Break The Cycle

Dallas, TX

I recently spoke to a friend online and she was counseling me on my non-existent relationship with my dad. You know, the ever-familiar problems we have with our stoic-every-so-ready-to-force-feed-you-his-opinion-when-he-wants-to-asian father. Yes. It frustrates me.

So I run into a complete stranger on at the rail station on my way to meet up with a friend. The stranger is a white man in his forties. He seems a nice man so I approach him with, "Pardon me, sir, may I ask you a question? Perhaps you could help answer a question I've been puzzling over today." I share with him the above and he first replies, "Well, first, I am sorry to hear that. It's quite a shame." And proceeds to dissect the way the last generation of fathers was raised.

It's quite possible that one of us will pass before we make the effort to know and forgive each other. Needless to say, it would be a shame. Despite the discord, we're both fundamentally good people. I can't imagine what that would be like, I have experienced missing somebody;but not like that. Not a permanent longing.

"Father. Hello. Who are you?" We don't talk. We don't call one another. There's so much to talk about, but it seems almost impossible to start that conversation. You celebrated your 47th Birthday last week. How do I wish someone a happy birthday I don't talk to. I have learned to shut you out; to make your words... your opinion of me... not matter. I am safe behind these walls. Or am I? Explain to me why we always cry when we talk? Can't it get better? When tears come for apparently no reason, I know the reason. It is that I wish things were different. That things did not play out as they did between us. Many of us long for things from our parents that they, frankly, don't know how to give.

There was a boy. There was his Father. The two did not speak to one another and did their best to avoid one another. What foolish games. One of the hardest things to do is to meet up with the source of our pain. Life seems easier when we can fill things up to act as a bandaid. I know because that's what I do.

I feel no shame here. There's no need to hide this. Sure, it has somewhat stained me. I hurt and still do. Not so much from the physical violence of my childhood experiences but moreso from the emotional instability that affects a person long after the quarrels, broken dishes, and sleepless school nights have passed.

I'm grown now and live apart from my folks. It is difficult each time I visit them. It becomes a revisitation of emotional places that both anger and sadden me. I think that domestic violence is a terrible, terrible thing. It stays with a person long after. You sometimes feel "weird". I wish I had some good advice I could share about all this. Here's a photo of my mom and dad in happier times.

Making Music...er...Noises

March 31, 2007 - Saturday

Music Theatre BackStage -- UT Austin, TX

I've been farting a lot today. Must be the chili cheese beans I had for dinner, which brings up the question, "have I been farting all day or just after dinner"?? It makes you wonder if the smelling of one's own fart entrances him to misthink that he's been farting more than he really has.

I so desperately want to practice on t guitar; if only I could fix it up. The guitar shop says that it will cost me 300.00. I'm thinking "bogus!" With 300.00 I could buy 3-4 of the same guitar. Dang, don't you hate it when you're trying t finish something only to feel exhausted or sleepy? That's how I fell now...so on behalf of...yawn...whooo, sorry...on behalf of Dao, cheers!

On the Road for the first Time

I drop out of college. Things are not the same with my then girlfriend and I decide it's time to hit the open road and see what's out there for me. With $200 to my name I know I have to make a change, go somewhere new. Don't know where. I have a '87 cressida and a burning desire to make a change. I give myself that morning to make a decision by midnight as where to go.

I'd always had the fantasy to go to Rio de Janeiro, Brazil. I knew I would go south but where, and which route? I didn't even have a passport or any money to get there. I fumbled for answers. I sat at Disck Faulk baseball field on mlk in my car just trying to eak out a decision. the day passed. I had lunch. I walked about. This is crazy. But I can't stay here. There's nothing here for me. I have to follow my heart. My heart tells me I won't go anywhere staying in Austin, and that I have to go. Southbound it is, but on which road? Where will it lead me.

I revert to my core values. Enjoy the process. The outcome will take care of itself. I remember having taken Bastrop 71 once and remember how beautiful it was and how it crossed the colorado like 7 times. All those bridges and river crossings. I would take 71 south towards Rio de Janeiro. I got as far as Houston. I knew that I would need to make a little money in order to get further south. But the drive that night with the moonlight guiding me southbound I felt a sense of relief and connectedness to my life and to world around me like I had not in a long time.

College Bound

Off to college. the rest is history. time to make my own decisions. Finally some room to breathe. UT is the largest university in the united states. For a kid cacooned by overprotective parents, this is gonna be rough.

But what a time of exploration this will be. Freshman year I live with my aunt, and two cousins on Willow Creek at the Willow Creek Apartments. Good memories. I'm gonna have such a great time at UT! the world is mine for the taking

New Beginnings

some time before my 5th birthday my dad finally gets the proper documents through to get all 8 of us along with a cousin on a plane to America. Dalls, TX to be exact, where his parents had settled in ten years earlier (long story).

I remember falling in love with the little smuckers jam packages on the airplane. My mother asked for extras for me seeing that I liked them so much, I'm sure she enjoyed them too as we had never had such luxuries in our simple farm life. I had so many that I remember throwing up in a brown paper sack. The flight attendents were all so wonderful and sweet. I'm sure they saw a family full stock of such adorables coming to america to pursue the dream as such a beautiful story, espicially knowing that their country had so much to do with the changes that were brought on Viet Nam.

Before we took off on the plane my family had organized a panoramic photo of the extended family. Remember, we're catholics, so there must have been at least 50 people in this photo. Right before the shoot I was cursed with not being able to find my sandals. My dad was so angry with me. Frustrated, he ended up holding me in his arms, shoe-less. Haha. What a journey.

I never asked to come to the U.S. I guess being 4 going on 5, I didn't really have much say.