2017 closes & something about being bravery

I am perplexed continuously by this year’s inability to finish a well thought out idea. Have I put things down on a page? Yes, and have I completed certain tasks as a writer, yes…okay. I suppose. But bravery! Where are you? I am coming to the realization year after year that the reason I am not putting anything down on the page that is substantial is because I am afraid of judgement. Could it be possible that I am writing with superficial tendencies for fear of being mocked or laughed at? Who would get my strange musings? Who would understand or at least sympathize with the strange happenings in my head. Sometimes I share writing through myself and it sounds very dramatic, and sometimes I give actors my writing and it becomes a comedy. We use humor, people like me, to mask the pain. But am I using humor too much? Am I hiding behind the laughter to stop myself from unearthing something deep and confusing?

Sometimes my thoughts overwhelm me to the point of inability to write. I’ve taken it upon my self to write a short play for a theater company submission, and I only work on it when I am between sleep and alertness. This is the time of my night when I suddenly stop caring and just let the weirdo emerge and write what she wants to write. Out with it! If I am too awake, I tend to back away from ideas. Erase, negate, and think I’ll get back to it and work on someone else’s vision…not my own.

So here is my personal challenge for the new year.

Write like an audience member of me will be reading it, and how will they experience the writing. Don’t edit your work until the work is completed and tested. Keep writing. Even if it makes no sense and you have a page of nonsense on the paper. Write it out, get it out, until you are finished. Then and only then, are you allowed to go back and make changes.

Waiting until the wee hours of the night works…but I need to start making this technique work for me when I am fully awake. Let’s see how it goes.


You’re so f*cked up!


Hello Blog-Landia! I have not written in a while. I am quite aware. However, I have been doing a lot of writing outside of this blog. Mainly for theater, which is a very happy circumstance. Why? Well, because I also happen to Act. So writing for the stage has been quite the fun adventure for me. Also, I’ve discovered that I write funny. Not throw yourself on the ground funny (though I hope to someday), but like — Oh what a clever joke! kinda funny. ¬†I keep thinking about making a Shakespearean type of play one of these days, or a drama. But people usually laugh at my drama, so I think I’m meant to write funny. ūüôā My serious deep altercations end up sounding like a skit of Lucy and Ricky fighting over what to eat for breakfast. I try not to judge it.

Let’s go back a little, since I’ve been away for a while.

I don’t know about y’alls but 2016 was balls for me. Sure, I could look at all the wonderful positive things that happened — and don’t get me wrong, a lot of cool sh*t happened. BUT MAN!!!¬†The good people of the earth got a cold hard reality check with Cheetoh in the oval office. Huh? I hope his presence there will someday bring laughter and confusion to the children of the future. How could they have let that happen? Dear God, was this a joke? Yes, kids. It was. And you know – let me just summarize the rest of my recent political trauma. Let me¬†admit something: I have never had such a visceral experience in my life over politics, as I have had the last few months. I mean…it was bad. I think at one point during the month of November, I actually¬†started sneezing hearing the term “President” thrown about so carelessly. But we survived the end of the year…and now it’s 2017.



As my young millennial friends would type: -__-

One can only hope for the best.

I mean, it’s that time of the year when you get to re-invent yourself. Talk about your past mistakes and vow that you’ll never do them again. And if January 1st didn’t do it for you,¬†we just had the Chinese New Year a few days ago…so technically, there’s a second¬†chance¬†for you to¬†be hopeful for the future. Me? I just downed some Pork Fried Rice and had a philosophical conversation with my father about why Gay Marriage is a right. He’s a Christian pastor, so the talk was a little rough. But since we have love for each other, we shook hands like two proper gentlemen and said our goodnights.

Anyways, I’m back folks. And to be quite real —¬†there was¬†a part of me that was like…should I just delete this blog? I don’t write in it, God knows who the heck reads it, and so forth and blah blah blah. Pero, like, it’s my fault. I should have been more proactive about that.

For now, I’ll share the following wonderful event that happened to me today:

I went to my very first group therapy session! I won’t say what the therapy was for, but man on man did I learn a lot about¬†how dysfunctional the whole world is. And frankly, it made me feel better to know that there were a lot of us who had been triggered by this political circus. A lot of us who are…as Hollywood would say it,¬†¬†f*cked¬†up from the recent activities in our society. Yet, sharing and being real about what is happening in my life to a bunch of strangers was pretty awesome. And it was also very liberating to know I wasn’t the only screwed up person in the room. There are many of us. ūüėÄ

Anyway, I am trying to get rid of guilt that has me all discombobulated and what not. So I am here to say that I do not feel guilty for not writing on this blog. I do not feel guilty for growth and departure. Sometimes, we need to step away to regain ourselves. Absence does make the heart grow fonder, after all.

I have missed you, Reader. Whoever you are. I hope this bizarre entry brings you a little bit of joy, and a little bit of peace. And if someone ever tells you:¬†You’re so f*cked up — Reader, just know that deep down that person is also hurting with their own traumas and such. Release yourself from the ties of whatever is holding you down, and just do you. As for me, I’ll be doing¬†a whole lot of writing. My goal for 2017 is to submit a pilot to a studio and see where it takes me.

Because if it’s one thing I learned from therapy today, is that everyone suffers from something. Might as well try to¬†make some people laugh while they’re in their journeys. I will keep practicing funny within the drama. This¬†f*cked up person is the right lady¬†for the job!

Writing when you travel, it’s freaking hard!

I am having a creative meltdown … or just a massive case of traveling itch,¬†Blog Land. I’m off to Turkey, then jumping on a plane to Paris and then maybe doing a weekend trip to England. I have no idea what I am doing — I mean, technically some of it involves videography¬†and art — yet I am concerned about managing my writing time. I barely did any when I went to see family for 2 weeks in March.

I head over to my laptop or bring a small notebook with me, the BLAM! – something happens. Sometimes I have to lock myself in a room, but then family or friends get concerned because I should be relaxing or in vacation mode…and they don’t understand sitting down to write. It’s¬†quite impossible with Peruvians who want to feed and¬†get you drunk all the time.

Also, when I travel – there are wonderful mundane things happening all around me. If my brain could produce bubble thoughts, it would be ongoing and non stop with – sunsets, dance classes, brunches,¬†conversations with people who are not tourists, me¬†trying to order croissants at a¬†bakery, Metro riding, or seeing the moon from a different part of the world. Sometimes it doesn’t look like a man’s face…like in Per√ļ, for example, the moon looks like lips blowing you a kiss, for example. And I want to write it all down, but sometimes just looking at something is enough. Other times¬†there are no ways to describe the atmosphere, and you have to LIVE.

So how do I focus?

I don’t know. This is an experiment. I will try to make it my prerogative to not be such a creeper on this trip and actually try to make friends with the interesting people, I tend to just write about. Maybe some of them will be writers. Maybe some of them could give me tips. And then I can share these tips on this blog.

Only time will tell. Leaving in April, coming back in May. I should have something to share.

And to answer your question (the one I am assuming you are asking), I am going abroad because I am running away from responsibilities that don’t involve writing or art. You know, growing up, getting a real job, and etc. etc. etc. I think a workaholic who has been sitting behind a desk for a little over a year should be¬†allowed to have a meltdown at least once in their lifetime – or at least once per decade. Here is my thirties meltdown!

I’m just lucky enough to have my meltdown be a creative one, and not…like…heroin. I’m also lucky I have family and friends in these places to house me. Otherwise that would suck. I’m going to destroy my savings and eat with my credit cards. Bring it on world!


Welcome to 2014!

My grandmother’s AGUADITO soup and Ceviche. A reason to LIVE!

The New Year! A metaphorical station in life where you can feel like you can start anew and everything in the last unlucky numbered year DOES NOT count. It just doesn’t! That terrible date you went on with that guy who ended up asking you for gas money – Forget about it! The money you let your cousin borrow before he left for Mexico with no word or update on his whereabouts. Forget about it! The extra pounds you gained after your neighborhood opened a new cookies and ice cream place around the corner. Forget about it! The overpriced satin sheets you bought at Bed and Bath thinking it was time to be mature and make a new change to find that have lost it somewhere in your overcrowded closet ¬†— ¬†FORGET ABOUT IT!!! This is no longer about those days, everything is now different because it is now 2014. Can I get a high-five? Ugh, I’m so 90s sometimes. But in all honesty, I had crappy last couple of months in 2013, and it was nobody’s fault but mine. That’s the truth, but it doesn’t change the fact that they were mostly crappy – that is (OF COURSE) until I made my way to South America for December.

Peru in December! I went to see my grammy and the rest of the fam-bam. The trip twas ¬†fun, educational, and wild. But what else to expect from family? I guess since I’m a writer, I am like also the therapist in our family and I¬†learned so much (too much) about my auntie’s sex life. She even modeled one encounter with her baby daddy using a toy from her son’s crib. I have never seen pornography be applied to a plush doll in that way before. I ended up crying from laughter while she demonstrated and her husband turned red from the very vivid descriptions. I also have a new cousin (as a result of her demonstration), and he was pretty¬†awesome. He liked to¬†pretend talk with me, and though most of the time he just ate and farted I knew that deep down inside, he was saying I love you so much cousin!¬†

I also went to see my uncle’s graveyard, he passed away recently. The family was really sad about the whole thing, and we paid our respects to him. Then looking back at our photos, I realized that the entire family was posing next to the wrong grave. : / We had all, for some reason, gravitated towards some dude’s graveside who had huge balloons and a cup of Cuzque√Īa beer beside him. We had a good laugh about it. Just another way our ancestors make fun, I suppose.

During the trip, I lost another family member in the states. Man it was a tough December, Reader. I carried on memories of my family, our loss, our memories, our new family members with me when I went over to Brazil.

Brazil shook my spirit up. Salvador, Bahia is no joke. I couldn’t believe the amazing people, the amazing food, the amazing hosts, and the amazing dreams I was having during my stay there. I went through a transformation that was both earthly and spiritual. It was an experience that allowed me to connect with my pain, my desire to learn, my connection with the earth, and with my family. Moreover, I kept being reminded that in the end all that matters is the time you are given and what you make with it. I mean, how are we using our time? Have you asked yourself this?

Are you spending it being angry?

Are you spending your time regretting the what if moments?


Are you leaning over and kissing the one beside you?

Are you listening to your grandmother’s story? I mean, REALLY listening?

Are you reminding yourself of all your blessings? Asset, friends, business, travel experiences, food on the table, etc. etc. etc.

There are miracles everyday really. We just have to open ourselves to them. In Brazil I found out, that they reveal themselves often, but it’s up to us to listen – to open our eyes and to connect the dots. Everywhere we go, there are signs.

I returned home and boom – back to work! Though in all honesty, Reader, I feel as though the magic I was able to encounter in Per√ļ and Brazil is still with me. I may not be a guru, or a priest or anything but I have learned a few things for 2014. You have one life in this realm. One life that you are fully aware of in this moment. One life to remember you as you are right now. What do you want to carry with you in your bag of life?¬†

Here are some things I don’t want to carry in my bag of life for 2014: meandering without reason, allowing people to say sexist/racist things in my presence, hate towards my soft soft skin, bullying, gossips, damage, rumors, second-guessing, and so much more.

I urge you to check out what you carry with you in your bag of life. The more you make it obvious to you – the more you can control it. Here are things I do want to carry this new year: sunsets, inspiration, laughter, friendship, creativity, good books, bacon cupcakes, forgiveness, family, love letters, saluting my elders and ancestors, and so much more.

But the number one thing I want to do this year is LESS TALKING AND MORE DOING. May you have fantastic adventures this new year, Reader. Write on!

Dreaming Big


Lately I’ve been allowing myself to dream big. This is because I feel like a wave of change is around the corner. Change is coming and no matter how much I drag my feet, and try to think about all the horrible things that can happen it will still creep into my life. ¬†I know that in the end, this change will be for the best.

More writing, more opportunities, more art, more beautiful people to inspire me, more weirdos to eavesdrop on (that’s not an insult because I consider myself a huge weirdo), more parties, more books, more dancing, more love, and etc. etc. etc. All I have to do is be prepared, practice, and do my best.

Then all these big dreams might become big realities. If you ever question if that is true, check out some of the beautiful landscapes in this world. Once, San Francisco burned down, and then San Francisco was rebuilt— all because of big dreams coming to life. ¬† I am going to continue to dream big, and I hope you do too. Never settle Reader.



“That Asian Fetish” or TO BE or NOT TO BE…HONEST

Hello blog land. I am about to write about Asian fetishism. Disclaimer: I am not going to write the history of Asian Fetishism, nor will I write about the theoretical definition of Asian fetishism. For that, you have many valuable books out there and, might I add, the internet. Which will supply sufficient amount of “definitions” for you. Here is a definition provided by some internet source that has no relation to me: Asian fetishism.

Instead, I will write about a conversation I had regarding Asian Fetishism. It was at a Korean BBQ restaurant with my Taiwanese friend here in Berkeley. I am going to share part of this conversation with you because it was absolutely interesting. ¬† It is regarding what he believes the Asian Fetish is all about — again, please be aware that this is no way anything I personally feel, it’s just something I heard and processed carefully. He, like many of us, derived this information from sources and personal experience. ¬†What I realized for the first time after the conversation gave me the chills, but I shall start telling you now:

If I, in any way, offend anyone with what I am about to write — just know, that this was a conversation and an opinion. Truth is always relative. Here is my interesting person post of the day:

*   *   *   *   *

Taiwanese Guy Pretending to be Korean

Yesterday I had lunch at a Korean restaurant with a friend who happens to be Taiwanese. I enjoy talking to this friend because he is brutally honest about everything (including himself…well, he’s a little narcissistic, but who under 25 isn’t now-a-days with social networks and all). Although his honesty can¬†sometimes¬†take the role of stereotyping, he usually finds a way to define life’s madness with simplistic detachable sentiment. What I’m trying to say is, the man is good about not showing emotions that render him weak.

We enter the restaurant. He says, “Hello!” to the owners and bows his body in half.

Now, I’ve seen him do this in specific restaurants, and I’m used to it. ¬† ¬†It’s the same thing as me going into a Latino restaurant and saying “BUENAS!” Which is similar to saying: “Good tidings to you all!” / “I wish you all well!” ¬† ¬† When you know the language/culture you get certain perks. That’s just the way it is. This time, however, when he bowed I was taken aback. He was blatantly pretending to be Korean. Don’t ask how I could tell the difference, but I could.

They said “Hi!” back in their language.
I stepped in front of him and said, “Table for two, please,” and please don’t throw us out. I gave him a look, but he kept his focus and smile as if nothing happened.

We ordered. A woman came out and spoke to my friend in Korean. She smiled and talked talked and talked, while she put down ten small plates of side dishes for us to enjoy. She walked away and my friend said, “I have no idea what she was saying, she was talking Korean.” ¬† ¬† ¬†¬†Obviously. ¬† ¬† He shrugged his shoulders and we began to feast.

The owner at one point comes to me and talks in Korean…I guess he thought I knew the language because I was with my friend…BUT I DO NOT look Korean. Filipino, maybe, but not Korean. I smiled and stared at him blankly. He realized I did not catch on and deduced his conversation to: “Free soup?!” ¬† ¬†My friend giggled.

I said, “Okay,” and off the gentleman went.

“It’s because you’re with me…I only know two words in Korean. ¬†Okay, don’t look at me like that.”

I did not want to be caught. I did not want our pictures to be taken and posted on their wall marked FRAUDS or LIARS or JERKS. I may talk a big talk, but I am a softy when it comes to elders. I try to change the subject, so¬†I ask him about this guy he used to date. We’ll call his ex HUNTER. I always liked Hunter, but H**** was never too into him. Hunter was fun, cute, smart—I mean, he had the works. If Harry Potter and Matt Damon were to have a baby, it would be Hunter. H**** thought Hunter was too grabby and impossible to get rid of.

“One night, I’m at this club in Castro—and I see him!”
“Hunter? (he nods yes) Was it awkward?”
“No! It was weird. He was making out with this petite Asian guy.”
“He was holding his chin like this,” and my friend reaches over the table and puts his fingers gingerly on my chubby chin, “It was the grossest thing I’ve ever seen!”
“Because that’s when I realized why I was never into him,” he says as he slurps up ramen noodles. “He has an Asian fetish.”

Reader, you should have seen my friend’s face. It was as if he had cut an onion in half and eaten the core straight.

“By that gesture, you realized he has an Asian fetish?”
“Yes. ¬† You don’t understand. People stereotype you for being Latina, and they call you ‘maid’ and stuff…but a fetish. A fetish is like, how do I say this?”
“He has a thing for Asians, right?”
“It’s not just that. It’s a milder form of racism.”
“How so?”
“He has a type. Petite Asian men, like me. Think about it. The gesture—the holding of the chin—it was like right out of a f*cking geisha fantasy book!”
“You’re objectified, is that what you mean?”
“I am no longer me. I fall under the umbrella of a type. He will always be hungry for petite Asian men. We stand for something—”

Then all the lessons in my Travel Writing class came rushing back to me. Of course! I realized what he was getting at. He was trying to express how he has become a thing. He is no longer human in the eyes of this other human being.

“It’s so gross,” he continued.
“Wow, how did you figure it out?”
“Give Hunter twenty more years, and the same personality. He’s no longer a cute guy who likes petite Asian men. He’s a creepy old man who has a thing for skinny looking boys.”

Harsh, I know. You have to understand that my friend is probably also very hurt by the fact that he saw his ex-man making out with someone else. Still, it’s kind of trippy to have made love to someone who doesn’t consider you a human being. To be a¬†thing¬†to admire. Wow, I suppose women go through this everyday at times. I couldn’t even differentiate between having “a thing” and being “the thing.” It wouldn’t be — I have a thing for brunettes, it would be Brunettes are my thing. Weird. Anyways…

We walked out of the restaurant and my friend bowed once again before leaving the door. “I want to keep getting free stuff!” he says as we walk to the parking lot. Our talk, his behavior, and the acid reflux were all giving me an inflation of negative thoughts in my cabeza.

Race, Sexuality, Ethnicity, Religion…all these labels that should be ephemeral, aren’t. They are invisible REAL things. They carry weight. Even my friend comparing my race to being a “maid” (in the middle of our conversation) stung a little.

Hmm, fetish. Racism. Honesty? All funny words.