24:
All my life, I have won contests. I guess I’ve always been sort of drawn towards the challenge. I’ve won at least three coloring contests in my day, and was legitimately upset when I became of the age when I was too old to enter them. For as much times as I’ve won, I’ve also lost. It’s part of the territory and you learn not to take it personally.
But I learned how to be smart. I learned how to impress the judges and I learned what they were looking for. Creativity. Of course. It always comes down to creativity.
When you’re given an Easter theme and a bunny in a basket, don’t color the basket brown or the bunny grey. Use your imagination! Don’t color the Easter eggs in solid colors, make polka dots and stripes like real Easter eggs should be. Choose color combinations that are pleasing to the eyes. My intuitive sense of color theory was instilled naturally at a young age.
This is the secret to how to “beat” the judges: give them what they want to see.
It’s the secret to how to “beat” school education and life in general. You’ve got to learn to be a bit of a chameleon, adopting to your surroundings. Seeing what fits each group or situation best.
In my life, I have won sweepstakes, coloring contests, guess the jelly bean jar, blog giveaways and raffles. Through coloring contests I have won a walkman (which gives you a sense of the decade, and consequentially, my age), spending cash, a box of 64 Crayola crayons, and gift certificates. Through a blog giveaway, I won a Hello Kitty vibrator and was literally a wishbone away from winning an HP laptop computer (a 50/50 chance). Through a work raffle, before they kicked me out the door, I won an XBox 360 door prize which I promptly sold away, along with most my other possessions, in order to start the next phase of my life and uproot it into Asia.
And now, through an amazing opportunity to travel the world dealing with issues like social responsibility, conservation and global community, I have the chance to win a round the world trip and go to UK.
A representative from the contest personally emailed me to say that I was already in the top 6 fundraisers. If I can keep within the top 6 until October 10th, I am going to UK. She emailed me to wish me good luck and hoped that she could meet me if I get there.
I can’t help but feel this contest was meant for me, and that this is one that I’ll win. If not the round the world trip, at least UK for semifinals where I would attend Global Entrepreneurship Week conferences and compete in challenges for a one in twelve chance to win the grand prize.
If they want creativity, I’ll show them creativity if I can get to UK. I’ll impress the judges and give them what they’re looking for because I know it’s what I’m looking for too.
I am completely aligned to the spirit of the contest. Social entrepreneurship. I am working on building up my courage and my networks in hopes to launch my own graphic/web design studio or freelance business. Words like studio and business really intimidate me. And I find myself glossing over them and pausing in my step whenever I say it to people. But I talk with a passion and I feel it in my bones that I will be successful. Somehow. Someway. I will make this work.
Call it what you will, I want to be my own boss. I want to target creative entrepreneurs, small business and non-profits in hopes to use my skills for something more positive than working for the corporation. I want to help people start projects, promote their messages, and be involved in the exchange of ideas, in the hopes that my involvement could play a small part in world changing.
I want to do amazing things and I want to help people. I won’t accept mediocrity or status-quo. I don’t want to do things the “normal” way, with house, husband, dog and career.
Winning the contest could help me network, build my web, as well as fuel my ideas for ways that I can make a difference. My business would be a small start in the right direction, but I know that I want to continue doing more. I believe art can change the world. I believe my art can change the world and I believe that’s my calling, my purpose, somehow. I just don’t yet know how.
Winning this contest is a step in this process.
If you’d like to help, believe in me, or just want to help me adventure on as I blog and travel the world, consider donating $5 with the widget on the right.
23:
Back in TMI spirit (LiLu from Liv It Luv It’s creation), I have a special vlog for you on how to handwash your clothes. I hope you enjoy my awkward dorkiness.
My commentary:
00:21 – How do you like my music choice? Isn’t it the best? I wanted it to be kind of like foreplay.. and when the horns come… so…horny! Hahahaha miso horny!
1:05 – I’m so Asian!
3:08 – I don’t know why I said counter-clockwise, specifically. It actually doesn’t matter as long as its circular, or even up and down. 
21:
With the close of my four month monastery stay at Buddhist temples in the Philippines, I got the opportunity to go to Taiwan where the main monastery of the organization was hosting an International Youth Conference for Life Education. The Manila temple organized the trip and came up with twenty one people from the Philippines, myself included, to attend the conference as one big group. Five other students from our retreat, the “Humanistic Academy of Life and Arts” first batch, also attended.
That sounds fancy, but it was just a series of day long conferences spanning about three days with students from all over the world in attendance. About 1,000 people made the monastery come to life. Many from ivy league schools. Myself having only gone to “art school” (the Art Institute of Portland), and having graduated five years ago, felt a little out of place. That soon vanished with the first conference and the day-to-day living mirroring the lifestyle and education of the four month retreat. Can we say been there done that? Each conference felt like a repetition, but one that I appreciated nonetheless.
The first time I heard that familiar American accent I cringed. Almost six months in the Philippines without contact with other Americans and the accent had become jarring to my ears. Like, really? We all talk like airheads like, all the time? This is the accent my peers would mock me with even though I don’t even talk like that. I consciously try not to use “like” in a sentence, ever since highschool.
The trip was entirely organized and after our conferences, we were taken around Taiwan. We visited museums and Danshui Old Street near Taipei. The cute cobblestoned streets were strangely bereft of much traffic or people.
Old street is known for its ceramic arts and a music shop for the traditional Chinese flute-like instrument, called the ocarina, was selling handmade instruments in its original form or various cute animal forms.
Temple hopping in Taiwan kept us well fed. Glorious vegan food at its finest. If you’re ever at a bind for a place to stay in a foreign country, go to a temple. They will usually house and feed you, and if you’re too shy to ask or take advantage of something “free”, you can always volunteer to clean or help out in any way. Bartering is legit.
One night, we walked out to view the temple lights and it reminded me of that bonding time you have during campfires. Only instead of a fire, we had sparklers.
And I even got to see interesting things around the city.
A 100 year old train.
A creepy ad.
14:
Love comes to you in many ways. I knew that it had to come from me first, and after a self-depreciating rut with a relationship going nowhere, I knew I had to cultivate it from within.
The end of a love relationship is always a difficult process, even when you’re the one who initiates the break. It took me five years to figure out this house, this furniture, this stuff, this job and this traditional man was not for me. Slowly suffocating my being, I cried every night. Not just for him, and this life we had built that I was leaving. But for me, and for the woman I was about to become. Who was I, really? Where would this new chapter take me? Amidst my broken self-confidence, crying stupor and blurred vision came a soft clarity that I didn’t expect. A whispered thought that seemed to come from outside of myself. An intuition.
Go to the Philippines, it said, gently.
Throughout the year, the whisper grew stronger until it became a chant, and then a loud cheer. All I could do was follow.
Growing up, I’ve been teased for being different. Bullied for being not-white, and for having a funny accent. I tortured my own demons with a shattered self confidence and grew up hating being Asian. I called myself an Atheist because how could I ever believe in God if I couldn’t even believe in myself?
Seeing differences and comparing myself to others did nothing to nurture self-love or confidence. Love and hate are always tightroping a fine line; intertwining and dancing together up on the live wire, waiting to see which one falls first. Hate no longer served me. It was time to find Love. To celebrate similarities in humanity, in the global world, and in my own motherland. It was time to get back to my roots. Soar my self-confidence until it had wings and find God from within. For the first time, I understood the meaning of “God is Love”.
God met me when I was ready to love myself.
They say love comes when you least expect it. When I started a blog, found a community to ease my break-up, and a special blogger who would teach me more about myself and my spiritual journey than anyone ever has in my life, was a big impetus for my travels, and is the only person I have ever been able to flirt so naturally with, will that become love?
When I found an old flame the day after I broke up with the love of my life and we connected over superficial things (like graphic design degrees and martial arts) and the important things too (like lifestyles, values, and spirituality), met in person and connected over chemistry, and found our lives paralleling in year-plus long solo adventures in Asia with the hopes to meet again soon, will that become love?
When I entered the monastery, shaved my head because I wasn’t trying to impress anybody and love was the least thing on my mind, found myself connecting with a newfound friend whom I strangely felt would be important in my life, will that become love?
Maybe it is all Love. Now. A bundle of joy kept for no one in particular but everyone that I encounter; celebrating similarities as my love for self becomes stronger by each life-affirming experience.
Sometimes, I want someone to share my life with, because I have so much life to give, and giving and sharing are loving qualities. But romantic love seems so small. Unstable. Like grains of sand, the tighter you hold on to it, the easier it falls through your grasp. It’s not about finding love. It’s about being love and choosing your best life, your friends, and maybe even your life partner.
I don’t know why my intuition told me to come to the Philippines, but I know it has something to do with love, learning and being. Because life is a love story if you let it be.
12:
It was prayer that lead me to a Zen monastery. I had just come back home to my motherland, the Philippines, for the first time in six years. No return ticket. No plans. And the resolve to stay here for at least one year, for as long as my balikbayan visa would have me.
A few contacts later, I was connected to a call center company and was practically handed a recruitment job on my lap. $2,000 per commission. With no sales background, the guy was willing to train me from scratch. But something seemed fishy. The way I was handed the job without interview or resume. The way he flirted with me. The way I couldn’t really see myself being a salesperson without going crazy. Wasn’t this the lifestyle I had escaped just a few months before? Wasn’t this the corporate humdrum that I so desperately wanted to get out of?
It was a tough decision nevertheless, having nothing else to choose from. The money was hard to refuse. Part of me wanted to go for it! Stretch my comfort zones. And another part of me thought I should be true to my heart. And so, I prayed. I prayed to God to ask me what I should do. Please God, If you’re out there, let me know if I should really say “no”. If there’s something better for me, I’ll take it.
The next day, I found the monastery retreat in the most random way. Four months at a Zen monastery practicing meditation and learning Mandarin, for free. My heart skipped a beat. This was on my bucket list that I had made before flying to Asia. How could I not take this? I guess my prayers were answered.
Joining the monastery was the closest thing to pray I have ever felt. 6:30am. Chanting meditation. A melodious prayer of Chinese Heart sutra; a mix of tonal Mandarin chants captivating my ears:
“Form is Emptiness. Emptiness is Form.”
Buddhism is so much more than the Atheistic religion I once thought it to be. God is still relevant, no matter how irrelevant God was in the Buddha’s teachings. Practitioners still pray. Still rely on Guan-Yin Boddhisattva for support. And still chant with their mala prayer beads.
Omituofo.
Rubbing each bead, 108 times round and round again.
Omituofo… Omitoufo…
I wanted to find God at the monastery. I wanted to have this divine epiphany about my life that would make me feel at ease, and everything seem so much easier. I wanted something easy. Packaged Enlightenment for just one spoonful a day. That’s not how you find God though. Like love, God shows up when you least expect it.
Instead, I found myself. Sweeping and mopping floors and understanding for the first time what “cleanliness is next to Godliness” meant. Meditating each night for thirty minutes. Lost in my thoughts and observing my inner world. Some nights, I would end up feeling physically and mentally exhausted. Purging bad dreams and bad memories like I was on some spiritual detox. Some nights, it was easier and thirty minutes flew by as if it had only been ten; my sense of time and space altered in meditative trance. Always, I would sweat and radiate heat like my body was a ball of fire. Like I was this source of energy.
I found myself and lost myself all at the same time. The idea of self and no self prevalent in Zen.
I’ve heard it said before that prayer is a conversation with God, and meditation is listening to him. Maybe that’s true. I don’t know. All I know is that the four months at a Zen monastery were some of the best life-changing experiences I ever had.
10:
“Good morning, baby.” My groggy eyes slowly opened to see a middle-aged Indian man carrying a tray of hot masala chai, waking me up in his personal sing-song Indian accent. “Time to wake up, baby.” Rubbing my eyes, I moaned a response. “Tea, baby? Very hot. You take,” he coaxed in his broken English.
Every morning, Rakesh would wake me in this same way. He was my host-dad as I spent the three weeks in India to volunteer at a slum school teaching English. And every morning, me and the other volunteers would eat delicious meals of ciapatti bread and potatoes. Justin, another volunteer, was vegetarian so our host family cooked all of us vegetarian meals. Who could complain? Authentic Indian food cooked by an Indian family is like going to paradise each time you take a bite. So simple and yet so refreshing. So heavenly divine.
That was the first time I tried a vegetarian diet and I found myself not missing meat. When Justin left, as volunteers continually come and go, Rakesh cooked us a special meal with chicken. Chicken is my favorite meat but even tasting this feast seemed anti-climatic. I didn’t miss it and I didn’t have to. I yearned for more vegetables. Peas. Cauliflower. Carrots. All made in a wonderful concoction of spices and curries. I yearned for coconuts and mangoes and local fruits and masala tea. I yearned for chocolate. I didn’t yearn for meat.
“Are you vegetarian because of your religion?” I asked Justin one day. He was a practicing Buddhist, with the diligence to meditate every morning. He wore his malas on his wrist and taught me about om mani padme om.
“No, it’s mostly out of compassion,” he said, after a thoughtful pause. I smiled. Nodded. Almost smirked. Compassion and Buddhism go hand in hand. There’s nothing the Dalai Lama stands for that doesn’t also involve compassion. Was this some sort of cheesy, canned, Buddhist joke?
Two months later, I found myself entering a Chinese Buddhist monastery retreat in Bacolod, Philippines. After declaring “I’m not Buddhist enough” I wanted a respite from my wandering mind. Anxieties about my uncertain future and wondering when love would happen and I knew I needed to find my center and balance my life again. Balance me.
“We are like family.” The old master said. “You’re welcome. Ask question. Do not fear.”
I had just arrived the monastery and was greeted with a warm bowl of soup and equally warm smiles. Biting into a bright baby carrot, I nodded back and felt my tongue burning hot and the sensation spreading down my throat. The baby carrot turned out to be a red pepper! First lesson: mindfulness.
We were taught how to eat. There’s a whole art to it, in Chinese Buddhist tradition. Back straight. Hands cupped to a “C” to hold the rice bowl “like open mouth of dragon”. Chopsticks delicately picked up in complete silence. No speaking. No food going to waste. Not even one grain of rice left on the plate. This was the start of eating meditation. Each bite with intention, mindfulness, and thoughtful consideration of the causes and conditions–the server to serve the food, the kitchen staff to cook the food, the vehicles to transport the food, the farmers to grow the food–that got our vegetarian meals to our plates.
When you eat in silence and complete concentration, something changes. The food becomes medicine. Nourishment. Nutrition. The food becomes reverent. Holy. Sacred. For the first time in my life, I understood the meaning of prayer and “giving thanks”. My skeptic shell of Atheism, already growing softer before the retreat, had completely disappeared.
But something else changed too. I couldn’t look at meat the same way. My taste for vegetables grew stronger since having left India. The “causes and conditions” of packaged meat–the helpless animals being commodified as if they were mere objects, the excess consumption-driven meat factories polluting our environment, the unnatural hormones pumped into beef, and the careless mistreatment of the food chain–became more apparent as I learned about thoughtful eating, slowly chewing each bite with intention. Meat wasn’t just meat any longer and I couldn’t ignore the process.
I finally understood how vegetarianism is a choice of compassion, and not of religion. Vegetarianism meets you when you’re ready to go to that level, just as religion (or no religion) meets you at the level you’re comfortable with, and God (or no God) meets you whether you’re a Bible thumping homophobic, or an open-minded bisexual.
In four months, I changed. I became more compassionate by the bite.
I became vegetarian.
07:
Sometimes, life feels like you’re just getting by. Like poverty is a choice, and quitting isn’t an option. I have so many “ideas”–goals–that I’m running towards in so many different directions that I feel like I’m essentially running in circles and going nowhere. I’m flailing. Waving my hands in every which way and just trying to keep afloat. To keep my wits about me, I have to remind myself that I’m too stubborn for quitting. Too tough. Too passionate.
My Bucket List
What goals have I made for myself that I’m not accomplishing? Late last year, before I took my one-way flight to India and beyond, I made a bucket list. It was a reasonable proposal to 2010 and the adventures I’d hope to have. It was a reachable extension to the rest of my life and the things I hoped to accomplish before I die. Mostly adventurous things, like hiking to Macchu Picchu and trekking the Himalayas, but some implications of love and lifelong partnership; wherein I wrote that I’d like a Buddhist wedding ceremony, not because I’m Buddhist, but because it sounded cool.
I’m already achieving my bucket list. Scratch off “stop eating meat longterm”. Check. I’m a vegetarian now. Scratch off “join a Zen Buddhist monastery and practice meditation”. Check. For four long, and yet short months. Scratch off “learn Filipino martial arts”. I already bought my ticket to Palawan, where I’ll be joining a local skillfully trained in the arts and willing to teach me as we walk the island together.
It still absolutely amazes me, and floors me to know that the bucket list is already manifesting itself, and in the most unexpected ways! These experiences I find myself having are completely unplanned but come in the form of opportunity that life has somehow offered me, and I choose to take. As cheesy as it sounds, it’s almost as if, when setting the right intentions, the Universe will answer. Sometimes, it will say no, and you don’t get what you want, but other times, and lately in my life, it will say yes. Hell Yes.
This is the closest “proof” to “God” that I’ve ever experienced, and I intend to continue experiencing it as I prepare for my spiritual island walk journey; my own road to Zen.
Hell Yes
As far as all those other far reaching goals? Become location independent with my own business? I’m working on it… Trek the Himalayas and Macchu Picchu? That could happen if I win the trip to UK, by being in the top six fundraisers for Your Big Year charities. I’m currently in 4th place, if I researched and did the math correctly. I just need to keep it up until October 10th. I’m placing that amazing “opportunity” in the hands of everyone who chooses to donate (ahem, there is a donation widget bar at right), and in the hands of me, for how well I can promote my charity drive and think up ways to gain more funds (hello Etsy!).
I want the Universe to say Hell Yes. I want the opportunity to show up and then step up to the challenge. I want to be granted this amazing stepping stone in UK, so that me, myself, and I can do my personal best to win the grand prize round the world trip which will allow me to scratch off Macchu Picchu and Himalayas on my bucket list. Hell Yes.
Can you see this passion flowing through my veins? I’m too tough to quit. Too stubborn to throw my goals out the window and fail. I’m set for going to the UK and I’m thinking in terms of already winning a spot. But beyond that, beyond this good cause and this contest for social responsibility and global citizenship, is my passion to make a positive difference. I’m flailing.
Flailing but not Failing
I don’t care about material wealth. I don’t care about success in the typical Western sense. Marrying rich, winning the lottery, or having a six-figure income was never a desire, even when I was a kid. I have no job. I will run out of funds if I can’t find a way to make more money soon. Despite all that, I’m doing shit for free. I’m designing, coding, and writing with the good intention that I’m volunteering and making a positive difference with my skills, somehow. I’m doing it with the perhaps naive, but hopeful intention that everything will work out and life magically works in your favor if you “plant good seeds” and make positive connections. I’m doing it with the realization that if I can do this shit for free then I can most definitely do this with a passion that rivals the work-drone life and love my work!
I wear my “goals” not on my sleeve, but on my forehead and try to live my day-to-day with those goals in mind; guided as if by my third eye. First: “bootstrap my career”. Then: “change the world”. I’m still trying to figure out how; romantic, idealist that I am. I’m doing it on a smaller scale, by trying to make the daily choice to go vegetarian, an all around better lifestyle for eco-consciousness. But I’m struggling to find a larger scale. To be a part of something bigger than myself. I don’t want self delusions of grandeur, or worldly acclaim. This isn’t about me. It’s about trying to make a big difference that goes beyond my human existence and lifetime. Maybe that means raising a strong, independent, daughter adopted from China, or raising my own birth-child. Maybe that means traveling the world and building my web, creating a non-profit that impacts relevant global issues. Maybe that means winning the Your Big Year contest and taking part in conservation projects, teaching in Ecuador, and working with tribal communities. Maybe it means “settling down” in one location, community building, and making a difference in the local scene. Maybe it’s a combination of all these things, or maybe none. I don’t know. Whatever it is, I will not give up. I’m too stubborn to quit, and I will let my “third eye” guide me. My inner compass, my intuition. I have a feeling, as crazy as it sounds, that I am meant to do this. I just need to figure out what specifically “this” is… Even when it feels like I’m going nowhere, but going in circles I tell myself:
I may be flailing, but I’m not failing.
Because “failure” isn’t part of my vocabulary.
05:
[Buddha Statue on Etsy]
Speaking of being a slacker, after years of wanting to have an Etsy site up and freaking out if I could actually do it or not, I finally did. And the result is pretty anti-climatic. I spent all day fiddling with my pictures and trying to figure out which ones people might be interested in owning. I only came up with seven. Seven measly pictures! But they’re up. And I did it.
Solitary Panda on Etsy.
I’m not sure if I feel a sense of accomplishment or productivity or what. It feels a little shallow. I’m not sure why. Maybe because I have no idea if this will even make any money. And an unsteady business venture is pretty scary, I guess. This is just beer money charity. I don’t even like beer and I gave up my girly drinks lifestyle… the wine bitches were starting to feel oppressive. I don’t expect to make much money because I’m doing this to try to help raise money for charity.
Donate
There’s this really annoying widget on the right side of my blog that looks like an ad. It’s actually a call to donate for some charities I’m trying to fundraise for. See, I’m participating in a travel contest to try to win an amazing year-long round the world trip; meeting world leaders and entrepreneurs to try to make a positive difference in this world. The top 6 fundraisers win a trip to UK for semifinals to compete with 23 other hopefuls while participating in a week-long entrepreneurship/networking conference; two of which win the coveted grand prize. Think The Apprentice meets Amazing Race. I’m already in the top 6. If I can keep it up until October 10th, I’m going to UK! Even just getting there would be an amazing opportunity in itself! And it’s still +1 country I haven’t seen yet.
The Charities
I have chosen to fundraise for Oxfam, Children for Peace, and International Peace Parks Expedition. They help build friendship and reconciliation between Israel and Palestine (Children of Peace), eradicate poverty (Oxfam) and run experiential peacebuilding expeditions for youth impacted by conflict (International Peace Park Expeditions). Your donation, with a minimum amount of $5, could help these great causes as well as help me get to UK and keep my adventures going. Like Joel Runyon, I try to live a life worth writing about and if you like this blog, if you like me, if you like what I stand for, AND/OR if you like what these charities stand for, then consider donating. If you’re not into donating money on an online widget, and want to get a pretty picture instead, then buy some of my photograph prints! Either way, you are donating to charity (and to me, remember, I’m still funemployed).
Ethics
Now that I got that shameless plug out of the way, let me just tell you that I feel a bit sleazy. Even if it’s for charity and a “good cause”. Marketing, promoting, of any kind is hard for me. And I’m not sure if I’m good at it. And I’m not sure that I morally feel OK about it, either.
I’m not the most popular blogger with a big following or anything. I realize this post will probably result in not much. But I’m putting it out there. This trip would mean a lot to me…
But that’s just it. How fucking selfish is it to raise money for ME to win a trip? How genuine are my intentions? How genuine are anyone’s intentions who are trying to win? It’s like when people try to help others for the benefit of their own egos. To “make something of themselves”. To look good on their social media profiles (since resumes are dead). To gain merits via religion so that they can go to heaven or pureland or whatever they believe in. How genuine is it all, really? Is it OK to help others when the intentions are selfish?
I have a yearning to make a positive difference in this world. That’s a big reason why I decided to go vegetarian. By making positive choices in my day-to-day life, I am already helping “change the world” one small step at a time. I’d just like to do it on a bigger scale. Going to the UK, or dare I say, winning the round the world trip would be my gateway to this larger scale. I don’t care about material wealth. I don’t want to be successful, in the Western sense. I just want to make a difference. I’m still trying to figure out how.
04:
Out of all the things I’m good at, I’m best at slacking. You know what I’m doing now? You guessed it. Slacking. Sure, I’m writing a blog post, which should be a sense of accomplishment since I’ve been slacking on that too, and I need to step it up on my blog again. But the reality is, I’m putting off something else. There’s always “something else” that I’m not doing and could/should be doing.
Slacking. It can be quite useful when you’re funemployed. But it might get you fired if you do have a job. In the hustle and bustle of the real world, I say, It’s good to be lazy every now and then! You need time to breathe, relax, and jerk slack off! Your body needs it. Your sanity needs it. And even your momma needs it. Not funny? Whatever.
I truly didn’t intend to make this a euphemism for masturbation but that’s kinda how I work, I guess. I just wanted this to be a cute, tongue-in-cheek entry and not necessarily in a pornographic way (Tongue-in-cheek…entry! Get it? Har. Har.). How to be a slacker is more than just porn, although that’s certainly a contributing factor! Here are my top ten ways to be a slacker.
1. More porn. Duh. I love porn. AND I’m a feminist! A sex-positive feminist who thinks more porn will do a body good. As opposed to milk. Although that could be hot. Ever seen a live cam girl pour milk all over her body? I have. For free. Suckas! (Note: Sucking is hot too. For free.)
2. Take a walk. Although this might seem like the complete opposite, most BORING thing ever as compared to porn, it actually works. It helps clear the mind, letting you refuel for more creative genius to rape your ego flow into your life in the form of: A-ha! (And not the 80s one-hit-wonder) I love this SO much that I’m going to take a 280km (that’s about 173 miles for you dumb Americans. It’s OK, I had to look it up too. Touché.) walk on the tropical island which inspired “The Beach” just to overdo myself and become an EPIC slacker.
3. Surf the internet. Surfing the internet (and NOT just porn sites because social media is now more popular than porn, thank you, but just as flagellating) is pretty much what I do all day. Is it unproductive? Maybe. But amidst this unproductivity is a sliver of information (through osmosis) that might be useful someday, stirring ideas and inspiration in a sort of brainstorming process.
4. Eat. Emotional eating is where it’s at. Just don’t get too fat. Especially if you want to look good naked. So you can fuck like a porn star. Wink.
5. Take yourself out. Dating yourself is the most awesome thing ever because it’s so liberating. Empowering. Do something fun to ease your mind off of stress. Try something new. Shake things up. Self-dates nurture your creativity.
6. Pull an all-nighter. Jack yourself up on caffeine and energy drinks and get ready to work on your last-minute project. The result of which could either be your most glorious work, if you’re into running on adrenaline and pulling an “A” out of your ass, OR a half-assed “E” for effort.
7. Sleep. I’ve covered eating, so now lets take a nap! Isn’t it funny how two most basic needs can go hand in hand with being a slacker? What does that say about society? Who always wants to do more, bigger, better, faster? Or religion? Who teaches us that things like gluttony and laziness are bad? Should I feel guilty for taking the time to rest my body? It’s a basic need for crying out loud! Thus concludes: religion is silly.
8. Daydream. Daydreaming is what you get in trouble for doing at school. But my mind always wanders off. Half the time I’m living life in my own little daydream. And you know what? I love it. I love being a space-cadette because I’m Interplanet Janet! Daydreaming is one of the keys to creativity. You can’t go wrong.
9. Meditate. I just came out of a four month Buddhist monastery program where we meditated every day for half an hour. It’s good shit. So good that I really miss it and need it back in my life. Meditation helps you calm, balance and face the day. I solve problems in my head, brainstorm, and think of old forgotten memories that surprise me all while meditating. If you’ve ever seen I Heart Huckabees and how random images fragment and defragment, it’s kind of like that.
10. Live on a tropical island. Every day is a vacation on a tropical island paradise! Things are slower-paced here and laziness is part of the culture. Soak in the sun and live, laugh, love.
Being a slacker doesn’t have to mean being unproductive. The western world puts a lot of emphasis and value on productivity but there needs to be a balance between work and stasis too. Rest can be just as productive as work, as your body, mind, and spirit need to recharge. Empty the cup before you can fill it.
01:
So, the fact that I admit to the entire internet (HI!) that I’m a closet freak is pretty much an oxymoron.
It’s like these two superheroes dueling it out, IN ME. I am the superhero. I wear a cape and call myself SuperJanet! This is what I’d tell myself when I was in highschool stressing out about stupid highschool shit. And then I’d make stuff happen and get things done.
SuperJanet.
Anyway. I’m a closet freak. Not to be confused by SUPER freak (*sing* Superfreak!)! I don’t think I’m there yet. I appear sweet and innocent on the exterior. And I am, I guess. I’m pretty prude and puritanical. There’s that side of me. More conservative than most. And I know her quite well. She doesn’t want to have sex unless she’s in a relationship. She thinks anything less is meaningless and unfulfilling. She thinks sex can become needy, unhealthy, suffering. And I get that. I do. This is the side of me that rules… But, there’s this other side of me too. And I don’t know why my writing is becoming so schizo lately. Between Buddha Nature and perfectly at peace with myself there’s this other side…
There’s layers to me. Maybe I’m not willing to give up my walls because I like my layers. I’m complex. You can’t figure me out. I like it that way. I don’t want to be with some dumb little shit. You gotta have at least some intelligence to figure me out.
Beneath my sweet exterior is a bit of a masochist. A girl who likes it rough and tumble. A girl who can take some pain. Who likes girth (and her vibrator collection). Forwards and backwards. Thinks tantric sex is the best spiritual practice ever. Abhors abstinence education. Looks both ways. Loves to give (and swallow). Writes raw, sexual thoughts in her journals that could be starts to erotica stories… Is willing to explore… And is more open to open relationships than she used to think possible.
The conservative in her thinks deep down she’s a monogamous girl… But the masochist in her thinks threesomes could be great as the “third”.
I’m not sure what’s going on. I’m not sure why I’m so confused. With powerful sexual prowess just waiting to explode and shy, timid, submissive Asian ready to live as a spinster. Maybe it has something to do with my unexplored bisexuality. Keeping this side of me so dormant, hidden, for years is strangling my sense of self. Maybe I just need to let loose. Open the floodgates. But, I’m scared. I admit I’m scared.
I’m scared of a lot of things. I’m scared of committing. I’m scared of taking leaps of faith. I’m scared that no matter how “open” I say I am with my sexuality, the actuality is that I’m not. Because I’m all talk and no action. I’ve never had a threesome. I’ve never had casual sex. I’ve never been with a woman. And the thought of that seems wrong. Like it’s OK, even beautiful, for others to be gay, but it’s not OK for me? I don’t know. I talk about it so openly sometimes… But when it comes down to it, I’m scared to be with a woman.
I had a crush on a girl once who rejected me. She said she doesn’t like bisexuals. I got over her and wrote her off as an elitist lesbian, but she had a point. I probably wouldn’t want to go out with anyone who admits they want to “experiment” either, least of all not anyone who admits they’re confused… But it’s not just that. I’m not a casual girl… It scares me to think that I could fall in love with a woman. I’m not sure if I could, but maybe. Is it wrong for me because I’m not actually gay? I feel more straight than gay but with this undiscovered piece of the puzzle, how can I really be so sure? I check out women more than I do men, but I emotionally attach to men more than I do with women… The way that I crush on men is completely different than the way I crush on women, and the way my attraction sticks with men makes me feel I am definitely more hetero inclined.
Sexuality is fluid to me but I am not fluid when it comes to sexuality. Why else would I feel so confused? It’s not just gender. It’s the way I express things. It’s open vs. monogamous. It’s casual vs. serious. It’s friends with benefits vs. coupled. It’s kinky vs. …not kinky. It’s trying to decide where I fit in all of this. It’s being so damn wary to figure any of it out. Thinking maybe the spinster life isn’t so bad after all. It’s easy. Safe. But ultimately less rewarding.
I need to take leaps of faith. I need to go crazy. And I need to come out of the closet.
It’s the only way I can figure myself out.
