I heard that real men never ask for help. 

They’re supposed to be strong. Resilient. 

Asking for help makes you dependent on others. 



It was my friend’s birthday yesterday. He’s five years younger than I am but we get along just fine. It’s weird since the Confucianistic culture reminds me that he is a younger brother and not a friend. The MURICA in me says nah. We’re indeed good friends. 

And just like that, I’m reminded of how fast life is. My girl is already 7 and she’ll turn 8 this year. A little over 5 years ago, the woman I married wanted to leave me. 10 years ago, I had a wedding with her. 15 years ago, I had just came back from Texas and was a young man ready to start life and conquer it. 20 years ago, I had just gotten my drivers license…

I never thought of it this way until now… but let’s say life is made up of breaths and you’re made of 1 million of them. Each one you take… cuts away at your life. Each one brings you closer to death. 

The breaths are memories, experiences, scars, pleasure, pain, emotions, thoughts… but what they are… are things you can never get back. A breath to me represents time. I can’t take the same breath I took when I was 16… 21… 26… 31… 

I long to be 16, 21, 26… and fuck… even 31 again… 

never in my life did I ever think that breaths were so precious. Each one I take could be my last.. it could be the best or worse one yet. 

I’m also reminded how precious and short our time is on this planet. 

Some of us are looking for salvation and others for love. Others wish to build an empire of security while many seek to destroy it. And a few of us are a waste of breath. 

I’m getting closer to forty and it scares the shit out of me. 

I’m alone. 

I can hear my own breaths. 





I go to church looking for the meaning of my life. I search for logical reasons of my existence while desperately hoping an ominous voice will tell me that my life up till now was to fulfill a greater goal, or a purpose. 

Then I take another deep breath. 

I look around the congregation and I see beautiful people. They all seem to know what’s going on. They’re so calm. They take in a deep breath and sing praises to Jesus and God. Their voices sound like a choir. So harmonious and angelic in nature. 

I listen to the preacher man hoping a ray of light just tells me what all this was about. 

Then… I see her. A person who was broken but keeps walking. A person who believes in everything this book says. She forgives people who did her family wrong. Then her name rolls off of my tongue… I feel each breath getting sweeter. 

I’m suddenly reminded that I’m someone that many women didn’t want in the last five years. Im baggage. Im not tall enough. I don’t earn enough. Im not skinny enough. I used to think it was just me thinking that to my myself… until I hear it from our mutual friends. 

I get it. 

I take another breath. The air slowly begins to lose its flavor. I exhale. The air is now the usual bitter scent. Almost metallic and rusty in nature. The atmosphere goes back to being heavy. Time resumes itself. 

I wipe the tears from my eyes… stare at the beautiful broken girl wishing I could love someone like her… wanting to be her breath…



I met up with my homegirl that I haven’t seen in two years. We did the usual twenty questions and she found that I recently broke up with a girl who was actually nice. LSS, different life styles.
She told me that she feels I like girls who have fair or pasty skin, thin, but thicker thighs. That made me laugh because I respect opinions or views from someone outside my own head (hearing voices!)

Pretty sure I’ve always said this but this girl is Hyuna, a kpop star, that always always always has me drooling.  Zoe also said that I must be the only Korean American she knows that Likes Taylor Swift. 

Sigh. But ultimately, the girl from church… always has me smiling. She’s 11 years younger than me so I feel like a cradle robber. But her smile, faith, dimples, quirky sense of humor and loud laughter, kindness, being a role model at church for high school kids, managing her money, how she prays…

Omgness… she’s on my mind way more than Hyuna hahaha. It’s just weird how I see her twice a week but I feel like she’s setting up a wall so I don’t ask her out on a date. I’m wondering how I ask a church girl out…

Enough rambling… hope everyone has been good. 


Her lips

They’re so soft and sweet. When it presses against mine, i feel her hands running through my hair and pressing herself closer to me. Her breath, skin, taste, and warmth is everything I’ve wanted it to be. 

That’s exactly what I was thinking last night when she was talking about her week. Gosh. I’m 3X and I still get butterflies around her. She’s 11 years younger than me. She works hard and each time I see her I feel like God or heaven is attempting to make ammends for throwing shade at me the past few years. 

Besides the powerful sermons I hear every Sunday, I go there just to see her smile and talk about life for a minute or two. It makes the day much better.  … I feel like a stalker now that I’ve reread this blog. Eh. Whatever. 

Can’t wait to see her Sunday. 


Drinking with no room

so just to let you know, if you ever come to Cancun, most hotels don’t seem to have your room ready in time. It’ll be ready by 3Pm. I got here at 6am and now have been drinking in the same clothes i flew-in in, without really having a chance to change out of it. 

Mind you, I couldn’t sleep on the flight here. Too much mandarin from the girls behind me and Cantonese from the guys in front of me. I’ve been up for over 24 hours and now starting to wonder if it’s the drinks or alcohol hitting me. That sounded weird. If it’s the drinks of lack of sleep hitting me. There. 

Ugh. So many friendly girls in bikini and I’m in shorts and polo like that pedo weird guy watching  girls swim all day without talking to them. Except i am talking to them but feel weird because I’m not in swim wear and …

I digress. 



Mom logic

Mom: I don’t know why the iPhone ran out of space. I want to try using a samsung phone. 

Me: mom. You’ve been using an iPhone for two years. I’ll buy it for you but don’t ever fucking ask me for help without having used it for two days. 

Mom: okay. 

(Buys an S7 off of friend for 450)

Mom: WHY DID YOU SPEND SO MUCH?!  You could buy one for 200!

Me: uh… No the fuck you can’t. As a matter of fact if you knew where to get it so cheap why didn’t you get it yourself?

Mom: (literally five minutes into trying to figure the phone out) nothing works. Fix this for me.

Me:  nope. Absofuckinglutely not. I told you that YOU would have to figure out the phone for TWO FUCKING DAYS. Can you do TWO FUCKING DAYS before you say stupid shit loke that?!


Me: (literally about to have a heart attack) how the fuck are you my mom?  Really?  Do you just spout lies to make yourself feel better?

(Gets into two hours of argument)

Mom: okay. Just get me the Korean language and kakao. 

Me: no. You learn to set up the playstore. Then ask me once you installed it. 

Mom: (10 minutes later). I dont know how. 

Me:  nope. You didn’t even fucking try. 

Mom: i did!

Me: (takes phone and took one minute to install)

Mom: now set it up for me

Me: OMFG GO AWAY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Dear white followers or readers… Do you go through this? Can you empathize with me?