day out with the family. Part of me may never forgive him entirely, but if there’s a day where I have the floor, I’ll tell him that.

Later world.