A Few Thoughts on a Recent Bout of Loneliness

My dog laid on my couch as he watched me pack my things. He had his legs tucked underneath him and, with his fur spread out to his sides, he looked like he sank into the couch cushions. He knew the score, I was leaving again. I guess, in contrast to his usual, hyper-active jumps and trots, he opted for this motionless stance, his attentive eyes betraying an otherwise still body. 

Leaving my parents house after a visit is something that I really dislike. I never liked how sad my dog seems, even though I only live in the next county and I am able to see him often. But that is also something that happens all the time, and none of those times have left me sad for long. At least until now.

Maybe it's the fact that today is Christmas, but as I pulled away from my parents house and drove onto the freeway, I was faced with the strong sense of loneliness. I didn't have anything to help me deal with it: no dog, no television, and no radio (my car radio having been dead for a few years now). I didn't even have my phone near me so I could play music off of it. I had no distractions; just the steady, stinging sensation of loneliness.

It's an awesome feeling to be sure. That stinging sensation lived in my core, but the energy from that moved throughout until it seemed to hover around my body. It was an aura so thick that my mind couldn't stop obsessing over it. I knew that it was a need easily fixed by being near another person, but nothing like that was available to me and could not be found at this moment. Mulling over that thought just made the emotion more present. It's a feeling so awesome that it hurt.

My reactions to this were complex and varied in intensity. At the least, I wanted to see my dog, my parents, a friend, or perhaps go to a bar and talk about random crap over a mug of beer. At worse I thought of death, which caused my mind to spiral through memories of depression, which followed with constant reminders of strategies I have used to overcome them. Ultimately, I quickly reminded myself that death would kind of mess up the act of living, which is the reason why I am able to think about all of this in the first place.

It still sucks, though, and there's really nothing I can do or say to change that at this moment (somehow, the mechanical keyboard I'm typing with isn't exactly hug-able). I'll be able to cope later by looking at cats on YouTube or playing a little guitar. Hell, even writing this post has done much to take the edge off. But it's still going to be there for a while and I guess that's okay. Like the old ass cliche of being pinched to see if you're awake, having loneliness crop up is a prickly way of reminding me that I'm alive. It's just another thing that I'll take in as experience. And cherishing experience is something that I am ready to do now.

Some Writing Goals for 2014

I have set some writing goals for the next 365 days. Here they are:

To write down details without having to pause for 10 minutes every paragraph to figure it out.

This really kills momentum. When I try to plow through the story without the details, I find myself wandering so far off course that I lose what made me excited about the work.

Increase my writing endurance/focus/attention span to an hour.

Dude, writing is tiring, yo.

Learn to use smaller words more frequently. Let's say, 80% per piece.

I tend to lean on 10-dollar words. I blame the fact that I'm an immigrant.


I tried to be as specific as possible. By having measurable goals, it makes it easier for me to come up with tasks and routines to achieve them. Even now, I can see that I need to do some pre-writing to help with the first goal. Does that mean I outline? Freewrite? Think about the topic more prior to the first draft? I have clear options at least.

Also, being specific about my goals helps me to keep track of any progress. Because if I can't keep track of progress then I'll lose interest very quickly. I need to keep myself excited about the process, and the only way that I can think of doing that is to show myself that my effort isn't in vain.

Anyway, hope this works out.

Reboot Post (a.k.a. Hobbies Are Nice)

I've let this blog go way dormant and for the same reason as before - I'm way too hard on myself when it comes to my writing skill and the topics I want to tackle. So, I'm trying this again. And I'll try to go easy on myself.

What motivated me to start writing was something not writing related. I started to teach myself guitar for the first time in 14 years and so far it's going well. When I first tried to learn guitar, I had approached it like I had done with other instruments back at my high school band class. I picked up books and tried to learn the technical stuff, like scales and reading sheet music. I'd play the scales over and over while I tried to memorize their note positions in the sheet music. I made sure that I got the first note patterns down before I moved on to the next. I needed to make sure that I was getting those scales down correctly.

People who are self-taught can already see the problem here: I wasn't really playing anything. The end goal was technical mastery, but I wouldn't have learned a single song by the end of this approach. I had set up a regimen that wasn't any fun and wouldn't even result in something tangible that I could enjoy. This was ok in a class setting, where you had other people to talk to and work with, but it was a boring routine to try when you're by yourself.

Thinking about this now, it's a small wonder why I hung on to that system for about a year. Why did it took me so long to quit?

My approach this time is different. When I started again a few months ago, I insisted to myself that I learn a song - any song. Hell, I made it real easy for myself by typing out "easy acoustic guitar songs for beginners" on Google (yes, even Bing) and I came across a whole lot of tutorial videos and tablatures for music that is not only attainable to play at my level, but fun too. I was even pleasantly surprised to have found a couple of songs that I knew and loved growing up (post-grunge era alt-rock & new wave 80's... yeah!). Then I tried to play, knowing full well that I'm going to sound like crap. However, I made sure to note any improvements in my playing, no matter how small. It was important for me to see that my hours of practice were not in vain.

So far, I can sort of sing and play a passable version of "Mad World" (a rendition of Gary Joules' cover of the Tears for Fears song, aka "the Donny Darko song") and play and butcher the lyrics to "Wonderwall," by Oasis. I'm also working on "Blackbird," by the Beatles because, why not?

Working on "Blackbird" has been the most fun so far. I can kind of play all the riffs to the song now, and even sing it... kind of. I remember how hard I struggled with just the first three chord changes. Seeing how far I've come since then applies a level of significance that can fuel my motivation. Sure, playing the song is still like driving in stop and go traffic at the moment, with a lot of pauses between riffs to re-position my wayward fingers, but I hope to smooth it out with a lot of practice. I'm just happy that the practice has been a lot of fun.

As I started to improve my skills at guitar, my mind turned toward writing. I know I stop short of typing out a single word because I feel like my ideas aren't any good. If I do come across a good idea, I stop short of writing it down because I'm afraid that I'll muck it up in the execution. What's worse is that I feel like I'll never get any better than where I am right now. I liken it to being stuck in a fog, with no road or sign post to show the general direction of where I should be going.

This is in contrast to how E.L. Doctorow had put it. At least he had a road. And headlights.

I think the reason why I feel stuck is because I'm still not used to the idea of writing as being a process. I've grown up writing as a student in a binary way, my essay is either finished or not finished. So, I have learned to ignore the little adjustments I've made to any given work. It doesn't help that I have not written with any regularity, so that neural pathway (or whatever) in my brain that recognizes progress has atrophied, either due my perfectionism or low self esteem. This has lead to writing attempts which the only motivation was to get it finished, which, upon failure, didn't do my sense of worth any good. All I had to show for when I failed this task was that I screwed up. I had forgotten how to sift through the mess to find the good bits that tell me "hey, writing is totes worth trying again."

At any rate, my other hobby has kind of pried that pathway open a bit, enough for me to want to give this writing thing one more go.

I'm going to try to be kind to myself and I'll try to note progress. Learning to write isn't too much different than learning guitar in that there is a final picture in my mind's eye that I'm going for. But I feel that image is far more complex than any pop song that I can play, full of tiny details that I can easily obsess over and lose my way by. I have to remember that that image is just a temporary thing and, much like playing a cover of a song, I'm allowed to deviate and re-deviate from it as many times as I like. Bonus points if that effort looks and sounds good in the end.

Getting Ready for Anime Expo

Today is Anime Expo. I've always classified myself as a geek and a nerd and I'm sure I've sprinkled in hints of that through my various conversations and posts. But I think this will be the first time when I've fully come out as one by doing this write-up. Regardless, the point is that I'm going and I am super stoked. It's been about five years since the last time I've gone and I can't wait to see how things have changed or stayed the same.

The last time I went, during the mid 2000's, people carried paddles with "Yaoi" and "Yuri" (words that, roughly, mean erotica between same sexes) embossed in the wood and they were used to spank people in public. Glomps were also a thing. I got glomped a lot during my last stay there. Luckily, glomp was just another word for hug.

I looked at the schedule this year and I've mostly filled out my 4-day itinerary. I didn't think I'd be interested in a lot of stuff at AX because of my age, but the world always finds a way to surprise me. Here are a few notable ones:

How to Survive Your First Convention (Day 1, 11AM) 

I've been to a lot of conventions, and everything I've learned about going to them has been through friends that I went with and on my own. I am interested to see what a panel can teach me

Nerd Courting (Day 1, 9PM)

This is essentially a "how to get a date panel" catered to nerds. The schedule says 18+ probably due to frank talks about relationships and sex. I want to go because there will be full of people who have this passion for their interest, but have no clue how to express that to someone that they like.  The panel is bound to have discussions about isolation and its remedies, much like a support group would. I'm sure I would go to this panel even if I was in a committed relationship as being around so many compassionate people gives me a lot of emotional energy. 

This one is around the same time as the Anime Music Video competition, so I still haven't penned this in as a sure thing.

Anime's Girls and Women (Day 2, 9:30AM)

If this panel is a frank discussion about how girls and women are portrayed in Anime, especially how problematically sexist it is then I'll stick around. If it's just a panel ogling animated boobies and prepubescent upskirts I'm out.

Cosplay is NOT Consent (Day 2, 3PM)

I'd like to learn how prevalent the sexual harassment/battery has been towards cosplayers. I'm also interested to see how they are addressing that in this panel.

Writing about Anime: Anime Journalism and the Web (Day 2, 5PM)

A panel about writing? Sign me up!!

The History of Anime and Manga Studies in Japan (Day 3, 11:15AM)

History? Sign me up!! I'm secretly hoping that "studies" is a typo and what they meant were "studios." That would be a much more interesting topic, in my opinion (sorry scholars).

Borrowing and Changing: What and How Anime Takes from the West (Day 3, 1:45PM)

I feel like one of the reasons why we have AX is to further integrate a foreign culture into our own consciousness and creative works. I love to see how that happens in reverse.

GameTrailers Presents: Kingdom Hearts, Pop Fiction, & More (Day 4, 11:15AM)

I like the GameTrailers website and I visit it often. During those visits, I've been barraged their ads for this panel so many times that I'm compelled to go. Thanks, marketing!

That's more than a few, isn't it?

I'm willing to give up some of these panels if I meet up with some of my friends. Some of the panels are non-negotiable (Nerd Courting or AMV contest??  Aaargh!!!). However, if I end up as a lone-wolf the entire 4 days, at least I can take comfort in knowing it'll be a full experience for me.

Will I come back to you with a write-up on any of these panels, or the AX experience as a whole? I wish I could confidently say yes, but as always my head has a way of messing me up. It's taken me a lot of energy just to write this out as it is. But maybe exposure to the outside world will help clear up the mind fog a little. We'll see.

Oh man, my brain is such a variable. The suspense is killing me!

Writing Challenge - A Post-Apocalyptic Comedy About Mental Illness

Depression has been a big part of my life for a while now. And I think that has been exacerbated by our society's obsession with post-apocalyptic stories. So, here's a writing prompt I thought up that combines the two - maybe the absurd can lighten some spirits:

Imagine a world where, due to a virus that targeted only mentally-well people, that the only ones left on earth are those with mental illnesses. Now, all you have left are tribes of people whose gene pool is packed full of neuroses. Our heroes will have to deal with these traits, and their survivor's guilt, as they navigate their bleak, hostile environment.

Write this out as a comedy. Dark comedy might fit better with the scenario, but if you can insert some slapstick into your piece, I would highly encourage this.

There you have it! Go forth, and let the hilarity ensue. I'll post something too, if I can ever get out of my own head.

And if you find this offensive, well, you've missed the point of the exercise.

Memory and Control: A Walk Through the Ganja Gauntlet Triggers a Sense of Smell and Purpose

I had a memorable walk around my apartment complex tonight thanks to weed, and I don't even smoke the stuff. It was memorable because, on this occasion, I encountered that sharp, organic smell of marijuana about every third building I walked passed (I started counting when I became aware of its constant presence). I don't think I was ever close enough for a contact high, but regardless I was surrounded by the stuff. And as I made my fourth and fifth rounds, my thoughts turned from the stresses of my day to the moments of my past.

It's known that smell and memory are closely linked, and the distinct odor of the herb certainly triggered the wayback machine in my head. I didn't think of past times that I was exposed to weed, though. Rather, the fact that I was inundated with the scent placed my mind to other moments when I was surrounded by smell. It took me back to places like Corona Regional Medical Center, where the sterile molecules from ammonia and alcohol visited my hospital bed while I was recovering from a ruptured colon. My memory took me even further back into the 80's, to the 7-11 near Heideman Elementary, where the scent of particleboard and silicon enticed me to put quarters into the Commando arcade cabinet.

My strongest memories came from presents, especially the electronics. The mixture of foam and shrink wrap had warped my brain forever as I opened the packaging of my Nintendo Entertainment System. It may have been that my excitement for the machine caused my brain to openly accept the petroleum molecules, cementing it in the foundation of my psyche. I believe this to be true, as I experienced the same emotions when I opened up my SNES and Playstation in subsequent years.

It's almost funny how easily I can elicit this euphoria; just buy an expensive gadget and open it. But it's also scary how automatic it is. I'm a reactive creature, being human and all, so it isn't too surprising that I'm a slave to this trigger. Advertisers run their business on this fact, and exploit our irrational processes to great effect.

But I think I can use this seemingly out of control behavior for my own purposes. Maybe a walk through Heritage Park or a hike up Skyline Drive would trigger emotions or memories that can push me into more positive behaviors. As a person who suffers from depression, I know living in a negative environment invokes a sense of despair that encourages dire thoughts and actions. The opposite must be true. Actually, I know this is true, and research has been done on it (look up Cognitive Behavior Therapy for some of the results of such research). I still think this idea is worthy of an experiment, if at least to convince my monkey brain that the research applies to me too.

But for now, it's late and time to relax. I'm pretty happy with the inspiration the weed at my apartment complex has brought to me - and I was freaking sober the whole time to boot.

Apparently, I'm filling out my Facebook profile like it's on a dating site.

What I'm about:

I’m cheerful at first brush, and I am level headed most situations. I’m actually at my happiest when I’m wading through chaos, slipping into the background and slowly putting things back in order. Maybe my attraction to dischord stems from that hidden mad scientist in me. Lucky for everyone, I’m too dumb to cause any damage.

I attribute my quirkiness to the circumstances presented to me. Not everyone’s past has been idyllic, and mine was no different: a sister robbed of normal motor and mental functions because of disease, the ramifications of that event on my family, and the end result on me that I’d care not talk about. There are times when I wish that I had survived my trials a bit more gracefully, so that I would have ended up as a better role model for my siblings and others. At least I got through them. There aren’t any stickers for living past childhood, but I’m okay with the pat on the back I give myself.

But living through crap isn’t the only reward, isn’t it? I’m glad to say that my experiences have pushed me into a number of interests that I hold dear.

Writing counts as one of those interests. It’s been touch and go as of late, damn you writer’s block! Regardless, I get real jazzed when I think about the trajectory of my writing habits. An interest that started with Final Fantasy fan fiction, complete with self-insertion (I was always the roguish dude), shifted to adventures involving my high school band geeks and a trombone, and lately into poems and stories about love and isolation that, to this day, gives my brain a real workout - and headache.

Photography is another thing I love. Most of the themes that I touch on are, well, that whole “love and isolation” thing. Let’s just say that those two things are very present in my mind at the moment.

Other traits that were fostered from my experiences: I am loving to a fault (i.e. vulnerable). I am ethical to a fault (as in killjoy). I am detailed to a fault (read: perfectionist). You can say that I’m pretty faulty. I’m quite guilty of that, actually. I come from a Catholic background.

This leads me to the thing that I struggle with the most: though I’ve been granted a number of good quirks and traits because of this life, the one real bad thing is that I am too harsh on myself. I have a tendency to catastrophize my situation and, as a result, I literally make my life worse than it should be. It’s a major bummer. I work so hard to make good with people I like and know, only to panic at my good fortune and purposefully withdraw or alienate myself from it all. I basically slice off my Achilles tendon just when I’m about to win the 500 meter dash - metaphorically speaking, anyway.

Some people see me as a mess. Hell, most of the time I see myself as a mess and find it unbearable. But on good days, like at the time of this writing, I see my chaos as an opportunity to confuse and delight anyone who will listen.

Apparently, Now I'm Posting Weight Loss Stories

I've been so frustrated with writing that I decided to try other projects for a while like, for instance, weight loss. One thing led to another and now I was compelled to write a little about my progress so far. Below is the first post in my myfitnesspal.com blog. I'm reposting it here because, well, why the hell not?

I restarted my weight loss journey toward the end of November 2013 on the notion that I’d give it “just one more go at it.” That casual attitude helped me move past my normal anxiety about starting things and before I knew it I dropped 5 pounds the following week (as expected due to the drop in water weight from reduced food and sodium consumption), and a steady two pounds per week till I ended up at 217lbs from my starting weight of 229lbs. The 11lb loss really lifted my spirits and brought in a warm sense of well-being. That wonderful feeling came with the thought that losing the weight was very possible. It also gave me the false notion that it was pretty easy, as the lifestyle change was relatively painless. Or so I thought.

The holidays arrived and I was inundated, as many of us have been, with so much good food. A lot of it was cooked by other people too, so a lot of the portions that I recorded on my food diary were estimations at best, and wild guesses at worst. There were definitely a few days where I got tired of guessing portions and didn’t log in food for the day. The first day I didn’t log in any food was the most frustrating – I thought, “Was I giving up on the whole thing?” But I recognized the irrationality of that line of thinking (something therapy has trained me to notice). I told myself that I was just going through an emotional ride and that I can make things right once things settle down a bit. I had to put in extra effort in willpower and awareness in order to keep from losing myself in all the holiday craziness.

Now that it’s been about a week since the start of the new year, I’m happy to say that I’ve only gained 1 pound back. If I were to compare this minor regress with the progress I made the first three weeks, I’d be devastated - probably devastated enough to just outright quit. But, again, I recognize how irrational that is, so I pat myself in the back and try to accept the fact that had I not tried at all, I could have fallen off the wagon completely. I consider the fact that I didn’t a victory.

I thought I could keep a perfect weight loss streak going, to the point that I could have lost 70 pounds in 7 months. But the holidays has taught me that it's never going to be perfect. I'm liable to slip every once in a while. I've learned that in order to get back on track I’ll have to start really paying attention to what I'm doing on a weekly, or even daily basis. Part of that increased effort is being grateful, not just when I lose weight, but when I cut myself some slack for slipping up. I still have a goal in mind (150lbs by October of this year), but I'm not giving up if it looks like I'm not going to make that goal. After all, I still lost a total of 11 pounds. If I was still 11 pounds under my starting weight by the end of this year, I'm still 11 pounds better off than I was before.