This is the dilemma of the day. Right outside the facility where I work, construction accidently hit a main water line. So they had to shut off the water to our building. That was yesterday. The company rented port a potties for us today. And have plenty of bottle of water. But for someone like me who not only pees a lot but also hates using port a potties, this was not great. The first time I was able to go to the Panera that was less than a 5 minutes drive away. But I tend to wait until the last minute before I let myself pee (you know, to get all the nutrients) so when I left to go, I had to go bad enough that I almost just aborted mission and went in the bushes outside the facilities. But then knowing me, that’s when one of my managers would walk by and that’s how I would get fired and then that would be the reason for termination I would have to put down when I apply for new jobs. So I run to my car and speed off. I run into the Panera just in time, come out and then order a coffee. I know this seems like the exact opposite I should do since coffee basically runs straight through me but I really needed a coffee right then and there. I also bought a baguette 1) because waiting made me hungry 2) I was hoping the bread would soak up the liquid. I know that’s not how it works but maybe it’s all mental. It’s not all mental, I had to go again like an hour later. And I ate a third of the baguette just because it was there, I stopped being hungry a while ago. What category can we put these issues in?


Lost in my Own Mind

Disclaimer: This is much more like a stream of consciousness post that has very little editing and it makes barely any sense at all but my desire to post this took over my desire to edit it.

Has anybody ever completely loss themselves in their own mind and thoughts? I mean to the point of being delusional. When it’s on purpose, it seems to be okay but when it’s an accident, that is pretty terrifying when reality hits you, like the unexpected bowling ball flying through the air and smashing into your skull. There is a moment of wonder and how you got to this point and then a moment of complete self-loathing that you lived so deep into this imagination. is there even a point in which you can come back? Of course yes. But, my problem is that I normally don’t want to. Not everyone is going to understand this. I do feel like we are a very specific breed of people. The kinds of people who make up worlds in their heads and can configure them into such detail and specificity that it’s practically real to them at least. When reality sucks or is taking a little too much of a toll on the mind, some find this alternative world to be an escape. It’s like a fantasy but not at the same time. Unless you have experienced it, then it’s a difficult concept to grasp, unfortunately. This isn’t like, I am fantasizing of being the next winner of American Idol or some other singing show even though I cannot sing at all. This is more of, I am creating  whole in world for myself in which a person (more like a character) that is like me but isn’t entirely me had this entirely new life that involves  a rough childhood, singing on the street for money during the day and bartending at night and then being  seen by a producer and forced onto the show against their wishes but ends up blowing everyone away with their true soulful renditions, winning the show and then becoming one of the most iconic voices of their age. But this fake person not me and I do not want it to be me. I just want to be able to go to this fake made up in my head reality every once in a while to allow myself to pretend to have this experience that I will never have in my entire life but I am perfectly okay with not having in my actual life. I just want it in this fake life that is not mine but only exists in my head. Did that make any sense at all? Probably not.

It’s a creation, a field of possibilities where everything happens for a reason. A place that, dare I say it? Is just much more fun for me to be in then my regular life. I do actually feel guilty for going into my mind so often. I do not have a difficult life. I actually have a blessed life fill with love, laughter and experience. I have never gone hungry, always had what I needed in life and cannot say that anything horrible traumatic has happened to me to the point of a mental break. My life as I know it is pretty wonderful. And yet, why do I escape to this mind fantasy as much as a do? Is it because I am selfish? Is it because I keep thinking things are going to get better? Is it because I am focusing on what I don’t have rather than what I do have? Or is it because it’s fun? It’s almost like a drug, this mind escape of mine. A place where everything that I need is at my disposal and where nothing can go wrong unless I dictate it. Then maybe it’s actually a control issue. Am I a control freak? In such a way that when things do not go my way, I flee to the place where things always go my way? That is pretty messed up. It’s almost like a tantrum, and I hate tantrums. I understand why tantrums happen but there is something about seeing it occur from an outsider’s perspective that gets under my skin. It can be a child or an adult but it makes me cringe. Which is hypocritical of me I know because of course, in my life time I have had tantrums. But when why does it bother me so much to witness this behavior in others. It’s a lack of control I guess? It’s crazy almost how my mentality works like that. My selfishness. This part of me that I want to change so much.

But is has saved me on a few occasions. Just a few days ago, I was out at a bar when a young man approached me pretty brashly with the intention of making out and maybe dancing. I really had no desire to do this but I was relatively intoxicated at the moment. In a general, there would have been a chance that I would have ended up following through despite knowing in the back of my head that I shouldn’t. But because I was able to escape to my mind, and realized that this person was not as gentlemanly as the other character that I had made up in my head. I realized that I would rather not so I walked away. I had lost myself so much in my mind that I decided that I would rather just sit at the bar by myself and go there rather than interact with a real life person. This truth about that night is a bit of a double edged sword. One, thank goodness because my evaluation of that situation the next morning made it seem as like I would have made some bad decisions if I had decided to follow through. However, would I have had the same reaction if the person was different. If the person who approached with a nicer attitude? Or just treated me nicer? And I would have just turned them away to be alone with my own thoughts? Is this an actual problem? Now I know what it means when they say that a mind is a dangerous thing. Is this normal? Am I running solo on this? Do I have a problem?

Putting the Fuse in Confused,


Please Pass the Toilet Paper and Other Love Stories

Warning: This one has bathroom humor in it. It might be slightly disgusting to some. Just like many of my other post. I am growing slightly surprised and ashamed that this is actually becoming a trend in my blog.

“What’s so funny?” I came out of the bathroom just in time to see my parents cracking up over a story I definitely had missed somewhere in between peeing and brushing my teeth. Dad wipes a tear from his eye. “Oh it’s a great story about Mom. But I need to give you some historical context first.” Right, cause all of the best stories start off with that sentence right there. But before I begin writing, I’m going to be very honest/ I did not do too much research on this subject to check up after my Dad so I’m not sure how accurate this all is… but I think I got it generally right. At least for the purposes of this story. So apparently: Back in the day, in Korea where my parents both grew up, newspapers and book pages doubled as toilet paper for them. Literally, taking the reading material into the toilet with you and when you were done reading, you wipe yourself.  My dad actually makes references to ripping pages of a book to uses as toilet paper and it doubled as a bookmark. (I must take this time to confess how that broke my little bookworm heart if we are going to be frank but that was the very least of Dad’s concerns or cares so I chose to not bring it up just protruded my bottom lip in protest). Then around the 1980s, or at least this is around the time my parents remembered this happening, toilet paper started to get introduced to the country and it was revolutionary. This paper was specifically for the bathroom and was going to be less tough on the tushy. The problem was that compared to what they were previously using as toilet paper, the current version of toilet paper we consider ordinary was the softest, most luxurious paper that should not be wasted on bum holes. So apparently, it was not uncommon for around that time for Korean households to use toilet paper as napkins or tissues instead of in the bathroom. It doesn’t not seem that strange when you first read that but let it sink in first.

Dad had moved to American many years before Mom came (actually to get the story straight Mom moved after they got married). Because of this, Dad had figured out some of the more obvious culture differences while Mom was still getting used to everything. Soon after Mom moved, they were hosting a dinner party so she could meet a bunch of Dad’s friends. It was going to be one of those fancy dinner parties to impress. She made the most lovely spread of their favorite Korean foods. My dear mother is hands down the best cook in the whole entire world and I will fight anyone who dares to question me on that. Additionally, the thing about Mom that you wouldn’t really expect is that she is actually kind of a perfectionist. Her dishes actually have the appearance of top restaurant quality because in her head, presentation is just as important as taste. So here is the wonderful spread that she prepared that I can only imagine without a doubt looks insanely beautiful. My dad was marveling at it all when Mom suddenly runs out of the room saying something along the lines of “Oh my goodness, I almost forgot something important.” And when she returned, right in the middle of the glorious dinner she had taken hours to make look so fabulous, she plopped a roll of toilet paper. (At this point in the story, Mom interjects by saying that it was in a pretty toilet paper holder but Dad still adamantly makes the point that it was still a roll of toilet paper in the middle of the dinner table) Mom sighed, taking in all her hard work while Dad froze. How was he supposed to explain this to her? His new bride, who had worked so hard and was unbelievably proud of herself, just put a strictly bathroom only prop on the same table they were going to be eating on and also serving friends on. He was ready to drop the hammer when he looked into her eyes and felt unbelievable swells of love at this beautiful young lady who was doing everything she could to make him the happiest man in the world. So in the end, he didn’t tell her. Apparently he didn’t tell her until much later (like years).

Some may think of this as my Dad either chickening out or making my Mom look like a fool in front of his friends. And while that might be at least partially true to some extent if we play devils advocate, the real thing is that when he tells that story, you can still hear the pride in his voice over the hard work my mom put in that day after all these years. Sure they crack up over it all and we all poked fun at Mom, who takes it with grace and humility, but you can tell Dad knew exactly what he was doing. Dad didn’t tell her at that moment because he loved her too much. Because he appreciated her and her dedication. Because she was so happy not knowing. Because to hell with his friends if they made a silly comments or facial expression. Because in that moment all that mattered was that everything Mom did that night was absolutely perfect to him, including the toilet paper, and he wouldn’t change a thing about it. You see, to me at least, that is true love. My parents have been together for 27 years now as I write this. They never let anything like this get in the way of their relationship and I still hear them talk about how they love each other more and more every day. I was once borrowing my Mom’s laptop just a few years ago and accidently saw an email Dad had just sent her counting all the ways he loved her. P.S. if Mom or Dad ever reads this, I promise it wasn’t an invasion of privacy. It was a pure accident. (….are they gone? Do you think they bought it?). The point is that Mom and Dad set the bar pretty darn high and someday I can only hope to find love like that myself. One where I can put toilet paper in front of my spouse before we eat dinner with such pride and importance that he only complements me on a job well done because he knows that is only thing in the whole world that matters in that moment. Screw Cinderella. That’s my version of perfect fairy tale ending.

Putting the Fuse in Not-Confused,


GPS, Please Locate Dream

As the battle rages on, I did not realize that I was dreaming. It was pretty obvious though. Between the ghoulish creatures and the spells being cast with sparks flying around, this was the stuff imagination was born for. However, as with any of the dreams that I am fortunate enough to remember, I of course did not realize that this was actually not real. I fully had immersed myself in the fight for human kinds existence. I was able to fly, that was the part I remembered pretty vividly. I did not know how I knew flight was a skill on my resume, but I did know that I could do it. My parents were there. They were dressed strangely in retrospect but of course in the context, they were dressed exactly how they should have been. Because that’s how dreams work. My mom put the object in my hands. Trying to recall, I do not know what it was or what it did or even what it looked like. But it apparently was important. “Go now!” Mom yells to me as the dangerous creatures grow closer. “You are our only hope,” Dad whispers to me as the chaos continues to ensure behind him. He and Mom give me one last look, the way that parents do to their savior kids in all the great adventure movies. They push me forward and I take flight. I soar higher and higher, and I hear Mom’s yell at me to keep going. To keep flying. To save them all. I race forward when Dad’s voice echoes around me. “Wait! Come back!” What? In this dream of magic and escapade I am suddenly confused for the first time. I whip my head around to see Dad running towards me waving something back and forth above his head. It’s a GPS. The exact one I have in real life that is currently in my car. “You forgot this! You don’t know where you are going! You are going to get lost!” This is the point where I spring awake from my dream. I am breathing pretty hard as I sit up and I can actually feel my heart beating from all the imaginary excitement that was being expressed behind my closed eyelids. But that ending…

I cannot say that I am exactly surprised. My dad has done this before. I get lost all the time, even in places that I have been to multiple times. I have gotten lost more than once in mega Wal-Mart’s (not lost as in I don’t know where the cereal aisle is, I mean lost as in I have been wandering for 20 minutes and can’t find the exit!) So instead of constantly being worried about his meandering daughter, Dad decided to just get me my own GPS. Two notes about this. One, this was before phones had a fancy built in GPS. Two, this was before I was really driving on my own and way way before I had my own car. This was actually partially so I could just get around in general believe it or not. I have, in real life, walked around with a GPS to find a neighborhood friend of whom I couldn’t quite remember the exact location of her house. That was many years ago and I have not lived at home for a while now but Dad always still asks me if I have a GPS with me when I mention that I am leaving my house. And apparently, even when our kingdom is burning down around us, when the trolls and dragons are attacking, when the magic of wizards and knights are barely holding them back, when time is of the essence and the of the lives of millions rests in the hands of his one and only magical flying daughter, he will still make sure that I have my GPS with me. Or else, we are all doomed.

Putting the Fuse in Confused,


GI Brides: The Wartime Girls Who Crossed the Atlantic for Love by Duncan Barrett and Nuala Calvi

I am not a history person. At all. I cannot emphasize this enough. But for some reason, I could not put down this book for the life of me despite by years of historical boycott. (I will say that Hamilton is converting me a little bit but I won’t go into that because I’m sure there are plenty of people out there screaming in their heads “Enough with Hamilton!” and then us Hamilton fans are all “Never! I’m not throwing away my shot!” and then there is uncomfortable situations and arguments and splitting sides and….this I the longest side note/run on sentence ever…Summary: I didn’t like history when I first read this book, things have changed since then but for this context, I did not expect to love this book as much as I ended up loving it. Okay and we’re back!). WWII European War brides trying to make it in America with their brand new military husband, in concept seems, frankly kind of boring but I picked this book up randomly just because it was available in the audio library app, and it completely blew me away (….my name is Philip, I am a poet. Promise, last Hamilton reference). Honestly the random finds are sometimes the best finds. Following the true stories of 4 amazing women to find and follow their loves across the sea. They tell their heartbreaking stories of adjusting to this new life, of being outcasts, seeing right in front of them, the lack of acceptance from family, seek the desperately needed acceptance of other GI brides and unfortunately, for more than one, experience what it’s like to fall out of love. I know that it not much of a summary when it comes to explaining the book but one of the best things about reading this is the experience of going into this reading experience blind.

This book made me think about the will of people. Imagine what it is like to leave your entire life behind for a single person. What do you think about? I think about my dear mother who moved so far away to be with my dear father. I think about how the fast way for my mom to get back home would be a 14 hour plane ride. In a time, where phone calls were expensive, where letters days apart was the main form of getting any notice, where there are certain days that you know, you are going to be alone. I could not do it. I am not trying to be purposefully humble or gain self righteous empathy because I would honestly fall apart if I went through what some of these women went through. Their courage is what I aspire to. I think anyone who enjoys human interest stories are required to read GI Brides.

Seeking that Hollywood Ending,


Risk is a Family Game

My Family is very close. That is an important preface to this story. My parents work together in a flower shop so they literally see each other 24/7 and have done so for more than two decades. My brother and I weren’t always close (especially during high school when actually WWIII was happening sometimes) but have forced our sibling relationship over the past few years, especially when we discovered that we actually have a lot more in common as adults (funny how that works out, huh?). Mom and I text mainly in GIFS, Memes, and BitMojis to the point that we simultaneously understand and don’t understand each other. My brother has more than once followed my dad to the bathroom if he’s not finished tell him about his day and my dad takes it and continues to listen. And on that note, my parents have an open-door bathroom policy and always have for as  long as I could remember. When anything happens to me, be it good or bad, they are always 100% the first people I tell. In the shower, when hold my shampoo bottles and pretend to be winning a Tony Award for Best Lead Actress in a Musical, they are always the longest and most emotional part of my fake acceptance speech. We are a close family. We tell each other everything. At least most of the time.

There are rare times where just one of us will leave on a trip for a long period of time. The two biggest ones are both when my mom went back to Korea to visit her family. She was gone for a few weeks at a time, leaving Dad, my brother and me to fend for ourselves for a little. This should not have been a problem. However, the first time mom left up to go to Korea, I was in 6 grade. 3 major things happened while she was gone. One, I discovered a new pass time where I would pick at my freckles until they bled, because I wanted to see how deep the pigment went. Two, my brother broke his collarbone playing football with some of the other neighborhood kids. Three, dad bought a boat. Apparently, we completely fell apart without Mom.

So when she needed to leave the three of us alone again to go to Korea just a few years ago, it’s fair to say that she was pretty terrified even though this was more than a 11 years later and now everyone was legally an adult. The worry was real however and it was almost to the point where she didn’t actually want to leave. When we finally convinced her to go, she made sure to track each of all individually and give us a specific request. To me she said, “Please do make any changes to your body”, to my brother “please don’t hurt yourself”, and to my dad “please don’t be in possession of a motorcycle when I get back.” After a little vacation adventure a few months previous where we rode scooters down Red Rock, Dad rediscovered his love for riding choppers. Something he used to do all the time, until he met my mother and was lightly suggested that he doesn’t actually like them. He gladly gave it up for the love of his life, but 26 years into marriage, he figures that she’s probably stuck with him by this point so why not test those waters again. Mom gave him a pretty firm no and made sure to put her foot down again before she left the country for a few day. The night before her departure, we all made our individual promises with smiles and sincere nods. My poor mother.

She is on that plane for less than half an hour before I have to pick my brother up from work because he accidently used hydrogen peroxide instead of contact solution and got chemical burns on his eyes. We stop by the flower shop to tell dad and wait out the time before going to the eye doctor when he says the horrible words I wasn’t even surprised to hear. “Don’t tell mom yet… but I got the motorcycle.” Before we can really react ,Dad is going on and on about how his friend gave it to him his old one for free so she at least wouldn’t be mad about the money, yada yada yada…while I on the other hand was secretly distracted by a little secret of my own and it only forced it’s way up to the surface after Dad’s little confession. And now I finally saw my opportunity to get away with it. He looked at me almost expectantly because I’m the loud smart mouth of the family that likes to rub it in people’s faces when they get things wrong or when they mess up. I’m also the  naturally the class tattletale, when it comes to my mother. What he was not expecting was for me to blurt out a confession I had been holding in for almost a week. I had done the one thing in my life that my parents had explicitly forbidden me to do multiple times but I had taken the risk anyway. “I got a tattoo.” The word came out one of my mouth before I could stop them. Everything gets silent. Dad looks angry at first but then stops. “Well…I’m really in no position to start judging or be mad.” My brother just looks at the three of us at a whole and asks then question we are all thinking: “When do we tell Mom?”

We had a 3/4 family meeting and decided to take the cowards way out and call her while she was still in Korea so that at least he was on the other side of the country and also so there were a few weeks for her to cool off before we actually were face-to-face with her again. That phone call….was not the best phone call to say the least. But in the end, it did not matter. Mom gave us the silent treatment for a little bit (which was impressive since she was more than 7,000 miles away and we could still feel it in our house) but we are still family. We bicker and squabble and silently judge each other. But we are still the family that is super close, that does everything together and apparently, that tends to really screw things up together too.

Putting the Fuse in Confused


Don’t Pull that Deer Crap on Me

Disclaimer: I do agree of some of the states that are going to be made and I disagree with other but none of that really matters towards the conclusion of this post. Also, I am aware that these are not universal truths but at some point they show how society, be it past or present, has interpreted at one point or another. A women stripping for money is considered unacceptable. Cursing in front of children (both on purpose and on accident) is considered unacceptable. Any form of picking your nose, farting or spitting in public is considered unacceptable. Sneezing without covering your mouth is rude, sneezing without covering your mouth directly at another person is worse and if this person is a stranger, this behavior is completely and beyond unacceptable. Eating food that fell on the floor is gross, eating food that fell on the sidewalk is disgusting, and eating food that fell in the trashcan is unacceptable. Eating a banana very slowly in public is culturally not accepted and talking about castration around anyone with a penis is unacceptable. Wearing authentic fur in a pet shop is just wrong on many levels. When women wear tight skirts, or really short bottoms or shirts that show cleavage, it’s very frowned upon. For certain religions, marrying outside the sect is not always presented as an option. On those lines, breaking religious codes (be it the 10 commandments from the Bible or the Torah) are considered sins that can lead to eternal damnation. Talking on your phone during a movie is beyond all senses of the word unacceptable. Putting children on leashes at Disney World is unacceptable parenting. A woman feeding her baby in public has been called disgusting by more than one person.

HOWEVER. What I learned quite recently is that when a person goes deer hunting, apparently to see how close a deer might be, one must get up close and personal with the deer’s droppings. Not by sight, Not by smell, Not by touch, but by taste. Yes, you read that correctly. BY TASTE. And for some reason that is acceptable. THAT IS ACTALLY ACCEPTABLE. Did you read that as me yelling. Good. Because I was yelling. I said that exact phrase when I learned about this but with an exclamation point and question mark at the end rather than a period. I am not a hunter, and I have never been hunting. I am a Vegetarian (that, for the record and to be completely honest, eats fish and other seafood on occasion) so I never plan on hunting. I do not like the idea of hunting but to put myself out there, I also do not feel that it is right or even my place to say that nobody should be allow hunt ever. But I NEVER will think it is okay, unless it somehow saves your life, to put another creature’s feces in your mouth. So tell me society, how did we get here?

Putting the Fuse in Confused


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