On My Mom Questioning My Sexuality.

"Are you still friends with that boy?"
"Yes, Mom. I am."
"How long has it been now?"
"A couple of months now?"
"Are you going to break up with him soon?"
"WHAT?!"
"Are you going to break up with him soon?"
"Mom! What are you talking about?"
"Are you a lesbian?"
...
"Is that why you always break up with the boys?"
"How does that even make sense, Mom!? If I broke up with a guy and started dating another guy, that doesn't make me a lesbian!"
"No, but it might mean you're a lesbian."

My mother has no tact whatsoever. I guess that explains why I'm the way I am.

It's not the first time she's asked me if I'm homosexual. She tries to do it nonchalantly, but it ends up being more comical than anything.

* * *
I never believed the women who said that as they got older, they started developing friendships with their mother. I couldn't ever see that with my mom and me. The kind of relationship we had when I was growing up consisted of her telling me what to do and how to do it. And on very rare occasions, she would tell me the boys I dated were ugly. I just couldn't imagine us being friends. We had nothing in common.

But of course, like everything I've been wrong about, I'm also wrong about my mom and I becoming friends. I don't know what the catalyst was or when it started but I know that whatever is happening, is the product of years of bad communication finally turning good.

Or maybe it was the desire to connect with somebody who's known you your entire life and has loved you unconditionally even when you drove them to the brink of insanity.

In retrospect, I knew nothing about myself and she knew everything about everything. So to finally accept that piece of truth and let her into my life as an ally is humbling.

What if she's right about me being a lesbian?! Wouldn't I know if I am or if I'm not?

* * *
"Well, if you like boys, maybe your problem is that you need to be more ladylike. And talk less. And be less of a smartass," my mom commented recently when inquiring about my sorry love life.

Candy Crush Is Ruining My Life, Part 2.

Hi. My name is X. And for the past three months, I've been addicted to the Facebook game, Candy Crush. I know I should have stayed away but once I started, I couldn't stop.

It started when my friend blew up her Facebook asking for Candy Crush lives. At first I ignored it. The last time I had gotten involved with a Facebook game, my life was dictated by time intervals of the game and always had me rushing to the nearest computer. I was determined not to let my life go to shambles again. I don't know what possessed me to install it but once it was on my phone and couldn't stop playing.

At first, I was like--Oh this game...so eeeeasy. Whatevs. Then it got difficult. And it wasn't gradual. It was as if the developers wanted everybody to stop playing the game and decided that they'd make the levels impossible.

I was pissed.

In retaliation, I was like--NEVER. I'M GOING TO PLAY THIS GAME SO HARD THAT YOU DAMN DEVELOPERS WON'T BE ABLE TO KEEP UP. And I did. I was so hooked that I stopped reading on my commute to play Candy Crush. Instead of eating, I played Candy Crush. Instead of helping LH navigate while he was driving, Candy Crush. Instead of sending out resumes and cover letters, Candy Crush. At the gym, Candy Crush. At work, under my desk, Candy Crush. Out with friends at happy hour, Candy Crush. On the dance floor gettin' mah dancey dance on, Candy Crush.

Candy Crush consumed my life. Candy Crush was life.

And then, it happened. The day I finished all the levels that were offered on mobile. It was VICTORIOUS. But of course, it didn't stop there. I learned that if I opened Candy Crush on a computer, there were more levels. These levels, however, were even more impossible than impossible. I'd spend all my lives in one sitting on one level, never succeeding.

And because my laptop wasn't functioning, I'd stay a few minutes after work each day to play Candy Crush. I'd sit at LH's desktop for hours on the weekends (which was usually our together time) as he napped or played Little Empire or Age of Empire or whatever phone game he was playing at the time. It got so bad that one time he used his phone to turn of his computer so we could "talk." I've never been so crushed in my entire life. I may or may not have cried. In my defense, I've never once pulled a move like that while he was playing COD or LoL. NEVER!!! THERE WAS NO REASON TO BE SO MEAN! I WAS ON SUCH A GOOD ROLL.

Oh shut up, everybody. You're all thinking, But it's just a game, X. Get over it. GET OVER IT?! Oh my goodness, get out of my face. What's there to get over? All I need to do is get to the top of the map. Can't I liiiiiveeee?? Joy-killer!

* * *
Anyway. I think the obsession with this game started because there's a map. And ranks. And there are locked levels. It's like Tetris and Anipang and Bejewled had a threesome and made sweet, sweet love and had a baby and named it Candy Crush. And because I have this shamefulless insatiable need to be on top. I know I can't be the best at everything. Heck, I know that there are hundreds of things I've tried that I suck at (tying my shoes, maths, swimming, putting music on my iPhone, using torrents, breathing when I eat, etc.) so when I find something that I'm particularly good at (Taboo, Candy Crush, putting together puzzles, making jello shots, hosting Thanksgiving dinners, making sammiches, and giving hugs), I'm going to do them however hard and well as I damn please.

Hi. My name is X. Yesterday, I finally finished all the available levels at this time on Candy Crush and now I have so much free time, I don't know what to do with myself. I suppose I should start new hobbies...or finish that 2000 piece puzzle that's been around since Hurricane Sandy (October 2012).

Is this it for me and Candy Crush? I know that they'll be releasing new levels. I don't know when nor if I'll even try to log back in (I probably will) but there's satisfaction in knowing that I've completed what I've set my mind to do, which was to reach the top of the map.

Even if it's a game that hundreds of my Facebook friends have complained and deemed as "stupid" and "pointless."

Suck it, Candy Crush.

PS - Somebody read this and said I was intense. I'm not intense, I'm just friggin' amazeballs, homeskillet. Git on mah level!

On Time Travel. And Spirits.

I like to think that there's something more than our brains, more than hormones being released, more than reflexes and reactions to stimuli.

The other night, I stayed up thinking about time travel. It wasn't that elementary thinking like ohh where would I go if I could go back in time or into the future. No. I was thinking...if time travel was an actual thing and we could remove our physical body from the present and somehow reappear at another place and time that we were previously at some point in our lives, would our souls or spirits and what essentially makes each of us unique--would that also travel with us? I can understand tangible like our limbs, nails, eyeballs, and boogers being sent through time and space, but how do you transport something you cannot see...or don't even know to be real to some other dimension?

Did any of that make sense?

So yeah, that's what kept me up the other night. I frightened myself.

If you were able to sit through all that blah blah blah, I guess I'll answer that question of where I would go if I could go if time travel was real.

* * *
We were on our way home. My parents had dressed us up and taken us to a Hmong celebration somewhere in town. I remember playing with the decoration of my traditional hat, cold beads between my fingers. We stopped at a park where my parents let my brother and me out. We ran on the greenery like puppies, as if we had never seen grass before. I remember not being able to breathe because I was running so fast and hard. My hat kept falling off and my mom wanted me to take off so she could hold it for me. But I wasn't having any of it. All I knew was that it was pretty. And it was keeping my head warm. It must have been early fall or late summer because with the setting sun, steam rose from my sweaty head whenever the hat came off. My dad chased me, caught me, and lifted me onto his shoulders. The sudden rush of height overwhelmed me. My dad isn't a very tall man but to a small child, it was exhilarating. From then on, I knew that I wanted to be in elevated places. I love the feeling of my stomach lurching through my body.

As we left the park in my dad's Chevy Caprice, my parents shouted out the windows, "X and J, we're going home now. Come back home with us or else you'll be in the cold by yourself. X and J, we're going home now. Don't get left behind." I remembered asking them, "But...why are you saying all that? We're both right here. Can't you see us?" My mom turned and smiled at me, "Of course we see you. We're calling your spirits back to us. Baby spirits sometimes forget to come back."

In the back seat, I quietly whispered for my spirit to come back to me just in case it didn't see me run back to the car. I didn't want to be a soul-less body. (Is it okay that I used spirit and soul inter-changeably? Haha, well I did. So suck it.)

* * *
I want to go back to this time because I want to pop beside my mom's window and be like, HI MOM AND DAD, I'M THE SPIRIT OF X...but from the future, sort of. Hahahhahahahahahaha

My Mother's Happiness.

"Do you want to go to SALT?"
"Umm...not really, Mom."
"Why? You could meet a nice boy and maybe he'll like you too, if you don't talk too much."
"But I want him to like when I talk too much."
"And maybe he will like you enough to marry you."
"I don't think I want that."
"Is it the money? I'll pay for your registration."
"No, it's okay Mom. I just don't want to go."
"I'm trying to help you! You need to get out there and meet more boys!"
"I just ...want to focus on my life and my career."
"I know! I just want you to be happy. And taken care of. Because that would make me happy."

***SALT is supposed to stand for Single Adults Living Triumphantly. When I was younger, my friends and I used to joke that it was Single Adults Last Try. I think it was because most of the attendees were old and it seemed like one of those church events where people went to meet other singles. (And back then, old meant 25. UGH I'M OLD!)

* * *
Dear Mom,

According to your papers, you're supposed to be 51. But we all know that's a damn lie and that you're actually in your mid-40s. Quite frankly, you could pass for late 30s. I know it bothers you that you're getting older. Why? Because all you think about (for the most part) is death. You've already told me this, by telling me to take life insurance for you and Dad. This made me worried. Are you hiding some kind of cancer from me? Are you thinking about just running away and leaving your five children to fend for themselves? Please don't. I miss you too hard already to even think about walking this earth without your presence on it.

You were so young when you married my father, a man you first saw on your wedding day, lived as his wife, and gave him five obnoxious and needy children. I wonder sometimes, if you had dreams of being more than a wife and mother. I wonder if you wanted to travel the world, read foreign literature, and save the world.

But all the wondering in the world does not erase reality. And reality is, you became the single greatest and most important person in my life. (And I'm sort of a big deal.)

One of my most vivid memories of us was of me waking up early to watch you get ready for work. I actually just sat in front of the TV and watched Sailor Moon until you told me school didn't start for another three hours and that I should go back to sleep because I needed to be well rested to focus in school. Because to you, education is a way to make a better life. It would be the key to being able to provide for myself without depending on others. And it would open my mind to new ideas and perspectives into the world.

You always dragged me back to bed and I always fell asleep immediately, dreaming one day when I grew up and did well in school, and got a good job (and controlled the world), that I could wake up as early as I wanted and watch all the cartoons while you made my breakfast and prepared your lunch.

I wish I had known young-you. But I don't. I know you-you. Now. And whether you or not you had dreams, all I know are the works you've done in my life and the life lessons you've (un)intentionally shared and taught. Maybe you didn't have dreams to travel and read and save the world, but you've driven across the US and traveled to Paris and Bangkok. You can read and speak three or four different languages. And most importantly, you've never given up on me and because of that, you made and saved my world.

Your well-being, happiness, and pride in me (and my siblings) is the most important thing to me so I'm sorry I can't make you happy right now because I'm not married with a family of my own. And no, it's not because I enjoy my freedom and am too irresponsible to take care of other lives (haha okay maybe that is why...or not). It's because I'm trying the best I can to take care of myself right now so that if I'm ever in a situation where I cannot be helped by my hypothetical husband, that I can still hold my own and be on my own two feet.

Happy birthday, Mom. I know you think I take you for granted, but I really don't. Each day away from you is another reason why I love and miss you more. We both know why I cannot be home but it doesn't stop me from wanting to be close to you. You will always, always have the biggest room in my heart and take up the most space in my mind. I'm sorry for being such a twat of a kid. For as horrible and miserable of a daughter as I was, that's how much more I will and do love you.

Love always,
XM

PS - I'm going to share this with you later on the phone when we talk so if I start crying and acting like a drama queen, just hang up on me like you always do.