I gave this post a bit of thoughts. As I was brainstorming, I realized something about pop culture that I’d never thought about. It’s a tangent to this post, but I’m gonna quickly talk about it before getting to the SuperNova part.
On the one hand, I didn’t want to lose the tempo of the blog in this post. The first post was like pilots are in TV series. You go out there and fucking show them what you’re about. If they like it, you probably in for season 1. If not, that’s the end of that concept. When I put myself in the shoes of such creators, it’s always the second episode that I find the real challenge. You delivered your best of ideas in episode 1, now what? Is it possible to not regress? Another question is, does it matter? which brings me to the other hand.
I do not plan to alter the content of my blog to appeal to the reader (you). Like, I am so absolutely very fine if you don’t appreciate it. I am safe, content, and not feeling inferior such that I’d need your validation. When I was in my teenage years, I had some friends at high school who taught me about pop culture and the concept of artists changing their work (e.g. their music) over time by softening it to appeal to the masses and eventually losing their initial character. It is more than likely that you are more familiar with this concept that me.
I have a number of my posts drafted already, and one is about the value of honesty from my viewpoint – spoiler: it is not rooted in morality. In that post, I’ll explain why dishonesty and untruthfulness is a disservice to myself, more than anyone else. I’ll explain why when I am not 110% genuine in my words, I am betraying myself. So, in that sense, the content will never be modified to appeal to you.
At first, I thought writing an appealing second episode and being authentic and genuine are opposing forces. But then something occurred to me. I wasn’t dealing with a real dichotomy. Here’s why:
When I write, I imagine I’m watching a movie. I am the screenplay writer, and I am the audience too. The movie plays as I write it in real-time. As the screenplay writer, while I do not “need” to impress my audience (i.e. myself), I do “enjoy” it if and when it happens. As the audience, I wanna watch the movie like I am traveling through time, space, emotions, and dimensions that the movie carries me through, and I want to feel connected to the depth of the characters. If they don’t have much depth and sophistication, my pleasure will likely reduce accordingly. With that in mind, I gravitate towards writing in a way which excites myself. The content is not what I alter to create the excitation, it’s the delivery. The articulation. The wordings. It’s the choice of the order of which content I want to bring forward next. Once this thought crossed my mind, I realized that the happiest place for me in the middle ground where, while I am pleasantly loyal to the content, I control the form to appeal to the audience, me, and you.
I had a few ideas for this post. But I decided to scratch them all and write about something key in my life these days; SuperNova. To explain what I mean by that, first I should break down the stages of my life for you. I leave everything as of age 22 onward out of this post as I intend to keep this introduction not too long:
Part 1- Age 0 to 10: The era of oblivion. Believe it or not, I hardly have any clear memories from this era of my life. I have no idea why. One of my two (step) siblings is 4 years younger than me. He remembers so much more about my childhood than I do. The number of memories that I have from those years hardly reaches out to two digits. My understanding is that I had a square shaped frame in front my my eyes those years. I saw what I saw through it, and I had no idea the rest of the world existed. I recall my (step) parents always complaining that if one day a burglar shows up while I am watching a TV, they could pack everything we had and leave, and I would not notice. The truth is, they were accurate. I vaguely remember that I would never notice when guests arrived at our place if they showed up while I’m watching cartoons. Once the cartoons end, I would notice we are having guests and be like “hey! when did you arrive?” and they say “3 hours ago!” Before any of you diagnose me as autistic, I should say I am likely not. My therapist tested me last year.
I have at around 8 distinctively vivid memories from those 10 years. I’m gonna share the earliest and the latest one with you in this post. When I was 4, once my dad’s close friend and his wife visited us and stayed for a few days. At some point, completely randomly, I noticed the purse of the wife and opened it while no one was around, and picked up a photography negative film – I am in my thirties now, and back then, cameras were not digital yet. I pulled the film out to see what it looked like. It was so flashy and I was absolutely captivated by its magnificent. I sensed a problem though when I realized I cannot roll the film back in its place. To cover my ass, I came up with a brilliant idea! If I hid the film roll somewhere, then everything should be fine, right? – I used to be really sophisticated.
We lived in a mansion back then with my paternal grandparents. It was a 2 story mansion with a big front area made of multiple gardens and a gigantic back garden, arguably a mini-fruit-farm. I recall hearing my mom yelling my name loudly. I was downstairs. I could hear her through the entrance door connected to the stairs going upstairs. I opened the door and saw her taking the steps down frantically. In her hand, she was holding the camera roll. How did she get her hands on it? She was furious with so much rage, and attacked me verbally while hitting me with her slipper. Some 10 or 20 or 20000000 seconds later, my dad’s friend stopped her. I didn’t say anything the entire time. I didn’t even cry. I was in shock the entire time. Until the friend stepped in, everyone just watched my torture. It was the first and last time she ever hit me. That event was not the worst thing that happened to me in that era of my life – let’s agree that I get to make that call when it’s about me and my life, and you just shut up and listen even if you disagree with that ranking.
I will spare you all but one of the other memories from this era for now and get back to rest of them in another post. Let’s finish the introduction to this era of my life with my last memory of it.
In grade 4, I took a test. I didn’t know, but it was one of those city-wide tests to identify, trying to say this with a straight face, “gifted kids. lol
Turned out I scored as rank #1 in the city. They gave me a plague in a celebration. Oh, the supposed glory. The repercussion of this outcome was that pretty much everyone around me started to say that I am “The Real Shit”. Da real deal. Da real talent. I was really naive those years, and unfortunately, between grade 4, I internalized that idea. I was the coolest girl in the block. I was the best #sigh. That was the worst thing that happened to me in that era of my life. The absolute worst. I’m not open to debate over it. It was the most damaging. That internalization brought me a significant amount of pain. Among other reasons, it contributed to my depression starting at age 11. If I were not the best at something I cared about, it meant to me that I was absolutely worthless. My value was reduced to a single determination: being the best. It took me 2 decades to realize that if there are two certainties in life, they’re that:
1- I was never ever EVER the best at anything – I wrote this line with the voice of Hana Gadsby in my head from Nanette on Netflix at 5 minutes and 5 seconds before the end of it.
2- Until the external forced flayed me into shape, deep inside, I never truly cared to be the best at anything. Until then, I never end thought about being the best. Until then, I was blissfully oblivious.
When I reached that level of understanding, I wrote on the board in my bedroom:
“I am not the best. I have never been the best. I don’t want to be the best at anything”
I read it to myself every morning and every evening. It was the beginning of reversing one of the streams of miseries of my life.
Part 2- Age 11 to 12: beginning of a new era if my life: depression
Part 3- Age 12 and 13: Bullying and the wake up era.
Part 4- Age 14 to 16: Soaring depression.
Part 5- Three quarter of Age 17: University preparation
Part 6- Last quarter of age 17: Bonding through soccer
Part 7- Age 18 to and including 21: Going through pinnacle of my depression and recalling passions.
At the age of 21, I was studying electrical engineering as an undergrad bachelor student. I was not a good student. By then, I had lost all passion for studying. Mathematics was something that always came natural to me. Not anymore. I was used to a new normal, underperforming. One day, something crossed my mind. I used to be passionate about mathematics. I used to find it aesthetically beautiful. My math notebooks were works of art, from my own perspective. I used to look at my math work on a page and think that this is the most beautiful thing ever. I had lost all of that. I hadn’t felt a moment of joy out of it for years. The deviation from my initial state of mind happened over time gradually and slowly, so I never noticed it. Years later, I was drastically in a different mind state. That year, I felt an urge to revive and rediscover those joys. The results were interesting. Even though I finished my undergrad in 5 years, as opposed to the standard 4 years, the last 3 semesters were my strongest performance. Following that, in my masters, I graduated with a GPA of 96.8 out of 100. That mind state did not last through my PhD tho. I’ll tell you more about it later. Years later, I went through that reviving phase of my passions for the second time, and this time it lasted to where I am as I write these words. To inspire you, I will share a subset of the list of what provokes passion and joy in my life these days.
There is a video on youtube called “histroy of the world, I guess” – see it here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xuCn8ux2gbs
At 1′:33″, the narrator says “some stars burn out and die. bigger stars burn out and die with PASSION”. Those are supernovas. Everytime I say PASSION, I want you to hear it when way he says it! Here is the list, I hope you make yours one day, if not made already.
3- Serving tea in my tea pot set. I have a super cute tea pot set. Making teas in it is one of my greatest PASSIONs! Here’s a photo of it:
2- Listening to songs in the car and singing from the top of my lungs – I am so international about this PASSION and blast the music, certainly beyond the recommended levels. At some point in my life, I realized I am maintaining my body for the sake of maintaining it. Ever since, I balance the maintenance and usage, and sometimes it means damaging it. I am happy with that balance. Some of my friends judge me for driving. I am okay with that too.
3- Kicking a soccer ball, and watching its trajectory while it follows the path I intended without me being able to control it once it is detached from my foot as it floats in the space. When I kick the ball right, time slows and I feel an excitation building inside me. That feeling is the ultimate soccer PASSION! The ball hits the net and I am overjoyed. #IamShoyofromHaiku
4- Having an intimate friend over, we share what we miss/remember/appreciate/hate/feel strongly towards from our past, or play a song or music video from that era, cry together, and move on to the next.
5- Going to live shows. For example, there is a particular strong quartet called “Candle Light”. They have shows all around the world and do a lot of shenanigans like “classic cover of Radiohead”. I LOVE their shenanigans. Their plays always being out my PASSION for life out of me.
6- Dancing. I am not a good dancer today. but I will become a good dancer. I take 4 dance lessons every week;
HipHop on Tuesdays,
dance in heels on Wednesdays,
Bachata on Thursdays, and
kpop on Saturday mornings.
I always imagined myself dancing in my head. More like daydreaming/wishful thinking. When I was in survival years of my life, I wouldn’t act on these day dreams. Now that I am in my living phase, I jump on acting on them. I will get good at dancing over time. I am hooked. It’s one of the things that makes life worth living to me.
7- Frequenting cafes: To clarify, I love coffee shops and bubble tea shops. Finding a place with a lovely vibe and hopefully not too bright and hopefully with no white light is my jam. I live in a neighborhood in Seattle, US, called Capital Hill. Here, we have a bookstore called Elliot Bookstore. Inside the bookstore, there’s a coffee shop called “Little OddFellows”. The thought of entering the bookstore, taking a deep inhale of the smell of those fresh books, walking towards the back to the cafe, and have a drink is one of my PASSIONS. They have decent pastries. Their selection of drinks is not the best. Their seats are not very comfortable. They are not the best cafe. But they are my favorite. You don’t have to be the best to be my favorite.
8- I used to watch a lot of shows and movies. These days, even though I do not allocate as much time, I still watch series. Something that no one knows is that every time I see an impactful scene in a show, I take a screenshot of it and add it to the collage of my previous screenshots. One day I’ll share the collage with you. Each addition of a new screenshot provokes my PASSION!
7- Writing: Anyone who’s read the first post can tell. It’s no secret. I feel my PASSION coming out through my words. I hear my voice. I watch the movie.
9- I have a friend in Berlin. When I say friend, I mean intimate friend. Close friend. Trusted friend. Someone I love. I haven’t seen him for 15 year. We are in touch and still close. Somewhere between poverty and international borders, we fell apart for too long. I am working on a plan to visit him. The thought of being face to face with him reminds me how PASSIONate I am about life. I have the same dreams about a friend in Lyon. Haven’t seen her for 14 years. I also have a friend living in Iran. I won’t go there, but I daydream about seeing her before I die somewhere else in the world. I am so determined to make these re-unions happen. So fucking determined.
10- Traveling: For the upcoming winter, I am planning to visit Taipei and 2 places in Philippines, and Sydney Australia. One of the most important things in life for me are the people I am tethered to. At some point, I realized that I have limited myself to Vancouver Canada and Seattle US. I want to travel, find a few cities that I would love abroad, and return to the same cities every year. I want to live in each one of them a month every year. It’s a dream in the making. Planning towards this dream is an all time PASSION. I couldn’t do it in my twenties because of being poor and also for being insecure about falling behind in life if I don’t work hard towards my career goals. I was completely controlled by few insecurities those years. Will tell you all about it later. Until then, I hope you know what PASSIONS being you joy in life. What makes life worth living it for you.
11- Playing video games: When I was very young, I was a video game champion in the family. I remember me and my brother used to play a SEGA game called “Streets of Rangers 2”. We would put it in the HARDEST mode, and start with minimum life, challenging our warrior spirits going against the odd. When we finished the game with that setting, the game gave up its cheat codes. I was amazed. I stopped video games when I was 18 to a near zero rate. But something changed many years later and I realized that video games and going to movie theatres are inherently valuable. I’ll tell you move about it in a post about losing my ability to stay in the presence.
12- Cooking and House keeping: When I was in junior high, I hated my mom. I hated most adults, but in particular, I hated my mom. She was a house wife – relax, that’s not why I hated her. Consequently, I attributed everything she did to a sense of meaninglessness and without value. The downside was that I didn’t get good at cooking and housekeeping. Many years later, I realized that I am terrified of being alone partially because I don’t believe I can look after myself. Not that I ever dated anyone to cook for me, and not that anyone ever cooked for me beyond occasions. It’s just that the thought of the fact that I have to face cooking and house keeping alone elevated itself as a terrifying thought later in life, despite the fact that I cooked my meals when I was a poor university student and didn’t have a problem with it back then. These days, I love cooking. It is so satisfying. Here are some of my art work:
13- Leaving 20+ min voice messages for Sadie: I have a BFF in Vancouver Canada. Her (not real) name is Sadie. She means the world to me, and despite all the unfortunate events that I have been through in life, I had the absolute luck to have met her in 2012 and be friends with her since. She has truly been there for me when I hit rock bottom of my life. Since we do not live in the same city, we leave each other voice message. Our messages are very long. Specially mine are super long, like 30 minutes, or 40 minutes even on rare occasions. We love it. We have both explicitly made each other know how much we love these super long messages.
In the movie “Sin City”, at some point, the protagonist is drowning in deep water. A badass character in the movie, called Miho, dives in, grabs the hand of the protagonist, pulls them out, and saves their life. In the words of that scene. The short video below summarizes my feelings for Sadie after all these years: “Sadie, You’re an angel. You’re a saint. You’re Mother Teresa. You’re Elvis. You’re a god.” She pulled me out of the depth of my misery. A story for another time – be patient sweeties, we’ll get there.
That is not why I love her. But it’s not irrelevant either. Listening to her voice messages is an all time PASSION of mine.
14- Making out.
May, 2024 – Raven