Underneath my yellow skin

Category Archives: Family

Sideways to meeting my goals, part five

Posted on by • 0 Comments

These are dark days, my friends. Here in Minnesota, especially. I’ve lived here for all but a year of my life, and now, I am thinking of leaving. Well, to be fair, I had been thinking of it before–leaving the country, I mean. I’ve never been one to say, “This is not my country” because I’ve always been very clear that this is my country. Oh, sure, we kept it under the surface, but the hatred and bitterness was always lurking, bubbling, showing up in fits and spurts.

But. It was nothing like this. It has never been like this. This is unprecedent in my lifetime (not before it, mind, but during it). My brother called me today to let me know that ICE is going door-to-door and that I should have my passport on hand if I go outside. Two Target employees got roughed up and detained. They chased a DoorDash driver into the house of a customer (the customer screamed at the ICE in righteous anger that they had no right to go into her house. It was awesome and amazing. They eventually fled with their tails between theier legs). They are doing everything they can to terrorize my state.

Side note: I am increddibly proud of my state. Minnesota is well-known for its activism, and my fellow Minnesotans are not going to be cowed. They are out there protesting, blowing their whistles (as a way to disrupt ICE as well as notify people that ICE are in the vicinity), shielding their neighbors, and doing the Minnesotan thing.

We are going to bake you a goddamn tater tot hotdish if you want one or not. We’re going to wrap you in a comfy blanuket and give you a hot beverage to drink if you’re cold. We’re not going to say no to you, but you will know by vibes when we’re not into what you’re doing/saying/thinking. As I had to tell a non-native, if the answer to your question is not an emphatic yes, it’s a no. “I’ll have to ask my spouse” = no. “I’ll check my calendar” = no. “I’m busy” = no. “That sounds delightful! I ‘ll let you know” = no.

We’re slow to anger (as a general rule), but once we are pissed off, woe be the person who gets in our way. We may not show it in an obvious way, but you will feel our stubborn wrath. Meaning, it may not be loud and angry (though it can be), but it’ll be mulish and ongoing.

I’m so tired. My sleep has been terrible lately, even more than normal. It’s not a coincidence that it’s gotten worse since this president took office. And, it’s doubly not surprising that it’s been absolutely awful this week.

These are dark days. Really dark days. This president has made it clear that he considers liberals his enemy, and his goal is to stomp us into the ground. That’s his basic M.O. in general. Anyone who is not with him is against him–and therefore, needs to be demolished.


Continue Reading

Sideways to meeting my goals, part three

Posted on by • 0 Comments

Let’s talk more about the circuitous way my brain works. I talked at length about it yesterday, but I have more to say. By the way, I am garrulous, especially in writing, and I’ve just accepted that about myself. Why use one word when ten will do? And why use ten when fifty works so much better? I have to actively stop myself from going on for longer than I already do, and when I’m tired, all bets are off.

I’ve gotten better, as hard as it is to believe that. But I used to not talk at all when I was a kid because I wsa taught that what I had to say didn’t matter. Nor what I thought or believed, for that matter. I was told over and over again that good girls were not heard at all and were barely seen, either.

When I was little, I was an exuberant, loud, joyful child. I would run around, climb trees, and just in general, be an active child. By the time I wsa seven, I was severely depressed, fat (according to my mother, who made sure to remind me of it in several ways, including putting me on my first diet, and saying I had such a beautiful face; too bad I was so fat). On nearly a daily basis, I was thinking about killing myself and how the world would be better off without me.

See, that was what the emotional abuse did–it told me that I was worthless. Or worse that worthless–I was an overall negative to the world. When I was in my late teens, early twenties, I believed I woke up every day not deserving to live, and I had to earn my way back to zero. Why? Because everyone around me reinforced the idea that my life in and of itself had no value. My parents, the people at the very cult-like Evangelical Taiwanese church my parents belonged to, and my very white teachers in the 1970s and 80s.

There were a few teachers who were incredibly kind to me, but for the most part, I was ignored. I’m not blaming those teachers, mind you. I note it more to say that I never felt welcomed in school, either.

It took me studying Taiji for me to realize that I mattered as a person. Not as an emotional support person. Not as an accessory, a friend, or a listening ear. But as a person in and of myself. Me. Just being me.

It’s difficult for me to hold onto that because my mother keeps making it about her. After my serious medical crisis, she said she was glad I hadn’t died–so she would still have someone to talk to about her problems. She’s said this to me more than once, by the way. She’s also called me her therapist, and her justification is that she knows all the therapists/psychologists/psychiatrists in Taiwan on a professional basis. Which, you see, means that she can’t have a therapist of her own.


Continue Reading

My goals for 2026, this and that (smaller goals), part three

Posted on by • 0 Comments

I’m a mess; I’ll admit it. There are so many things I’d like to change in my life, and it paralyzes me from doing anything. My brother is completely different, and I envy him for it. When he sets his mind to something, he just does it. Granted, sometimes it takes longer than he planned because he tends to underestimate how long things actually take and how quickly he can get shit done. Plus, with ten things going on at once, there is bound to be a ball or two dropped. Still. He does more in a week than I do in a year.

It’s hard to believe we have the same genes, honestly. We could not be more different in most ways. There are a few ways in which we are similar (we’re both on the autism spectrum,; we both have our topics that we can wax poetic on forever–and I do mean forever; and we’re both very opinionated, for example), but  I could rattle off our differences for several minutes. He’s more logical-minded whereas I’m almost pure emotion. He’s EQ is not great; mine is off the charts. He’s Christian, and I am not. He’s super-active while I am not. He’s into pickleball, hiking, and other outdoor activities while I prefer my exercise martial and indoors, please. I’m allergic to everything under the sun, and I stay out of the outside as much as possible.

I like to say I like the outdoors as long as it stays outside and away from me. I also like to say that I’m allergic to everything including the air.

Where was I? Oh, yeah. There are several things I’d like to improve this year. Or rather, several things I’d like to change about me and the way I am.

In the last post, I talked about wanting to get laid. Not looking for a romantic relationship, but for sex. I mentioned all the reasons that I had not gotten my groove on in quite some time, and maybe this is the year that I actually make the effort to get a piece.

Side note: Everything is really hard for me to make myself do. It’s the depression, and while I am not happy about it, I just accept it as part of who I am. Even when I was at my mental health best, it still took so much effort to actually do things. That’s another thing I am envious about with my  brother–that he just does things.

I want to cook a bit. I was going to say cook more, but that would be insinuating that I cook at all. Which I haven’t since, well, in a very long time. Even when I did cook on the regular, it was mostly simple pastas or making sandwiches. I did buy a slow cooker, but my sink broke, so I can’t watsh it. Yes, I need to get a new sink, but taht isn’t going to happen any time soon. Which means the slow cooker hasn’t been used in quite some time.  Also, the few things I made in it weren’t great, plus it took way more effort than I thought.


Continue Reading

My goals for 2026, this and that (smaller goals)

Posted on by • 0 Comments

I have been talking about the three main goals I want to reach in 2026. In the last post, I wrote about wanting to find an online Asian genderqueer/queer group, and I’ll get back to that in a future post. In this one, I want to talk about some of the other goals I have for this year. They are not quite as immediate or as important as the big three, but they are prominent in my mind.

1. Finding a therapist. I know that my mental health is slipping. It’s in a large part because of the world around me (especially as an American), but it’s also my prior mental health issues coming rearing their ugly heads once again. By that I mean depression and anxiety. I have suffered from them all my life–well for as long as I can remember, which is seven or so. Depression was the main one when I was a kid with anxiety blossoming sometime in my early teens.

I will say that a lot of it is environmental with a (unhealthy) dose of of upbringing. Being a fat, smart, undiagnosed neurospicy Asian American kid in a time when diversity wasn’t even a twinkle in the eye of the social consciousness, let alone the bogeyman it’s been made into today.

Side note: It’s so hard for me to accept that diversity is in a worse place today than it was when I was a kid forty to fifty years ago. It makes me profoundly sad and defeated–like what is the point? We’re supposed to make the world better for the generations after us, and yet, we’re leaving it worse. Then, I get mad. I did not come back from death (twice!) for this, damn it. What the ever-loving fuck is going on?

One positive result of my medical crisis was that my depression and anxiety disappeared almost completely. My depression vanished by 90% and my anxiety lessened by 60%. My body hatred disappeared completely. In fact, I was positively arrogant in my body appreciation. It saw me through death (twice!) without even blinking. For real. I was in a coma for a week, and I woke up angry and redy to fight someone. But I passed all my tests with flying colors, and I was released a week later. A week! After literally dying twice and being in a coma for a week. I walked out on my own–well, leaning on my brother, but on my own two feet to his car.

Just to give you an idea of how wild this was, on the fifth day, the physical therapist came to me with a walker. She told me that she was gonig to walk with me down the hall. She explained how to walk (in case I forgot) and said I should only use the walker if I really needed it.

Continue Reading

My dream life in 2026

Posted on by • 0 Comments

I’m going to do it. I’m going to muse about what my ideal life would look like. Why? Because maybe it will make me figure out my actual realistic goals for 2026.

First off: I want a fuck buddy. Or three. I have been trying to line one up for several years, but something has always gotten in the way. I was just getting ready to go backk to the apps at the beginning of 2020. More specifically, late February of 2020. Remember what else was happening at that time? I can’t quite put my finger on it. Hm.

Just kidding. It was the pandemic. The pandemic happened. Oh, boy, did it happen. Yes, people did date during the pandemic (online) but that wasn’t for me. Even I who am so much a loner would need to meet up in person with someone within a few weeks of starting to message them. Why? Because if I didn’t, I wouldn’t go out at all.

My brother dated a ton before settling down with his current GF two years ago. I was filled with admiration because he messeged women every day. Several a day. He put in the work, which is what I’m trying to say. He went on at least one date a week, oftentimes two, and he took a break when he got burnt out.

That’s my brother in a nutshell. When he has a goal, he gives his all until he achieves it or until he changes to another goal. He does the latter often, by the way. Not a knock on him, but an acknowledgement of one of his traits.

I, on the other hand, move at a glacial pace until I actually move, and then it’s go time. I get all my ducks in a row, makes sure they’re sitting nicely, groom them and then I wait another six months. Yes,, that’s a very loose metaphor, but it works.

Ahem.

Back to my wishlist.

I want a fuck buddy or three with whom I can have a laugh and a sex. Yes, I want to do the sex and have fun doing it. i don’t want to catch emotions, which is why I’m specifying a fuck buddy or three. Race, gender, sexual orientation–none of those matter to me. Back when I did personal ads (I’m talking way back in the Craigslist days), I had a line that went like this: “I don’t care about your race, sexual orientation, or religioun–but I will not date Republicans.” I stand by that, by the way. Though I’m wary of Christians. Then again, any Christian who would at least consider going out with me would have to be on the progressive side.

Sex once a week is ideal. That’s number one.


Continue Reading

Totally realistic goals for 2026

Posted on by • 0 Comments

I’ve switched from idealistic goals to realistic goals, but who knows when I may switch back? My brain is jumpy right now so I’m interested in seeing what road it’s going to traipse down. I don’t know any more than other people do, which is the exciting part. I can start with the intention to go in one direction, and then, a thousand words later, I’ve done a one-eighty without even knowing it.

I don’t have a problem with that. It’s how my brain works, and who am I to say no to that? It’s taken me many decades, but I’ve finally made my peace to how meandering (and verbose) my brain is. In my twenties, I used to be embarrassed by it. I would apologize that it took me so long to say anything, and my posts were legendary for their length. Now, I know it’s partly because of my neurospiciness that I can’t say anything in a brief manner.

It took me a long time to figure out it’s because I see things as a complete whole and not as their pieces or their parts. I had trouble in school when a teacher or a group wanted to focus on one topic without seeing the way other topics interacted with it. For example, I took a Feminism in Philosophy class in college. All of it was very tilted towards the Western world. I asked about how feminism differed in different countries/ethnicities/cultures, and my teacher said that she didn’t have time to talk about that.

I didn’t say anything, but in my mind, I was thinking, “You mean, you won’t make time for it.” Also, I was thinking, “Some of us don’t have the  luxury to separate out issues like race and gender.”

This was before the days of nominal intersectionality, and it wasn’t even a glimmer of an idea in anyone’s mind. It was frustrating because it’s not like I coudl say, “Hey, let me put being Asian away and not be treated any differently because of it so I can focus on my gender” and have anyone take me seriously.

It was really frustrating to me, and the introduction of intesectionality didn’t really change anything because it was lip service more often than not. Also, no one cared about Asian people, anyway.

My point in mentioning that is my mentality is reflected in my writing. I can’t write about things in isolation because everything is connected in my mind. I found out this was a symptom of certain neurodivergent conditions. I can’t tell you what a relief it is that my mind is not broken–just wired differently. No, it doesn’t change the fact that I have to mask to be acceptable in normal people gatherings, but at least I know it’s not (completely) me.


Continue Reading

Pie in the sky for the new year, part two

Posted on by • 0 Comments

In yesterday’s post, I was talking mostly about writing. I have not done much of it since my medical crisis except for my daily posts. I did try–truly I did. But it just did not come together, no matter how I tackled it. I’m hoping that it’ll be different this time–or at least that I’ll have the wherewithal to soldier through. I’m not feeling great about it because I haven’t written for a while now. Ever since getting rid of the tree in my front yard severely fucked with my sleep schedule, I have had a hard time writing.

But, it’s me making excuses, really. Back before my medical crisis, I wrote 2,000 words every day without fail. Mostly. like 94% of the time. I really want to do the anthology of short stories and maybe try out The Moth (spoken word) based on them.

My medical crisis didn’t change my life much in the long run. I recovered from it remarkably well. In fact, I’m amazed by how little it affected me except in ways I could not really see right away. (Such as how bad my memory now is. It’s slowly getting better, but it’s still nowhere as good as it used to be.) I am very grateful for that, but one way in which it has affected me, I think, is my writing ability.

I used to have whole stories in my head, and they were constant. It was one at a time, but there was always something else in the back of my mind. Now, I have the basic outline of my novel in my head, but I’m having trouble filling out the details. Or to put it more bluntly, getting from Point A to Point B. I spent 20,000 words on one four-hour chunk or so of time. That’s not a brisk pace at all.

I really need to just get it done and then decide whether it’s worth editing or not. I get tripped up in trying to do something perfectly because then I never get it finished. I need to make it my mantra, “Just get it done”. I used to be able to spit out a fairly polished rough draft because I cannot help but edit as I go. So. I want to get the rough draft of my novel done by my birthday (which is in April). That’s more than enough time, but I’m giving myself a cushion. I’m talking at least 120,000, though it’ll probably be more than that.

Funnily enough, I just Googled what the average length of a novel is these days, and it’s 120,000 words on the dot. Ha!

One thing I do if I can’t seem to get a novel off the ground is to try writing the middle of the novel rather than the beginning. I’ve even written a rough ending before and one time, when I was writing a stageplay, I just ended it by burning down the church during a wedding. So it truly was, “They all died in the end.” It was a joke ending, but it was how I felt about the characters, too.


Continue Reading

Pie in the sky for the new year

Posted on by • 0 Comments

For the past few posts, I’ve been talking in measured tones about what I hope to do in the new year. Now, I would like to take one post to dream big and dream wildly. When I was a kid, I had the grandest dreams. I wanted to be an actor, but then I realized that fat Asian girls* weren’t allowed to be actors in America,** so that dream was a nonstarter.

I was relating the story of how I took a writing class when I was in my twenties from a local author I really admired. At the time, I was writing a murder mystery with an “I” protagonist, meaning the protag was in first person. That’s how I prefer to write, by the way. There were some scenes in which the protag was not present, so it was told in the third-person persppective. My teacher insisted that this was not possible.

That confused me because I had literally done it. How was it not possible? What she meant, of course was that it was not acceptable to write a book that way, which also made no sense to me. She was adamant that if the protag was in first person, then that protag had to be in every scene.

Cut to five or so years later, when it’s all the rage to have  different perspectives in a book, including a book in which the main protag is in first person. I wanted to call her up and smugly point out that I had been ahead of my time.

I have a weird brain that doesn’t understand why I can’t do something that I can clearly do. I know that there are imaginary social constructs/norms that I cannot see, even in writing. I have spent all my life trying to figure out what I need to do to nominally pass in the greater society, and there are still things that surprise/shock me. It’s not pleasant, by the way.

When I was in grad school for writing, my advisor read a short(er) story I wrote about a serial killer who was an Asian American woman and extremely violent. He said I should make her white because people would focus on the race and not the actual story. While I knew what he was saying was right, I refused to change the race because I had no interest in only writing ‘good’ or ‘nice’ Asian people. That to me was another side of racism because it does not allow a minority person to be fully fleshed out.

It’s difficult to let people critique my writing because I have such a strong voice, and I have a clear view on what I want to do with a piece/story/novel. And, quite frankly, I don’t care if readers don’t get what I’m trying to go for. I’m sure most writers say that they have a clear vision, but the difference is that I know I’m out of the norm. I’m on the very fringe of society.

It’s difficult because I’m not obviously Fringe (with a capital F). I’m also straight-edged in that I don’t drink or do drugs, which puts me ouutside the artistic crowd. And I’m not crazily experimental in my style. I was talking to K about Mary Oliver. Ian had sent me a poem by her (Mary Oliver), and I sent him one back. I remembered that K had mentioned Mary Oliver being one of her favorite poets, so I asked her about it. She said she loved Mary Oliver, even if some people complained she was too didactic.


Continue Reading

New year, new me, who dis? 2026, part three

Posted on by • 0 Comments

Before my medical crisis, I had a good routine. I got up whenever and did my Taiji regime (as I fondly called it). That took an hour to an hour and fifteen minutes. Then, I had my coffee as I slowly browsed the ‘net. Once I was done with that, it was time to write a blog post. After that (which took a couple of hours), I would do my work during the afternoon, and then write for a few hours at night. I had Taiji class three times a week and a private lesson every other week. That was my life, and I was comfortable with it.

Then, medical crisis and a disruption to my life at the end of 2021. And while I still do my Taiji/Bagua routine, everything else has gone sideways. I still write a post a day, but it varies wildly when I actually get it done.

I do start out with my Taiji/Bagua routine, which takes roughly two hours. That’s because I dawdle here and there, though. The routine itself is probably about an hour and a half. Lately, I’ve been scrolling in between (and while) doing, which makes it stretch out.

I want to get back to having a schedule so I don’t feel adrift. And because it’s too easy for me to shrug off the nighttime writing without it. It used to be that I did all that on my laptop. Now, I only do the fiction writing on my laptop and the rest on my desktop. Since I’m spending most of my time on my desktop, it’s too easy to just not go to my laptop until it’s time to sleep.

I need to do whatever it takes to get back to writing. I miss it. I have said that it’s a fair trade to give it up for being alive, but I don’t see why I can’t have both.

I do think that my brain is different since then. That’s not bad or good–it just is.

When  I talked to K the night before last, we were discussing life in general and this stage of life in specific. She was saying that she was starting to think about what she really wanted to do next. She urged me to do the same, and while I got what she was saying, I had a hard time envisioning what I wanted.

I have not ever had a dream or a vision or a plan for my life. I never had a five-year plan or anything grandiose like that. Basically, I was just trying to make it from one day to the next, and I don’t really have a bigger picture plan.

She’s not wrong, though. It is about time for me to take a stepp back and soften my gaze so I can see the world (and my life) more broadly.


Continue Reading

November is novels all the way down (part seven)

Posted on by • 0 Comments

In the last post, I wrote about diversity and how it’s not a dirty word. I also wrote about how it’s a part of me and not an affectation. I will say that it’s deliberate in that I choose to make the majority of my characters minorities. So, yes, in that case I’m doing it on purpose. I am not doing it at anyone in particular, but if I upset certain people in the meantime, well, that will please me greatly.

Some people are worth pissing off is what I’m saying. Yes, we need to be civil in general to work as a society, but when people break that social contract by being bigoted assholes, I am no longer beholden by that social contractor to those people.

There are going to be three main characters, and nary a cishetwhiteman among them. I will admit it amuses me to see how far I can go without having one as a main character. I have three or four other characters in mind (not fleshed out yet), and none of them are CHWM, either (figure it out).

I have a snapy beginning to my novel. The first few pages have been written–in my mind. This is how I write, by the way. I write in my brain before I write for real. That’s my way of planning/scheduling/outlining. I do a big brain dump as I’m musing things over in my mind. Then, I write in my mind for a few weeks. Then, I start the actual writing, and it’s like a brain dump agai, but in a more orderly fashion.

Before my medical crisis, my writing regime was pretty uniform. I wrote 2,000 words a day like clockwork in the fashion I outlined above. I edited as I wrote, though I tried not to do that. I rarely had a writer’s block, and I could finish a novel in a few months.

When I used to do NaNoWriMo, I had no problem meeting the word count. Why did I start doing it? Just to get back in the habit of writing again. I set my own goal of 2,000 words a day, and I was able to do that with ease. One year, I did 5,000 words a day–that was exponentially more difficult. In the later years of doing it, I started breaking the rules. I edited a novel one year. I wrote a novel and the the beginning of a sequel another year. I started on a day other than the first of November in yet another year. Before November, I mean.


Continue Reading