obituary

on tuesday, december 29th at approximately 12:22 am, quynh died a slow, quiet, and mostly uneventful death. she was 22 but probably had the mentality of a cynical 30 year old and the maturity of a 10 year old.

the cause has yet to be determined but it is believed that her heart eventually gave up due to lazy apathy after being steeped in anger for so many years.

quynh left behind a mom whose issues will probably never be resolved and a little sister who might have a chance to live a somewhat functional life, despite her extremely dysfunctional upbringing.

she also left behind tons of books, magazines, too many clothes & shoes for one person, some credit card debt, and an overpriced photography set up that she may have done something with had she gave a damn enough to go on living.
these belongings can go to whomever claims them first, for in truth she owned nothing, nothing belonged to her, and she will get to keep nothing.

let us remember quynh as a strange girl who liked to sing in an obnoxiously loud, off-key voice while driving and in the shower, both of which should be done in as very little clothing as possible.
she also enjoyed drinking peppermint tea while watching the sun come up during her many episodes of insomnia. during the summer her heart beat a little livelier when she could go kayaking or dancing all weekend.
some of her best conversations were over a cup of espresso with her friend justy, over liquor with her friend wade, over tea with her friend kels, and over beer with her friends dani & emilio. the girl really liked to drink.
she may have also been a bit of an alkie.

she has always had a love for books, even if she has a horrible habit of reading until the last chapter and abandoning a title for another one. it is the only thing she could sit still for.
some of her favorite movies have a dark twist, but always a happy ending.
if she could sit still through movies without going spastic she would.

she had these dreams, once, when she was young and still resilient and hopeful.
she wanted to save the world all by herself.
she believed that people genuinely were made to be good and ultimately wanted to be good.
she believed in people. she believed in herself.
she believed that the good guys win in the end, all bad things can be overcome by the good things, and that if you wanted something enough it will all work out according to your own plan.

she sincerily hopes that more people hang on to their childhood dreams because they really can happen.


she also believed in God, and now isnt so sure he is what he is painted to be.
she might get to find out for herself now.


quynh would like to thank everyone for being part of her life and hopes that you all remember her for her bad puns & cheesy jokes, as well as her word vomit of sarcasm and snarkiness. she wants you to remember to go out and enjoy life, but dont eat yellow snow. most of all she wants you to not trust the man and always ask questions, especially when you seem to be perfectly fine because that's when the government likes to plant microchips in your flu shots...

hahaha just kidding.

but for serious. go live, and dont let your heart give out because you stopped caring.

most importantly, enjoy the party & open bar & the stripper rock band because she paid for this to happen at her funeral and none of it was cheap.







happy new year, fuckers.














in all seriousness, if i were to die (maybe it'll be a few more decades before i just give up) you all had better make it a party or i'll haunt you.

:D

xoxo

gut sweater

i'm watching a jeff corwin show on the food network.

he is doing a traditional greek dish where the internal organs are removed from the animal, seasoned, skewered, and roasted on a spit next to the animal itself.




i know i dont enjoy camping at all. i dont even eat that much meat.

.. but WOW.


i mean, it just looks amazingly badass to be cooking stuff on a giant metal skewer on an open fire after you kill it. in the woods.



if i ever have a chance i want to do that.


quynh truong. badass jungle explorer/killer and roaster of innocent animals extraordinaire.

festivus

I feel great today.

This is the first year where I haven't been horribly depressed during the holidays.

Work wasn't even that bad, surprisingly. (or maybe it's always been the same, but I am seeing things with a new set of eyes this time)



:D only 17 days til school starts again.
I can' wait to just be done with it. They can mail me my degree and I can rent a cap & gown to take some pictures for my mom to keep, but there is no way I am going to the graduation ceremony. That was a horrible day (Sorry, Rachel. I was proud of you for getting your degree but that entire day is going down in my books as a disaster, what with the psychotic retired civil rights leader and his rambling speech, the hour of being stuck in a crowded parking deck, and our emo 'boyfriends') that should never be repeated.
I should only have a year left after this *knocks on wood* before I can move away to Oxford and study for MCATs and work a BS job to pay for living costs.
That's the plan for now.

For the first time in a long time I have a vague idea of what the future will hold.

God, this is exciting :D

end of 09

this is the first year that i've ended without feeling old, drained, and broken.

i think i'm starting to live my life. despite the bouts of insomnia, the days when my anxiety makes it hurt to change out of my PJs and walk out the door, the periods of depression & horrible thoughts that don't feel like they belong to me.. despite all that, i think i am finally going to be okay.

i've always been detached. i tried to be a total robot and live in denial of the fact that everything was falling to pieces around me. it was my way of not having to deal with things because once i am forced to slow down and look at what was going on i knew i'd just break. so i had to remain tough and do other fucked up things to prevent having to see reality.
this time i am not going to be "tough" but "resilient". someone told me a long time ago that there is a great difference between being tough and being strong. i didnt understand it then but i am starting to figure that out.







list of shit to do this year:

1. learn to kickbox.. and go fight club on somebody :D

2. somehow con some friends into going running on trails with me

3. be the best damn vegas styled drag king zombie best man anybody could ask for at their wedding

4. reenact the fight scene between o-ren ishi and the bride with my bee-eff-eff in the middle of GSU's courtyard.

5. more films. more pictures. more art.





i cant sleep.

footy jammies

i love footy PJs. there's just something so adorably sweet about them.
i think it's because all my little cousins, nieces, and nephews used to be fat toddlers who bounced around in footy PJs when i used to babysit.
it is a little bit of joy to break up the day.

spanking should be allowed

these 2 little boys (8-10ish) were running around Job today, being loud, bumping into people, playing tag indoors.

kids are kids. whatever.

i didnt really care until they got too loud and nearly ran other customers down, at which point i told them to quit running around inside and go play quietly.

they were sweet, polite little kids, who meant no harm. i understand. i can totally relate. no big deal.




i was fine ignoring them til they knocked over & busted the spine of an expensive nudie book in the art section after they looked through it briefly and giggled.

so in my semi-adult voice i said, "okay guys, who are you with? who is supposed to be watching you?"

i told them that they were young and if they wanted to walk around the store they would have to have a parent with them. they werent in trouble; those are just the rules.






i found their guardian. a middle aged teacher sitting in cafe flirting with some man.

so i told her that they had to stay with a guardian or she could hang out with them in the kids' department. whatever.





half an hour later she wants to get mad & complain to my boss.

i will briefly paraphrase her, along with my thought bubble responses that were kept from becoming word vomit:


is there a policy i dont know about? (yes, it is a little something i like to call the law.)
because i've read books at the camp creek and edgewood store & have never had this problem. (well that's because they need to do a damn better job)
these are very good students (i dont care if they are freakin geniuses or total dumbasses, they dont need to run full speed in a crowded store) and i have never had a problem with them acting up (that's probably because you were too busy trying to pick up men in a cafe to pay attention to them, you raging cunt rag!!!)
blahblahblah... (at this point i stopped listening to let my boss lady assure her that it was only for the safety of the brats that they have to be with a guardian. you know, busy store, any maniac can walk in and take a kid, etc etc.)




so my theory is she wasnt so pissed about me disciplining the kids. she was just pissed that i ruined her game by making them sit there, rendering her scary cougar powers worthless.



a word to the wise:

keep your damned kids on leashes or dont procreate if you dont want to be responsible parents.

Dec.11.09

I have horrible anxiety & dread.
It makes me breathe in a really labored manner, so I have tried to do breathing exercises but it isn't working as well as I'd like.
I really want to carve things into my arms & legs again in order to calm down.

I feel it over the horizon like a storm

My moods keep fluctuating.

I feel the depression fighting it's way into my day and I have been doing my best to distract myself with studies, work, and hanging out with friends. I've been reading my textbooks as well as regular books at night when I can't sleep.

Most of the time it will go away, but I have this fear that my mental state is slowly dissipating because the insomnia is at it's worst in about a year, I'll get extreme lows, suicidal thoughts and urges that come out of nowhere only to quickly disappear again, and I start to see people moving out the corners of my eyes when nobody is around.

I just really don't want to be crazy.

I can't afford to lose grip on reality any time soon.

My family isn't taken care of yet. I want to be able to finish med school and save up a decent amount of money from my good job so they wont have financial issues.

In times like this I really wonder where the hell my priorities are. Like they aren't even really MY priorities.

They're really not.

I feel like I don't have my own priorities at this moment.

And I'm going to go take pictures of Lilybean now, before I start to think about how easy it would be to cease to exist. I hate when I get like this.

i hate that term "crunch time"

seriously, crunch time?

what is so crunchy about it?




so i have slept every other night for over a week and it will continue like this til my next set of exams on tuesday.
all this preparation & memorization and i STILL feel totally inadequate.


i'll just be happy with a C in either of the bio classes.

i keep telling myself i'll do better and work harder next semester but i really don't know how to study and i still decide to say "fuck it, i'm going out" half the time.
what childish behavior.

no wonder i feel like a failure. i never strive to do the best i can and the rule is you get out what you put in. so it is my own damn fault i don't do as well as i could.



maybe i'll just sell veggie burgers & drugs on the side of the road for a living.

0.o

gluttony day

the family & friends have been fed.
everything that had survived the swarm of locusts is now safely tucked away in aluminum foil & plastic containers.
they have all left, tipsy, full, and glad to be done with that obligatory family time we have during the holidays.

i am now about to sit down & study until the adderall quits and i pass out.

this is an addiction i can get used to. i am hyperactive only in my head instead of feeling the urge to move around constantly. i get so much done in a small amount of time.
i dont have to sleep.

i feel myself moving much faster than i should and the crash is inevitable. i know it cant be avoided, as with all chemical addictions. i just hope it wont come til after i can attach Dr. to my last name, and fuck the rest.



i've thought about that quote, what good is it when a man gains the world and loses his soul.

well i dont give a damn.

i want the world.
i want it all.

even if i have to sell my soul to get it.

and for a big enough take home pay, i will sell out.



fuck everything else.

My summary of God at this point

God:
1. fickle, in the way that he seems to be a friend one moment and a tormentor the next
2. a sadistic bastard (very similar to my a-hole father, may he rest in peace) who likes to get my hopes up only to dash them in the most absurd ways last minute
3. absentee parental figure
4. totally unreliable jerk, who:
5. makes my life into a cosmic joke
6. is silent to my prayers or not answering in a way that my puny mind can grasp
7. constantly fucks me over, or allows others to fuck me over




in short, i can no longer place my trust, hope, or faith in this individual.

i have tried too hard for too long just to get some sort of answer, maybe gain some sort of understanding with no fruition. i have tried to be a decent person.
my basic prayer of "please make my life not so worthless today" has been ignored for a very long time, no matter how i try to approach the issue.

God is no longer welcome here til i get some sort of response. i demand it.

i need something a little more concrete here, bc right now i am talking to some entity that no one can see or hear. people get locked away in the nuthouse for that type of thing and i am starting to wonder if i belong there as well.

if that is sacrilegious then so be it.

that is how i genuinely feel, and if God has a problem with it then he can go ahead and do something about it.


*flicks off the universe/powers that be*

2 and then some weeks of blahishness

I am so ridiculously tired but still wide awake.

I'm in the middle of organizing post its, index cards, & tiny random scribblings into an entire map of concepts.

I hope I pass these classes.

The words & pictures are being sorted through. They are being pounded into my brain only to dribble out my ears.

I keep trying to learn & memorize this stuff and nothing is sticking, but it seems really pointless to lay around and attempt to sleep.

FML. I hate school. I hate responsibility and other peoples' expectations and having to be an adult. I hate that something is wrong with my wiring and I can be fine for a few weeks and then totally out of touch for a few weeks after that.

I am anxious for no reason. I've also been feeling really bummed out for the past few weeks for no reason at all, which just makes me think it is a weird chemical imbalance. I don't want to be on meds again. I hated being a zombie for months and then trying to kill myself just to see what would happen once I started to get used to the medicine when those little sporadic bursts of energy would occur.
*bang head on desk*

Anyway... back to memorizing gram negative/gram positive bacteria.

Fed up, royally.

I am so ready to just drop out of school.

Never in my life have I ever felt more inept.

Maybe I really just stopped caring enough to put in hard work at a steady pace, which seems likely. Or maybe I am just really dumb, which could be possible since my awesome grades from levels 1-12 have come from public school systems.

*dies*

One of my favorite authors wrote back...

Hi Quynh

Thanks so much for writing me and being so vulnerable. I am so sorry you
are going through this. And do I understand! I have had some violent
arguments with God. I actually put a massive dent in a refrigerator door
during one of them. I've told God to go to hell, go fuck off, dared him to
kill me. All of it. My book editor was too gun-shy to include those
arguments in my book.

And the Bible is filled with similar tirades, and from his "chosen" people
like King David or Jeremiah. Jeremiah 20:7 says, "Oh Lord you deceived me
and I was deceived." But the original Hebrew is sometimes translated as
"Lord you RAPED me ..." No one likes to preach on THAT from the pulpit.

I don't know the circumstances of your life that would create an image of
God who thinks you are worthless. But I can tell you where I got my asshole
God: perfectionist rageful father, cowardly mom and church role models; lies
taught in the church, by omission or comission; horrible dangerous people
who claimed to speak for God. And then me and my own self-hatred. You'll
read about these things in my book.

It took a long time to realize God actually cheered for me when I succeeded
and was happy, and that he grieved over the failures and losses., and that
he even felt angry on my behalf, about the hurt done to me. I don't know
why God allows us to suffer. I think we can endure horrible suffering if we
know deep in our bones that God loves us. But without feeling loved, it's
impossible to endure anything.

I'm not sure why he's not speaking to you; or if he is why you can't hear
him. But that would be my biggest prayer for you, that you begin to hear God
and experience that love. What would God's love look like you in tangible
terms? What love looks like to you is going to be specific to your
personality, what you need, how you see the world.

I can tell you how it was for me, how I began to sense God again: I spent a
lot of energy crying, yelling, venting to God. My AA sponsor forced me to
write a gratitude list every day. It started off really short. Eventually
the list grew. My circumstances didn't change all that much, but internally
I changed because I had to discipline myself to see love and beauty.

This is NOT "stop complaining and count your blessings." But rather "KEEP
complaining, keep asking God to show up ... And also train your senses to
notice love and beauty in your life." Because those signs are the buoy
markers that will guide you home.

I STILL mourn the loss of dreams. For example, I always wanted to be a
comedic actor and writer. And I did do a lot of it, but I didn't dare allow
myself to want anything too much. If I'd had the courage I would have dared
to act or write on Saturday Night Live. I don't know if it was a combination
of bad choices, bad timing and failure to WANT IT enough, that prevented
that from happening. So it's a loss.

But I also have to admit that what I am doing now is really terrific. I got
to write a book, I am working on a solo show based on the book. And I've
gotten the privilege of encouraging others who've gone through similar
struggles. I get to encourage you.

When I first read your email I was overcome with grief and anger for what
you are experiencing. I can't help but think that God whispered those
feelings to me on your behalf. And that he made sure you'd find the book
and email me. Because I can tell you, God does not see you as a miserable
bug. But he's got to reveal himself to you NOW, he's got to show his love
to you now, in a way that is specific to you and your personality. So that
really is my prayer for you. That God show up, and that you are able to see
it.

These may feel like idealistic prayers but I will pray them for you, Quynh.
Please let me know how you are doing, and if anything from the book stirs up
questions, please let me know I will be happy to speak more.


Thanks again for your email, and for your vulnerability and courage.

Susan Isaacs








Check out her book here; it is well worth the read:
http://search.barnesandnoble.com/Angry-Conversations-with-God/Susan-E-Isaacs/e/9781599950624



http://www.susanisaacs.net/

i am not my grade

... but i sure as hell feel bad about those 2 failed exams.

i've never failed a test before. let alone 2 of them in the same week.

fuck having the flu. sleeping and laying around chugging peppermint tea with my eyes shut from dizziness for the majority of 2 weeks really fucked up my study schedule.

now i have to just bust my ass and try to do well enough on the final so i could use it to replace my failed exam scores. fml. just fml.

*bang head on desk*



i am trying this new thing where i dont measure my self worth based on grades.
after all, a number typed onto a computer screen by another man's hand (bc, you know, i am obviously my own man) does not tell the story of who i am as a person.

but dammit, i feel bad about it.

bio exam # 3 in the a.m.

it has been 2 weeks and i am feeling much better now.

except for the occasional phlegmy cough (which is probably due to splitting a pack of camels over the weekend at bars & clubs) i am at my usual level of health.

being sick for so long means that i havent been able to go to class or take my adderall.

my body knows it, too.

it's so used to my prescribed speed that it went through withdrawals. i took half a pill tonight to stay up and study for my bio exam.

i only have 2 more chapters to go, but had to pause for minor distractions like blogging and facespacing. i also ordered a new canon battery from amazon for like 20 bucks.
my behavior is sporadic and almost thoughtless when i take this stuff at times. it is almost like i am purposefully giving myself bouts of mania.
it is better than the alternative.

i had a conversation with kelsey about that. it made quite a bit of sense now that i think about it. a.d.d wasnt well known in the earlier years of psychology. women, especially, were diagnosed as bipolar. when they were distracted and did 20million things at once it resembled symptoms of mania. when they tried to get it together, tried their hardest to just get errands done for the day only to fail due to having no attention it would make them feel inadequate, which would lead to a poor self image over time. this led to depression.

so put them on speed and those ladies are manic all the time! sometimes they get a little snappy.

we'll just diagnose them as being hormonal and on their periods :D




fml. i need to go study.

head shrinking

i'm nervous about tomorrow.

it'll be my first assessment at the counseling center and the first time i've seen someone in a few years.


i have no idea what to say.

before i would have just gone through a laundry list of what was to be expected and how i should respond, but now i can't even do that.
i don't want to do that.
i actually just want to be honest with myself for once and talk to somebody about all the weird shit that goes on in my mind, which is terrifying because i have no idea what i'd actually say if asked a question on any given subject.

i can't sleep.

i took my nice cough syrup to a. help with the coughing, and b. help with the insomnia.

still sitting around waiting for it to kick in.




btw, expectorant- latin. ex, to reject; pect-the chest.
it's supposed to make my coughs "more productive", meaning i'd cough up all the gross crap in larger amounts.


i should've taken a benedryl to make me fall asleep.

fml.

brainwash

So when I was growing up the world was a pretty lonely place.
I had nobody I could trust or really talk to until maybe a few years ago.

When I was 13ish I started going to this teen church (some people actually invited me to be a part of something? for serious? like they actually want me to be there??) 2x a week.
It was fantastically "unique" and unlike any church I've ever been to before.

I mean, it had everything to distract and dazzle kids and teens alike.

There was a live band, smoke machines, an in-your-face preacher who cracked jokes and was all tough love. He even wore jeans & tee shirts.

And then there was this "God" who supposedly thinks the world of you so that he sacrificed himself to save your mortal soul. There was this supreme being who loved you and thought you were awesome. This creator of the universe thought that you were WORTH something.

All it took to make it concrete is that you submit any free will or intelligent thoughts, along with 10% of what you had, to his representatives.
These people would never steer you wrong.
They are a part of the "body of Christ".



So for a while I bought the lies.

For a kid who never felt like I was worth anything this whole God concept was pretty awesome.

I kept building up wall after wall of biblical answers that never really answered any of the deep seated questions. For example, why would a benevolent God let people suffer. Why is it that the church is more concerned about bake sales to raise money for expanding their building when people are starving on the streets right outside its doors? Why is it that God would give everybody free will and then condemn people to hell for not believing in Him?

Why is there even a hell?

Because if you turn on the evening news it seems that hell is already here. Rape, murder, genocide, natural disasters, human-made disasters, war, famine... Nobody can tell me that hell isn't already here on earth.
How is this the product of a loving deity?


I eventually walked away.

I have never met this Jesus, but I know that the Christian church is not a representation of who he is or what he stood for.

He wasn't all about memorizing the texts of Judaism and spitting out verses. He was about living. He was about taking care of the poor and the sick, standing up for the socially repressed, partying with friends and strangers alike, and throwing wrenches into the machine of his time, whether that machine is the political or religious empire.
He was about asking questions nobody could answer. The envelope wasn't just pushed, but thrown across the room.

Now that is somebody I would follow.

Not these ignorant, delusional, self righteous nuts on stage every sunday.




In other news: I am feeling better. Still pretty dizzy but I am not passing out or having weird fever dreams.

(It was pretty fucked up. I kept seeing myself in the alter room in that Buddhist temple where my dad's ashes are kept. there are 2 alters with shelves for the dead females and males. in my weird nightmare there were just dead people standing around instead of jars of ash. they all kept staring ahead and somebody kept saying "you dont belong here. why are you here? this is a resting place for the dead. this is not your place." and i kept waking up and falling asleep again so i would constantly be back in that scene.)

New place

I moved into a studio apartment behind Kelsey's house.

Things to be cleaned, dusted, unpacked, etc.

Come over and visit me :)

beautiful rainy afternoon

When I was 4ish my mom was pregnant with my sister. Like a huge & ready to burst sort of pregnant. She wasn't really able to move that quickly and deal with an overly curious kid at the same time so it was up to my dad to watch me. This meant that I had to go with him on business trips.

He left me at his older sister's bar/bed&breakfast/rest stop close to where he was working.

I had a tiny bed in this hallway that had a small nook, almost like somebody was in the process of adding a second bedroom as an afterthought, but decided to quit halfway through.

One of his sister's sons molested me.

I still don't remember most of what happened til this day. That's actually a good thing. The details of the event could really fuck me up further than needed.

For the first time I can actually say that what happened did happen instead of just having a big white wall where that memory was.

I just remember feeling like I'd woken up with him getting off my bed with this feeling of total dread mixed with confusion and fear.

He stole the jewelry my parents bought for me (asians have a weird thing about putting gold & etc on their kids) off my wrists and I remember him saying "I'm borrowing these bracelets, [insert childhood nickname here]. Don't tell anyone."

Of course my parents found out he stole & tried to pawn the jewelry but nothing beyond that.

I've never told them.

I've never told anybody until now.

I'm not angry or upset. It happened so long that it seems pointless for me to be bothered by it.

However, just as a result of all the BS I am really afraid that I'll never be okay again.

Like something broke a long time ago and I wont ever be normal because of it.

The whole sex thing freaks me out.

It has always scared me a little bit and I really have no interest in physical contact with anybody.

I didn't even realize why til now.

And that's what happened.

cold rainy mornings

lily is watching little einsteins and singing along to the theme song.

kels & i are about to go pick up some milk and find a small birthday present for greg.

life is good.

i feel my heart beating. i have a mild anxiety and only a little bit of dread in the pit of my stomache. but i have something else too. that weird glimmer of hope.

i am excited about living my life today, pain be damned.

one day i will wake up and there will be no pain at all.

through it all there is one major difference that wasnt there even a month ago: a stubborn will to live

I will pray for you

What does that even mean?

I used to hear that quite a bit. The people who said it meant they would pray for me after hearing about all the bad things I had been going through, but what does that really mean?

It is said in good intentions, I suppose.

However, it seemed extremely patronizing.

It was like hearing somebody pour their heart out because in their broken, desperate, worn down, completely helpless shoes you seemed trustworthy and caring enough to ask them what was wrong.
Then you turn around and say:

I hear your words, but I am not really listening.
I have only generic words of comfort that I memorized for you, and your problems go beyond my word bank of empty answers so I will make up something and put a bandaid over a gushing wound.
Let me tell my personal jesus to make your world less fucked up so that I may be free from the same worry that has you so broken.
I will pray for you.




....









Why can't people just be honest?

I know you don't have an answer for me. You're not the guru on top of the mountain. That's not what I wanted.
All it would have taken was for you to take my hand and be honest with me and with yourself.
You're sorry I am going through what I am going through. You don't have the answers. You don't know why life has decided to fuck me over at this point, but you hope things will get better. In the meantime you'll just sit with me in the silence, without judgment, so I won't feel horribly isolated.

Suffering is one of the things that unites all people, no matter who they are, what they do for a living, what language they speak, their religion, race, socioeconomic status...
When we hurt, we hurt.
Human beings grieve when they experience loss.
Just the fact that it hurts and that everyone have or will hurt is comforting because it means we are really all one.
It is the honest truth.

So why do so many people try to give a generic answer to try to fix things?

Even if it is done with good intentions it still makes things a little worse.

All it really takes is for you to say: I'm here for you.

And mean it.

Trust????

How do you place hope, faith, love, and trust in a God who makes your life feel like a cosmic joke?
A God who screws you over repeatedly when all you did was pray desperately for things to be okay and they end up with the worst possible outcomes. A supposedly benevolent being who lets you have a glimpse of what being happy should feel like until you are brave enough to think that the world is a good place only to quickly snatch everything away again.
How do you let this person do this again and again, but still hang onto this "fact" that God is good, simply because you were brainwashed with it growing up?

How come nobody has an answer for me that makes sense?

Bass

I bought my bass & all the stuff that goes with it a few years ago.

I was extremely suicidal and it scared me. So I tried to find some sort of release, some sort of therapy that did not require me sitting in front of a shrink for an hour of awkward question-dodging.

The sound is deep, the resonating notes made my hands tingle and bounced around the inside of my ears. It was extremely calming. It made everything stop hurting for just a little while.

I really love that bass. I think it may have saved my life.

Fortunately that part of my life has passed. I can get out of bed these days. I no longer think about driving off a bridge on the interstate. I no longer think about hanging myself or taking pills and falling asleep in a tub of water.

So I am selling my bass and using that money to get more lenses or to pay off what I already owe.


That part of life when I just needed to feel safe is gone, replaced by a part of my life when I want to grow and change. Now I need to move in an entirely different direction.

I am trading what saved me for something that will hopefully propel me to new paths.

It makes me a bit sad to let go of that bass.
It isn't about how much it costs or the material possession.
Truthfully I am terrible musically. I can't even hum on key. I couldn't keep the rhythm going. My hands always hurt after a few hours of plucking on those strings. After a while all the notes sounded the same and I gave up.

It feels more like I am selling something that made me feel safe, even briefly.

Like I'm giving away a part of me.

It still has to be done. I can't hang onto things like that.

Maybe it'll help somebody else. Who knows.

Lily pads

I used to cut myself.
Sliced angry words into my arms, legs, stomach, shoulders. Drew heart outlines on the left side of my chest with a tiny razor blade from the pack my mom had in her sewing kit. She used it to take apart stitches. I thought that if I kept doing that then one day I'd have the courage to cut out my own heart and make everything stop. No more being alone in my head. No more days of constant fear & anxiety for no reason. No more driving to some isolated spot to cry in my car because I felt like I didn't deserve to live, but not having the balls to just end everything and consequently feeling like a total wuss.

I didn't like all the weird looks & pity-face that I got from people when they saw the scars so I tried to cover my skin with ink. If I spent money to have art put on my body then I would be less tempted to mess up somebody's work. If I didn't cover myself with scars then the cutting habit would go away on it's own. It's faulty logic, but it's my own.
Every time something major happened I would head straight to see one of my best friends with ideas for new tattoos. He never realized how fucked up I was in the head. He thought I appreciated his art (which I do) solely for it's aesthetic qualities. I feel bad about deceiving him in the past.
So I would go to take the edge off by having somebody else fuck up my skin. The only difference is that I would have pretty sweet art by the end of it instead of ugly scars.
(I happen to like scars, still)

This went on for a while until I finally realized the reason behind it.

And now I have made a commitment to using art simply for art and not an addictive coping mechanism.

Which means that I will not have any body modification done for a long time.



Which also means that I have an overwhelming urge to pick up the one razor I had saved all these years.


I am too anxious to sleep so I will try to stay up & study in hopes that it will distract me from falling back into this habit.

Scary

For the past few days I have been in shock.

I am actually here. Like, really. *HERE*

I am not detached, watching things happen, going through motions without thinking...

Life is here. I'm in the middle of it.

It's terrifying, but I am also thrilled. It is similar to being on a roller coaster for the first time, which is really a bad example because I despise roller coasters.
The point is that I am really experiencing my life for the first time in since I can remember.

I'm seeing everything and more importantly I am allowing myself to feel it.

Everything feels so new.

Wish me luck.

after-birthday post

So far I have asked about a dozen people these questions (or something similar) :

1. How do you define a person?
2. How do you define yourself?


I have had a dozen totally different answers, which led to more questions. We'll get into those extra questions later.

So here are some things that have been said in response to me being nosy and weird.

1. human being

2. child of God. i lead a faith based life so i define myself in a faith based way.

3. your self is whatever you leave behind. when you (quynh-anh) leave this house you always leave us a gift whether it is that chicory coffee or a toy for Autumn, or a book. sometimes the only thing you leave is a brighter feeling in this place and this is how we see you.

4. i define myself by how i live my life. i try my best to do no harm, i try to be kind. this kindness is seen as being weak in the eyes of the world, but what matters is what i do and how i use this life. if they choose to see what i define myself as (being kind) as weak then that is their choice.

5. i have had many selves, and you will too. it is like shoes. you can wear fabulous looking stilettos that are agonizing or you could put on those comfy, well worn, bedroom shoes. you can choose to live your life in a way that is tiring, painful. and looks good. or you could choose to live in a humble, good, and less glamorous life. as you get older you will transition between several different ways to live, different selves, and that is inevitable.

6. that just isn't a good question for this english language. we have so many ways to describe certain things but i dont think we can have a good way to name this "self". the belief is that when you name something it becomes real, you have some sort of label & ownership over it. that just does not seem possible in our language.



as you can see, i have more questions than ever.

so far i have gathered that the answer solely depends on the person. some of the same messages (although not using the same wording) are that self is defined by what you choose to do with the life you are given, how you choose to see the world, and it is always going to change because people are fluid and constantly evolving.

soon i will have a little camcorder and some plane tickets because i really want to spend one weekend in some major cities (miami, detroit, fullerton (orange county), new york, and of course my hometown of atlanta). expect video blogs to come.