The majority of the prompts I’ve answered since starting my blog had asked similarly, but worded differently, questions, and I had mentioned doing some physical activity. Walking had been my most prominent answer, although it’s true, this brings me contentment.
Peace on the other hand is different; I’ve lived near the ocean my whole life and, as a kid, I’d used to have to be dragged out of the water to leave. Some people have a strong connection to the ocean: they care for it and in return the ocean would care for us. Not in the same sense as we would care for our family and friends.
One of my grandma’s younger brother had take shrapnel from a grenade blast when he served in the Vietnam war as a young man. He was on and off medication because the doctors couldn’t remove all of the metal in his body because it would have led to him bleeding to death, so they left the metal in his body. It was until their dad took him fishing one day that, when he was out on the water casting a line, his pain felt far away.
Whenever I used to go swimming, I would never stray too far from the shore, I would feel at peace in the water. The saltiness of the water would let me float on my back, fill my ears and everything would feel and sound muffled, sand would end of getting into places you’d never want them to be, and I would stare at the sky and let the current take me adrift.
Being in the ocean, among the sandy shores, that hasn’t been fully contaminated by myriad of sun screen or boat waste, has been healing for both body and spirit.
Even though I haven’t visited a beach in years, being in a hot bath provides a similar feeling the ocean used to bring to me. That feeling, though fleeting and stretched into infinity, was being able to let go and drift.
No need to go anywhere, no obligations to fulfill, no noise about being a failure or a success or a nobody or a somebody, just being. Just breathing. Just existing.
The sea has its rules and ignoring it would lead to disaster:
Never face your back to the water, else a rogue wave comes and drags you in.
Never fight against the current, go with it until the current calms and you can swim.
Take care of the sea, make it better than you found it, and it will care for you.
Letting go and drifting in the water had brought me peace. It made me wonder if this is what moving on would feel like when my time comes, but I won’t know until I get there. The next time you’re in a large body of water, or even a simple bathtub, drift on your back, close your eyes and let the water envelope you.
What is the most important thing to carry with you all the time?
I’m a hypocrite because I don’t make enough memories in my life with my family or those I care about. I’ve always hated cameras and flashes – it mostly stemmed from a childhood fear of one of R.L. Stein’s Goosebumps book about the haunted camera – and I never liked seeing my own face.
Although, I guess I’d rather live through the memories than be included in the memories. I’ve always believed that my presence, even among family, tends to spoil the fun and experience. I’ve gotten good at being an observer because I know what it’s like to have someone very close to me lose their memories, themselves, in real time.
Despite my personal feelings, the reason I chose memories is because I grew up with my paternal grandpa who had Alzheimer’s. As a kid, I didn’t understand why my Papa couldn’t remember much and my family told me to be patient because he couldn’t remember. You can’t tell a kid to do something when, at such young ages, it’s instinct to be impulsive and impatient.
On the days he forgot, it hurt because it was as though, as a kid, my Papa could remember to do his chores, walk to McDonald’s to get his coffee, and get home safely, but not remember us.
Sadly, I wasn’t the most behaved kid and I would do really stupid things like, locking the house door from the inside and watching him try to force the door open until my grandma would tell me to open the door. After I did, my grandpa would walk in, see me, and nothing else.
I even remember when I would sleep in my grandma’s living room and I was woken up because my head was hurting, like someone was taking a hammer to my skull, and it had been my Papa hitting my head like I was a pillow because: 1)it was dark; 2)he couldn’t recognize or remember me.
Even though it’s been years since I thought about him, he passed away in 2009 and I was just entering intermediate school, I think I’m thinking of him because my maternal grandpa passed away last month.
He was still young – in his mid-sixties – he loved to cook, sing, play cards and make up his own rules to play, he told me stories of his time in the Army, his regrets, and how he would have done things differently if he had the chance.
Now, I have both of my grandma’s still alive, but because I’ve been working so hard I haven’t made time to hang out with them or my family.
My paternal grandma is in her early 80’s, still sound of mind and body, and maternal grandma is in her late 60’s, still sound of mind and body too.
I fear that something will happen to my paternal grandma because I moved out, even though I tend to call her, I haven’t called her in a while. Even to my other grandma, hell, even to my parents.
My mom likes taking pictures, I found them a waste of time, but as I’m getting older I’m starting to see their significance. As I get older, so does everyone else, and the amount of time I’ll get to listen to my family’s stories grow smaller and smaller, but even memories will slowly fade with time.
I can’t remember much of my time with my Papa anymore and my Grandpa’s stories are slowly fading because I didn’t hang out with him as much as he wanted. I’d try, but I also didn’t make much effort either.
I don’t know what anyone is going through, but if you have people in your life you still care about: call them, tell them you love them, something. Anything, especially if they do matter to you. My family doesn’t say a lot of things enough, we’re not ones for words of affirmation but through actions, but I can share that, from my experience, it does make a difference.
I’m still working on this myself as I’m learning to navigate my own life as I’m approaching my new life stage of 30. Not there yet, but making memories is all we’ll have, even if we forget them, it’ll come back to us when we need them.
I could imagine that an Alternative version of Me would have pushed through a lot of things. Alternative Me would have:
Stood her ground or walked away from friendships that weren’t supportive of her.
Avoided being a victim of stalking from discerning people sooner.
Stopped being a people pleaser ASAP.
Pushed through 1 more year of wrestling.
Started many projects early on: YouTube, blogging, coding, game design, locking picking, investing, etc.
Pursued scholarships to afford a full 4 years of university.
Pursued a mentorship or went abroad for school.
Avoided (personal loan) debts and paid with cash (for most things).
Found an apartment sooner to learn independent living, rely on family less sooner too.
Took my nutrition, sleep, and health more seriously.
Spent more time hanging out with family than shutting herself in her room over the years.
Everything I currently am, the lessons I’ve learned up until now, this alternate me would have learned sooner and done things sooner with a broader and larger portfolio than what I currently have built up so far.
Very likely I would have explored and been exposed to different fields, different people, experiences, and lessons sooner because I stood up for myself and didn’t let fear control me as my current self had done for years.
So afraid of being alone, I clung to horrible friendships; So afraid of failure, I struggle to accept compliments and need constant reassurance that I’m doing alright; So terrified of being criticized that I never improving my skills or further my learning: writing, sketching, health, investing, anything until 2023 to 2025.
But I can’t dwell on the past or on what I should have done, I’ll become depressed, and I’ll need to keep working on myself and pursue the things I want to while I still have the time. I had wasted years on hypotheticals that my reality had declined until this year alone, that it’s time to put in the work now more than ever. Time to improve, learn from the past, and build my present and future regardless of where I am today!
What’s the most money you’ve ever spent on a meal? Was it worth it?
Before every Outback Steakhouse closed down in my state, it was the restaurant that my family would go to for lunch and dinner. It was the closest, and one of the better, sit down restaurant where it would be roughly a 20 minute drive for both sides of our family to get there.
We used to buy a lot of appetizers before the entrees and then pack in dessert. For 2 people in a HCOL state, $200 is roughly the norm, including tip as well.
The reason Outback was special was because it had been where I used to take my grandpa for his birthdays – I wasn’t making much money, but it was worth spending the little money I was earning – to hang out and talk stories with him.
Good food, good company, what else could anyone ask for?
I hadn’t hung out with my grandparent’s on my Mom’s side often, I usually didn’t feel like going to visit their house because I just preferred to stay home. Although, I used to work the night shift before, so I couldn’t hang out regardless during the week.
Just so happen, my grandpa’s birthday landed on my days off, so I called him to hang out and we met up. He’d try to ask me if we could do lunch whenever I was free, but our days wouldn’t always line up because of our jobs. Gramps wasn’t retired yet, he was pretty young, so the movie productions would call him to work and I had my job to do too.
Anyways, I remember some of the stories he used to tell me:
His time in the US Army after her graduated high school.
When he was stationed in Japan and in South Korea during the Propaganda war between North and South Korea, I think. (I remember the propaganda part, that was crazy!)
He was one of the few American soldiers that was able to compete, and win, in the Korean soldier’s Taekwondo military competitions.
He used to be the unofficial quartermaster in his unit. Whatever you needed: money, steaks, cigarettes, beer, he was able to get it and provided. He even remembered selling to his CO’s and they wouldn’t bother.
I remember that he shared a few of his regrets. Gramps was a stubborn guy, like it was either his way or the highway kind of stubborn. He wished he made different choices if he had the chance. He told me that he:
Wished he stayed the full 20 years of active service to have gotten the pension and benefits from the military. He only completed 17 years.
Instead of joining the movie productions as an equipment driver, he wished he became a Stevedore instead. He mentioned they had great benefits and were part of a good union, but he was young and arrogant then.
My Grandpa seemed vulnerable during those moments. I know that, as he got weaker, no one took him seriously at the house. I would tell my younger cousins that, if Gramps was as young as he was when I came into the picture, they’d be shitting themselves.
They didn’t believe me because the Gramps they grew up with was very different from the Gramps I grew up with.
At family gatherings, I’d help him cook. He’d show me how he did things, be it steak or making shrimp tempura from scratch. I listened when I was there because it seemed no one else was listening. Not even my younger, and his favorite of us, cousins.
We recently had his funeral – he was in and out of the hospitals and we all thought he was getting better – and it didn’t look like he was dead in his casket. He looked like he was sleeping instead.
I waited to see if he was going to sit up and have this as some sick joke because we didn’t visit as often like we said, make us come together in a morbid way. But he didn’t. He didn’t wake up.
Much like my other grandpa who died when I was graduating Elementary school, though he had Alzheimer’s, I’ll eventually forget this grandpa’s stories: I’ll forget how he sounds like, what he smelled like, how he used to play music and sing. I might eventually forget the songs he sang along to too. I know what they are, I had most of them on my first IPhone in high school, but I won’t be able to hear him sing along anymore.
Just like my other grandpa who passed years prior, the only memory I can remember is when he used to hum to himself. Just a tune when his mind was good. I used to copy him intuitively to remember. Even his tune is a broken forgotten melody I struggle to pull to the surface.
Even though I didn’t have the money then, I could have made more money, made more time for him. But I was more worried about my paternal Grandma I lived with because she was much older than my maternal grandpa that I thought we’d have more time.
The last time he was strong was when we celebrated my 28th birthday at the Cheesecake Factory last year. I was working the night shift when he passed away in the hospital this year.
My parents told me the morning after I finished work, and on my day off, that he passed and I asked them why they didn’t call me. They said that they didn’t want to tell me while I was working and that they didn’t want me to remember my gramps’s last moments with his passing.
I could have at least been there, but that time passed and now he’s gone. I don’t think of him much these days, but when I do, I still cry. Like I didn’t grieve enough at his funeral.
I wish I had more time, I wish I didn’t waste what time I had, and I’d trade all the money I have and more if I could have been around more. But I can’t and I’ve learned from my mistakes with my surviving Grandmas. Do more than I did before.
Even though I had spent $200 at Outback to celebrate the few birthdays the two of us went for him, it was worth the memories we have and I miss him.
I can enjoy a few small things that make me forget the insanity of the world and my current place in it – most are free and others have a monetary price – as these ground me most days. These take my mind off of whatever distresses me and I’m able to temporarily return to a baseline of calm and ease.
This isn’t a comprehensive list, though it is long, but it’s not everything that brings me joy. You know when you have a lot of interests and you have to narrow things down to fit on an index card? Yeah, I had to do that here. What usually brings me joy, the order is of no importance, is:
A walk around the neighborhood
A hot bath after a long day of working
A good book to read
A good pen to write with and a good journal to write in
Good music to listen to
A good movie to watch
Making time to sketch
Playing a good game (video, card, reading, or D&D)
Letting a YouTube “Let’s Play” playlist play in the background
Cooking a nice meal for myself and for family
Solving a problem that’s stumped me
Learning something new and interesting: be it a fact, skill, or a secret
Talking stories and listening to someone talk
Existing alone in silence
Visiting a bookstore and libraries
Going someplace where no one knows you
Collecting foreign currency
Being alive as a means for revenge
In these rare moments I focus on doing something or nothing is when I’m most free.
I’m not struggling to meet some arbitrary standard, not trying to impress someone who decides whether or not I’m worthy of something they have power over, not trying to do something that could benefit someone else through my work and efforts.
A brief reprieve, a moment to simply exist.
A moment to let the voices outside of me, and inside my head, to fall away, and I’m left in silence before the noise takes over again. Thank you for reading this one, I’ll see you when the archives opens again.
Physical movement has given me a sense of contentment; maybe not outright joy or elation, but rather a sense of being present and small doses of dopamine. When I’m strolling around, working out, even doing chores, I’m focused on the task at hand than ruminating about my mistakes or anxiously fearing the future. I’m temporarily present in the moment and I feel a brief relief from life.
More often, I’ll take short walks around the block to collect coins and cards on this app called, WeWard, my family got me into using it. Like any fitness tracking app, it’ll count your steps, (total) distance, and how much calories you burned for the day.
The difference, and this is my assumption, is that WeWard lets you compete with family and friends that you’re following, are being followed back, you are rewarded coins for hitting milestones that can be converted into real money, you can gain experience points while competing with people in the same league as you, and it practically incentivizes you to keep walking consistently.
You could walk the dog, take a stroll, do chores, walk to the store, very likely even using a skateboard, a hoverboard, roller skates, gliding, using a wheelchair, an electric scooter, or floating in midair, whatever you have available! Seriously, if you work on an airport and you drive the tugs, it counts! I’ve tried it at work when driving because I’m allowed to have my phone in case my radio is out of range and I can’t reach my job.
As long as you are moving, and the app is able to calculate your distance traveled, you are able to benefit from this app. It also, like many things that gamify our real life progress, it has a consistency streak that keeps track how engage you are per day. I’m going on to being consistent with submitting my steps for 85 days now, I don’t want to break this streak, and I’m going to keep collecting experience points, coins, and cards to progress in my app and until I have enough coins to convert into gift cards.
Quick Mention
I’m not an affiliate of this app, I don’t benefit financially from sharing this app, unless it’s for referral then I’ll get 50 coins per referral to the app. I’ve found it very useful since I was against it initially – thought it was going to be something my family would try then stop using, but its going to be close to 3 months, so its being used for its intended purpose.
I would benefit most if people gave this app a try, found it useful, and if they could share how they fare from using it in the comments below. Thank you for reading this one!
The food I’ve always found comfort in is usually sweet, especially if it’s chocolate:
Milk chocolate
Dark chocolate
Dobash cake (I just learned this is the Hawaiian variation of a Hungarian cake, then adapted in New Orleans, called, “Dobosh torte. I didn’t know this was a thing and I grew up with Dobash cake!!!)
Chocolate ice cream
Triple chocolate fudge ice cream
World class chocolate
Chocolate with caramel (Rolo’s)
Belgian chocolate (I WILL go to Belgium for the chocolate alone!!!)
Chocolate Chantilly cake (Hawaiian style, not Mainland style)
Anything that has chocolate, as long as it doesn’t have nuts or mint or coconut shreds or is white chocolate, I’ll eat it. I’ve been made fun of for liking a “very plain” flavor and I just shake my head at people. Like, “Seriously? I don’t make fun of whatever flavor you like and you throwing shade at what I like? Forget you! I wouldn’t want to share anything more with you anyways.”
There might be other types of chocolate that I’ve never heard of, but as long as it doesn’t have any of the things I listed above, then I would like to try it. Everyone has their own way of making chocolate, so I wouldn’t mind getting diabetes (knock on wood) if I got to try the differences in other people’s chocolate!
That should be the reason I should travel, besides visiting the local libraries and bookstores in the area of whatever state and country I would like to visit; I should go on a chocolate tasting spree! I wonder where I could go after visiting Belgium being my first stop. Where else in the world could have really good chocolate treats? If anyone has any suggestions, please let me know in the comment section. It would greatly help me map out the destinations I could go. Thank you!
Some aspects of a typical day followed the same patterns that I barely noticed, though noticed enough, the disruption in said patterns. The day only becomes “atypical” if I believe something has changed, something shifted, and I experience a mixture of emotions all at once:
I felt dread and trepidation because my vacation ended, I have to return to my full-time job that drains me. Yet, I feel relieved that I can step away from the keyboard for a little bit.
I felt hatred and resentment towards myself because not much has changed since taking my vacation; I’m still working for a corporation that pays me well enough being a college drop out, offers great benefits, but kills me on the inside every second I’m present. However, I get to dictate what I want and can do in the day.
I’ve gotten curious to try something’s from Pinterest because I want to be proven right and wrong at the same time. At least, until I can work at my part time rage room job, then I’ll be hating everything and everyone at work. Unfortunately, that’s typical for me until I wake up without the help of caffeine or energy drinks.
I’d want to finish up the work week already, jump straight back to being my days off, so I get to decide how to spend my time without someone looming over my shoulder or dictating me: be it learning, experimenting, or pursuing new outlets and passions.
I feel dreadful that I don’t want to get out of bed, I don’t have much energy to bother, but I have to get up, follow my routine, or I’ll fall behind again.
The main difference from my typical day shifting to an atypical one is mostly from the small progress and projects I hadn’t done before, but gave it a try anyways.
Been working on my story telling and writing skills.
Read and finished 1 more book than the prior years.
Learned and advocated my needs and boundaries, even if that meant walking away from people I used to call “friends”, but they never really called me that in return.
Taking charge and accumulating wins from the moment I wake up to when it’s time to sleep again.
The list goes on and on, it provides a small silver lining within my usual pessimistic and neurotic perspective, yet I am grateful that things are slowly changing. Small acts of courage, even when I feel afraid, has given me another “second chance” I never gave myself years prior. Things can change, are changing, and are becoming something different that I can’t wait to see what and where it could lead to.
I’m terrified, although I feel more courageous to move forward regardless of that fear, and that is the most atypical of a day it could get for me. Wouldn’t that be one of the best feelings in the world to experience?
Slight Change in The “Typical/Atypical” Part:
Update: So, this became an atypical day because a few things happened today:
1) According to my coworker, we had a tsunami watch last week, even though I told her that I didn’t get a notification. She said a lot of people didn’t get it, but lots saw it on Facebook, which I don’t have.
2) The tsunami watch was supposed to have ended the same week it was announced, but it didn’t.
3) Now, the watch became a tsunami threat, so a lot of people were panicking, driving crazy, all because, and I understand, they’re trying to get home to evacuate the coastal areas and move to higher ground or further inland.
Thankfully, I made it home to my apartment, my family are packing everything to move to higher ground or further inland, but this has been the first ever tsunami threat in probably decades. We’ve been able to avoid a lot of tsunamis and hurricanes for a long time now. I guess Mother Nature decided we needed a wake up call, get us to set our priorities straight, and see if we are ready for her violent and vicious visit approaching in a few hours after this update.
I’ll just have to wait and see. Hopefully, everyone makes it to where they have to go safely because I’ve seen first hand how crazy people can get from small inconveniences. I know I would get upset and mad if someone cuts me off in traffic without using their blinker. That’s over an inconvenience.
But when we feel our life, and our loved one’s lives, are being really threatened? That’s a completely different story. But the only thing we can do, especially what I can do, is wait and see. Thanks for letting me rant a bit, but things should be okay for now.
I wouldn’t know where to begin if I were to describe myself to someone, be it familiar or stranger. No two people would say the same thing twice. I could be anything to anyone at any point in time:
Friendly
Empty
Neurotic
Dull
Lazy
Bitter
Angry
Excited
Loyal
Curious
Inquisitive
Experimental
I could be everything in between or nothing at all to anyone. I could be polarizing, neutral, or static, but the answer changes and it’s never consistent. We’re all the strange phenomena of, “Schrödinger’s Cat” – we’re all walking paradoxes of being both alive and dead – we’ll never know the answer unless we open the box, right?
Even if my task is to describe myself to someone, I wouldn’t be able to. I, myself, have an insufficient vocabulary, so, I wouldn’t have much words to properly express myself well. I am whatever the other person perceives me to be and nothing – reputation or action – could change their mind. I’ve slowly have come to terms with not changing someone else’s mind. Trying to is a terrible waste of time, energy, and resources.
The one thing that I could share though, despite it all, is that I’m still here; I’m still navigating the complexities of life and seeking simple pleasures wherever and however I can. I know I’ve made strides from the person I used to be to be who I’ve grown into, but old patterns linger and have festered when I thought they were gone. Nope. Out of sight, sure, but never far from mind.
So, in essence, I’m still fighting to live, fighting to remain, the only word here is fight. I might not be standing on a blue mat, I’ve been thrown around by life, be it by choice or circumstance: surviving, battered, beaten, bloodied, even without obvious evidence showing otherwise. I get up against my severe need for rest and I keep getting slammed anyways. Eventually, I’ll be able to retaliate, I’m bidding my time and waiting for the chance to strike. I know how far I’ve traveled in my own journey, some people don’t need an explanation, only I do and that’s enough.
The activities that make me lose track of time are:
Daydreaming
Playing Video games
I’ve gotten accustomed to my own company that my mind will wander often. I would entertain the thought of what it would be like to be wealthy and then I could plan my way to wealth; I could imagine being someone of little importance, yet be so well connected that I could have spies everywhere. Just a snap of my fingers and an elite squad of trained mercenaries answering my call.
Or I’d wonder what it would be like to pick locks, steal something, working with computers, opening electronics up and putting them back together again, repurposed or for it’s intended purpose, just being highly skilled at something useful and hiding it away from the world. More for my entertainment than anything. Although, most of these skills I could learn, so it’s not too far from being only in imagination.
This is what happens when someone watches too many movies and doesn’t interact with enough people often.
Then there’s the video games – a past time I got from my dad and one I kept because it’s a solitary activity – the thing that always distracted me. I’ve gotten better at managing how long I play, but when I was younger, you’d have to fight me tooth and nail to get me to turn off my gaming systems.
I’d wanted to level up my fictional character that I never wanted, until recently, to level myself up in real life. I’ve changed my tune, although, I am making up for the years I spent staring at screens. Though I could say that my personal stats are pretty decent. Especially if I use D&D stats to represent how I’m doing, then I could say:
Strength: 4
Wisdom: 4
Charisma: 3
Intelligence: 5
Constitution: 5
Dexterity: 4
I could improve my own stats, but at least my personal stats aren’t 1’s anymore, so that’s an improvement!
