Underneath my yellow skin

Tag Archives: dark humor

Humor is subjective

Humor is so subjective and difficult to explain. If someone does not find something funny, I rarely bother to explain it. When my mother and I went to movies, she would need me to explain certain things to her. It was frustrating because I would miss the next minute to several minutes of the movie while I was whispering to my mother. Eventually, I came up with a rule that if it took me longer to explain something to my mother than it took for them to say it, I would not do it.

The worst was humor. American human is so different than Taiwanese humor. I gave up on explaining jokes completely because it was nearly impossible to make the cross-culture connection. This is not ragging on my mom (for once!), by the way. Humor is just very demo-specific.

For example. The Brits seem to be much more casual about making child molestation jokes. They have a word specifically for an adult (let’s face it, man) who is a pedophile–nonce. And they’ll toss around ‘pedos’ casually like it’s nothing. At least in the RKG group, which may be skewed   towards laddy humor. Honestly, it’s one of my least-favorite things about them, but I chalk it up to cultural differences.

On the other hand, there’s a RNG Chalice  Dungeon called the cum dungeon because they code is CUMMM then three other letters. Krupa didn’t even want to say it and they bleeped it out. Even Gav was grossed out by it. Krupa had been teasing it out for a few episodes, and when he finally said what it was,  I blurted out, “That’s it?!?”  I was expected so much worse than that. I wouldn’t even blink at the word ‘cum’.

On the other hand, I hate poop jokes. A lot. My Taiji teacher likes to make them once in a while and say we’re all two-year-old children at heart. Nope. Not me. I find them sophomoric, distasteful, and, well, gross. I’m not offended by them, but I would be just fine if I never hear another one again.

On the other hand, I can tell a sex joke with the best of them in the right company. From the old hoary ‘That’s what she said’ to elaborate jokes about what fits where. There was a time in my twenties when I told filthy jokes all the time. I had been indoctrinated as a child with a rabid form of Evangelical Christianity, so I firmly believed I was going to hell if I had sex outside of marriage. It was impressed upon me that having sex for pleasure was the worst thing I could do (especially as a not-male person). Until I got married, of course, and then it was magical with angels singing and playing their harps.


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Death, stubbornness, and my contrarian nature

I’ve had plenty of time to think about what happened to me and the biggest question (well, one of the biggest, anyway) I have is why did I come back? My glib answer is that I believe three things brought me back to life (besides my incredible medical team): taiji, love, and luck. Only one of those I can control. though K argues that the love I received is a direct result of who I am. I argued back that it was to a certain extent, but since most of the people sending love, prayers, and positive vibes didn’t actually know me, it was more the concept of me than me that was receiving the love. That isn’t to say it wasn’t real or wasn’t appreciated, but it wasn’t for me in particular. I will acknowledge that the people who knew me were specifically sending me love, positive vibes (and chi), and prayers, which is especially appreciated.

Both my mother and K told me after I woke up that they were telling me I was a fighter and I needed to fight. My mother said she shouted it at me over Zoom whereas I don’t remember if K said it out loud or just thought it to herself. They’re too kind. What they mean is that I’m stubborn as fuck and contrarian in nature. My taiji teacher would tell you that I question everything and will never be satisfied with a glib answer. I can argue until the break of dawn and will not stop until the other person concedes my point–and sometimes, not even then. This is both an asset and a curse, sometimes both at the same time.

Honest talk: I’ve been passively suicidal for most of my life. Since I became aware of death when I was seven. I’ve had a love/hate relationship with it. I didn’t care much for life, but I was terrified of death and the idea of me being nonexistent. At the same time, I could hear the siren song of  death and nearly answered more than once.

All that went out the window when I f collapsed to the ground in my front hallway. Obviously, I don’t remember any of this, but apparently, I fought the breathing tube while I was unconscious, which makes sense. When I woke up, I was mad as hell and ready to fight everyone. I had no idea who needed fighting, but I was sure it had to be done.


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