Archive for the ‘ Non-Boring Essays ’ Category

Talking, Listening, Arguing

A lot of people tell me that I am stupid and immature for arguing with them for well over an hour. Sometimes 2 hours, sometimes 3, 4… And probably ALL of those people don’t understand why I don’t stop debating the topic with them. The premise is simple.

Whenever I talk to people, it seems like most of the time it’s just everyone talking. You’re probably thinking, “Yea! Obviously! People talk in conversations!” Ok but the other side to conversing is called “listening“. Hearing what someone said and listening to what someone said are 2 separate issues. Most people only fulfill the talking part. They most likely aren’t even aware, but they’ll just keep talking and talking and talking without listening to a word the other person is saying. People who say, “I’m listening to you!” actually mean “I hear what you are saying, but I think you’re wrong and don’t care!” automatically making the conversation turn back to them. Sounds pretty selfish, right? It is! But can’t blame people since they probably are unaware of how they come off.

Secondly, if you want someone shut up in a short amount of time, all you have to do is make sure to listen. Personally, I don’t argue with people for 3 hours just for the purpose of “winning” because honestly, what am I winning from that anyway? Just satisfaction of winning? No. I do it because the entire time, I’m trying to get the other person to understand where I’m coming from. They don’t need to empathize – I don’t believe in the word empathy unless you’ve gone through the same experiences. If everyone learned to listen as well as they like to keep babbling, chances are EVERYONE’s relationships would be more successful. Whether it be friendships, marriages, or whatever else.

Many people claim to be good communicators because they supposedly have a way with words. Have a way with your ears too and that’s when you’re a good communicator! People will notice when you start to listen to them rather than selfishly talking all about yourself and your own thoughts. They WILL. Sometimes how you listen has more of an effect than how you speak. Unless you speak like you’re uneducated or you speak Pidgin. In that case, I suggest you start studying the English language. No offense to my home of Hawaii and all the “mokes”, but speaking like that is just one of the reasons mainlanders think were not as intelligent. However, the same idea applies to other areas. Talking like a hillbilly might be even worse. Again, no offense. Just opinions.

So Readers… You all should evaluate yourself to really see if you are listening as well as talking. I know sometimes when we get mad we might slip and be all self-centered. That’s called being Human. Rarely listening is called being ignorant. And if you know you’re doing it and have a big ego, that’s even worse. That’s called stupidity. I guarantee that if you listen more in your conversations, you’ll become a more open person and your relationships will improve. You’ll understand and see where others are coming from and they will notice that change in you. It may take time, but listening is just as important as talking.

MOKE DEFINITION (if needed): This is not the British slang for Donkey. I’m referring to mokes of Hawaii! A moke is basically a very local resident of Hawai’i, who most likely enjoys anything related to island-life.


I’m purposely posting this in every category because it is 3:33 AM and this is pissing me off. If you don’t give a damn, just click Back. – Yea, I hate being poor. People say “Oh, Hawai’i! Must be awesome living there!” Umm… HELL NO it’s not. Especially in Salt Lake, there’s the military side and then the poor side – I happen to live on the poor side. People pay $1500 on average for a damn 2 bedroom apartment. People think money is important to me but it really isn’t. I’d just like to live comfortably. Here is a list of why I hate being a brokeass. Also, I don’t even swear but it tends to come out in my writing when I’m angry or trying to express myself. So sorry ahead of time for the colorful language.

  1.  I would like to be able to do things like I don’t know… go to the movies like once every couple months but nnnooooo. Or other kinds of recreational stufs.
  2.  I have a “father” who was supposed to send child support and he dnever did because he is a noncaring bitchass. Sadly, my mom is sending him child support although I haven’t lived with him for about 3 years now. He even claims me on taxes. Oh! His name is Christopher Ng. Yea, figured I’d mention it so everyone who reads this knows. NO SHAME. A lot of my writing mentions him nd his wife.
  3.  I get to walk around looking at people who have laptops and new shoes and update their phones every couple months, knowing I could only do that if I stole the shit. They take it for granted – all that $500+ shit they have. They even walk around complaining about their parents not giving them MORE shit. Shut the hell up dumbasses. At least you got a damn laptop and an iPad and whatever else. Stfu.
  4. I hate having excess “fend for yourself” nights in which I either don’t eat, or have to eat something cheap like saimin (AKA Ramen) or something.
  5. If say, a teacher says “You need to do this assignment on index cards and only index cards. I won’t be accepting anything else.” they don’t give a shit if you don’t have a ride. They don’t give a shit if you think using 2 bucks is better spent on some food. –__–
  6.  Once I get something new, people start telling me how I must have a lot of money. And I can only respond with “Yea… it only took me 2 years to finally get this $200 item.”
  7. When someone leaves something valuable at a bus stop or something and the person is still there, I tell them they forgot their -whatever it was-, secretly hoping one day someone will do the same for me. Or give me that valuable item. –__– IT KILLS TO DREAM.
  8. I can’t get anything for people’s birthdays. It makes me seem sssoooo selfish and noncaring but I honestly can’t afford anything. Last Birthday present I gave to someone (Jasmine) was a free DVD of the movie “Vampires Suck” currently unavailable on DVD.
  9. I can’t actually donate to different causes either. I’d like to donate to things like organizations that help people who suffered from abuse or something, but I can’t. So I just live on knowing I can’t help anyone because my poorness holds me back.
  10. I already mentioned that I can’t afford the expensive shit, but hell I can’t afford regular everyday stufs either. I know of people who claim to be poorer than me who at least have those channels like HBO or Cinemax or Starz or ShowTime. I don’t have those. People who claim to be poorer than me also magically tend to carry more money than me. Mhmm….. sure.
  12. I’m a pretty easy person to please, but seriously I don’t understand why I have to suffer in literally every area of my life. I have nothing at all going good for me. Venting only works for the next couple hours and then I’m back to this feeling. this feeling that’s been throughout this entire post. Stopping here because I don’t want to end on 13.

THE CURE (MAYBE): I know of a simple remedy for this unhappiness- grow and smoke marijuana. I would ask for it medically, but I doubt anyone in my family would agree with me. They didn’t agree with Xanax either. Then again, marijuana is one of the most non-toxic medical substances. That just so happens to help with anxiety, depression, and chronic body pain (Hmm, these are my daily symptoms. Every minute of the day)……………………………………….. *sigh* LIFE SUCKS. FCK YOU LIFE! FIX ME!

Tough Grandma in a Black and White World

My grandma is the shit. I can honestly say I view my grandma as being one of the toughest people I know, which is way different from what most people can say about their grandmother. Being a teen mother who was neither black nor white, my grandma had more issues to deal with than the average person. It wasn’t only the discrimination of having a child at a young age that makes it hard for a young mother to make it in the world. All the labels society created did not have a place for Chinese or Hawaiians back then.

Despite the struggles she faced later in life, my grandma had a pretty simple, pleasant childhood. Growing up in Hawai’i, it was all about Summers. Working diligently on her aunty’s farm in Nanakuli, anxious for the reward; swimming at the beach. When there are 12 foot waves sometimes the reward isn’t worth it. I can’t imagine what went through my grandma’s head as the waves carried her further and further out to sea. The panic of seeing yourself drift backwards into the never ending ocean. Your view of people on the beach shrinking. The anxiety as you think of every possible result. And then finally, a cousin’s strong arms wrap around your feeble body and effortlessly swimming you back to shore.

At 16, grandma’s life changed forever. Ignorance led her to be happy about having a son. Most people think it is the end of the world when they discover they’re pregnant. Their social life goes out the window. Luckily, she didn’t have a social life outside of a relationship with her baby’s dad. Like most other young parents, they both wanted to get married. It was traumatic when her parents wouldn’t allow it. Grandma was only 16 and pregnant and they didn’t give a damn that her boyfriend enlisted in the Army to take care of them. It didn’t matter that it was the Vietnam War. The first love is always the worst.

On October 6, 1967, she gave birth to the cause of our recent hell; my “dad” Christopher. Born with a lot of allergies and very atrocious asthma, the doctor said that the weather in Hawai’i was not good for his health. They both relocated to Long Island, New York. First thing grandma did was find a job. There was no way in hell she was going to be homeless or on welfare. She ironically landed a job as a hula dancer in a Chinese restaurant with a Hawaiian flare. Unfortunately, her husband wasn’t a fan of dancing for money, regardless of the fact it paid good money for 4 hours of not working. The start of living in New York wasn’t going all that well.

The next job was at a laundry dry cleaning place. It just so happened that in the back, there was a bunch of baby frogs. My dad used to go and play with the frogs, sometimes bringing them all the way back home. Grandma doesn’t really like creatures so it doesn’t take a rocket scientist to understand how that went. He’d even throw rocks through the car windows at the auto body shop next door. Luckily, the owner was a nice guy and probably understood how hard it is to raise a rascal pain in the ass kid. Sometimes I can’t believe my grandma had the patience to take care of 8 units of rascal pain in the ass kids in a nut house.

Even working in the mall there was issues she had to deal with. As if there weren’t already enough problems everywhere else. Of course people all assumed her husband was her limo driver. As if there was something wrong with a handsome black man picking up a non-black woman at night. In general, she was considered white even with her brown skin. However, white people did not think of her as equal with brown skin. The blacks, who also had brown skin, didn’t really accept her either. There was no place for an Asian Hawaiian in a place so set in its wats of black and white. Unless they were being offered a job as a change girl at a Sahara hotel in Las Vegas. That seemed to be the only time that being a certain race or color didn’t matter. Even when she was going to attend mandatory marriage classes for the military to marry the father of her child, they kicked her out for being brown. She could never be Asian because some people wanted her to be white. Some people wanted her to be colored.

My grandma never gave up and never bent down to kiss anyone’s ass either. It was all about rolling with the punches. That’s what makes her tough. She didn’t dodge the punches, and didn’t pretend they never happened. She rolled with them. I give props to any woman who struggles but keeps going. Especially with all the men who think the reason their gender has been more in power is because they’re better. It may be easy to give up, but who would ever want to be a loser? Who would want to prove to someone else they’re weak?

Bad Medicine

Written August 11, 2009

“You’re a sneaky little bitch”, “You’re a cunt just like your mother” and “You’re the biggest dumbass I’ve ever known.” Even “You’re the devil”. These words echo in my head every day of my life, with the voice of a woman who was the beginning of my newly-screwed-over life. Of course my “dad” had to marry some evil, bitchy gold digger. For what reason? Sex? I don’t know. I stayed quiet about it for years but one day in the ending of 2007, I finally found my voice. I know…. very dramatic.

            There came a day that these “people” found out I had pulled out a knife on two guys on the bus in self defense. Of course, I was yelled at for about 2 hours, not allowed to move or anything. Only allowed to reply “Yes, sir” or “No, sir” to the occasional question. Then all of a sudden this “dad” grasped my hair near the back of my neck. I could feel my feet lift off the ground and then felt the air rush past me as I was hurled straight into a chair. Luckily, the only thing close by was a belt. Full swings whipped the belt at me. With each blow, I got more and more dizzy. I let out a gasp as I feel the belt strike an open, bleeding wound on my lower back. Someone was saying something, but it all seemed muffled. I assume it’s that bitch cheering. The entire time it was like I was mentally absent. I didn’t feel the pain and I could see everything happening. Then as suddenly as it had begun, it just stopped. I was told to stand up. The pain finally hit and I struggled to ignore the pain. Acting like I was hurt would gain me a few more blows, few meaning about twenty more.

            Beatings like this would occur daily, most of the time for no reason whatsoever. Other times it was for extremely pointless events like “making too much noise washing dishes” which they also called the cops on me for. I’ll never understand the reason why someone would make their own “child” a slave to them. I was never able to grasp how to treat anyone like a piece of shit.

            Afterwards, I reported this incident to my school counselor, Vanessa Geddes. Cops came and asked to inspect my injuries but I said I’d prefer if a doctor did it. I honestly did not want five police officers to be looking at my naked ass. They drove me to a doctor, where I shamefully stripped and had pictures taken of my battered, abused body. This memory is one of the clearest I have. I will never get over it until I know WHY my own “father” would treat me like a slave, kick me out, and make sure I inherit nothing. For all he did, the courts excused this case because “the good outweighed the bad” which basically meant that since he served in the military for 20 years, he escaped any consequences for child abuse, harassment, terroristic threatening, slavery, and negligence for 3 years. Regardless, my past experiences have given me a more ambitious attitude. My dream is to be better than he was. And to one day find the strength to pick up the phone just to thank him and say, “FUCK YOU!”

American Ass Backwards

The assignment was to answer the question “What does it mean to be an American?”  August 10, 2009

                 To be completely honest, being an “American” does not mean anything at all. The “freedom” that we are given is extremely limited, unlike how people make it seem. The U.S. has a government that disobeys its own laws and justifies itself with false information. Not to mention the military and police force have no integrity. I’m proof enough for that. All in all, symbols of America are all phony because of the reasons listed above.

                Many people bring up the first amendment when confronted with a question like “What does it mean to be an American?” and they go into detail about freedom of speech. This freedom is very limited. Everyone in the room reading this can’t deny that they aren’t allowed to speak freely and express whatever they’d like.  Not only have I witnessed people exercising their right and being punished, but I do it myself quite frequently. What is a freedom with punishment? It isn’t a freedom anymore.

                Secondly, our government has created laws and will readily take illegal action and either omit or alter information for the public. For example, Bush placed several surveillance cameras in New York shortly after 9/11. He did so without the agreement of representatives, senators, etc. Another example could be how Hawaii was seized by the US through a series of threats against the monarchy (i.e. The Bayonet Constitution). Again without any legitimate authorization. In addition, they held people at gun point and imprisoned Queen Lili’uokalani after taking all of her power for no reason. If the “American” government can’t obey its own laws, it’s not too wonderful.

                I’ve also mentioned that the men and women serving and representing the US have no integrity. Military men have been known to beat and cheat on their wives. Police men have been known to beat and cheat on their wives. I’m not going to lie; my biological father was in the Navy for 20 years and started beating me every day of my life since I was around 10 years old.  The police I eventually reported him to said that it was completely legal and then illegally searched my room. His wife threatened to kill me in front of a police officer and all the police officer could say is, “Since nothing is being done, I cannot legally remove you from the home”. We went to court and the case was dismissed even with all of the physical evidence. That’s just one example. America didn’t provide justice for me and many other people out there. America allows the people serving it to participate in illegal activities without discipline. No integrity.

                America is ass backwards. Freedom of speech is overrated, the government doesn’t obey the laws it creates, and is represented by many people who do illegal activities and lack integrity. So being an “American” means nothing. It basically just means that you’re a citizen of the United States of America. Simple. Teachers have disagreed with me, and then somehow don’t allow me to take full advantage of “freedom of speech” because I end up getting detention. And what is freedom with punishment? It isn’t a freedom anymore.