pants off dance off

Where do I begin? My father.

I love and respect my father so much, but I do not know how to show vulnerability to him.

He has done so much for the Vietnamese community, and he always lived a bigger life than what his family wanted or needed. He wasn't there for us when we grew up, not in the way that we wanted as children. He provided us with all the means in the world. A full stomache, a home, but no love and compassion. He was, by the archiac definition of a world long gone, a true man.

My father checked all the boxes for being the Patriarch; the Alpha Male. He was a charismatic leader, he brought wealth to the Vietnamese community, he brought joy to people, he welcomed people and made them all feel like family, except for his family. He only consistently treated us well in front of guests.

Who was my father when the guests were not around? The broken man that has been running away from his fears and insecurities since his childhood. I can relate to that, Dad. He, too, feared vulnerability. Feared being weak. Feared the judgmental eyes of his peers that he isn't the perfect man he has always tried to project into the world. It was weird seeing this duality as a child. I guess you can say that this became the root to my discontent and distrust with Authority. I got first hand experience with seeing how one can abuse their Authority, and its all so human.

My father lost his mother when he was at a young age, I want to say between 3-5 years old. He had two siblings at that time. His father remarried and had 8 more children. He was angry, jealous of the love his younger half siblings received. He also didn't feel love. He ran away to Saigon, and based on context clues, likely joined a gang during his younger years. I don't know if it was during his life in Vietnam or his early years in California. Regardless, the world he grew up in nurtured him into a hardened soul.

My father and mother escaped Vietnam thanks to the help of my great-uncle. Our family was lucky enough to have the gold to pay the boats to ship my father, mother, and her three brothers to California. They all worked at sweatshops and other jobs immigrants tend to "steal" when they settled. We were dirt poor until we moved to New Jersey. We grew up in homes with 4-5 families crammed into a house.

It was then, that we began to find wealth. My father was able to spark up partnerships among his friends, expanding nail salons all across northern New Jersey. He brought wealth to my family, my uncles, and other vietnamese families. But none of that came without costs. His past was catching up to him. The stress of keeping this growth was catching up to him. His family deteriorating was catching up to him. He escaped through the bottle like he usually does. His family felt the consequences of how he dealt with his inner demons; anger and violence.

Vietnamese men are taught these tools to survive their community, their world. But we aren't at war anymore. We don't need these tools anymore. It took a lot of tears from our family for my father to finally let his guard down. It took his son almost dieing several times for him to finally accept accountability. He finally admitted to himself, he isn't perfect.

My brother only wanted my father's love, he wasn't weak. The irony of it all is that I feel deeply inside me that my father seeks my love. I've come to terms with my father a long time ago, but I still have a chip on my shoulder on how it affected my brother.

My brother and I stood up to my father in different ways. My brother was loud, combatitive, and very transparent. I closed my mouth and I closed my heart to him. He never saw real emotion from me again for a very long time.

My father is still not perfect but he proved to me that people can change in this world. That you can still learn to improve yourself. I'm proud of my father for breaking through his inner demons and getting closer to finding peace. I'm fighting my own demons now, and it's something I can look to for inspiration and motivation.

Perhaps my purpose is to heal and evolve the generational trauma, hurt, and sadness that resides in the soul of our Cao DNA. My brother and I share many of the strengths and weaknesses of our father, and our father gave us the blueprint and opportunity to heal earlier than he has had.

I guess it's time I show my brother and father love again. I don't know how but I guess it can start with a phone call.

Thursday, April 3, 2025

My Place in Infinity

What is the purpose to life? What is the meaning to life? Is there a meaning or purpose?

It may be cliche, but I suppose I've wrestled with those questions a great deal of my life. Wrestled with ideas like destiny or nihilism. Nitpicked religion and the dogma in science. Came to conclusions like wanting children because they inspire ego death.

I've come to accept it all, or at least I'm trying to. It helped me a lot by recognizing the idea of infinity and my place in it.

Just me and the trees, the forest and the leaves. A piece of the Mandelbrot, and I'm okay with that.

There's going to be people poorer than me, richer than me. Cooler than me, geekier than me. Dumber, smarter, skinnier, fatter, prettier, uglier, meaner, nicer.

I aim to wake up with love and not violence. I aim to find balance.

I forget what podcast I was listening to, and whether the guest was Gabor Mate or Jordan Peterson, but they made a statement that was so powerful to me. "A person who dealt with trauma lives in a landscape of good and evil."

After I almost lost my brother to heroin, my world was consumed by good and evil. Actions spoke louder than words to me; it's either you do or you don't. All the words used to define why you "don't" was bullshit to me. You do or you don't. My life became black and white..

Watching our family dynamic devolve my brother to such dependency on heroin destroyed my soul. Being manipulated and gaslighted by my brother destroyed my soul. Watching the bright and joyous face of my brother love bombing me and realizing it was hollow because the heroin he injected finally kicked in destroyed my soul. Seeing the brightness from my brothers face transform before my eyes into a crying and agonizing sadness begging me to drive him to Newark to help him pick up drugs or else he might kill himself because he doesn't feel loved, it became Tuesday.

It became a joke to me. It wasn't. It fucked me up. I didn't offer my trust to people so freely anymore. I recognize that now.

Life isn't black and white. I knew that but I lost track of it. I took a back seat and chose the path of least resistance. I simplified the world to 1s and 0s. But the scale you choose is the scale you live by.

I'm unbinding the knot I shackled my soul behind, but it's hard for me to approach. I built a lot of "protective" measures without realizing it, and I think it'll be a while for me to recognize and find them all. But I find that the more I deal in the memories that hurt me so much, the more I'm able to find peace again.

And recognize my place in infinity.

Thursday, March 20, 2025

Where are the fireworks?

I'll ramble on in this one.

I have a coworker who deals with deep depression. He's been through shit. We've shared our war stories. We were both born into traumatic homes. We both came to the conclusion that if you experience enough fucked up shit in your life, you're content with having very little when you come out of it.

The silence was enough.

I was content.

But...

Did it ever get silent, though? Where did the fireworks go? When you're raised around fireworks, I guess you grow up looking for them.

Fuck it; let's do talk therapy.

I think around 7-8 years ago, I was having dinner with Wendy, Jenny and Shelley. I remember bragging that I was able to cry on command. In retrospect, I shoulda figured out I had issues then and there.

The problem, though, was that I never used that simple trick again... that is, until I used it on my therapist.

What's the trick you ask?

To be continued...

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Monday, October 7, 2024

Mountains out of Molehills, Pt. 1

I really hate the act of complaining. I despise it. I refuse it. I drown it out. I dismiss it. I marginalize it. I do not empathize with it. Unless a progressive thought or plan is put into play to remedy the problem, I don't want to hear a fucking word of it. The aura of discontent without a course of action was a dagger to my soul.

But why?
Why is it that I hate it so fucking much. Why do I view mountains and molehills all the same? I never want to spend an iota of time on the feelings one experiences when dealing with a problem, I only want the focus placed on the solution.

For a substantial part of my life, I lived by the words "Act or forget, complaining is silly." I lived by those words, truly. I chose to forget a lot.

I've started Couples Therapy with my wife recently.
It started because of our fights that I deemed as molehills.
I marginalized the problems. I didn't view them as problems.
They were hiccups. Like dust in the wind.
I marginalized the problems. I marginalized my Wife's feelings.
Why are we fighting over dust? What's the fucking point?
Can't we sweep this under the rug?
Can't we let the wind blow it away?
Can't we forget about it and move on?

While talking to our therapist, it made me remember how little value I put on my own life, my own feelings. It wasn't a choice that I made, maybe it was, but it was a persistent feeling that was bound to my soul at a young age. The feeling and emotion of having no value? It grew up into a man. Dropped into an ever-growing, internet driven, and over-exposed world.

I was able to falsely feel validated that my life wasn't so bad. My feelings didn't matter. The scale that my trauma weighs on seemed to be pretty light next to the killing fields of Cambodia... and if I couldn't convince myself enough that I was okay, there were plenty of vices that can occupy my overthinking, overworking, over-analyzing mind.

Was TV not enough to drown my thoughts? Let me put music on top. Was the music and TV not enough? Let me play some sensory overloaded video game. When the trauma was "light", those solutions were enough. They weren't always enough. They were never enough for my brother.

Trauma isn't a sticker that you can scratch off or hide. It doesn't come in one size. It's not a flavor of the week. Trauma doesn't come with a label for everyone to understand. It's not a television program that you can turn off because it was too traumatic. The show goes on.

Some trauma can appear like a form of mold. Slowly infecting and latching on to every form, thought, and feeling without showing any signs of presence. Some trauma doesn't go away. Some trauma is perpetual. An elephant in the room that you grew up with and dare not speak about to a member of a Nuclear family. The violent alcoholic with an illogical, fascist, dictatorial, fear-driven grip that deposed its own will on the people. Is the alcoholic happy? The people must be happy. Is the alcoholic sad? The people must be sad.

What are the options that a boy can take when their hero becomes a fearmongering tyrant? When he can feel the fear and sadness in the hearts of his family? When he can feel the anger, sorrow, anxiety, shame, frustration, doubt and disappointment in the tyrant, himself? To empathize with the devil? How does the boy scale his problems against his father's?

Am I making mountains over molehills?
I must be.

When I was around 7 or 8 years old, my father brought me and my siblings to a construction yard. Being the young dumb immortal turd that I was back then, I kept running around throwing caution to the wind. Of course the wind leads my foot to a wooden plank with a nail sticking out, through the soles of my shoe and through my foot. I remember very clearly how scared I was. It wasn't the pain I was scared of or how much blood there was. I was scared of my father.

To be continued.

Sunday, February 25, 2018

Limited Time

It's cliche for me to say your time on earth is limited. But sometimes we get so caught up in the moment or get sidetracked that we don't make the most of our time while we are here. I know that I am definitely guilty, since I like spending a lot of my free time doing nothing.

However, sometimes we are reminded that our time is limited. Unfortunately for me, I was reminded recently with the passing of an acquaintance. I took Vietnamese for my foreign language in college since I wanted an easy A and plus my Spanish sucks. I was paired up with a group that included 2 girls. I can't say I talked to her much or we got super close. We just simply worked on it and I had 2-3 more quarters of Vietnamese with her. That was around 2008? 2009?

Well, I saw on Facebook a few weeks back that this girl I sort of knew got the flu and it took her life. It's just weird to see someone so young pass away. And from the flu as well. I was sad hearing the news and from what I remember she was a super hard working girl.

I was going through my contacts today deleting people from my phonebook and I saw her name.. I had forgotten I ever had it and it was such a reality check. One moment you're here and the next you're not. And I need to do more with the time I am here. Rest in peace My Tran.

Saturday, January 6, 2018

11:11

11:11 am.. 11:11 pm.. As I type this - it is one minute before 11:11.. Which means it's time to make a wish. 11:11? Make a wish, I'm sure you've heard it before. And it's not like it means anything or that I seriously believe my wish will come true. It's just a silly habit of mine that I still do when I see those magic numbers. But 11:11 also reminds me of her. I always texted and reminded her when it was time to make a wish. Not only did I want my wish to come true, but hers as well. Eventually, I even got her to remind me when the clock hit 11:11. And so what began as a silly gesture became a reminder of what I once had.

I am reminded every day. Some days are better than others, and some worse. My wishes were silly and farfetched. Become a celebrity, win the lottery, teach my dog Merlin how to drive a car. And before I knew it my farfetched wishes became more serious. I wished for a time machine, a reset button, a way of undoing how things turned out. Something I always did for fun wasn't fun anymore.

Through the process I have grown, I have cried, and I have faced inner demons. And it kills me that I can't move on. My inability to forget the past haunts me daily. The best part of dating is having someone to share everything with, which is also the worst part of dating when it ends. You share your passions, your favorite donut, intimacy. A simple thing such as a song on the radio can ruin your day.

And life goes on. You feel like shit but in the morning you still have to get out of bed. You feel like there's no hope but hope is what keeps you going. Days turn into months, months turns into years and slowly getting out of bed isn't as bad. You're feeling great and then out of the corner of your eye you see it.. 11:11. Fuck. Life goes on.

Monday, February 29, 2016

Reminders

It's hard to forget when the little reminders are everywhere. I've been trying to move on, yet I am reminded daily of the one that I lost. Everywhere I turn, everywhere I look. I am trying but it's unavoidable and I just have to take it and keep going no matter how I feel. That's what sucks.

Tuesday, February 2, 2016

Inanimate Objects

It's funny how some things you own have so much meaning behind them. A pair of shoes for instance. I was looking at my Kobe basketball shoes. If anyone saw them they'd just see a fancy pair of shoes - they might comment how cool or ugly they are. To me I think wow I'm about to start my second season of basketball with them. When I first got them.. This and that was happening in my life. I was so happy and there was so much joy at that point. Everything you own can hold some sort of sentimental value. To others it's just shoes, to me they were a bridge between me and the person I was a few months ago.

Tuesday, December 15, 2015

Equal Reaction

Things I've learned the past few months:
- It takes the same amount of courage to push yourself to do something as to stop yourself from doing something. Actually now as I write this it's harder to stop yourself from doing something then it is to do something.
- I still don't know when to use 'then' and when to use 'than' - This I still need to learn
- 2009 to 2015 is 6 years. In that time I became content with it just being me.
- Life goes on whether you want it to or not. Embrace the present, don't dwell on the past or it will drag you down. Always look towards the future.
- I hate Panda Express
- Sadness is poison. If you let it linger it will consume every part of your life. I hurt. I cry. I move on.

Monday, December 7, 2015

Reach

Don't reach too far. Know your limits and don't overstep your boundaries. I at times have reached too far. I mean results were bad but aren't you supposed to reach as far as you can? Or is there a limitation you should have realized along the way and stopped yourself. I guess I was always one to push the limits and see how far I could go. I prefer not living a safe life but one filled with umph.

Thursday, October 1, 2015

Music

Been kind of bummed out and any chance I get I've just been listening to music. Mainly on Pandora, music is the language of life. It conveys every emotion, and can intensify or dilute what you are feeling. If you are happy and you listen to an upbeat song it makes you even happier. If you are sad and you listen to a slow song than maybe you wouldn't be dancing anytime soon. However mix those up and you can go from happy to contemplative or sad to happy.

Music is so powerful. Thank you music.

Wednesday, September 23, 2015

Work Life

I've come to realize something about work. Personally for me I work as a means to an end. I work so I can do things aka make money so I can spend it. I don't love.. Nor do I hate it. But if I had the choice I would rather not do it. I am slightly motivated and I do okay.

Now I know people who work a lot. I don't think they have the same mentality as myself. They are extremely motivated and work a ton. Long hours and going the extra mile are the norm.

That would never be me. I clock in and clock out. I have no desire to work more than I have to. But that brings up a question.. Do you work to live life? Or do you live to work?

And so it is hard for me to wrap my head around the workaholic mentality. Like why.. Are you working so much? Life is supposed to be enjoyed. It's supposed to be experienced through other windows besides the one in your office. What is the point of putting all those long hours if you can't even enjoy the fruits of your labor.

I believe working a lot is a little selfish. Even if it's to provide your family a better life, a better life would be spending time with you. You have no time for your friends or family and in that aspect I believe that it is selfish. You think about yourself above all others which isn't necessarily bad but there are times where you should think of others before yourself. I can say that even for me I can be selfish in that aspect. And in my time off I should spend it with those who care about me, because they make time for me and I should return the favor.

Maybe they enjoy what they do. But not for me. I enjoy living my life outside of work. I refuse to make work my life.

Monday, September 7, 2015

Fast n Furious

I took my car to the racetrack yesterday and I don't think I can say I've had such an exciting experience before. Driving to the edge of the limits of my car, trying to push it as hard as possible, and just doing everything in your power not to lose control.

Wow.

Saturday, July 11, 2015

Past My Prime

I'm old now. All the fun and exciting stuff I did in my life was before instagram was invented. I see young kids post travel pics and just awesome stuff. And I have to scroll all the way down mine to see things like Coachella and Vegas road trips. Nowadays my crazy posts are all food and dog pics. Maybe the occasional picture of the sky. Or work pics with the tag TGIF/hump day. Haha fuckkkkkk

Tuesday, July 7, 2015

Mr. World Wide

Pitbull aka Mr. World Wide is one example of how powerful the internet has become. Because he literally can reach everyone with his music around the world. I don't think it's necessary for a child in Bangladesh to hear Pitbull's newest hit but he could if he wanted to.

And that is what's on my mind tonight. Just the pure power of how many people we can reach with our own voice. Not personally (I don't think anybody reads this), but can you imagine how much power a celebrity has. And that worries me. Why you ask?

Well let's put it this way. You have a kid, and that kid gets an iPad. Now wishful thinking is that he idolizes someone cool like Bill Nye. On the other hand he could idolize.. Chris Brown. I don't like that idea at all. And that's really all I wanted to put out there. That the fucking internet has become so powerful, and one stupid person's opinion could influence so many lives. And that is so scary.

Friday, September 26, 2014

Judged

I've grown into such a hateful person. I find myself judging people far too often. Any picture I see, any comment I come across that isn't to my liking is dismissed as stupid. Who am I to judge someone for what they do? Why do I even care? It is their lives and they can do as they like.

Like the phone app instagram is just a giant filter of cool/stupid for me. Scrolling through my feed is just my brain going cool-cool-stupid-stupid-cool-stupid. What got me thinking about this was all the gym pictures people take. My thought process was why do people always posts pictures of themselves at the gym? I guess personally I don't see going to the gym as an achievement whereas these people do. And so what do I do? Take a shit on their achievements. Maybe it is stupid, like who fucking cares you worked out. You should be exercising anyways, you could lose a few pounds. Yea maybe there is some truth behind my thoughts. But I could take any pictures I have posted and complain about the same things. Like who fucking cares you ate that cheeseburger.

I should realize that instagram, and well pretty much anything is just a way for a person to express themselves. Them expressing themselves doesn't hurt me in any way. Well maybe it does (what have I lost my spine?), but I should learn to become more tolerant and just let things go. I guess that can be applied to everything in life. Take a moment, take a deep breathe, and just relax. Sigh.

Monday, April 7, 2014

EDN

I'm pretty introverted. I'm okay with going through my workday and not talking to anyone. I'm bad at small talk anyways. I work in such a large environment and come in contact with so many people yet I just mind my own business. Sometimes I get a hello, most of the time they smile and I'll smile back.

Why is it I avoid contact? Is it this fear of stepping out of my comfort zone? I need to step out and force myself to be more friendly. Why? I ask myself why all the time. Is it somehow going to benefit me? Maybe, maybe not. I just need to do it. I need to smile more, say hello more, maybe even make small talk more. There's no reason not to, and it won't hurt me so why am I not doing it?

I would be selfish to weigh the benefits of socializing or not. If someone takes time out of their day to speak with me why should I not return the favor? The funny thing is I love to talk. Once I get going it's hard to shut me up. So why is it I hate doing what I love?

The introvert thing is true. Sometimes I just like being alone. I hate small talk mainly because it's so fake, there is no depth behind those conversations. Although it doesn't hurt to have small talk here and there. Asking how someone's weekend was or what they had for dinner is the reason behind my problem. I seek a deeper more meaningful conversation, so I guess that's why I prefer not to talk most of the time.

But at the same time I think of all the missed opportunities/interactions I have had since I refused to talk. Everyone is seeking approval, and so that itself should make conversations less daunting. Because everyone wants to be loved, and chances are they won't bite. So here's to changing things. Stepping outside the box, and having a good time.

Thursday, January 2, 2014

Mo Cushla

It's finally 2014. Day 2 of us ringing in the new year. And I keep on seeing posts on Facebook and Instagram about making this year better then the last. I don't disagree but I don't think it's fair to measure personal improvement based on what year it is. Personal improvement should be a constant process. The day I told myself I can be a better person I began to do things differently. Small thing here, small thing there, culminating into me improving as a human being. I guess what I'm trying to say is that I don't agree with judging what I've done based on time. I believe the only time you should measure is how much time left you have left on this earth to make a difference.

Friday, July 3, 2026

Friday, April 18, 2025

Friday, April 4, 2025