Well this is my second posting of the day. What happened to the first? I didn’t save it. I wrote my first draft in this program, but as i exited the program so I could log onto it and post my draft..it didn’t save, even though I pressed the save button.

It was somewhat good too…philosophical self indulgent ramblings of my life. Can’t get better than that. Even quoted Joss Whedon through Spike. Oh to have it be saved.

What did I write about, well I wrote about feeling drugged up, depressed, and being lectured by my friend Lisa on happiness, and how I am healing.

I went through a round about way of realizing that I need to stop fantasizing/dreaming about the future and stop reflecting on the past and the good ol’ innocent days of my childhood, to stop looking back at the mistakes, the misopportunities and the choices I’ve made in my life.

Then I went on about me stopping and smelling the proverbial roses. About how Lisa thinks I need to stop thinking so big and need to think simpler on the finer things in life, the small things that makes me happy…Things that aren’t family, or friends, or my independence. Need to focus on the small things like my jeans, or my sandals, or little post its, these type of things that makes me happy.

I also wrote about how Lisa quoted Spike from Buffy the Vampire Slayer and what he sang in the musical episode. Basically that life isn’t bliss, life is just this plain meager existence, and that we have to go through life, and live life to heal and all that good stuff. That life is life.

What I wrote was good. I’m a little upset that that draft didn’t save. I’m a little perturbed at the moment.

Anywho, I finally realize that I am finally “living” life and I am making a conscious effort to live in the NOW and to stop focusing on the future and stop reflecting in the past.

There was even a little bit part where Ms. Kate Kaplan sort of revived that drive in me to go and take classes. I’ve always wanted to go back and take classes, and it is because of her and also Monica; and the fact that there isn’t anything on television anymore, to go back and take classes. I am going to take a photography class.

Well, I would write more, but I lost the inspiration because I just can’t believe the draft didn’t save…..stupid program…stupid computer…Errrghghgghhghghgggggghhhh!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I am okay today. It feels good to let everyone in, to let these feelings out. I’m glad I did it.

Now to offer some thanks to some people.

To family, for being there. I thank you. You will always be with me, in everything I do.

Those that wrote me. Thank you. Though we don’t keep in touch as often as we’d all like, I’m really glad to hear from you. I’ll try to take those comforting and consoling words to heart, but it may take time. I will write you back….eventually. I just haven’t gotten to it because honestly, I still can’t get through your words without tears. Until I am able to, you will have to be patient, but just know that I am all right, and I am grateful.

To Mr. Carver, I thank you for whatever it is that you’ve done. I’m sure it is something and I thank you. Your son is just absolutely adorable. Thank you for bringing him in. It really made my day, my week. You really have something there, cherish him.

To Duwi, my new friend. Thanks for the talk and hug.

Dawn, Claude, thank you for the time.

To Stephanie, for clearing my mind and getting things out on the first day. Thank you for being there, for being a friend. I’m glad I’ve met you.

To the fabulous Ella Spink. I can’t think of any words…..but I hope you know how I feel.

Mr. Flavin, thanks for helping me out with my work, and go for it.

The wonderful Ms. Kaplan. Thank you for doing my job, for taking on my duties and helping me out while I was gone. I would have been in trouble if it wasn’t for you. I know I’ve thanked you before, but I just want you to know how grateful and how appreciative I am for what you did. I do hope that one day we will become better friends than we are now.

Finally to the ‘flipper offer of nine year olds’. You know who you are and I’m sure from the content, many others will know also.

There is so much I want to say to you but I just don’t know how. But after a long break from writing, I think I may have found the words that I want to express to you. Don’t worry, it is not one of those letters..that will come later. It is not time to say goodbye yet, but when it is time to say farewell, I will bid you adieu. I was about to take it that way, but I decided not to. It is better to take it in the direction I am taking it in, cause I still need what we have. I can’t let go yet; not just yet.

This is my first week back to work, obviously it was tough. Work piled on my desk, things I need to sort through at work and in my head, many things that needed to be done. But you helped me ease in.

I would like to think we have something special between us. Maybe I have deluded myself into believing that we do, but deep inside, I’m pretty sure we don’t.

Well, you kept my mind off of things I shouldn’t be thinking about. You kept most of my work time, most of the time that we spent together talking about something else. Keeping my mind off of the things that I’ve written about before. You kept me sane. You made me laugh, you made me smile, I was very touched when you asked if I was “OKAY”.

When you told me that you were possessed by your hand and flipped off that nine year old girl (she was nine at the time, honestly she’s not that mean, but now I really think she would flip off a nine year old) it just made me laugh, made me smile, cause honestly it was one of the funniest things that you’ve ever told me. Especially when you told me that your conscience was guilt ridden and you broke down and confessed to your mother, classic.

It was some what personal, on some level it was, and you know how hard it is for me to get anything personal out of you. It is difficult, like a 3 year old trying to twist open a new bottle of pickles, nearly impossible. You told me anyway. It means a lot to me, even though it wasn’t as personal as some other things you’ve told me, but it was enough, it was something about you. You trust me, and most importantly you knew it would make me laugh, and you knew that it is something that I would like to know about you.

Like I told you, I enjoy the time we spend together, I enjoy talking to you, even though our conversations are strictly at work and maybe superficial, about the television shows that we watch, about interesting movies that we’ve seen or want to see, and sometimes about our families. I enjoy it. I have someone to talk to, someone to make me laugh and smile. I have someone to make laugh and to make smile, someone to charm her socks off (you know I’m charming). It is something that I never had before, but now I do. As much as I would like to have this turn into something more, unfortunately it will never happen. I see that now, but can I pretend just a little longer?

Thinking back to the first day I’ve met you, the first day I’ve spoken to you, when I asked you out the first time, and again and again, the silent times we spent together, conversations we had, I’ve come to one conclusion. You are one of the biggest reasons why I’ve found peace in myself. You are one of the reasons why I am happy with myself. You had a hand in shaping me into me. I have to say, I am more confident, bolder, happier than when you first met me. I think you have noticed that also in our conversations in the past couple of months, and especially these past few days. You are the one who did that.

So I, now, want to give you the deepest and the most sincere thank you. Thank you. I hope that we can continue to share these moments even when we part our ways. I mean that.

One final note, everything I told you before I left on Friday, I mean it too.

Today I did something that I didn’t think I would have done. I broke down and I couldn’t control it.

It was during my meeting with my supervisor, Dawn. We have a weekly meeting to go over the things that I plan on tackling in the week. That usually takes about a minute or two, nothing to much. Knowing that my father passed away, she asks how I am doing. I just tell her that I’m just thinking about many things; about my future, my past, what happened, just a flood of things. It got to the point about the direction I want to take my life, my future. I told her that I plan on leaving the company soon, that it is something I must do to get to the place I want to be, the place I moved down to LA for.

I lost it. I cracked, floods of emotions starts to ooze out and I couldn’t control it. I moved down to LA to pursue a dream, and I haven’t even come close, not a millimeter in the direction I want to go. I moved away from my family, my father to accomplish this dream, and I am no closer to it. I couldn’t keep the emotions in anymore.

Dawn kindly enough moved our meeting into her office, behind closed doors, and everything just came out.

My guilt in my father’s death.

I caused his death. Even though Dawn said that it wasn’t so, I still don’t believe her. I caused my father’s death because I left. I keep thinking this will never happen if I didn’t leave. He would never have taken that second job if I haven’t left. He wouldn’t feel lonely, or out of place as a father, as a provider if I didn’t leave.

You see, he was the man of the house, the provider. Even though he makes less than my mom, he’s the provider, the patriarch. He keeps the family intact. I left, and I guess there might be a sense of empty nest. Even though my mother is home and my brother, he probably didn’t feel like he’s doing anything. He has no one to provide for.

My parents paid my and my brother’s way through college. Now that we’ve graduated, he doesn’t need to do that any more. We both got jobs, independent and on our own. We do not need our parent’s assistance anymore. I guess with that burden lifted, there is a void missing where that use to be. He doesn’t feel like a father anymore, he doesn’t feel like a provider anymore, so he takes on another responsibility, another job. The poor stubborn man worked himself to death, and I blame myself. If only I didn’t leave. Things would get have turned out differently.

Going home was difficult for me, cause I didn’t know how I should feel. All my thoughts that were going through my head were selfish ones. What do I do now? Should I move back? I don’t want to move back, but you have to because your mom needs you? What should I do? Are these thoughts normal? Such selfishness I felt, such indulgence in myself. All I could think about was myself. I didn’t want to go through that cause I know if I went back I will have to deal with it. Also I know my family would be there to offer consoling words that I do not deserve.

My father loved me, I know. He calls me every week just to say ‘Hi’ and to see how I’m doing. But to hear my cousins say that I was his favorite, that he always smiled while I was in the room, or that I made him proud; I couldn’t take it. I didn’t deserve to hear those words, not in a million years. I didn’t deserve it because I wasn’t there. I left him and my family behind to pursue a dream that I have no way of reaching. I just left him. So take those words back, cause I can’t bear to take those consolations. They don’t belong to me, they belong to my brother.

He’s there at home. He has a good career, doing something that he likes, something that makes my parents proud. Unlike me the bastard, ungrateful son who left to pursue an unreachable dream. They didn’t know that a main reason for me to move down was to get away from my parents. He never knew that. My brother should hear those consoling words, cause they belong to him more.

So I’m home, crying, hearing these words, and I’m crying more cause they are lies. They are words that I do not want to hear. Please take them back.

Most of the week before the funeral, I couldn’t sleep. I keep thinking about many things. My future, the past, and about my father and what a great man he was. I wrote an email to my friend Stephanie telling her what emotions I’m feeling. Here is what I wrote cause I don’t think I can write these words again:

Hey Steph,

How are you doing? I hope you are doing fine.

I wanted to thank you again for calling and talking with me. I really
appreciate it. Thank you.

I just wanted to let you know that I am fine, and so is my family. My
brother took care of most of the paperwork with the life insurance, and the
rest of my family (my uncles and cousins) are helping out with the
arrangements and everything. They are so great for being there for us.
Everything is all good to go. The service is going to be this Saturday.
All we do now is wait till the rest of my uncles and aunt get here from out
of town and stuff.

My brother got everything planned out and knows what he needs to do
financially and everything. We just have to transfer everything to my mom’s
name and we’ll do that next week. I have to say that I never thought that
my brother was so strong, holding together like this. I’m here for my mom,
taking care of her, getting her what she needs, and my brother is taking
care of everything else. I know I wouldn’t be able to handle it the way
that he did…maybe now, but not when I got home.

My mother is doing fine. She’s holding strong, but like me, she breaks down
once in a while. She’s a strong woman. Hearing her talk to my aunts and
hearing how she blames herself, it just kills me. What if she went into the
bedroom sooner, what if she made him go see the doctor when he said that his
chest was hurting? instead of just letting him be. He said that he was fine
and she left it at that.

My father is a stubborn man. I guess that’s where I get my stubborness
from. As much as I get compared to my father; i look like him, i’m
respectful to everyone like he was to others; i’m not like him at all. I’m
not a good man like he was, like he is. I don’t think I’ll ever be.

Sunday was a very emotional day for me. i couldn’t keep myself together and
my brother was cool as a cat. The consoling words that my cousins said, I
couldn’t take them. I didn’t want to hear them because I didn’t deserve
them. They said I made my father proud, that I was his favorite. I didn’t
make him proud. i haven’t done anything to make him proud. What have I
done for myself, what have i done for him or my family. nothing. I left
them and I’m just sitting on my ass wasting my life away. Yeah, that really
made my father proud. I cried and cried. now there are no more tears. but
i’m doing much better because of it. I’m moviing on, and focusing on the
things that needs to get done.

I haven’t seen my father yet. friday is the viewing. I’m gonna try and see
him when I am alone. I don’t think i can handle it with someone there.
someone consoling me. i don’t deserve that.

These past few days and nights, all i could do is think, think about what it
is like to be without him, and to be on my own. I don’t like it, i don’t
want it. what a lonely liife i live. He won’t be there when I get married.
He wouldn’t see my children, and my children wouldn’t get to know their
grandfather and what a great man he was.

All i think about is him and my life. how he had this glow on his face when
he first saw me when I got up here after my grandmother died, and how that
touched me. i will never see him happy again. I think about the last time
that we saw each other. He was leaving for work and I was packing up to
leave. He told me to take care. I didn’t give him a hug, or say I love
him. I just told him okay and told him to do the same. How cold am I? How
emotionally detached I am…to not be able to say I love you, or to give him
a hug. I’m a rotten son. Even now, I can’t even say these words to my mom.

What is wrong with me? Maybe I should be alone.

Well,certainly if you were having a great week, you aren’t having one now.
Sorry for it to be so depressing. I just need to get some of these things
out. If i didn’t, I wouldn’t know what i would do.

Anywho, have a good day, and take care.

Phong

My children, my marriage, all big events in my life that my father will never be a part of. I would never have imagined it. I have always believed that he would be there to share in my happiness, and it would make him more happy, but it will never come true. There’s an emptiness in my life now, and emptiness that will never be filled. He was a big part of my life. I am the man I am today because of him and I didn’t even get to say good bye or that I loved him.

I’ve always had a strange way of thinking about things. It started ever since I was younger, in highschool. I would always think that if I daydream about certain things; about getting that girl at school, or making it big someway, or becoming popular; that they would never come true. Cause I did that, I would daydream about silly things, stupid things, and sometimes morbid things; and they all would never come true. So being the morbid person that I am, a few weeks ago I thought about my father passing. What would I do if I would get a call like the one I got from my brother saying that my mom or my dad died? What would I have done? They were just foolish thoughts, and it will never happen, but it did. My father died because I thought of these thoughts. As foolish as it sounds, even as I’m writing it, it is true. I believe it. It happened a couple years ago with my grandmother. I told Dawn, when she was hiring me for a full time position, that my grandmother is very ill and might not make it. Sure enough two weeks later, she passed away.

I have a lethal mind. I didn’t mean to write this to break the somber tone, it isn’t for comedic relief, it is what truly happened. It is what I truly believe. I cause their deaths. It has to be. No son, no grandson, should be thinking about those thoughts period. I don’t care how imaginative you are, it is something he shouldn’t do, but I did and now they are dead.

Even when Dawn pointed out how foolish I was to believe in that, I still couldn’t believe her. Why? I don’t know. Maybe I need to find a reason, a meaning to his death. Why did he had to go, what have he done? Life is unfair.

Shit happens. That is my motto. I sort of live by it, but I never thought the shit would happen to me at this scale. I always thought if shit happen, it will happen to me alone; not to my parents or my family. I guess I’m wrong.

I’m just going through confused emotions that I just can’t sort out. I need to get them out; I need to get these thoughts out. I don’t want to think anymore, I don’t want to feel.

Sometimes I would think of stupid things I could do to numb the pain; drinking, cutting myself or worse. But are they the answers? I just don’t want to feel anymore. Why do I have to feel? Why can’t I just go about being heartless and cold, not capable of feeling emotions? Why can’t I? I did it a while ago. I moved down here right after college. I didn’t even spend extra time up there with my parents, I couldn’t wait to get away, and now I just want to take everything back so I can have him back.

So now I’m back here in LA, a jumbled mess, a roller coaster of emotions. Dawn said that it was the right move to come back down, to be by myself to sort things out, to think things through without the influences of family. I have to do this on my own. I have to deal with these emotions on my own, then make my decision. What I’m feeling, and how I’m thinking, this selfishness that is within me, is natural. All natural thoughts because we are wired to be selfish; it drives our existence. I just don’t believe it, it is just me who is being foolish and selfish.

I’m sure that for others they do not think about themselves but they think about their families. They think about being there for them, being strong and help get through the tough times. I didn’t do that. I just thought about myself. And here I am, abandoning my mother and my brother.

I hope these feelings go away with time. Dawn said it took her 10 years to get over her mother’s death. 10 years. For me it should take 100 for what I’ve done. I should never feel happiness again cause once I do, it will happen again. It is something I do not want to experience.

This is supposed to make me stronger, bolder, more confident. I don’t feel that way, I just feel guiltier, sadder, weaker.

You know, the second entry is always the hardest to write. Why? What should you write about? The first one is always the easiest. Just write why you decided to do the journal in the first place. It’s a little cliche, but hey it works.

It gets you to write, it gets the creative juices flowing and pretty soon you are hooked. Then the juices just relaxes. It cools from the boiling point that it was hours ago and you start your second entry. What do you write about? Your day? Your life? What is on your mind at that time? Or like me you just simply write. Ramblings of stream of consciousness. Well it really isn’t just a stream of consciousness; it is sort of thought out as I am writing, but you get the picture.

Well any who, I didn’t feel well today, so I went home early from work. It was a first for me. I guess many who know me will call me a workaholic. I work when I’m sick. I even work through my lunch. I just work. It passes the time, cause honestly, that is what we are supposed to do. We work. And really I have nothing better to do.

Our lives are driven by the need to work. It pays the bills, it pays for our shelter, our transportation. It pays for our life. It is our survival.

I don’t actually enjoy my job, but it is a job. It is easy, but it just doesn’t get my creative juices flowing.

So I went home early today. I took whatever PTO time I had left and I went home early. The old me would have probably worked through it. I was only coughing up my lungs and a fever was burning its way from my soul through my skin, and a mind numbing headache was turning my brain to mush. It was bearable, but I went home anyway. Why?

Is it to get away from my crush at work, to get away from the pile of work sitting on my desk, to get away from the office, or is it something else?

My father passed away a couple of weeks ago. It came as a shock to everyone. I sometimes catch myself in my thoughts and remember that he’s not with me anymore. He was young, 44. Died from a heart attack.

It is a life changing event, no doubt about it. Many who have been through the loss of a parent and many who never had tell me that it will change the way I think, the way I act.

Well did it?

That is the question. Did it? I don’t know. Sure it made me think differently and act differently in different situations, but I’m not sure if it actually change me completely. I’m still the loner kid who is not living up to his potential. I’m still the same guy who listen to cheesy love songs and sings cheesy love songs to himself as he walks through the office, the guy who pines away for a girl who will never recognize the goodness I can give her. I’m still the same guy. I don’t believe I have changed.

I’m just a lot more depressed then where I was a few months ago; not that I was depressed. I was quite content, quite happy in my lonely, independent, self-deluded little world that I was living in. It was great. I guess me being actually happy had to end some time. Did my happiness being on my own cause my father’s death? For some reason inside me, I still believe so. I don’t think I can think otherwise. He died because of me…..but that is for some other time.

Maybe his death caused me to reevaluate my life. That is probably why I went home early today. I realized life is short, go home and sleep. That’s what I did, I went home and slept; rested my tired body for a few hours and slept.

Maybe this journal is my way of changing, of getting things out. Maybe this journal is my way of talking with people (mostly an empty void) to get out all of my thoughts and feelings that have been building up inside of me. It allows me to say words that I’m to afraid to say, or say things that no one would ever listen to. Cause this journal is mine; it contains my thoughts, my delusions of grandeur, and my conscience. It is me. And to much of me can be a really scary thing. Believe me and my co-workers. When they get to much of me, they roll their eyes and say “OH GOD.”

Maybe I just need to give it more time, to let my evolution take its place. What I have noticed in the past couple months is that I have changed. Maybe it was because of my sense of happiness, but I am a bolder, calmer, more confident, more relaxed and laid back than ever. I didn’t care that I am alone. It is quite refreshing anyway, not to be tied down. Not that I don’t want to be tied down (wink wink), but the independence is nice. I’m not as angry anymore; anger at the world, at my parents. That has all come and gone. I have truly come to find myself, to like myself better.

This past year and 10 months down here in LA has helped me grow up; helped me become a little less self indulgent. I’m sure you dear readers would beg to differ, but believe me, it is true. I laugh more; okay it is more like a little schoolgirl giggling, but I honestly do laugh more.

I still remember last July 4th I went back home and met my mom’s family for the first time. They just came from Vietnam. My mom’s younger brother and his family (wife, two sons, and daugther) along with my mom’s younger sister and her daughter. Basically I went up to introduce myself and to meet the children. I love children; I’m good with kids and that I’m a big kid myself. I’m young at heart as I tell my crush (and she laughs). So naturally they are quite drawn to me. Within a couple of hours they were all over me. I’ve never connected with anyone that fast before, especially kids. Some need a little more coaxing than others, but these kids just jumped right in. Any who, back to where I was going with this, dinner with my family. My loving family. The kids were talking about me in Vietnamese, and obviously I do no understand a word. My aunt told me that they said I laugh a lot. I never noticed that before, I actually do laugh a lot. It just made me think why I’m laughing, and I guess it is because I’m growing and finding myself. I’m more free, more relaxed, and more carefree. It just made me smile and laugh more.

But then I got back down to LA and it went downhill from there for a couple of months. It wasn’t until this past January when I think I have gotten myself back on track; I have finally found happiness in myself. Now with my father’s passing, how long will it take me to find my way back? I think I’ll just leave that here for now as I think about it.

Well, I have acutally done it. I started my journal. Why? I have no clue, I guess it is something to do, something to pass time as the television season comes to an end. It is also a reason for me to write without writing.

Don’t understand? Well maybe I can explain it to you better. I am a self proclaimed writer. I write screenplays. I moved down to Los Angeles from Tacoma, Washington to do it. I hate writing (even though I placed it as one of my interests) I just absolutely hate writing. It is a chore. I tend to procrastinate whenever I need to write. Why? Good question, and I really don’t have a satisfactory answer. Maybe I’m afraid that my screenplays never live up to the expectations in my head, or that no one likes thems. Or maybe they just genuinely suck and I don’t want to write suckey things. Ahhh, the common problem among most writers. The fear of writing and criticism of the audience.

It’s funny, the film “Adaptation” captures this dilemma perfectly. When you start to write, your mind just wanders to something else. “What should I eat?” or “What shall I do tonight?” or “What should I have for lunch?” etc. etc. etc.

So I guess keeping this journal will help me, will train me to enjoy writing more. To not think of it as a chore. Will I keep this journal up? I don’t know, I may, I may not. What will I put in it? A bunch of things, some personal, some general, but all me.

Well I’m sure many of you are bored already, well tough, don’t read it. If you are not, and are actually interested in wanting to know me better, give me some time, and I’m sure I’ll put some personal things in here. Well that is the plan anyway.