Trayvon, Ferguson, and Eric Garner

I’ve been increasingly disheartened by the news lately. Since Trevyon Martin, how many more subsequent people or children of color have been killed in the name of “justice”? They have been shot and choked for what? One by a vigilante (Trayvon), two by police (Mike Brown and Eric Garner). People can try to pretend this isn’t a race thing but even a blind man can tell you something is definitely fishy about these events.

But Let me digress for a bit. “I pledge allegiance to the Flag of the United States of America, and to the Republic for which it stands, o̶n̶e̶ ̶N̶a̶t̶i̶o̶n̶ ̶u̶n̶d̶e̶r̶ ̶G̶o̶d̶,̶ ̶i̶n̶d̶i̶v̶i̶s̶i̶b̶l̶e̶,̶ ̶w̶i̶t̶h̶ ̶l̶i̶b̶e̶r̶t̶y̶ ̶a̶n̶d̶ ̶j̶u̶s̶t̶i̶c̶e̶ ̶f̶o̶r̶ ̶a̶l̶l̶.̶  Its a damn shame we were all taught to recite this. The striked through part is all bullshit. I dont know about the God part but this nation has been divided by a social construction. The colored folks get no liberty and the justice for all part? That’s a fucking travesty to teach the little children who have no concept of racial inequality.

How do you choke a person to death on video and get no indictment? Eric Garner said he couldn’t breathe yet that pig didn’t stop. He just kept choking him until he fell to the ground. Eric was out numbered 4 to 1. They wrangled him like they were wrangling a hog. They treated him like he was anything but a human being. What made Eric so dangerous that he had to be held in a choke hold? 4 people couldn’t take him down normally so a choke hold was the best plan of action? No pepper spray? No taser? These alternatives aren’t any better but they probably could have defused situation much quicker than trying to wrestle or choke Eric to death. All 4 aggressors in the video were white. Eric was a black man.

Now the Michael Brown Case. Im not going into the details but we know for a fact he was shot 6 times. Where was the taser? Where was the pepper spray? Has it become shoot first and ask questions later? Even if he did commit a crime, was there a reason to shoot a teen 6 times? Not to mention one shot to the head. If that doesn’t constitute an execution, I don’t know what is. Its sad because we are all too familiar with police brutality especially towards minorities. If Darren Wilson was trying to protect him self, wouldn’t 1 shot have been enough? But had that been the case Michael Brown might have still been alive. Once again, Michael Brown was a black teen, and the officer was white.

What I’m really trying to say is that we do not live in a post racial society. We might have made progress since the Civil Rights era but not nearly enough to stop tragedies like these from happening. Police brutality is too prevalent in America. And Racism isn’t dead. All three of these cases have to do with the systematic oppression of people of color, especially African Americans. In the past, the transgressions against African Americans were slavery, then lynchings, then segregation. In the present we have police brutality. I mean is it a coincidence that the people who got killed in these cases were all black? Lets look at all the history books about America. Who was in power? Who was in position to oppress the minorities? All of these issues have many very serious implications that even I can’t even begin to fathom.

The question I have to ask is where did this mindset come from that minorities and people of color need more “supervision”? That they have a higher tendency toward criminality?  Haven’t these people sacrificed enough since the founding of the United States to have earned some protection from police brutality? Why are there an overwhelming number of minorities incarcerated compared to Whites? Why do police automatically assume minorities are suspicious for something they would not give a second thought to had they been white? As much as we don’t want this to become a Black vs White thing all over again, the circumstances in which that we live with leaves us with no choice. In these 3 cases, we’ve witnessed 3 black people getting shot by white people. Even if we didn’t want these cases to be about race, it always will be. If we can eradicate the whole idea of race and all of the problems with it, we would no longer have racism or a white vs black problem. But as long as “race” being a social construction continues to exists and as long as we keep separating ourselves based on skin color, racism will continue to exist.  We as humans beings should strive toward transcending something as petty as race. For something as stupid as race to affect our socioeconomic and political statuses is beyond absurd. And if we cant get past race and its problems, even the Pledge of Allegiance will continue being a travesty against all Americans.  Its sad but o̶n̶e̶ ̶N̶a̶t̶i̶o̶n̶ ̶u̶n̶d̶e̶r̶ ̶G̶o̶d̶,̶ ̶i̶n̶d̶i̶v̶i̶s̶i̶b̶l̶e̶,̶ ̶w̶i̶t̶h̶ ̶l̶i̶b̶e̶r̶t̶y̶ ̶a̶n̶d̶ ̶j̶u̶s̶t̶i̶c̶e̶ ̶f̶o̶r̶ ̶a̶l̶l̶.̶ is a lie.

My worth measured by GPA and grades??

Man here we go again. I got into another argument with my mom. Some stupid ass squabble over my grades and GPA again. Let me give you the context.

So this summer I took 2 classes at UIC. My goal was to get 2 A's and my mom held me to that. But as I checked my final grades to day, I was disappointed to see 2 B's. I couldn't explain exactly what had happened that made me fall short 1 letter grade from my goal. And then my mom kept inquiring why I got too B's and blew the whole ordeal out of proportions. I tried to explain what I didn't even know. My mom then accused me of being lazy and not working hard. I went to class every day. I did pretty good on my exams. For one of the classes we also had a group project at the end. I guess my group mates must have written me shitty reviews. Had it been a personal assignment, I would have gotten an A. My mom didn't believe me at all and kept inquiring and prodding me with so many questions it became like flies on a piece of shit.

I absolutely detest people inquiring me about certian things like my grades. She just kept nagging and my patience was wearing thin. I said "you must be stupid" cuz my patience wore out. And then she yelled at me and knowing how my mom can be petty or start crying if I yelled back (past experiences), I chose to back off and run down to my room in the basement. But on the way to my room I kicked a laundry basket out of anger and it broke. And here I am writing about this petty argument.  Okay sounds like another dumb story right? Lets go back further and explore why this issue demonstrates another reason why I feel like my worth is highly correlated to my GPA.

Coming from a family where my mom and dad are both teachers, they always emphasized academics and grades. When I was little it was always "do your homework!," "do more homework!", "don'y play so much!", "have you reviewed for your exams?!" yatty yatty yatta, you know a bunch of bullshit like that. To my parents, I was always a failure, a disappointment. I was not an academic type, but my parents didn't care. They told me education was the only way out for them back in the old days in China. I can understand that. I mean most people in the world go to school for a good education so that they might have brighter future. People know that so im not going to elaborate. They kept drilling that mentality in to my head. They kept comparing me to my other friends and said I was dumb compared to them. In certian areas I have self esteem issues. As a child being compared and told you are dumb and stupid really hurts. I guess my parents didn't care enough to know how I felt. In high school, it was a struggle. I never got good grades. they were mediocre at best. I couldn't tell you the many nights I stayed up to do math homework while my parents called me stupid and retarded (in Chinese) cuz they would try to explain a math problem and I wouldn't get it. They forced me to stay awake to do my homework. When I got my math exam results back, I had to lie or delay letting them seeing the results as much as i could. I knew they would be angry and yell at me again.
I never got encouragement for doing well either. It was like they expected the A or whatever accomplishments I felt were pretty good. My hobbies weren't acceptable to them. Never got a good job for drawing (which I liked). Had my novels ripped in half when I was little cuz I read well into dinner time. No encouragement whatsoever for perusing healthy interests as a middle schooler. I brought shame to my family at gatherings. I wasn't worth anything. I swear sometimes my parents wanted other people's children to take my place and they just wanted to get rid of me. I do not over exaggerate. This was a fact. 

Where as they think negative motivation would help me to do better, to overcome, they failed. It backfired. After years of being compared and being labeled a disappointment, I had enough. I didn't care. I refused to care. That's why during freshmen year of college, I was put on academic probation at U of I. I had 1 B, 2 D's, and 2 F's. My parents were pissed off and things were looking bad. I mean any parent paying for their child's education would be pissed. No matter what I did, in the end it came down to my GPA. As this point I felt more worthless than dirt. After being drilled that your GPA is your measure of worth as a student, you can see why I felt like shit. My parents threatened to stop paying for my education. No matter how hard I tried to break the chain, I couldn't get far at all. It was like the world was saying to me "you aint shit, nor will you ever be." Life was despair. Granted I tried and did improve a bit, but it was never enough for my parents. I will always be inferior in my parents eyes. They raised a defective product. They said since I was a communications major, I was going to be much poorer than the rest of my friends in the future. They said while my friends will contribute to society, I will be a useless person, probably scraping by life, not wealthy, no excess, just barely scraping by. They considered "communications major" to be "soft" and not worth anything. All three previous years of college, this has happened. All of high school this has happened. Sometimes I question if I really even forgave my dad for all the emotional pain he caused me as a child even though he has passed away.

If GPA was the actual measurement of someone's worth, I'd probably be a piece of shit. my current GPA is a 2.41 and many of my friends have 3.5's or above. Compared to them, I always feel inferior and less intelligent. When people ask me what my qualities are, often times my mind is blank. There is nothing for me to brag about. So I come up with bullshit answers for them. You can blame my parents for this. Where my self esteem in severely lacking, my parent's criticism did not help one bit. Every grade that was not an A was my mom or dad thinking I was lazy, too busy playing games, or partying to hard. Even an A minus was "why the minus? why not A or A plus?". Even my mom's jokes about my decent grades have turned to this. It is a pretty sad life I am living, where every moment I am awake, it is a reminder that I suck as a human. That no companies will hire me. That I will probably end up on welfare or dying in the streets.

I mean what the fuck is this world that we live in? People with 3.0 or below GPA are shunned and not consider for internship opportunities. Students with higher grades get more attention. Students who get stellar scores on standardized tests get more attention. They are labeled smarter than the rest and they get a clear edge over life than those who don't. People like me are left outside of the limelight. No one really cares what other skills you might have, if your GPA aren't at a certian standard, no one cares about you. Unless you were a prodigy at something. What else do I have left? After college how will I find a job? I have no internship experience cuz my GPA was such shit, I couldn't even imagine trying to apply. Where as all my other friends and classmates were interning and making bank, I was sulking at home, thinking of how fucking useless I am. When they were networking, I'd be taking summer classes to help me graduate on time and still getting chewed out for getting 2 B's.

This whole emphasis on my grades and GPA was so important that my parents ignored my other qualities( which I doubt I even have). Overlooked. Ignored. Deemed worthless. Deep inside, I harbor this hate, this dark burning inextinguishable irrational hate for everyone and everything better than me. I hated my friends. I hated my parents. I hated the world one point in my life. I thought to myself why did God create me to be such a piece of shit? Why did the world invent GPA as a measure of intelligence? Of worth? I mean most of the stuff I'm writing doesn't reflect reality. The world is much more complicated than my petty feelings and views of the world, but to me, this is reality. This is the nightmare that I am living in. A nightmare with no escape, where I am inferior in all aspects of life. A nightmare induced by my parents that have consumed and is sill consuming my sanity. A nightmare where the monster chases me around and keeps saying "You ain't shit".

And I am paranoid all the time when it comes to academics. I tell people my story and I always think in the back of their minds they are laughing at how stupid I am. When other people's parents tell me its okay, I think they are lying and putting up an appearance. They are probably thinking "this kid is retarded and if my child got half the bad grades Kesan got, I would whoop their ass." I even became suspicious of the parents at church who told me things were okay. I think they are all liars. I think my friends are liars too for telling me its okay. Nothing is okay. When you are in my nightmare, you will know the true meaning of despair. Granted some of these things are my fault but to deny the mistakes my parents made in me turning out like this is just unfair.

I can foresee the immediate future. My mom will once again yell at me for breaking t he laundry basket. Had she not inquired my about my grades and said how much of a disappointment I am, this would have never happened. But it'd be my fault cuz im the piss of shit son with the horrible B's and a anger issue who just wanted to break things to break things.

I can already feel the bullshit in the air. My mom will deny any accusations of what I have documented here. But she has long since forgotten about my childhood terrors. But I remember clearly. I am the type of person to bear grudges well after the fact. I do not forget. 1 more year of college. 1 more year to prove myself or fail. 2 more semesters of GPA calculations and that dreaded A-F scale of measure. So please, take your GPA comparison else where. Never mention what your GPA is in front of me. Next time it might just be more than a laundry basket I break. 

Another Death in the Family.

It seems like nowadays the only time I really use Blogger anymore is when bad things happen. Just today I received word from my mom that another relative had passed away from cancer. This news wasn't too shocking but it was disturbing nonetheless. This was my great grand uncle. Now we knew he had cancer and that he did not want treatment. He was "saved" and converted into Christianity so perhaps he didn't feel the need for chemo or to prolong his suffering. We don't exactly understand why he didn't want treatment so we could only speculate. By now my family and I are quite familiar with how horrible cancer is. How horrible death can be. Back in October 2013, a close friend of mine passed away in a accident. 6 Months later in April of 2014, my dad passed away from cancer. And now my Great Grand Uncle has succumbed to cancer as well. From a certain perspective I guess my Great Grand Uncle saw how terribly my dad suffered. 14 months after the initial diagnosis, he deteriorated overtime and it was a very painful thing to witness. Perhaps my Great Grand Uncle did not wish to suffer the same fate and choose to let cancer take him instead of fighting back.

The doctors said he would have at least 8 months to live but he passed a lot sooner than that. By the time my great grand uncle found out he had lung cancer, it was already in stage IV. My immediate family and I really didn't know much about his condition because well, it was a complicated matter and he kept it to him self.

All I can remember from before he was diagnosed was that he was a happy man on the surface. He was one of those relatives that you would seldom see, perhaps drop by a few times and invite you to his house. He was lonely because his situation with his immediate family was very complicated. You could almost say he was estranged from his wife and his children. So in a sense my family was the closest relatives he had in the states. He was always very happy to see my mom, cousin, and I. Many times he would bring us food late into the night for no reason but simply to hold a short conversation. and then he would go home. He always had very encouraging words for my cousin and I, encouraging us to study hard and be influential people. When I was younger I remembered visiting him in his home in Lisle. I remember exploring his old house, looking thorough his pantry, garage and rooms. I would find all sorts of relics from the mid 70's. He had three children all of which had long since moved out. I remembered he was very good at basketball despite having a crooked pinky. He was a bold and charismatic man and spoke to everyone was if he knew them quite well. He might have had his own quirks and issue but I don't think he was a bad person at all.

However, he passed alone in a old folks home somewhere in the suburbs. 70 years old, no wife nor children nor grandchildren by his side as he passed. This is what struck me as the most sad and disturbing. What did he do in the past that estranged his family from him? How could his wife and children be so heartless as to not be with him in his final moments? Well I never really understood their situation so I have no right to talk but I think this situation is wrong. Even though I did not see my dad off when he left God's green earth, he was still surrounded by people who cared about him and my mom was there too. Now this does make me sound hypocritical. If his immediate family couldn't be there for them, wouldn't that make us his next closest of kin? Why couldn't we be there for him? Well you must remember, there are degrees of separation between a person and his great grand uncle. He was too far separated to be very close to us and he lived in the suburbs. I don't want to sound callous but if his immediate family couldn't even take care of them, should the burden lie on us? That doesn't make sense either. It would have also been very inconvenient for us to go see him often because both my cousin and my mom work full days and he lived in the suburbs.

The lesson to be learned here, whether this is one or not, is don't take family for granted and try to make up with them if there has been conflict. The last thing anyone wants is to depart the world alone without saying any last words to anyone. I've known many people who have conflicts with their family but as bad as it is, avoiding the situation certainly wont help. Its like letting a small cut get infected and fester. What once was a small wound gets worse over time and leads to rotting flesh, necrotic and rank. And then you leave the world alone because you've hurt your family in the past so bad they won't be there during your last moments.

If there is going to be a funeral (which I am 1000% certian) I will attend. This would make the 3rd funeral in 9 months. I mean really? Losing a close friend, my dad , and a relative in 9 months? I wouldn't exactly say I'm desensitized to death, but these past 9 months have changed me in some ways that I probably don't even realize fully. And I tell people I'm pessimistic despite how people perceive me. I try not to think to much about it. Ashes to Ashes, Dust to Dust. God made it so we are born, we live, and then we die. But its still sad that some people die too early. Some people die alone. I just pray that may God have mercy on my Great Grand Uncle's Soul. May he rest in peace and his family forgive him. May God also bring peace to my life because these past 9 months have been extremely tolling on me and my family.

Eulogy for My Father (Mr. Luo) and Other thoughts

Sigh. 6 months later, here I am again, writing yet another eulogy. I never would have thought I would be writing one for my father at my age. 1 month til my 22nd birthday, one month til his 49th. Every birthday week for the rest of my life I will be reminded of my dad, who I will no longer be able to call and wish a happy birthday. His birthday is on May 7th, and mine May 5th. And every birthday week, I will be reminded of of another friend, whom I will also never again be able to wish a happy birthday and go celebrate with. She passed away about 6 months ago. Her birthday is May 8th.

My dad, or known as Mr. Luo by many, was a great man. Not only was he a teacher, he was a father, a husband, and a friend. His smile could cheer many people up. His students always liked to converse with him as he was very patient. He was one of those teachers that would push you but would also genuinely care about you as a person. He treated everyone as equals and never looked down on anyone. I never had the pleasure of having my dad as a teacher while I was still in high school but from what I have seen over the years, he was almost like a father figure to his students.

Both his mother and father were teachers. He was a great student when he was younger and that turned him into a great teacher. He knew what was effective and had the most clear cut methods to ensure people understood what they have learned. When I was younger, I used to struggle a lot with math. His methods were 9/10 times always more simple to understand than my teachers. He would sit by my side late into the night and helped me understand how to do math. He would lose his patience with me on occasion but I guess I was just hopeless at math. Any other student would surely understand the problems after my dad showed them once. My dad was also very scholarly. Even during his off time, when he wasn't writing lesson plans or preparing for class, he would always read news articles. He studied vocabulary thoroughly. I used to remember scrap paper full of vocabulary words, dictionaries full of book marks, under lines and place holders. He was very versed in Chinese Classic Poetry and the likes. Though he was a simple man, he was a romantic. There aren't many people like him left in the world. Sometimes, I feel like my family and I were robbed. He was taken from us, but if God wills it, there is nothing we can do.

As a father, he tried his hardest. Raising me and my cousin was very hard for him but he tried his best nonetheless. My Dad and I aren't related by blood. In reality, he is my step dad. In his position, I guess he really got the short end of the stick. He never had any children of his own yet he had to raise such ungrateful kids like me and my cousin. Upon reflection, I really regret my actions when I was younger. But as they say, hindsight is 20/20. In retrospect, he was a very lenient parent. His only wish for me was for me to get good grades and become successful. Being the person that I am, I let him and my mom down over and over again. I think they started losing hope in me and lowered their standards.

Before my dad was diagnosed with cancer, we weren't very close. We had lots of disagreements and fights at home. We had very different and conflicting views. But after his diagnosis, something in him changed. We started getting closer. 14 months ago, he would have never said out loud he loved me. Just this past winter break, and spring break, he told me he loved me everyday I was home. I thought this felt a bit awkward because I have never seen him like this before. And he encouraged me to have fun sometimes and said life wasn't just about studying. That I should experience many things at my age and not be close minded. I started talking to him a little more. I didn't feel so pressured by him anymore. I thought, my dad is actually a very cool guy. To his students, he was a funny little man but the best teacher and friend in the world. He was super intelligent and wise and good at sports. (One bonus fact: he had a 6 pack before he got sick. Yes, he was 47 and still ripped.)

But now, I regret every moment that I could have spent with him but didn't. His will to me was for me to graduate, get a girlfriend, get a job, get married, have children and all that. He told me these things every time I saw him. But just as we were patching up our damaged relationship, he left. His departure has left me and my family devastated. He can no longer attend my graduation. He can't give me dating tips. He cannot attend my wedding, nor will he be able to have a drink with me when I find a Job. His dreams of becoming a grandfather were also cut short. I feel miserable as a human being. I was self centered, selfish, naive and stupid. And I feel like I deserve to live with regret for the rest of my life. The one person I sought approval from, I will never be able to make him proud. His passing should have left me shattered as a person but somehow, I guess his spirit is watching over me, he is giving me the courage to go on.

Now that he is gone, things will get very rough for my family. My mom is now a widow. I never imagine this would ever happen to my mom. She needs more comfort and support than ever. I feel really bad because I have one more year at UIUC and I have no idea if I can even graduate on time. Can you imagine living at home, alone in a big empty house? I mean that's a very sad life to live. I thank God everyday for my cousin because he is the only one who now lives with my mom. He is and has to be a "replacement" son. He has to support my mom while I am gone for most of the year and the guilt I feel is crushing. Seeing my mom crying and in pain hurts me more than the most intense physical pain I've felt. I love my mom very much. I promised my dad that I would stay in Chicago and take care of my mom. I would be by her side even when I get married. I promised to even move back in (well, my dad said he would give the house to me as long as I can pay the mortgage.) I can't believe my mom is a single mom now. She alone has to put me thorough college. She has to pay bills. Pay my rent. Worry about my health and safety. Take care of my cousin and worry about him too. All of these things are too much for one person to take on. Everyday I'm not home, I'm very sacred my mom might over work herself. That she might be too stressed out. I pray to God every day that He will protect my mom. If anything should happen to my mom, I don't know what I'd do.

From this ordeal, I've learned much. From my dad and his legacy. From the kindness of others. The faithfulness of God. I used to be super naive and childish but the passing of my dad forces me to change. It forced me to grow up and change my outlook on life. No longer can I be the carefree and blissful person I once was. I now have responsibilities that only I can fulfill. I have a mother to worry about and care for. I must now share the burden that my mom carries by herself. But I don't complain and I won't complain. For the person that gave me life, there is nothing I won't do for her. For the man that raised me, I will try my hardest to fulfill his expectations.

I used to think that no one understood my situation. I used to think I had to go through my father's death alone. Boy was I wrong. The #Luostrong movement proved me wrong. Many friends who have had similar experienced reached out to me. I was proved wrong once again. God has really blessed me with many great friends. The aunts and uncles in church. My friends. My dad's students and their parents. His coworkers. Almost everyone has reached out to me and supported me and my family in one way or another. For that I am forever in their debt. Words cannot express the gratitude I feel. My dad also felt the same way. Every time people from church would visit, he would tell them how his students cheered him on and supported him. He was moved to tears. My family and I are eternally grateful.

There is also one thing I want to clear up. I did not shed tears during my dad's visitation not because I was not grieving, but I wanted to be strong for my mother an others around me. I still feel very broken inside. Now 2 people that were close to me have passed away in the span of 6 months. Its too much for anyone to handle. But I promised myself during Mimi's funeral that I would never cry again. I would become a shoulder for people to lean on in times like these. I would be the one to pass the tissue box and make sure everyone is okay. I have learned to place other people first like my dad did.

To conclude, It will take time for our hearts to heal. For my mother, perhaps much longer. From this day onward, I declare to myself that I will protect my mom and my family. I will make my mom and dad proud. I will fulfill my dad's will no matter what I face. I will no longer shed any tears. My dad was a valiant fighter in times of adversity and I too shall adopt a similar attitude. I will learn to be a better person, and I would be content If I became half the man my dad was. 

And to you as the reader, whether you know me or not personally is inconsequential. If you have read this, I ask you this: please pray for me and my family as we struggle through such tough times. IF you know me and my family personally, please support my mom and visit her whenever possible. I cannot be with her all the time and this will continue for another year. So please do me the favor and check up on her. And as for me, please pray for mental stability. There are many instances where I feel overwhelmed and on the verge of losing it.

Thanks again for your love and support. This is probably getting redundant but I would like to personally hug each and everyone that came to support me and my family. Your kindness is what gives us the strength, courage, and peace of mind to carry on another day. You guys are truly a blessing from God. 

-Kesan Li
4/12/2014

Oh and PS. IF you have read this in its entirety, do me a favor and tell your family you love them. Don't ever take family for granted. 

Unofficial... A Dreadful Weekend and Tips for Freshman

Unofficial. What comes to mind when you are a college student and you hear this word? Well. Party. Booze. People having a great time. So why is this a dreadful weekend? Well let me explain. Personally, I never even knew what Unofficial was until I came to the University of Illinois. After coming to this university I got some sense of what it was. It was a weekend to party. It's an unofficial St. Patrick's Day. That is to say since St. Patrick's day happens during Spring break sometimes and people might not be able to celebrate it, and this is the weekend to go crazy on campus. The idea of it is pretty stupid itself. It brings on the stereotype that Irish people like to drink and get drunk all the time. Well lets not not get into the cultural implications. I've partook in it in the past and reflecting on my past experiences, I don't really like it. I'll try my best to recall my past experiences and explain why I don't like it. I also have a few simple tips that will barely keep the freshmen out of trouble.

During Unofficial, people don on green T-Shirts printed weeks in advance and other Green gear. Regardless of the weather, people don't dress appropriately. Green street is flooded with college students and the occasional post graduate (I dont want to call them old folks). There is a very festive atmosphere with a faint smell of alcohol (or dense smell, depending on your proximity to the next closest drunk pedestrian on the street). People are hyped up and excitable. They are loud, some are rude. Guys always try to score a girl or two and girls are very scantily clad as if asking for attention. And you might see fights, ambulances, people crying, throwing up, public urination, just be mindful all types of crazy shit can happen during Unofficial.

Apartment Parties happen every where. Pre-gaming seems like the logical way to start this "festival". Usually it starts off with beer. Some people start with shots. After the party goers have "warmed up" enough, some head to the bars. Bar crawls are nice to see (insert sarcasm). A bunch of people wearing the same shirt form a group. They are usually very loud and boisterous and hit up one bar after another. They crowd up the sidewalks and its hard not to get swept away if you are walking towards a big group. The strangest thing I've personally seen was a bus packed with 20+ White, blonde, sorority girls getting off at a stop ready for a bar crawl. Not that I have any problems with White, blonde, sorority girls (some are actually cute), but I have never seen something like it before. It was quite a spectacle. And then there are more apartment parties later and the frat parties. The frat parties are loud and chaotic. Some houses are packed with people, the folks inside usually have a red solo cup in hand. Some converse. Some chill. Some play beer pong, keg stands, and more crazy shit. Some get down to the loud and indiscernible music. These people don't care about the sound quality, as long as there is a beat to dance to, who cares if the bass is so loud it distorts the melody of what once was a good song. And people don't know what treble is. Its so damn high its annoying. Typically the people in the frat parties will be buzzed to drunk and very few are on the verge of blacking out. Have no doubts some people need to be carried out of the parties at the end of em. Girls are scantily clad. They put on their favorite fragrance and copious amounts on makeup. Most of them get in for free. The guys however, unless you know people in the frat, have to pay to get into the parties. I mean that's understandable. Booze is heavily taxed and expensive. If you want people to go back to the parties you organize, it has to be good. Everyone needs to get their drink on. From cheap beer cans to giant kegs to shots of Vodka to vats of Jungle Juice. Whatever you want, they have. Or maybe they don't. Hey night is young and there are more parties and bars to hop to. Some people dance, some chill, some socialize, others do drugs (not that I've seen but I don't doubt.) Some people lose all morals and make out with whomever they deem attractive after obtaining a good pair of  "beer googles". Either way by the end of the party, the floor will be sticky and gross. I feel bad for the people that have to clean up afterwards. Oh and remember: NEVER EVER wear a good pair of sneakers to a party. You will regret that like no other the day after you've regained consciousness. And there will always be sirens in the distance for the crazy people that over do it. Some parties get raided too because people get too wild.

Some people skip class during unofficial. Some people still go to class. Others go to class drunk. 9 am? Sure. One or two of your classmates might have had beer for breakfast. This one time a friend told me she went to class and it was like 10 am. So a girl in her class was so drunk she threw up and everyone in the class evacuated. What a nice way to start the weekend. Getting a whiff of breakfast/beer puke really does make sure the sleepyheads are awake. On Unofficial, nothing is ever to early. That's a golden rule to remember.  Typically people start much later. Maybe 5 pm for preparations and pre gaming. An appropriate time to hit the bars would be around 8 or later. Many parties don't start til 11 pm or later. People don't usually go home until 3 or 4 am, if they go home at all.

During my first Unofficial freshman year, I went to a friend's place. The weather wasn't good that Friday so people kept it more low key than usual. I can't recall much because I probably did get drunk. Later that night I remember smoking bud. We had so much to smoke by the end of the session I couldn't keep my eyes open. So I knocked out on the couch. The next morning my friend cooked up some food and we had another session. Yet again, I was so blazed I couldn't keep my eyes open and yet again, I fell asleep until the afternoon where then I don't even remember how I got home. My first Unofficial ever. Good times (total sarcasm if you can't tell).

During my second Unofficial, I lived in an apartment. While my roommates were gone doing whatever, I invited friends over. We went to a gas station first because I wanted a FourLoko and then Meijer for booze. I bought a 24 pack, some dry Gin, Redbull, and a bottle of Jagermeister. That weekend was one of the most miserable weekends of my life. I drank a lot that night but this one friend was a monster. She drank five beers and kept going. I never thought a girl would be able to out drink me but there is a first time seeing anything. That was like a pre game thing. I don't even remember If I went to the bars after that. I'd say no since I felt too drunk to move after that. I mean a FourLoko, 3 beers and Jagerbombs... and on pretty much a empty stomach. Yeah that wasn't the brightest decision. I was so inebriated I had to take a nap. So my friends left and I guess I went to sleep? Another friend came to stay over that night so I guess I waited for him to come. By the time he came, most of my booze stash was gone. There was still dry Gin left but that stuff tastes disgusting on its own. I had enough supplies for maybe 1- 2 more Jager bombs but I had enough by then. After going to sleep, I remember waking up at 3-4 because I had to throw up. All that liquor made me feel very sick. I remember my friend had to throw up too because (after finding out the hard way), dry gin is potent too and it tastes really bad on its own. The next day I felt like crap and didn't want to eat. That was Friday night - Saturday. I was too tired from throwing up so much that I didn't want to go anywhere Saturday. But I don't remember that Saturday at all. All I do remember was having a beer the next day (Sunday) and I got so sick from one beer I couldn't go to class on Monday. I felt even worse. I thought I might be allergic to alcohol and vowed to never drink again. But that was an empty promise because after a few months, I started drinking again. Maybe I just severely overloaded my self that weekend. Another great time of my life (very sarcastic, if you couldn't pick it up this time either).

Now Unofficial is coming up again and this might be my third should I decide to partake. And this is why I say Unofficial is a dreaded weekend. Due to personal reasons, I don't want to participate in the "festivities" this year, but I will be tempted. Tempted to drink, to blow money on booze. Tempted to disregard logic and safety for my self and others. You might think you have a high tolerance to alcohol but when someone is under the influence, you'll be surprised at how rash they can really be. People will be flooding the streets. People will be throwing up, crying, making stupid choices and getting fined. I've had a bad experience before, yet this event only happens once a year. Its a excuse for many of my colleagues to "turn up" as well. We all know vaguely how the night will play out, how the weekend will play out , but everything becomes unpredictable when alcohol comes into the equation. Sometimes we suffer because of our stupid decisions, yet every year we do the same dumb shit over and over again. I think its time for me to break the cycle this year and not act like a uncivilized plebeian in a weekend of debauchery and drunkenness. And another reason why I don't like unofficial is because it just makes people look bad and sloppy. And stupid. And I don't want to waste money and let that inner monster come out when I'm like super drunk.

Now if you are a freshmen, I will give you some tips. I don't want you to have a terrible experience yet I want to keep you safe so you can thank me later. I've had a fair share of experiences to tell you what to and what not to do. Eat before going out. I cannot stress that enough. Drinking on an empty stomach is asking to make your self puke later. Wear enough clothes. Keeping yourself warm is also a good way to prevent getting sick later. Always stay with friends, never go anywhere alone. People can get very OC with enough liquor and you don't know what they might do to you. So always stick to a friend, and if you know them to be risk takers, keep an EXTRA close eye on them. When going home from a party, walk in large groups. Take the bus if you can. If its too late, call the Safe Ride home. But never venture out alone. Also in Champaign, ordinances has it that you can't purchase liquor past midnight. There might be more strict rules especially for Unofficial weekend. The University has sent out emails and so has the police department regarding rules for Unofficial. READ ALL THE RULES. You don't want to get arrested or have to pay fines. Also remember “Beer then liquor, never been sicker. Liquor then beer, have no fear.” I don't want to explain this rule cuz Im pretty sure people have told you this before (remember freshman orientation stuff?... the stupid programs they make you go through? Well if you don't remember look up the rule. It makes lots of sense). Another tip. Sometimes Jungle Juice tastes good. BUT NEVER have too much. You don't know what they put in it. Alcohol plus lots of sugar = bad idea and a sure path to a hangover (if you get those). Also don't start anything with anyone. Alcohol impairs logical decision making and therefore there will be fights. IF someone starts some shit with you, walk away. IF they are persistent , threaten to call the police. Cuz if the both of you are intoxicated and underage, the police might take you in too. Hmmm... that looks like all the tips I have to give. IF you make a mistake, just remember to learn from them. As long as you keep these basic rules in mind you should be fine.

Unofficial, inevitably will come around again. Be prepared. Be alert. Participate in the festivities with your own discretion. If you choose to do alternative stuff that doesn't involve drinking , more power to you. I just hope whatever happens this Unofficial, you guys can have fun and stay safe.

My Testimony and Life Story?: God is the glue that holds my broken pieces together

The non stop drama so called "life" can drive people insane. Sometimes I feel like I am about to fall apart. People who know me probably think I might go insane at any moment. I am constantly ranting on social media. Complaining one minute, preaching another, and just being me. I get the feeling people think I'm needy or just need to shut up and bottle it up once in a while. But I can't. This weekend made me realize God gave me this method as a means to vent and share his good news. But most of the time, my blogs and posts are so negative, pessimistic. So how does this share his good news? Well keep reading. And if this post makes you laugh or inspires you to move on from your pain, I've done the job God gave me.

There were so many times in my life where I could have fallen apart. Despite those times I am still here, broken like a glass cup. The little shards are glued together. Functional, but not very pleasing to the eye so to speak. Life was turbulent. And here are the shards of me:

Health and Muscular Dystrophy 
Even since childhood. I was born with Becker's Muscular Dystrophy. ( If you don't know what that is, do some fucking research. Google at your fingertips). My parents and family misunderstood me for 10 years. I was made fun of all through middle school and in high school for my lack of stamina and inability to participate in sports. I was self conscious even during an young age because I had huge calves but couldn't play sports. I knew when people were staring at my legs. In the summer time I hated wearing shorts because I could feel the stares of people as if invisible beams from their eyes locked on to my calves. My playground was the hospital waiting room when the other kids played in actual play grounds. Every year I had to go to the hospital for countless checkups, batteries of tests, needles, medicine. Advice from doctors. Even now those tests and exams still continue. I gained weight due to medication that I started taking since 10 and still am taking.  I've lost some weight since high school but I still have a round face. I acquired additional health problems due to side effects of the medication and had to take more medication to counter act some of those side effects. And people thought I was fat. They thought I ate too much. They thought I was plain lazy. Even my close friends made fun of me and failed to understand. I joked along to keep save face. But at home I cried. I didn't understand why life was so hard. I became a Christian at an young age and I knew somethings about God or at least I thought I did. But I never understood why I had to suffer so. Do you know what it feels like to run for a few minutes and feel completely drained? walked up hill and drenched in sweat? Muscles cramps and chest pains so intense you have to lay down or sit down for upwards of 30 minutes to recover? The sadness when you are the last pick in any sports games. Kids making fun of you? Oh you fucking won't know. It was hell. I DIDN'T FUCKING ASK FOR ALL THIS. As the saying goes you couldn't walk a mile in my shoes. You couldn't walk a fucking quarter mile in mine before you got too tired or too cramped up. So this happened in high school one day. I felt like I wanted to plop down on the side walk and sit for and hour before I wanted to move. But home was 6 minutes from the bus stop. By minute 3 my legs felt like lead. By minute 4 I was literally dragging my legs and hitting my self so I would move. By minute 5 I've exhausted my water supply. The bottle was fucking empty. Its 85 degrees out. By 5 minutes and 30 seconds I had pains in my chest and couldn't catch my breath. FINALLY by minute 8 I had gotten in side and collapsed on the staircase to the kitchen. Uhhh but wasn't it 6 minutes walk from the bus stop to home? OH WAIT I WAS SO OVERJOYED TO HAVE FINALLY REACHED MY FRONT DOOR I didn't even want to open the door. Cuz inside was a flight of fucking stairs to climb. And did I mention how I hated stairs? They were my worst nightmare. They would drain me faster than the sand in an hourglass with the bottom shot off. After I finally caught my breath, it took me everything I had to drag my ass up a flight of stairs to the kitchen, drink like a camel maybe half a liter of water in 10 seconds and drop like a pile of bricks on to the couch. And then it would take 30 minutes before I can feel my legs again. Another 20 before the chest pains subsided. Another 30 minutes before I could get up off the couch. And then I would be sore all night. I might sound like I am exaggerating and a being an excessive liar but only God can attest to the shit I had to go through.
Oh and a little bonus to this section. I was on a mountain in China once. Walking down the stairs should be easy right? Well after over 1000+ flights I made it to the bottom. My legs shook violently when I got to the bottom and when I sat, I fell down. I couldn't control my legs past my knees. They wouldn't budge. My uncles had to carry me to a restaurant when it came to dinner time. After dinner and back at the hotel, I fell again trying to go up stairs. It took me 2 whole days to gain the ability to walk normally. That was one of the first times where I thought I would never be able to walk again and it scared the shit out of me. But I thank God for that cuz going through that made me the dude I am today.

Family issues and The Walking failure
Many times I thought It'd be better if I didn't exist in the world. Life was hell. I didn't care about people suffering a worse fate in the other parts of the world. I was self centered. My world was bad enough. I'd be lucky if I didn't cry more than a few times a month. (Yes by my standard crying for a dude was unacceptable. My parents enforced that idea over and over again). I resented my parents. I thought my parents were the worst people on the planet. I had anger issues and sometimes they got so bad I thought my head was gonna split. I fought my mom. I cussed them out. They cussed me out. They called me stupid and other very horrible names in Chinese because I was bad at my studies in high school. (Read some of my very early posts from years ago and you'll know how bad it was. I thought my family was a war zone.) Even up until last year, my sophomore year in college they thought I was a walking failure. A disappointment in the family. It had been like that since 7th grade. I lived with the thought that I was a walking failure for 7 years. I became a very pessimistic person. I had nothing to be proud of. Every report card brought more disappoint looks to my parent's face. I could never forget the times my mom said "Son, You disappoint me." I hated my self. I hated them. I hated the world. Like all Asian parent would do to their kids, I got compared to my friends. And my parents would always say why are you so stupid? I remembered they wouldn't let me sleep at night until I finished my fucking algebra homework. I really thought they were assholes. When I couldn't get a problem right after they tried explaining it to me, they would call me stupid, retarded, brain dead, idiot, mush for brains all that shit in Chinese. I kid you not. I wanted to kill my self. My algebra teacher was a cunt too. She was mean and talked to her fish. Sprayed kids with Windex and all that. I hated her and after many years I thought she caused the down fall of my disinterest and subsequent failure in academics. Living with the mentality that you are a walking failure for 7 years during such an important time of a kid's growth will fuck em up for sure. And surely, I am. A fucked up person. I could go on but this might have been one of the most messed up pieces of my life. Its so depressing even I don't want to recall anymore painful memories.

Self consciousness, forever alone status, Identity crisis 
This section is pretty fucked up too. Because of my chronic use of meds, I gained a lot of weight. The heaviest I weighed in high school was up to 195. I had a moon face. That is very round and huge double chin. I was aware of that. I thought I was ugly and a fat ass. I thought I didn't really have friends and was very hurt because this one girl joked and said nobody likes me. She doesn't really remember now because it was so long ago but that hurt me really badly. And to this day I'm still single. I still think I am unattractive. Hence the forever alone status. So yeah, I was very self conscious at an young age. I would take pictures at certain angles cuz I thought I wouldn't have an as pronounced double chin. The girls I confessed to in my life all rejected me. By senior year I thought I'm gonna be a hermit when I grow up. Forget the ladies. (Don't you dare for a second think I've had thoughts about turning gay tho!. But I am no a homophobe either. I have gay friends). I thought there is no hope for me and I am the definition of an anti chick magnet. Its a little funny in retrospect. And then I did stupid stuff like tell a whole bus of schoolmates that I liked this girl and yeah, even though we go to the same university, she probably forgot about that episode almost 7 years ago. We don't communicate at all and I've seen her only a handful of times. Whatever. Laugh. Go ahead, i mean this post is where I let off nearly 22 years of frustration so I don't care about what I put in it.
The identity crisis comes in because I couldn't  fit in into any social circles. Ever seen Mean Girls? The part where they described the cliques in school? Yeah. I didn't really belong in any. See sometimes I talk funny. I grew up near African Americans and so called "hood" people so I spoke like them. AAVE. Look it up. People called me country, hood, gangsta (I hated that association). Other people thought I was an wanna be gangsta because of my inflections in speech. I was shaped by my environment, I never purposely wanted to sound like that. And I picked it up when I was 10. So for the people that misunderstood me then, yall some assholes sill (JK, I forgive yall ignorant bastards). So I faced an dilemma. I was too "hood" for my Asian friends and my Black friends would never truly accept me. I watched anime, listen to hip hop, played lots of video games, and wore XL white tees. A pretty tacky combination I know. So i never really knew where I was supposed to be. It was an identity crisis that I just resolved. Yes it took me until college to accept myself. And I have God to thank for that as well.

Suicide and Change
Recently, the summer of 2013 things got so bad for me I thought about suicide. I have a post on that so I'm not gonna go into detail. My dad had cancer, I had no direction in college. I stopped Church related activities as well. I picked up drinking and smoking. At least 1 beer a day and a couple of swishers a week. I felt lost and lonely. I thought nobody cared about me and I only have my self to rely on. Fuck everyone else. I'm done relying on people. After the semester ended, I  went home. The first weekend I just didn't want to do anything. I didn't do dishes and my parents yelled at me. That triggered my sudden break down. It sounds stupid but the human mind is fragile under stress. That Sunday morning, I wanted to end everything. The darkness consumed me. I took a pair of garden sheers and put it against my wrist. I was so ready to pull that cold blade across my wrist and watch as I died a slow bloody death. But I shook with fear. Something prevented me from doing so. I got scared. I started sobbing uncontrollably. I was an ugly sight. I didn't go to Church that day. It was mothers day. That night  was when I started writing on this blog again. Soon after, my friend invited me to CCUC. Chinese Christian Union Church in Chinatown. I was reluctant at first because I was already an Christian and religion didn't help me at all before so I doubt that it was gonna help this time. But something changed in me. The same phenomenon that prevented me from killing myself made me actually call out for help. That night I told my friends what I have been dealing with and they prayed for me. That night was when God sought to lead me back to his pastures. I was a little lamb lost for long enough. That night changed my life. Soon I went to a retreat with CCUC and made new friends. Sharing time brought me new perspectives. For the first time I thought people actually understood me. Like minded people sharing struggles. A community of broken Christians redeemed through Christ. We weren't perfect but God was there for us. We were there for each other. The people I met then are some of the best people God sent my way. I felt blessed and good for the first time in a while. I felt I could trust and depend on people in a very long time. Thank God for that.

Death of a Dear Friend
Just recently, in October of 2013, tragedy struck. A close friend, a girl that I have had a crush on for years passed away. Tragic car accident and I wrote about that too. Go read it if you don't know what happened. I was shaken. My faith was being tested. It was an wake up call for me to never take friends or family for granted. I was in disbelief for many weeks. I couldn't  even cry or grieve properly for weeks. I tried to hold it in and comfort others at her funeral but I ignored myself. I was depressed for a while. But God has led me out of that dark time. I miss her everyday of my life. She was a good friend that I thought would be the last person to die in an stupid accident. Its inappropriate to thank God in this context but he taught me a lesson here that contributed to my character.

Dad's Cancer 
Just recently, my Dad's cancer turned for the worse. The Doctors stopped treatment. No more chemo. Its like hes waiting for death. He lost weight. He told me his will. Its like he knows his time is very limited.
This fucked me up more than anything else. It was stressing me out. I was losing sleep at night. I have many posts about this so go read those. I don't want to be redundant. Just this weekend I was there visiting him in Chicago. He was as skinny as a starving African Child. I am now really fucking serious. I Saw him and was happy. I smiled and gave him a hug but the longer I stayed in the room, the worst I felt. I freaked out. I lost my appetite. The whole weekend I could not eat right thinking about how skinny he looked. It was killing me so I started writing on my blog again. Its also inappropriate to thank God in this context but he taught me a lesson here that contributed to my character as well, maybe a significant portion.

Current Times and Hope
Up to this point, I've listed so many areas in my life where I am cracked into pieces and fucked up. But God has a way of testing you. That test is suffering. He gave me endurance to carry on. That endurance helped me weather all of these horrible elements and it is slowly paying off. I am finally able to build some character. I don't mean to brag but my friends say I am changing. Maybe becoming a slightly better person? I don't know. But I'm far from perfect. I still fuck up a lot. I still piss off people, make poor choices, alienate people that I really treasure. But as long as you live, you will always make mistakes in life. Big or small. We regret our poor choices. I am constantly being tempted by the Devil. But if God really is your rock he will protect you from temptations, he teaches you lessons from those mistakes and they do make you a better person. Some might deny HIM but change is undeniable. You might think I wrote this for fun and its all an big ole elaborate scheme by some crazy Christian college kid trying to convert people. But seriously. I swear profusely at times. I am anything but a perfect person, let alone a perfect Christian. I have just as many flaws as everyone else, if not more. I just wanted to vent near 22 years of frustrations. I want people to believe even though we go through so much shit, God is there for us. He empowers us to move forward. To keep going when we want to stop. Comfort us when we are sad. Be a light in times of darkness. Don't give up. Not on yourself. Not on your friends. Not on your family. Not on God. As long as the Lord is there, even the worst wrecks can be salvageable. Relying on others is okay. Its human nature. Don't try to solve everything yourself, it won't work. I speak from experience because I've been to some of the darkest parts of "life" and yet here I am encouraging yo ass to not give up. There is hope yet. Just keep praying and believing. If a foul mouthed loser like me is still alive and kicking harder than ever, you can keep going too. After all, when you read about how God changed me, just imagine a giant hand always reaching out to you, when you fall all you need to do is grab it.

Philippians 4:19 - But my God shall supply all your need according to his riches in glory by Christ Jesus.
AMEN.

My Guilty Conscience and Other Thoughts

You know how sometimes where when you are making choices, it feels like there is an angel on one shoulder and the devil on the other? Well its happening to me now. Its not pleasant. The angel and devil are locked in mortal combat with no resolve in sight. Its like watching a boxing match with both fighters trading punches. Both refuse to go down. This "internal struggle" have taken away many hours of sleep and I am afraid to make a decision. I am afraid I might regret it later.

To be brief, many of you who read my blog know that my dad has terminal stomach cancer. Well I came home today to visit again. When I see him, my heart sinks. Though I am happy to see him, he looks like a starving African child. That is no exaggeration. After 2 months of not eating properly (sporadically and receiving nutrition through IV and the occasional liquid), my dad probably weighs less than 100 pounds. It hurts me to see him in such a way. He has to go the bathroom very often due to the cancer disrupting his digestive system and he is often too weak to even want to talk. He experiences pains and often require medication to help him sleep. The doctors have stopped chemo and to be honest, It's like he's waiting to go to heaven. How my dad continues to fight is beyond me. Maybe its because of the support his students and friends have shown him. Maybe we (his family) is something worth hanging onto his life for. Since he was baptized recently, maybe God will perform a miracle and heal him. In short, he is dying and I should spend as much time as I can with him. After all, thats an obvious choice for I am his son.

But this weekend I also want to see some friends that I don't get to see often. One of them has a birthday too. Another is a girl that I have a crush on and I never really see her at all anymore. This is where the angel/devil on the shoulder part comes in. Should I spend the entire weekend with my dad, or part of it? Before you make a judgement, read my logic. Even though I can spend time with my dad in the hospital, I can't do anything for him. All I can do is watch him, ask him how he is doing, and pretend to fake a smile at him every now and then. And I have to study for an exam on Monday. Even If I stay in the hospital, part of the time I will have to leave him alone. His condition is no excuse for me to ignore my school work. I've learned to be stronger than that and stop using petty excuses. After all, getting good grades is probably one of the last ways I can make him proud.

We have a complicated relationship and I can say just recently we've been warming up to each other. Before then we weren't really close and the way I was raised turned me into a callous person. I didn't speak to my dad often. Now that he's opened up, I find it hard to open up to him. I've developed a resentment during childhood that is still slowly thawing.  After a few sentences, we break into silence again. And the more I see him in such a bad state, the worse I feel. Morbid thoughts just creep up into my mind. Before I know it, I am exasperated. I want to drink again. I want to smoke again. I want to go very far away and be alone. The temptation to break into my old habits are like that mosquito bite you so desperately want to scratch. 

Before my dad had cancer, he emphasized education a lot. He was disappointed in me because I was a bad student. I hated to study and always wanted to hangout with friends. Now that he has a different outlook, he actually encourages me to go to socialize with friends. My mom on the other hand feels that I should spend more time with my dad because to be honest, we don't know how much time he has with us. But my dad overheard me and my mom talking about my weekend plans and he wants me to go hangout with friends. That is the kindest thing any person in his situation can say. Reflecting on it, I feel horrible. I am the worst son in the world. Guilt kicked in hard and I just lost all appetite. Here is my dad, dying of cancer, and all I could think about was hanging out with my friends? What kind of a shitty son am I? Its not like I don't love my dad. Don't get it twisted. Yeah Its a little hard to say I love my dad out loud because of what we went through, but I do. This was a man who didn't have a child of his own, married my mom and raised me, a shitty little brat since I was 7. He sacrificed a lot just so I can be where I am today. I could never repay him enough for what he has done for me. And I think about my dad a lot. I think about my family situation a lot. I lose fucking sleep over this shit. Its strange how I haven't lost my mind a few times over yet. So yes, I love my dad.

But at the same time, my social life also needs work. I feel like these are friendships worth pursuing. Maybe it'll bolster me as a person. Who knows. I mean for me during rocky times, friends > family. But at times like these, its family > friends. But it should be Friend and Family are equally important. There are things I can tell my friends that my family won't understand and vice vera. At the moment I feel very conflicted. I feel guilty regardless of what decision I make. Opportunity cost. Economics? Ring a bell? Most people would definitely tell me to stay with my dad all weekend. Its only natural. I already mentioned how my dad did everything for me so now I should attempt to spend as much time with him as I can. But I don't want to leave my friends either. They would also understand if I told them I have family issues to attend to. Either way I don't both my friends and my dad to feel a disappointment if I picked one over the other. I could do both but then it would seem I'm half assing and I hate being insincere. Perhaps I'm over thinking but this thought of friend or family is eating me alive. Its the hardest thing I've ever had to think about for some reason. Its driving me insane. My friends have also suggested me staying with my dad which I think is right too but for some reason this conflict is still happening. And as a self critical person, I think I am just weak. I can't make a decision without feeling guilty. I'm afraid to make any choice. I am afraid of being hurt for have made the wrong decision. I afraid to hurt others. I know I should man up and grow a pair but its so damn hard. For heaven's sakes I can't even tell the girl that I have a crush on that I like her. I'm frozen in fear. That fear eats away at my confidence in anything and my ability to sleep. It tempts me to go back to smoking and drinking. It feels like the devil is trying to chip away at my already lacking faith.

But the guilt is the worst of it all. I feel that I owe an un repayable debt to my dad. Im far from home at school and can't come home often. I don't call everyday to ask how my dad is doing either. I mean he has told me his will. He wants me to graduate, find a job, get married, and settled in Chicago, close to my mom and stuff like that. He expects me to do well in school and try as hard as I can. I know. He supports me. But at the same time I feel very distant towards my family. My mom, cousin, and everyone close have been taking turns delivering food, cooking, driving and all that but I can't be apart of this. I am too far. I have no presence. My dad probably misses me but I just can't be there. I feel guilt. This is why I have such a hard time falling asleep at night sometimes.  I am a Christian and I do pray every night for God to make things better. My faith has partially been helping me cope but at times, I get so overwhelmed it seems prayer isn't working. I just want to be alone in my room. I don't want to deal with people. Everything and everyone annoys me. I want to blame God for everything. Why? Why must my family suffer? Why can't I just man up? Why has everything in my life that has happened happen? But then after a while , these thoughts fade. I try to get by everyday but almost certainly, these thoughts happen again. At the end of the day, its SSDD (SameShitDifferentDay) I'm stuck with my Guilty Conscience and other thoughts again. 

My Dad's Struggle Against Cancer: A Personal Narrative

I don't know where to begin. Writing about cancer in the family is a hard thing to do. Its not something a 21 year old should ever be writing about but here I am. 1 am on a Saturday night. Most college students would still be out in bars getting drunk and having fun. But I am not most college students, and I think its beneficial for me to tell this story. So bear with me as I try to tell this narrative under the influence of a bottle of 40 Olde English 800 and a swisher  and the remaining effects of a 12 oz. can of Redbull.
This semester, I only have 1 class on Fridays. So I went about as usual, got home around 11 am, had lunch and took a nap. I was awoken at 3 pm. My mom called. She sounded strange. I could tell immediately something wasn't right. She asked me to come home. And I thought to myself, my dad isn't doing well. So I asked what was wrong with my Dad. She said the doctor will no longer treat my dad and recommended treatment from a hospice. Hospice. Wait. Did she say what I think she did? Hospice. (To be honest, I didn't t know what a hospice was up until 2 months ago. I watched a show called Wilfred and one episode took place at a Hospice.) That word alone sunk my spirit. What the fuck? So that means the doctors have given up; my dad's cancer has finally gotten to the point of no return. Before we continue my thoughts on this fucked up situation, lets back up a bit.

Lets see. Let's go back to sometime in 2012. My memory is very hazy and my parents really didn't let me in on the details so I'll try my best to draw a map of what happened so to speak. Bear with me.
I don't recall exactly when but my dad began experiencing pains in his lower back. They began as discomfort. He liked to take naps on the couch so at the time we thought it was because he slept on the soft couch all the time. As time went on, things began to get worse. The discomfort became pretty bad and so he went to get checked out at a clinic. The doctor did some tests (I don't remember what) and she said everything came out normal. So we didn't think much of it. We also thought it was nothing and let things kind of go to the back of our minds. But then things really didn't feel right. My dad did a series of tests and whatever and in mid February of 2013, my dad was diagnosed with late stage stomach cancer. I don't know how he handled the news but clearly, he was a bit depressed. He started chemo soon after. Before he was diagnosed with cancer, he was a full time teacher at Whitney Young. That was also the high school that I attended. Not soon after the Chemo started, he started teaching part time. Chemo was going well, and he responded well to the treatments. After several months, the tumor seemed stable. A very good sign. Things were going well up until 2 months ago.

All of a sudden, things just went to shit. Keep in mind that to me, the details are murky, and I was having a hard time myself so I couldn't remember too much. My dad had 12 -13 rounds of chemo before the cancer became resistant. Then it was time to switch to another type of drug. I guess my dad took 3-4 rounds before things took a turn for the worst. One day I called my mom and asked how my dad  was doing. She said my dad had a bile duct blockage and he got jaundice. He had to stop chemo for 5 weeks. Due to the sudden stop, the caner started back up with a vengeance. At the time of his diagnosis, there were signs that the tumor have metastasis. This time it was a lot worse than we had thought. It had spread to his digestive tract. When I went home during Thanksgiving break, It was evident the cancer was extremely tolling on his body. He lost weight. A significant amount since I last saw him. And 3 weeks later during winter break, he was in even worse shape. He had stopped teaching altogether a month and a half back. He lost even more weight and just very skinny. He started taking morphine for pain. He couldn't sleep at night and ate very little. The pain kept him up at night so he was lethargic during the day time and stayed upstairs in his bedroom most of the day.  He would get visitors now and then and tried his best to seem energetic around guests. But after they left, he was exhausted and went back to sleep. This was his life for the pervious 2 months.

Today I came home for the weekend. I never thought the situation would become so dire so quick. So when my Mom called me this afternoon, I got on facebook and asked if anyone was going back to Chicago. No response. I am a very impatient person and I knew I wasn't gonna get a ride home. So I bought an Amtrak ticket as soon as I could. I left Illinois Terminal around 7pm and by the time I got home it was 10:45 ish. Some church friends were over and so was our Pastor. I said hi but wanted to see my dad first. I went up stairs to my parents bedroom. What I saw almost brought me to tears. But I held it in because I didn't want my dad seeing me cry. He was bald. Bedridden with an IV attached to his arm. I gave him a hug and we talked for 15 minutes. I think this might be one of the first times he's ever said he loved me explicitly. I was touched. Now before we continue here, you (the readers) should know some backstory.

My dad isn't my biological father. He is my step dad. Yes, my mom got a divorce and remarried in China when I was very young. My relationship with my step dad is complicated. Lets just say we didn't get along and I was a bad child. I mean he must have felt somewhat salty because he didn't have any children with my mom and had to care for an ungrateful asshole of an child (me). My dad and my mom used to cuss me out alot and I developed a rebelliousness unseen by them. They used to say I was probably one of the worst children in church. Thank goodness no one knew that side of me. Even though he disliked me and my attitude, he always cared for me. He used to wake up at night and check to see if I kicked off my covers and tucked me in after I fell asleep. Over the years, we had lots of ups and downs. Mainly downs. We got into arguments and I think he hit me only once over the years. Our family was a war zone. It was fucking unbearable. I hated him sometimes. Whatever, enough of the bad stuff. I don't know if it was the cancer or God, but over the past few years, his attitude changed. Even though he was still critical of some of the things I did, we slowly warmed up to each other. Over Thanksgiving break, he actually seemed very friendly and open to me. Our old relationship completely disappeared. We actually communicated as a father and son should. He told me his expectations and I agreed. He told me I should focus on my studies and after graduating, I should come back to Chicago so I can take care of my mom. That I should find a girlfriend and get married after college. I could have the house that we live in now as long as I can support it. It was like he was telling me his will. I found what he said to be justifiable and agreed. And today, he actually said he loved me and he regrets how he treated me and my mom. I told him all is forgiven. As a Christian (well, despite my foul language), God has forgive us and so I forgive my dad. I kissed him on the cheek and said its alright. I'm a grown ass dude now, and as a man, I should not be petty and forgiveness is pretty much standard for Christians. He again told me that I should take more responsibility and take care of our family and my mom. He said his strength is failing and wont last long. He apologetically said he won't be able to make my graduation, wedding, and he regrets that he will not be able to see any grandchildren. Upon hearing this, I became instantly depressed. That shit hit me like a train. But I just replied with "Ums" and nods. I held his hands as we spoke and gave him one more hug. I wanted him to get some rest and I haven't eaten since 1 pm. It was 11:30 pm now.

After I went downstairs, I had a quick word with my Pastor. He told me he baptized my dad earlier with a bit of water. I said "PRAISE THE LORD". This was good news. I felt a bit relieved. He told me everyone in Church was supportive and praying. I was happy to hear this. I knew my dad was surrounded by caring friends and especially his students. I would like to thank everyone who partook in the #luostrong movement and the students who started it. They sold merchandise and raised a lot of money for my dad. They are part of the reason why he had the strength to fight for so long. Many times, I felt bad. On facebook, I noticed everything they did for my dad. I knew about the fundraisers, gifts, and visitations. As a son, I felt good, but also horrible. I was rarely at home due to school, and even when I was at home, I seldom spoke to my dad. Even though he has changed, I guess everything I experienced when I was younger hardened my heart. It felt weird. It was like I didn't want to open up to my dad. I tried really hard to hold back my emotions. I felt heartless and cold. I don't know what became of me. But I guess today I finally softened up. I willingly opened to my dad but my heart still needs work. I am still somewhat rigid and stone faced. It hurts me a lot to see my dad suffer so but I still try not to show too much emotion besides an awkward smile now and then.

Currently, I have hard times falling asleep at night. I'll be lucky to fall asleep in 45 mins. It usually takes me an hour. I don't want to sound morbid but every night I think about the worst case scenario and how it would play out. What would happen when my dad finally goes to heaven? As horrible as it sounds, this is pretty much the thought that crosses my mind every night. All I see in my dreams are me and my mom and everyone else dressed in black. She is is crying along with many others. My dad lies in a casket, looking peaceful. When someone is in the same condition as my dad, maybe God should just take them home.

Cancer is torture. It tortures the person's mind, body, and soul. It tortures his family. Its one of the most fucked up things God ever put on earth. It hurt my mom very badly having to see my dad suffer. It hurts me too. Right now Im feeling a mixed emotion of rage and sadness. I don't know what to do but keep to my self. People have reached out to me yet I am reluctant to accept their offer. One part of me feel wishes I had a girl friend to talk to, to go to her, cry as she holds me. But Im single and thats not gonna happen. And I keep thinking I cannot cry, I cannot express my frustration in such a way because well, my dad isn't gone yet and it would be unmanly. Another part of me feels very angry and destructive. I want to cuss up a storm (if I'm not already) and breaking anything in sight. I want to curse the doctors. The fucked up healthcare system. Even God. I feel like God has forsaken my family. My dad. Me. As a Christian, I shouldn't think ill of God. I shouldn't swear. I shouldn't do the things I do and doubt God. But in this situation, I don't know what to think or do. I guess I need to work on my faith more.  I guess I should pray more. But that doesn't change the fact that my dad is dying. It doesn't change how fucked up cancer is. My dad isn't even 50. He is too young to go to heaven, but if God calls, he has to go. If God calls, everyone has to go. One thing I have learned is not to ever take family members for granted. No matter how hard it is, you need to settle your differences and make up. Don't take the time with your family for granted. Don't take any family members for granted. I guess God used this cancer to teach us a lesson. I don't know. Nothing else justifies this right now. Don't be like me. Don't wait until such a fucked up thing happens in your family to make you realize how precious your family members are. Especially your mom or dad. Think of it this way, our moms and dads are the main pillars of our family. If one of them collapses, it puts significant strain on the other. Unless you can take the load off your remaining parent, things are not going to be good. I'm just scared if my dad does go to heaven, how will my mom manage? How will she age? How will she do alone when I'm at school for one more year? These are the questions that bombards my brain every, hence my difficulty sleeping.

At the end of the day, all I can do is pray. I am not as worried since my dad is now a baptized christian. I know things are going to get even harder from now on, but I must stay strong for my mom and especially my dad. I promised him I would take care of my mom if he leaves us. That I have grown up and I can carry on his will. That I am a capable person that he raised. That I will graduate college, find a job, find a wife, an have some kids. I will try my hardest to take some pressure off my mom and support the family as soon as I get out of college. I want my dad to know that I love him and that he can rest in peace should the day come. Until that day, I will constantly pray, please Lord, give him the strength to fight another day.

Most Depressing Break Ever

Winter Break. Normally people love this time of year, especially college students. They get a couple of weeks of from school, get to spend time with family during the holidays. A time with out stress, the warmth of family and just a jolly good time. Some people travel, others just enjoy being at home. It should be a happy time.

But for me, its anything but. Its a depressing time. Getting out of school for a whole month was a relief but coming back to such a bleak situation at home might be even worse than the stress at school. As many people know, my dad was diagnosed with late stage stomach cancer last February. Next month will mark a year. Looking back its remarkable how many rounds of chemo he got through. He still taught part time at Whitney Young. But when I got back home during break, my mom told me some bad news. My dad had a bile duct blockage and developed jaundice. They couldn't do surgery because most likely, the tumors have spread to that area. They did a bypass so he was okay. But due to that, he couldn't do chemo for 5 weeks. That allowed for the tumor to grow back with a vengeance. The pain also got worse due to that. My dad starting taking morphine for pain. That's a really bad sign. Recently, he complains that he cannot eat, for he has no appetite at all.

Everyday he complains about pain and having no desire to eat. I don't even get to see him often at home because he is always upstairs resting. It is very sad a depressing to see a family member having to go through this "torture". It hurts him the most but it also hurts the rest of the family. My mom is a tough lady so she doesn't cry much but when she does, it hurts me inside too. Recently over the years, I've learned to deal with painful times. I become quiet and answer with "mhmms" and "nods". I don't know what to say. I don't know how to comfort my family. All I can do is pray and pick up chores and lessen the stress on my mom. But I feel even that isn't even enough. I try to be strong and remain emotionless. My dad often times says he doesn't know how much longer he has to live. He tells me I should graduate ASAP and come back to Chicago so my mom won't be alone. He tells me to find a job in Chicago, and after getting married I should still stay close by my mom. He has a point. My mom sacrificed  a lot to bring me into this world and sacrificed a lot so I can have a good life in the United States. Nothing I do could repay what my mom has done for me so I don't mind sacrificing anything for her. All of that is fine. But my dad has repeated this countless times over break thus far. We went no where over break. Everyday is the same thing. Most days I can't even eat properly because the atmosphere at home is so stifling I lose my appetite. My sleep schedule is messed up. I can't sleep well most nights so I stay up until 4 or later on the computer doing what ever. And then I sleep during the day cuz I'm so tired. And when it comes to dinner time, the same thing happens. My dad complains of having not appetite or is in pain. And he tells me I'm grown and need to help my mom. And that he doesn't know how much longer he has. He tells us he's undeserving of this family and that he's sorry. And once again, my face turns emotionless. I just nod and answer with a "mhmm". I try to pray every night for my dad and my family but I can't do anything else. I don't even know what to say back.

Sometimes my mom nags my dad and makes him eat but he doesn't have an appetite and sometimes teary eyed, he pushes his bowl away and leaves the dinner table. One time my mom went too far with her kindness and my dad snapped. He said: " I'm already a dying person, do you want me to die even earlier?". All my mom did was make sure my dad got the nutrients he needed. Its evident that my dad's cancer is driving the family insane. At this point we're stuck in a cycle of depression. I try to keep up a cheerful appearance so my family will be distracted temporarily but that only works for so long. If anything, I'm praying a miracle of some sort will occur.