Reality Day #1

I didn’t go to work this morning.

All night, there was a fight between the security guard two doors down and some random guy. I don’t know the whole story but it seeped into my dream and eventually woke me up.

The security guard was yelling at some dude either abusing or trying to rape a girl in a car. What ensued was the guard yelling at a guy who kept talking shit whilst slipping backwards calling the guard “a bitch ass nigga”

This went on for twenty minutes. I fell asleep then rinse and repeat the drama every thirty minutes for three hours.

I called my supervisor and let him know the drama.

After napping once and waking up to brunch at noon, I relaxed the rest of the day. Just soaking up my bed and catching up on the news. Watching kitten and puppy videos, wishing I had a shiba.

Out of the blue, my BJJ coach calls me and asks where I’ve been these last two weeks? I bullshit and hung up. Then I took a hard look in the mirror.

Go. Go, you piece of shit. Go get your sweat on! Go see the girl at BJJ who smells nice and is super cute.

After the class, I congratulated her for promoting to blue belt. It felt like she was waiting for me to ask her to roll as we normally do once a week. Instead, I decided to go weight myself. I was gassed out.

193.6 lbs.

holy. Shit. I haven’t weighed myself in 8 months. I assumed I was above 210 lbs. still… bad compared to 168-172 during karate.

Reality check. Get to 188 by the end of February. Love myself. Love myself. Respect myself.

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Facing your mirror

Long time all. It’s been a while since I’ve put any meaningful thoughts into any of my writing so here I go.

Almost three years ago, I lost a part of me that I never should have let go out of trust or fear.

Mimi and I have always been doing karate together. I’d pick her up from school everyday and four times a week we did karate together. I was happy. So happy to be doing that with her. I also sent her to swimming class three times a week. Her life was set. It was an amazing time for her and myself.

I never realized how important she was to me nor how much I meant to her until she was gone. Yes, her mother tricked me into sending her to Hawaii. I never thought a woman I loved could do such a terrible thing to me.

I didn’t listen to my family, friends, or coworkers. I was an Askhole. I’d ask them for advice and didn’t listen. My mom wanted it to be in black and white. My friends tried talking me out of sending her there.

I was in denial. I loved her. I couldn’t accept her back in my life as my wife, I did indeed love her. She gave me many years and for the most part stayed faithful. She stuck by my side when I was a construction worker bringing in pennies. She wasn’t the type of girl who wanted brand name things. But she wasn’t good to my family. She ostracized my mother, wore a mask in front of family and friends so they thought she was all cotton candy.

When she told me “I never said I’ll send her to LA. I SAID ID think about it.” I knew I lost. I lost my daughter. I lost faith in myself. I lost myself.

I couldn’t go to karate anymore. The thought of going to a place where I spent so many years with Mimi hurt me so much. I couldn’t breathe. Everything reminded me of her.

I stopped exercising. I gained thirty pounds. I’ve aged so much. My humor became self deprecating to the point that many of my own friends and family stopped laughing at it. They knew I was hurt.

I’m not fit anymore. I can’t do warmups for karate. I can barely do the physical activities the army requires for me to serve. I don’t even love myself.

I looked at the mirror today for the first time in a long time. Not in the normal way I do like putting on gel and telling myself damn I’m so handsome.

No. I looked in the mirror. I’ve became so ugly. So fat. So sad. I was wondering why a few years ago I’d date attractive girls and now only obese girls seem to like me back in all the dating apps. I’m Fat. I’m old as shit now. And I’m overweight. I eat like shit.

I tried to look away but I forced myself to look. Tears began to stream down my face. I’ve been lying to myself since she moved to Hawaii. I’ve been living for someone else my entire life.

I don’t know how to be happy without my baby. I give her mother a discounted 925 a month now. It still hurts me. I tell myself I’m providing for Mimi but that’s not the truth. My daughter needs me. She stayed with me a long time and during the last three nights with me, she cried.

She cried so much I cried. I’m not a stereotypical Asian American man that has no feelings. I’m probably too soft but I hide it pretty well. She wanted to live with me and her mommy. She asked me why daddy?! Why can’t we live together? I miss being a family.

I couldn’t hold it anymore and told her the truth. She’s only 8 but she needed to know. I told her about me being jobless for two years. Her mother saying she didn’t love me anymore and dating her now stepdad before we even got a divorce.

I told her how I was tricked into sending her to Hawaii and I never should have let her go. She wailed as she said she loved me so much. She said she doesn’t want me to get more fat and die because then she’d really be alone.

I looked in the mirror. Those words rung in my mind. I looked at pictures of a time when we did karate together. I knew I gained weight but denied it having affected me. I pretended I wasn’t depressed but smiling for everybody. I acted like I was cool with seeing Mimi whenever her mother felt like not holding her hostage.

I’ve said this every year… to myself and to others.

But this time, I’m gonna have to lose weight. I’m going to learn to love myself. I’m going to fight this feeling sorry for myself attitude. I gotta go get a piece of this American dream and find some happiness. And most of all, I’m going to live. For myself and Mimi. She’s my reason.

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Common courtesy

One of things that irks me is not responding to texts. 

Yes. I get it. Some people text a lot. 

I’m talking about when you make plans to see this person. She says she wants to hand out. She doesn’t answer. 10 hours later she’s having dinner with her sisters. 

Okay. Glad you’re safe. Was there any reason you couldn’t just text to reschedule? 

She’s a lot younger than me so maybe she plays a factor. 

Grrrrrr.  Please respond to the text. Better to say not interested or rain check than to bail. 

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Cycle

I went to the ER yesterday. My blood pressure  was through the roof. It’s been normalized now. Nothing erratic. I just have to take my beta blockers in a timely manner now. 

So. As you can imagine, I had nothing but free time to think about my past, present, and future. 

I’m 35 years young and already, I know with significant lifestyle changes, I won’t live a long life. It’s hereditary. With that said, I feel selfish looking for love. 

Both my grandfathers died at approximately my age to forty years old. Both of them died from some form of heart and stomach ailments to tumors. It makes me feel weird…

My grandmothers raised 5-7 children on their own respectively. One since 40 and the other since 32. They never remarried. They lived their lives for their children and raised them properly for that generation. 

I feel if I found the love of my life… I’d be cheating her out of a full one. In today’s times, she would definitely remarry. Her children will be half siblings. Will her husband respect my child? So many thoughts 

Half of me wants to continue to look for that God fearing woman. The other half of my just wants to mess around since I know i don’t have much to live… (compared to you guys who are expected to live till 72-75, it’s projected I would live to 50-65) 

I sometimes wish my blogs can be happy, adventurous, Delicious, spiritual, meaningful as yours that I read up on. But alas. It’s not. We’re all dealt different cards at different starting points with different attributes. 

We’re given an equal chance to play with unequal beginnings. 

Anyhoo. This is my update. 

Oh. And mimi isn’t coming in the summer. Her mother said she isn’t obligated to do so. She’d rather save money than do what’s right for our daughter. 

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Help

I heard that real men never ask for help. 

They’re supposed to be strong. Resilient. 

Asking for help makes you dependent on others. 

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Breath

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. 

In. 

Out. 

In. 

*sigh*

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…

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