Underneath my yellow skin

Category Archives: Wellness

Sometimes, to make an omelet, you have to kick some fucking ass

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The surrealness of the world around me continues. On many levels, yes, but, sefishly, it’s what’s happening in MN that is occupying most of my mind. Don’t get me wrong. I’m outraged about Venezuela. I’m livid about Greenland. I’m seething over the tariffs and other economic bullshit that is emanating from this administration. But it’s what happening in Minneapolis that is most pressing in my mind because it’s nearest (literally and figuratively) to me.

Even then, I’m careful about how much news I ingest every day. I used to write for a political blogh, so I would watch/read a large amount of news a day. Iwas on the abortion beat, so most of the news I read was infuriating, sad, or depressing. I had to make sure I wasn’t burning myself out, and I did that for a few years.

Once Obama was out of office, I was no longer writing for the political blog. I also wasn’t watching/reading as much news as before. I had reached my limit, and I did not want to steep myself in that world again.

I kept up with the news, of course. I made sure I knew the big stuff. I cursorily skimmed the news, and then I kept it moving.

It’s too easy to doomscroll for hours. There is so much bad news, it’s easy to feel overwhelmed, helpless, and despaired. In fact, I feel that way much of the time now. I know that’s what this administration wants, but it’s hard not to remain hopeful. There have been sliver of good news, but so few and far between.

Here’s yesterday’s post. I’m not even going to try to tie it in with this post. Why? Because I’m tired, and I just can’t be bothered. There is a connection, at least in my mind, and I’m going to leave it at that.

I’m still exhausted because of the shots (Covid and flu), but it’s not nearly as bad as it was when I got the three shots on one day. It’s on par with what I normally feel after a shot. Slightly worse, but nothing too noticeable.

I’ve been very careful with not overdoing it as I get better. One good thing about Taiji and Bagua  is that it’s not something that you’re going to lose much if you can’t do it for a day or two. Or even a month. Yes, I forgot a few postures in my month off, but I was able to teach it to myself fairly quickly again.

One of the most amazing things about my medical crisis is how I was able to pick up my practice about a week after I got out of the hospital, shaky and tired, yes, but still able to do most of it. Taiji is chill and relaxed. It’s not the same as Bagua, but I did not start practicing that until well after my medical crisis was over.


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The anger is rising

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Here’s the big issue with this current president. It’s not him in and of himself (though that is terrible, indeed), but it’s what he represents; how many people are holding him up, either for personal reasons, ideology, or just the need to unthinkingly follow someone in authority.

His presidency also lays to rest the ‘gentleman’s agreement’ that all previous presidents have silently agreed to. What do I mean by that? I mean that there aren’t many specific laws in place to prevent the president from abusing his power (and, yes, I deliberatley chose ‘his’ because that’s what we’ve had so far). For past presidents, I do believe that most of them wanted what was best for America, even if I deeply disagree with their ideology. They did not do things soleley because they wanted to do them or for personal gain.

I should note that I’m talking mostly about the presidents I have experienced in my lifetime because I can’t know what prior presidents were really like.

Anyway.

I knew this president’s second term was going to be dangerous and terrible beacuse he had nothing to lose. Again, this was with the assumption that he would not wangle a third term someohow. Oh, and here’s yesterday’s post with more musing on this subject.

I want to focus on something else for a hot sec.

I’m so angry right now, I can’ barely stand it. The only way I can really tamp it down is by becoming numb. I feel incandescent with rage, and I want to make the world burn. I want all the assholes to get what’s coming to them rather than mumbling some inane platitudes about how we have to be better than that. Me doing the mumbling, I mean.

I don’t have it in me. To be polite or compassionate or kind, I mean. I just watched a video of a right-wing influencer (ugh, I hate that word) who came to Minnesota to agitate, cause a ruckus, and probably was hoping to stir people up. I had to laugh when I saw that he had a whopping TEN people supporting him. The local news spoke to one of them, and, yep. Young white dude, wouldn’t you know it, from Minnesota, but not the Twin Cities.

The influencer claimed he was stabbed, but there was no official report of that. I did see him in a car getting kicked, and I felt a quiet vicious satisfaction inside me. I will say I know that’s what he wanted to a certain extent, and I don’t believe in giving these assholes what they want. But the incandescently angry, “I’ve had enough” burning ball of hatred in my heart? That part of me was glad.


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Taking the high road when others aren’t

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Life is still rough here in Minnesota. Very rough. So very fucking rough. The Federal DOJ opened an investigation into Gov. Walz and Mayor Frey for exceedingly bogus reasons. I’m not going to name them because my god. It doesrn’t matter at this point. None of this matters at any point. I included the video of the charges below if you want to see them with your own eyes/hear them with your own ears. One tiny bit of good news is that it was ruled by a federal judge that Minnesotans can follow ICE as long as it was from a safe distance away (ICE/feds claimed this was not allowed), but it just doesn’t seem enough.

Nothing is enough, obviously. Jen Psaki, the host of the video I included below (and warning for rough viewing, by the way), made it clear that the investigation is bullshit. She cites the numbers, and, yes, they are horrible for this persident. Some are the lowest they’ve ever been–ever!–, but they’re still at anywhere from 30% to 41%. That’s still way too many people who think everything is just hunky-dory.

This is actually part of the bigger problem–which is my fellow Americans. That’s not what this post is about, though–you know what? I ‘m going to make it about that because I can. And because it fits with the theme (sort of). The theme being taking the high or low road. I wrote at length about this fallacy (taking the high road is always a  good thing, solely on an idealogical level) in a prior post.

Quick primer: For most of my life as a Democrat, I’d watch the Democrats bleat about taking the high road. They gave in over and over again, and it was always frustrating. Why was it only the Dems who were expected to negotiate and meet in the middle? I mentioned in a prior post that I’m at the end of my rope with being compassionate and peaceful.e

Every time the Republicans won a major election, it was spun as them having the will of the people to do what they wanted. When a Democrat won, however, it was spun as the country being fractured, and the Dems had to work extra hard to make sure the Republican Americans did not feel shunned/rebuffed/out in the cold.

Many Dems felt that way, too. Or at least they mouthed the words that sounded like they agreed. Whereas the Republicans blithely ignored any semblance of extending the olive branch. Thirty yaers, I’ve listened to this. It’s always been a case of being on different teams, but there were lines that neither side would cross.

Those lines are completely erased now. As I’ve said, my friends and I have agreed that we’re not exactly surprised by what this president has done, but the surprise is how quickly and violently it’s happened. Also, in my case, it’s how efficiently it’s happening. Which makes me suspect that it’s not him.


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Sideways to meeting my goals, part six

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I am so tired. So very tired. Not just physically, but emotionally and mentally as well. My sleep has gone to complete hell, and I don’t think it’s going to get better any time soon. It’s surreal living in a state that has been targeted by this president. I saw MS Now talking about how 50% of Americans think ICE are making things worse for the country whereas 30% think ICE is making America better. MS Now was talking about it as if it was a great thing. 50%! That’s like a twenty point swing (or something like that). Whereas I look at those numbers  and think, “What the fuck?!? Who the hell are those 30%?”

It’s a rhetorical question, though, because I know where that 30% comes from. By the way, it’s always 30%. The fucking assholes, I mean. It’s always around 30%. There’s a reason for it, but I don’t care. I can’t care any longer.

Here is my post from yesterday. And I’m going to maunder about it more.

In the Discord I’m in, when this president was declared the winner, there was a ‘this fucking guy’ who had to say his piece about how this is because the neglected white dude had been oppressed for so long. Oh, he didn’t put it that way, but that was his meaning. Not an American, by the way, I don’t think. He’s also into crypto coins and other shady bullshit.

And I want him to suffer. I want him to step on Lego every night of his life and never find a comfortable position in which to sleep. I want him to feel a fraction of the pain that my fellow Minnesotans are going through at this moment.

Here’s the thing.

My compassion is completely burned out. I am done with people talking about the high road and being the better person. Because that doesn’t make shit happen. Also, it has no benefit to the oppressed because it puts extra burden on them. Not only do you have to take the shit, you have to smile as it’s happening.

Governor Walz talked about being peaceful even through our anger. Not to give this administration what they want and the excuse to crack down even harder. I understand that, but I need them to understand that that is the same as someone being abused thinks–if I just do this, that, or the other thing, they won’t abuse me. If I just act as good as I possibly can, they won’t hit me any more. It’s my fault. I just gotta be perfect.

There is no way to avoid the abuse. Being peaceful won’t do it. Giving in won’t do it. Nothing will. I’m not saying to act up or choose violence, but I’m saying that focusing on being peaceful is a fool’s errand. Let that part go. Do what needs to be done without making preambles or excuses.


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Sideways to meeting my goals, part four

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In talking about my goals, I used yesterday’s post to talk more about my family. I mentioned how I have come to terms with my parents (sort of) by thinking of them as not my parents (read the post). It’s helped me smooth out a lot of the frustration I have felt towards them, which I  consider a win. Look. It’s better than what our relationship has been in the past, and I know that it’s not going to change. I talked about how neither of my parents have changed much in all the time I’ve known them, so why would they start now?

What does that have to do with my goals? The dysfunction in my family has often made me feel like what I did didn’t matter, especially as an AFAB person. My birth gender was emphasized so heavily, and I was deducted so many points  just for having the misfortune of being born a girl. My parents were both so heavy on gender essentialiism, I hated being a girl by the time I was cognizant that it was a thing.

One of my sharpest memories of my childhood is that by the time I was seven, I was praying every night to a god I didn’t really believe in that he would make me a boy. not because I felt like a boy or because I thought I was a boy (I didn’t on either), but because I had internalized that it was awful to be a girl. Every morning, I woke up deeply disappointedc that I was still a girl. Like, crushingly disappointed.

At some point in my early twenties, I became aware of gender and race. And I became a raging feminist/pro-Asian person. I also became aware that I was attracted to women as well as men (*binary at the time. This was the early nineties before nonbinary, genderqueer, agender, etc.,  became part of the social consciousness), but I put that on a shelf because I did not want to deal with that as well as race and gender.

This all comes into play when I write. When I write, all of that comes out in every word. Sometimes, those on the right will snark about how ‘woke’ those on the left are.

Side note: I never understood how that became a negative, but it’s just a well-worn path for them. Take something that is a positive (being aware of other cultures, personal identities, etc.,) and make it a flaw or something to sneer at. Even the word itself, ‘woke’, uttered an a derogatory epithet is baffling to me. Along with being called ‘PC’. Who wouldn’t want to be aware that other ways of living are out there? (That’s a rhetorical question.)


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Sideways to meeting my goals, part three

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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.


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Sideways to meeting my goals, part two

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I’m back with more musings about my three main goals. I caught up on my writing (as far as an hour a day), and I have decided that I’m going to move Point B to the second book. What am I talking about? Well, I mused about it in the prior post, which you can read here.

In my murder novemoir, I had the central mystery plotted out in my mind. I didn’t know who the perp would be (which is unusually for me. I usually know it from the beginning), but I had the vic and the basic plot points.

Last night, I started writing about a second major mystery that I had seeded the night before, which was much more interesting to me. My impulse was to set it aside, but my brain said, “Nope. We’re going to keep on writing about it.” I mentioned in yesterday’s post that I knew the smart thing to do would be to put it in the sequel, but I’m stubborn if nothing else.

Now, though, I think I’m going to set it aside for the second book. It’s too meaty to do it in tandem with another major mystery. I have decided that the hour a day can include the time it takes for me to research a topic or rereading what I wrote before. It includes thinking time and anyithing that is related to writing. Once I’ve done that for the month of January, then I’ll think about making it two hours.

I am very glad that I changed it from writing 2,000 words a day to writing for an hour a day–and now saying doing anything writing-related for an hour. The goal right now is to get myself back into writing fiction on a daily basis. I still have it in me; I just need to apply myself.

Side note: This is another thing that I found out about neurospicy people–it’s not just laziness. What I mean is that sometimes it feels literally impossible to force myself to do the thing I need to do. Even if it’s something I want to do.

When my bestie used to live here, we would make plans to get together once a month or so. I always looked forward to it, but I had to drag myself to get dressed and drive to her place. She would not be ready when I got there (a long running joke in our thirty-year friendship), and we used to commiserate with each other about how weird it was that we had such a hard time getting ready for something we really wanted to do.


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Mental health is a health issue

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I may have to move mental health issues to the top of my list. I have been dealning with my mental health issues mostly by burrowing my head in the sand keeping my news input to a bare minimum.

Today, though, living in the Twin Cities made it impossible to avoid the most explosive and horrific news of the day. The killing of a Minneapolis woman by an ICE agent. I heard about it tangentially, and then I discussed it with several friends.

I’m outraged, furious, scared, and–numb. This year has been too much, and it’s been especially stressful for us Minnesotans because we’re being targeted by the federal government. There are several reasons for this, and I am frightened about the upcoming  governor’s election. While we vote Democratically on a federal level (though just barely in the last election, worryingly enough), we’re all over the map locally. We tend to split the vote, and the batch of batshit Republicans running for office, especially mayor, is making me very nervous.

These are dark days in this country. Our president just attempted a coup of a foreign country because he wanted their oil; he’s embroiled in nasty business (I mean, he always is, but this time, it’s especially nasty); and now, this.

It’s really hard to look back at the last year and not be filled with despair. I knew it was going to be bad, but I didn’t think it was going to go to hell in a handbasket so quickly and so starkly.

Early in 2024, I had to get my driver’s license renewed. When I went to the DMV in order to do so, I was pleasantly surprised to see that nonbinary was the third gender option (it had only been male and female before). We are one of the most progressive states in the country–at least the Twin Cities are progressive. Not so much so the rest of the state (like many states).

And yet.

My heart sank when I saw that third option. Why? Because I knew there was a very real possibility that we would have the return of a certain president as president once again, and he had made it quite clear that he would de everything in his power to discriminate against queer people of all different stripes*.

Nonbinary is not my chosen term, but if I were twenty years younger and if *gestures helplessly at the world around me*, I probably would use it instead of woman. Or maybe not. It doesn’t really fit me, but it’ll do in a pinch. I default to not calling myself anything, really. I don’t mind so much when others call me ‘she’ or a woman, but it’s not how I think of myself.


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The way my brain works

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My brain is weird. I’ve known this ever since I wsa a kid, but back then, I just thought it was that my brain was broken. My mom was a psychologist, but she also had very traditional Taiwanese ideas about, well, everything. She had definite ideas of what a girl child should be, and I failed miserably in every aspect. A girl should be demure, quiet, acquiescent, nurturing, always thinking of others, docile, and most importantly, she should never ever EVER be noticed. Ever!

It’s ironic because she was everything she told me not to be. Opinionated, athletic, sporty, and more masculine than not. She was just continuing the dysfunction that she learned in her own home, from her own mother who was also a raging hypocrite when it came to what she espoused girls/women should do and what she actually did.

If my mother had been able to break away from the idea that she had to be a wife and a mother, her life would have been so much better. Instead, she bought it hook, line, and sinker, and did her level best to make me as miserable as she was. I’m grateful that I realized at a fairly early age that I did not have to get married and/or have children. I’ve never wavered from that, and I’m profoundly glad that I, the most indecisisve and pushover of people, stood firm for once in my life.

What does this have to do with today’s post? Not much, but I just wanted to muse about it for a bit. Also, part of what I consider my broken brain is that I can’t for the life of me go from point A to point B in a straight line. I like to joke that I don’t do anything straight, but it’s true. Everything is interconnected in my brain, so I can’t just focus on one thing or the other.

I started teaching myself the Bagua Knife Form yesterday. I wasn’t going to do it until I finished teaching myself the left side of the Swimming Dragon Form, but, well, my brain said, “Here me out. What about now?”

I have taught myself roughhly three-fourths of the left side of the Swimming Dragon Form. I am pleased with how fast I’m learning it, but not entirely surprised. This is one of my favorite forms, and it was fairly easy for me to learn.

It’s the same as the Sword Form. That was the first weapon form I learned, and I stormed through it. I was so eager to learn the whole thing, and once I was done, I taught myself the left side in short order. I do need to do a bit of clean up on it, though.


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

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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.


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